Region 33 The Scottish Border to the River Tyne
The Scottish Border runs along the ridge of the Cheviot Hills and the Pennine Way follows it eastwards from the Roman Camp at Chew Green. Just before the highest summit the border veers northwards and wanders away to join the sea far from the mountains just north of Berwick upon Tweed. This section of the Pennine Way is the wildest and finest section of the whole route. To avoid transportation problems, since we were walking the route in jigsaw fashion, we actually traversed this bit independently on separate occasions. The summit of The Cheviot lies about a mile from the border in England and the diversion thereto is one of the boggiest bits of the route. Indeed I could not approach the trig point which was surrounded by a sea of gooey peat. A subsequent visit found the area remarkably dry however and the final inches of this flat top were easily gained.
We took the bridleway which runs from Hepple Whitefield onto the eastern shoulder of this hill and as the ridge flattened out we left the path to struggle through trackless heather. As we approached the rocky outcrop which is capped by the trig point a vague track appeared and since it continued eastwards we were tempted into making a circular walk of it. The track petered out in bog as we approached the edge of the forest but a stand of firebeaters marked the point where walkers had partially broken down the fence and it was easily crossed onto a waymarked track. Had we turned right here we would have been on the forest track shown on our map which would probably have been a shorter route to the road. We turned left hoping that it would bring us down quite near to our car but after setting out in the right direction along the top of this very pleasant escarpment it made a dramatic turn and zigzagged its way down into the forest to emerge eventually on the apparently dead end track running through the bottom of the wood. Here we felt it prudent to turn right although it was taking us in exactly the wrong direction. There were no longer any waymarks here but we were able to locate the gate which marked the course of the right of way which ran down above an ancient camp to the hamlet of Great Tosson. From here is was quite a long but not unpleasant road walk up Coquetdale back to the car. We could not complain about traffic, the only vehicle we saw was the post van.
We only had the old one inch map which was somewhat unhelpful as it gave no clue whatsoever of the new forest planted all over this hill. The only idea for a route which we could glean from this map was to use the right of way from Callaly to get somewhere near the north side of the hill. However when we drove along this minor road we could see no sign of the start of this path nor anywhere to park in the vicinity. We therefore thought of the idea of parking to the southeast at the col on the B6341 and slogging across the bog from there. Not only did we again find no satisfactory parking but this approach along the edge of the new forestry looked exceptionally uninviting. Eventually we saw a signposted road to 'Thrunton Wood' which was shown only as a white track on our map. A short distance along this road several cars were parked and most encouragingly a stile gave access to a good forest road which was heading straight for the mountain. So excellent was this red gravel track that we followed it rather blindly without checking our direction or position on the map. Hence when the track came to a sudden end, as is the wont of such tracks, we were not entirely sure of our whereabouts. Two rough tracks continued through the trees and while we were perusing our map with no landmarks to help us another couple with a dog caught up, gave us a friendly greeting, and turned confidently left. For want of any better advice we decided to follow them and soon emerged at the edge of the forest. Here we made a shameful error of navigation despite using map and compass. There was a hill immediately to our north which we assumed to be Coe Crags while to our west was a bold hill with a large cairn which we assumed to be Long Crag and hence our goal for the day. It did not look very far away and indeed had we been where we assumed ourselves to be we should have reached it in not more than a kilometre. Instead of questioning our map reading we aimed for the col between the tops encountering dreadful going amongst the ditches of new plantings and muttering about it being a pretty long kilometre. Above the col we joined a track not shown on our map but it led us into another dip and swung away north leaving us with another rough climb to the cairn. 'This old map doesn't show all these bumps' we muttered instead of questioning our map reading. At last we reached the cairn but as we approached it doubt set in for there should have been a trig point. Was it still further along the ridge? At last we looked at the map properly. Then we looked back the way we had come. The sun flashed out and there unmistakeably was the glint of white, 2 kilometres behind us to the northeast. Having once decided that this was our summit we had neglected to recheck either map or compass and had not noticed the subtle southwards turn which the ridge had taken. Shamefacedly we retraced our steps and were particularly galled to find a clear and waymarked track leading over the correct hill. Although we did not check it we suspected that further along the road, in Thrunton Wood perhaps, there might be a car park with a forest trail to the summit. Because it was now nearly dark we left the marked path and made our way along the forest fence to rejoin our outward route at the point where it had emerged from the trees and where our original error had been perpetrated.
This is an easy but pleasant hill crowned by a hill fort. It is in the care of the National Trust who were rebuilding the paths to prevent damage to the banks of the hill fortifications. Notices explained the diversion onto a longer route which contoured round above open moorland and entered the fort by the original gateway on the north side. It was early February but with the spring sunshine and the expansive views we could have wished the diversion much longer.
After the quick and easy ascent of Ros Hill we could see that this one would be a more substantial proposition. It is really a northerly foothill of the Cheviots although separated from the main range by road and river and quite lacking their wild moorland character. This one is in fact very much in agricultural territory leading to some doubts in our mind about legality of access. We parked at Westnewton where we found room on the verge for a single car just beside the Northumberland National Park sign. However the park covers only the south side of the road and did not extend over this hill. We used the public footpath which runs along Bowmont Water ignoring an unfriendly sign at one point telling us to beware of the bull. As soon as we came up against the shoulder of the hill we went straight up hoping that the farmer at Crookhouse was not observing us through his binoculars. As the ridge flattened out we came up against a wall and cowered behind it as we were struck by a ferocious west wind. Higher up it was fortunately broken where we had to cross over to reach the highest point lying just at the edge of the thick forest covering the eastern slopes. We continued down the forest edge and soon the trees were quite thin and we wandered in and even found a track which led out into a sheep pasture. After crossing this field and a single easy fence we were fully legal again on the bridleway running between Housedon Hill and Coldside Hill. As we came down, a beautiful misty light over the Cheviots reminded us of our much more satisfying climbs on these wild and open hills. We contemplated a variant return by keeping on the bridleway which takes a more devious route but laziness and the barking of dogs in the farmyard led to a snap decision to return on our outward footpath. It had been a pleasant enough short walk and although this hill does not bear comparison with its higher neighbours to the south it does have the distinction of being the most northerly Marilyn in England.
Our visit to Sighty Crag was made not only to claim this hill but also to test out the rucksack for a backpack which I was planning through Wales. Hence I was carrying not only camping gear and spare clothes but six day's food as well. We had decided from the map to follow a public footpath until we were clear of the forest and then climb straight up its eastern edge to the trig point on Long Crag and hence along the ridge to the higher summit. However as soon as we had embarked on this path we found a sign and map of a path to Christianbury Crags. The notice assured us that this path was clearly marked and so it seemed wise to follow it. Unfortunately, although there were wooden arrows to encourage us from time to time, this route had been turned into an obstacle course by trees growing unchecked across the path and by indiscriminate felling which had left others lying where we had no choice but to scramble through their prickly branches. In places there were signs of a path, then it would disappear completely into the trees. Just as we were on the point of giving up in despair another arrow would encourage us to continue. The route basically followed up the stream and in several places we had to teeter across on slippery rocks which was a good test for my balance with the heavy pack. The route turned onto a side stream and, although the climb became steeper and the underfoot conditions no less rough, the trees stood back from the route and we pressed on with relief. The crags appeared ahead long before we reached them but at last we arrived at this delightful oasis of short grass and rocks surrounded by the featureless plateau of bog which rises from the sea of conifers below. Sgurr Dearg on the Isle of Skye is well known for its Inaccessible Pinnacle which makes the true summit accessible only to climbers and not to walkers. Helm Crag in the Lake District also has a summit pinnacle, the Lion and the Lamb, well known in the view of the hill from Grasmere, which requires an awkward scramble to attain its highest inches. Christianbury Crags boast also an inaccessible summit although I had never heard of this hill before. I could see a line of weakness on this pinnacle but it was certainly above the standard which I would risk as an unroped scramble. Fortunately the highest hill of this group, and the one listed in Dawson's tables, is attainable merely by walking, albeit some of the roughest walking south of the border. The going was a combination of deep heather, bog and peat hags with no vestige of a track. The summit was merely a few square yards of slightly drier ground and rocks marked by both a fallen trig point and a new one. Now that the Ordnance Survey are abandoning most of their trig points and putting them up for adoption I wonder whether anybody will want this one. The going continued unpleasant although suddenly we encountered quite a clear track along the craggy edge of Long Bar. We contemplated following this back in the hope that it might lead us down to a good forest track but seeing no sign of the track decided to continue on what was our originally intended ascent route. The track petered out in more bog but beyond the trig point on Long Crag we found quite a good track down towards Crew and escape to the waiting car. This easy descent dispelled the serious visions of benightion which we had been harbouring, fear of this prospect being tempered by thoughts of all the food and equipment in my pack, although only one sleeping bag. So we completed a tough seven hour walk and I was suffering no serious discomfort from my load which was very encouraging.
We followed the forest track up the south ridge to the masts on top of Deadwater Fell. From here we expected a very rough crossing through the bog to the higher top. However there was quite a clear track, very boggy in places, which led rather pleasantly to the ancient chambered cairn on Mid Fell and then round the ridge to the less distinguished summit of Peel Fell. Although we considered a return through the forest we could see no clear way in and opted instead to enjoy the ridge again and return exactly the same way, now with a lovely evening light over the rolling ridges of the Kielder Forest.
Three and a half years later we returned to Peel Fell for a walk to celebrate the tenth anniversary of Dave Hewitt's walk along the Scottish watershed which had started on Peel Fell whose summit lies in England only about fifty metres from the border. This time we went up through the forest with only a very short struggle through trees onto the open fell. There were several Marilyn baggers in the group including Alan Dawson who was celebrating the anniversary of five years since the publication of the Marilyn list. We came back by the route which we had used before over Mid Hill and Deadwater Fell which now has a very new and rather unpleasant wide gravel road to its summit masts.
[pictures of this walk]
With only a few of the English Marilyns left to do we decided to leave this single northern hill as our final summit. We felt that it would be a more satisfying finishing post than one of the insignificant molehills of the south. However shortly after polishing off our presumed penultimate summits on the Isle of Wight we received a letter from Alan Dawson which revealed a new Marilyn, Cheriton Hill, in Kent. Hence, although our ascent of Shillhope Law did complete the task as originally envisaged, our celebrations were somewhat muted. The hill itself seemed to match this muted mood with its easy grassy going and its pleasing but undramatic outlook across the whaleback ridges of the Cheviots. We used its two west ridges to make a short horseshoe; up, steeply at first, towards the south top, Inner Hill, and down the gentle ridge which runs directly south-west from the ancient cairn and trig point.
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