DAY 8 - Tan Hill Inn -> Middleton in Teesdale, 27.29km
We awoke bright and early on day 8 to a lovely sunrise with a coffee and had set off for Middleton in Teesdale before 8am. The first 10k or so was entirely spent making our way across Bowes Moor with a healthy amount of bogs to keep us on our toes. I started off this trip really enjoying the walks across moors: a generally consistent slabbed path through a sea of grass and shrubs. Today definitely made me grow a bit sick of them.
Upon reaching the A66 and readying to cross it, I saw a note scribbled on one of the Pennine Way signs you find along the trail: “congratulations, you have officially reached the halfway point for the Pennine Way”. Wow. At this point I’d kind of forgotten this is only a 2 week trek as the process of waking up, walking all day, then slumping down in the afternoon/evening has consumed me. It was weird yet of course very satisfying to be reminded that the end was drawing nearer and nearer.
A lot more walking up and down a few more hills eventually brought us to Middleton with plenty of the afternoon to spare.
Over the final few hours I had begun to develop a pain in both my hip joints as well as my shins, something I hadn’t yet experienced this whole trek. In fact, I had begun to feel the hip pain a bit the previous day, so this was the first day I walked with a pain that has carried over from the day before. I suppose it showed the 8 days of walking so far was catching up to me, but I was determined to finish the whole trek in the 2 week time frame I had set out without taking a rest day.
Something about sitting in a random village in the Pennines for a day feeling sorry for myself doesn’t quite appeal to me as much as powering through the trek and getting to sit and feel sorry for myself in the comfort of my own home.
DAY 9 - Middleton in Teeside -> Dufton, 35.16km
We had a long day ahead of us to reach Dufton which started off perfectly with some typical rainy British weather. However, I knew the majority of the day would be spent following close by a river which meant one key thing to me: less hills.
The first 15 km or so went by like a breeze - a very flat walk with a greater but very welcome variety of landscapes I hadn’t seen much of so far on the trek. I had grown very accustomed to spending the majority of my days trudging up and down hills and across boggy moors so I was more than happy to spend my time weaving through forests with the odd waterfall to take a second to admire.
The walk eventually brought us out of the trees and following the river across open plains, a view which was probably my favourite of the trek so far.
For anyone who has seen The Last of Us, I don’t know why but it kept making me think of that. A river ambling through a wide expanse of green that looked nearly untouched by man.
After some slightly sketchier sections of clambering over rocks and up the side of another waterfall, we found ourselves once again following the hills.
At this point, the walk admittedly became a real struggle. My hip was starting to become really painful as I lagged further and further behind my uncle, something which definitely wasn’t helped by the subsequent section of river walking being a couple miles across bogs with no discernible paths to follow.
After gritting my teeth and pushing through, we finally made it to High Cup Nick.
Correction - this was now by FAR my favourite view of the entire trek. The incredible landscape made the last 2 hours of walking like a pirate more than worth it.
Reaching Dufton soon after meant my uncle went on his way after our 3 days hiking together. I set up my tent, got a quick bit of pub grub and readied myself for what I knew would probably be the hardest day of walking so far the following day.
DAY 10 - Dufton -> Alston, 32.89km
Day 10 started off with me reading a lovely message I’d received from my mum the night before: “The weather forecast tomorrow isn’t great so just factor that in with your plans. Love you 🥰”
I guess my plans for the day were to get very cold and wet.
Given the fact todays walk featured the highest point of the entire Pennine Way, Cross Fell, a tussle with gale force wind, pouring rain and low visibility during a long uphill climb didn’t sound ideal. But then again, spending a day sat in a town that had a single pub and no shops for me to stock up on breakfast bars for me to eat while sitting in my tent feeling sorry for myself didn’t sound too appealing either.
So off I went.
The initial ascent went swimmingly. The sun was shining and there was no bad weather in sight, so I was feeling pretty good that maybe, just maybe, my mum had gotten her information on the weather from a Wikipedia article.
But then as I neared the peak of the first hill, I felt the wind pickup as I became surrounded by a sea of clouds. Reaching that first pile of stones signifying you’ve reached a peak should bring a feeling of elation with a great view to boot, but as I turned around to admire my progress I got the most incredible view of… grey.
Okay. I guess I’m not getting any great views today, let’s just push on and maybe it will clear up.
The next hour or so was spent fighting the wind and getting drenched as I forced my way over various peaks. When you set off on a big trek like this, you know it won’t go perfectly, but you certainly don’t picture yourself elegantly running after your neon green backpack rain cover as it flies across a hill, diving onto it before it flies off into the grey void.
After a while of the wind throwing me about like a rag doll, I finally made it to the top of Cross Fell. You have to take your victories and I was elated to finally reach the peak despite being beaten up by nature along the way. Due to the top of Cross Fell being very flat and my surroundings being completely obscured by grey, there was absolutely nothing to suggest I was stood on the highest point of the Pennine Way rather than my local park on a foggy day, but oh well.
After a quick interaction with a fellow hiker, rudely interrupted by him having to run after my rain cover which was once again trying to make a getaway, I started my descent.
Of course, no more than 15 minutes after I had started making my way down the valley, I looked back at Cross Fell and saw that the clouds had completely departed leaving what I can only imagine was a stunning view.
You can only smile and carry on.
The rest of the walk went pretty easily: a meander across the edges of hills and an eventual descent down a valley, with Alston lying at the other end of it. After fighting through a few ferns on a rather poorly kept path, I made it to my hostel and settled down for the evening happy I had pushed through what was supposedly one of the hardest days in horrendous weather.
Little did I know the worst was yet to come.
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