Day 13 - A spectacular finale to a windy day
Saturday 24th May
Forest-in-Teesdale
to Dufton
14 miles
The large farmhouse bedroom at The Dale
contained two of the most comfortable double beds we had ever slept
in. Although the night had been cold we were toasty warm under acres
of soft bedding. The room had three windows and we awoke to superb
views over the valley below. After breakfast and the usual farewells
we walked up the road to Landon Beck youth hostel before descending
to cross the river to head up towards Upper Teesdale. It was much
cooler today with some ominous-looking clouds ahead. Gentle farmland
gave way to the more rugged moors. We met a lone bird watcher below
Cronkley Scar then no one until a group of male walkers marching in
near unison just before Cauldron Snout. Mum did not enjoy
negotiating the potentially ankle twisting boulders below Falcon
Clints but they were nothing compared to the scramble we were about
to encounter up the side of Caudron Snout. We had a coffee and
marvelled at the awesome power of the water, it made me want to come
back in winter when the river would be in full spate. As we started
the scramble I carried Mums’ poles so she could concentrate on using
her hands on the rock. Near the top we met a couple from Durham who
warned us that it would be very windy at High Cup Nick but it would
be well worth the walk. We were greeted only by barking dogs at the
remote farmstead of Birkdale and did not stop for lunch until we
reached the Maize beck crossing where we were able to gain a little
shelter from the ever-increasing wind. Donning all our layers,
including Mum’s new gloves bought for £1 in Middleton, we pushed on
towards the top of the moor. As we approached High Cup Nick, along
open grassy moorland, there was a sense that some dramatic change of
scenery was about to occur. We were not disappointed – the massive
U-shaped glaciated valley opened up before us, dropping steeply from
its rim where we first encountered it. Mum felt very uneasy
venturing anywhere near its edge and the high winds just added to
the drama of the landscape. After a few photos we headed along its
northern rim on our way to Dufton. Mum stayed as far away from the
edge as the path would allow and finally we met some other walkers
but surprisingly few considering it was a Bank Holiday weekend. On
our way down we were in for one final surprise – in the distance,
struggling up the steep rocky path were three lads on motorised
trail bikes. Mum said she had seen it all now as we stopped to let
them pass. The descent to Dufton was uncomplicated and we stopped
half way down for a rest where I could of easily fallen asleep on
the grass in the sunshine. Yellow gorse-lined paths led us into the
pretty sandstone village of Dufton with its lovely village green
flanked on one side by the youth hostel and by the Stag pub on the
other.
We booked into the YHA and ordered dinner and
packed lunches. We took advantage of the fact that Pennine Way
walkers get free use of the washing machine. The showers were not
very hot but at least we had a 4-bed dormitory to ourselves tonight.
We were sharing the hostel with a large group of ramblers from a
club on the East coast. They were very vocal but not very friendly.
The only other guest was Margaret, a lone hosteller bravely coping
with the disabling affects of a stroke she had suffered three years
earlier. We sat down at the long dinner table with some commotion in
the group about who should sit where; in fact some of the group were
quite rude, stating loudly that the large bottle of homemade wine
was to go no further than the end of their group. Mum admitted later
that she was glad that the Welshpool Ramblers don’t behave like this
group. To be fair, the gentleman sitting next to me during dinner
was very polite so I was shielded from the bulk of their behaviour.
Mum and I exchanged a few knowing glances across the table as the
meal progressed. Dinner started well with onion soup and some
excellent homemade bread but due to the large numbers the service
was a little slow and the food wasn’t very hot. My veggie lasagne
was ok but Mum’s salmon was cold. We were glad when the brandy and
marmalade bread and butter pudding came so we could make a hasty
retreat to check our washing.
We braved the wind to cross the Green and sampled the hospitality at
The Stag. It was warm inside but packed to the rafters, we shared a
table with three holidaymakers up from the Stourbridge area. A
brother, sister and a friend, they were lovely and whilst chatting
we discovered that the man had cycled from Lands End to John
O’Groats just two weeks ahead of Tom and I in 2005. We were back in
the hostel by 10pm and glad that the beds were not too squeaky
tonightThought for the day:
Deb –
High Cup Nick exceeded my expectations in stark contrast to my
disappointment with the company of my fellow hostellers
Mum
–
In many ways a challenging day but amongst very dramatic scenery. My
natural maternal concern emerged as I watched Deborah approach the
edge of High Cup Nick to gain a better position for her photography
Pictures
Walking along the river in Upper Teesdale
Deb at the bottom of Cauldron Snout Waterfall
The footbridge across Maize Beck
Deb at High Cup Nick
View into High Cup Nick from its northern rim
Optimistic riders!
Heading for Dufton
|
