Once More Unto The Beach, Dear Friends

Englishmen now abed would think themnselves accursed they were not here…So, me and LTD and Dawn went nack to fave spots in Northumberland. The idea is to spend the night in a small tent or bivi on an empty Northumbrian beach, eat beef stew and bacon and drink tea (and, in, my case, a bit of merlot) – have a dip or three in the briny, take any opportunity to top up the tan and then go home again.

These pleasures are simple ones.

But first, there were three small Tumps to bag – each one in a small trio or group a bit to the South-East of Flodden Fleld. (Scots will probably stop reading at this point)

Firstly, White Hill – easily bagged from the road and patrolled only by a small herd of youngish, inquisitive but harmless cattle. LTD stayed in the car with Dawn.

Then there was Goatscrag Hill – a small but perfectly formed sandstone crag a bit to the left of Routin Linn – a waterfall of disappointing dimensions. Goatscrag Hill is a fine spot with a fine view of the Cheviots and is liberally covered in sheep muck. The crag around the foot looks exciting and with not much in the way of grip.

After lunch, we attempted Doddington North Moor, from a place marked on the map as a “Cup and Ring Marked Stone”. We couldn’t find this. A route up the hill presents itself on the map as being obvious – follow the wall alongside the wood till the top which is a trig pillar just over the wall. In practise, there’s  wild woodland spreading over the moor which includes singificant forests of rhodedendrons. Some of these have been grubbed up into huge piles of impassable debris. Dawn waited by the fence. Me and LTD were rejected by the hill, the piles of dead vegetation being impossible to cross,  and retreated a bit before taking a flank attack. This lead into healthy rhodedendrons and deep, deep, I mean really deep, bracken. And blackflies. Hundreds of feckin blackflies. Sheer determination, pigheadedness and a refusal to be beaten eventually lead to the top. The retreat from which was a repreat of the ascent, buit with a much wider route and some even deeper bracken. Two blackflies were accidentally swallowed. LTD’s harness almost got ripped off. My lickle legs got ripped by brambles. Ow.

We repaired to Ross Back Sands where Dawn’s tent/bivi thingy was put up as the tide came in.

Overnight, the Otterburn ranges fired artillery, machine guns and something which made huuuuge bangs and the seals sang to us sweetley and a bit spookily. LTD tucked into his sleeping bag a groaned a bit…..

In the morning we had the place to ourselves till just about lunchtime. The sun came out, the breeze breezed and the sea was chilly but deep and, clear. My first dip was interupted by the appearance, too close by for comfort of a large black head. We met eye to eye. It dipped under and another appeared just over there….  then another and another .. maybe the first one from a different place. I left the water. I mean, do these seal thing bite? Maybe they were just nosy. It was a little uncomforting.

Dawn had several dips too – we tend to take turns – it seems like a sensible health and safety thing…. and the survivor gets the teabags…

I had another two proper swims, being gently lifted by an easy swell and pushed towards the sands. The sea was very calm and shallow.

We left in the late afternoon……..

This sorta thing’s not allowed by the way – but we’re quite discreet and leave absolutely no trace at all, save for some footprints in the sand…