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Saturday 2nd June 2012 Dufton to Alston The owner of the Coney Garth B&B was Trudy Foster, a grey-haired, solid-looking lady of about 65-70. As I was having breakfast and trying my best to fend off the robust attentions of her hyperactive mutt, 'Rusty', I mentioned to Trudy that I'd be carrying all my stuff to Alston so she volunteered to call another baggage company, 'Sherpa', to see if they could transport it for me. Amazingly they offered to do it for £16 which sounded like a bargain to me. I stowed everything into a bin-liner, tied it up and labeled it and left it in Trudy's porch. It was a big help for that meant I was able to tackle the hardest leg so far without that whopping great load on my back. It made a huge difference and I was very grateful to Trudy for her intervention.
The day was cool and overcast with cloud already covering the tops of the hills when I set off. Still, at least it wasn't raining. After an easy, gradually climbing approach to the hills the incline finally began to steepen and the terrain turned into the bleak, boggy wasteland of the high tops. At that point I overtook a party of eleven walkers, ages from 30 to 60, some of whom were fit and some of whom were starting to flounder a bit. I left them behind and then in the mists at the top of the first large hill, Green Fell, I met a trio coming the other way. They introduced themselves as Jane, Christopher and Sean and asked if they could tag along with me as they were going to Alston the same as I was but were unsure of the way in the cloud - they didn't have a map! All three were Canadians although I think Sean lived in Berlin. Jane said she had been touring and camping since last July. Sean was wearing sandals with no socks - his feet must have been absolutely freezing in the damp conditions at the top of the hill but he stoically assured me they were ok. All of them had big rucksacks and they were packing tents.
Over Great Dun Fell we went, then Little Dun Fell and finally Cross Fell. The gang, as usual, were all faster than me so when the path became a bit more obvious I let them forge ahead. We met again when they encountered another dodgy, pathless stretch of bog and walked together as far as Greg's Hut, a bothy where we stopped for a bite to eat; then having finished my sandwich I left ahead of them. Large stretches of the bog at the top were crossed by paved ways, convenient but detracting from the wild feel of the place. The bit from Greg's Hut down towards Garrigil (called the Corpse Road, I believe) was even worse, just a seemingly interminable cart-track going on and on, often with all the appeal of a slag heap. It was awful.
At Garrigil I entered the pub, the George and Dragon, for a cup of tea but it was packed with lycra louts on tour, loads of cyclists - it would have taken a while to get served and then there would have been nowhere to sit so I decided to just press on.
The stretch between Garrigil and Alston was the best part of the day's walk. Mostly following the course of the river (the South Tyne) it was lined with trees, bushes and flowers - very nice. I also met Jane, Christopher and Sean again along the way - they'd cut a corner and managed to get ahead of me.
At Alston YH I was delighted and slightly relieved to see my belongings waiting for me, all intact. Well done, Sherpa, and thanks. The reduced weight of the pack on my back had made things a lot easier. In the hostel I was sharing a room with five other blokes - everywhere was full up around Alston as it was a special Bank Holiday weekend for the Queen's Diamond Jubilee. Also I couldn't get any accommodation for the following day in Greenhead or Slaggyford as they were going to light a beacon and lots of people had come to the area to see it. Instead I got the name of another farm offering accommodation (gulp) from one of the places I tried and managed to book myself in there - Kellah Farm about three miles south of Greenhead. Distance: 20.1 miles Average speed: 2.7mph Total ascent: 4793 feet Total Distance: 194.54 miles | |||||||||
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