Hiding From Fireworks–Carey Burn Camp-Out

Eeejits in Crook have been setting off fireworks since the last week in October and each time there’s a bang or, indeed, a whizz, LTD runs about panting  and shaking and looking for somewhere to hide.
Sooooo…  As it was firework night on Saturday, Sunday and Monday, I decided that enough was enough and a camp-out miles away from anything explosively noisy would be Just The Thing.
I contacted Dawn and she was up for a relaxed weekend in the hills somewhere (she usually is…) and we eventually decided, in view of some exciting wind-blown weather forecasts that somewhere fairly sheltered would be required. Evenhtually, we lighted on the Harthope Valley in the Cheviot Hills – far away from fireworks and , coincidentally, also away from artillery and machine guns which are quite common in the Cheviot Hills.

Our first choice was unsuitable, not having easy access to water and not very discreet, so we ended up low down in the little side-dale carrying Carey Burn – behind some gorse and very close to the beck – a sheltered and fairly discreet location.
There was not a bang or whizz to be had. We stayed for two nights and did very little, apart from the odd short ramblette or exploration.
In  early November, the nights are long – roughly between 4:45 pm and 7:15 am and this gives ample time for brewing, meditation, snoozing and general lazing about. This should be boring, but it isn’t. 

I’d taken my Not-A-Onesie (it’s a caving undersuit), and my cosiest sleeping bag in case it was cold – it wasn’t cold – and LTD had his toasty Woofbag into which he enthusiastically curled up and remained almost without moving for a full 14 hours of darkness, his tea and breakfast both being inserted at the appropriate times and into which he stuck his face unceremoniously, snuffling the meat and crunching the doggybix and finishing with a little doggy burp and sigh as he settled down once again to complete whatever dream he’d been having before he was woken up.
We left mid morning on Monday, to the sound of two cracks of gunfire, which we determined was somebody shooting at rabbits, there being a hefty population of which at Carey Burn. Other than that, the noisiest noises were the pheasants, squawking and hiccuping throughout the night.
All things being equal, and, supposing we all survive till next November, I’m determined to do this again – possibly in the Howgills if it’s not too stormy. Next year’s Gunpowder Plot is more midweek, so it may be less drawn-out. A couple of nights at Blakethwaite Bottom may well be Just The Thing
More info about woofbags and how to get one for your pooch is here clicky