Dead Stones Delivery

In a couple of weeks time, it will be The Winter Solstice, after which, of course, the amount of daylight increases every day – just that little bit longer each day. Its the turning of the year and deserves a little celebration.

Peat haggy ground on the way to Deadstones

There is, in the wind, a little expedition up to the summit of Deadstones, to witness the dawn of the new year (notice I didn’t say New Year).

More rough going

Deadstones, I should explain is a 2300 foot subsidiary top of Burnhope Seat and is most easily got at from Killhope Cross, where the main road crosses from County Durham into Cumbria. This is at an altitude of just over 2000 feet and is about 2 miles North of the said Deadstones.

Why Deadstones? Well- its fairly easy to get at, and it has a fine view of the East coast on a good day, and it has a little shelter on the top, with a fireplace but nothing in the way of a door. Four people who are close friends could probably fit in. The one nobody likes would have to stay outside.

Deadstones howff

And so, I parked the knipemobile at Killhope Cross and struggled through the snowy peat hags the two or so miles to Deadstones and deposited some luxury supplies – that is to say, some kindling, a fire log and some log..er..logs… All in all enough fuel for a warm fire lasting about four hours.

When I got back to Killhope Cross it was just about dark.

There are a few problems:

1) If its snowy, it could be very hard work getting there – it took me 90 minutes. In the dark and with soft snow, this could be at least an hour longer. (worra struggle – 5:00 am start, I think)

2) The roof is looking a bit dicey. Several tonnes of gritstone slabs are currently being held up by a shaky and split beam, probably very ancient oak, I shouldn’t wonder – and a fence post. If it snows heavily, this lot could shutter in. This will be no worse than a lead mine shutterring in, so maybe we shouldn’t worry too much (ie we wont know much about it if it does)

3) It was full of snow. Clearly, the snow has come from the “wrong” direction. Perhaps we’ll need to excavate….

4) I’ve hidden the fuel, but if some pillock finds it, I bet they set fire to it. To counteract this/get revenge – there’s an evil curse on the fuel and anybody who nicks it or sets fire to it before we get there will crash and die on there way home. It only seems fair.

Not entirely sure who’s coming on this trip…..

The view East

North Pennines Night Walking

And now for something completely different…. A man with a doorbell up his nose.

Actually, nothing to do with nasal doorbells – as winter draws on and the nights are getting longer, there comes a time when all good walks either start or end in the dark.
Theres also always the possibility that due to some misfortune, it will go dark in the middle of a walk.
So, I decided to have a walk in the dark – to sort of, get accustomed to the idea and, frankly, to do something different.
I parked up at Cowshill in Upper Weardale at 9:00 pm and crept passed one or two farms and a keeper’s house quietly so as not to disturb any dogs (unsuccessful) and arouse any suspicions as to where I might be going dressed like a hillwalker at that time of night.
After passing over the dam at Burhope Reservoir, I plodded up the long road on to the high Weardale/Teesdale ridge. For this, I didn’t need a light, but once off the road, I switched it on and bagged the first top – High Field – a stony place at 708 metres
Navigation along this ridge is specially easy because there’s a fence to follow, which goes all the way to Killhope Cross. Parts of the fence are new, though, and don’t appear on my map, so it’s a bit of a leap of faith to follow the thing at first.
I soon hit some very deep and squelchy bogs and, after the first dunking, I decided to try my bootless walking theory and removed my boots and socks.
This was a cold shock at first, buit once you stop worrying about wet socks (no socks), the peaty bogs are actually quite pleasant and even knee-deep sucking slutch was no hindrance – I just battered on through. Soft peat, hard peat, sand and stones, grass and heather.... but nothing painful!
A yellow half-moon appeared just after High Field and when it broke through a cloud, I could turn off my light and walk by moonlight.
The thing I noticed the most was the absolute and total silence. It was a windless night and would have been frosty if it happened in just a few more weeks time. A really cold, frosty, moonlit night up here would be absolute magic.
I could see the orange glow from Durham/Tyneside, and the occasional light in the sky, but apart from that, it was just me and the stars and the moonshadow.
I pressed on to Burnhope Seat , at 746 metres, tonight's high point, and, further to Dead Stones 710 metres, where I spent an hour or so hunkered down inside the howf.
Rebooted, the next part, over Lambs Head was tough. Here, I met a maze of bogs and hags and at one point I seemed to have lost the ability to balance. I teetered from tussock to bog hole. It took an age to get to the trig point on Highwatch Currick. I began to be very late and I couldn’t get a mobile signal to send a message home that I would be late.
Dawn dawned as I reached Cowshill and, after driving a little way down Weardale, my text message was sent. I got three in return – a missed call from home, a “if you don’t reply to this, I’ll come and get you” message and an acknowledgement of my text.
Next time, I should give these things more time. It’s a lot slower in the dark.
This walk would be absolutely cracking on a fine, clear, cold and frosty January night with a big moon. But not an experience to have with the chatter of companions.

14 Miles and 1800 feet of climbing

North Pennines - Deadstones

Tuesday Morning, me bruvver turned up and me and him (him and I?) went off for a walk whilst Mike plumped for the fleshpots of Alston via the Pennine Way.

In nice, almost warm sunshine, we went back to Ash Gill – at least I went back there as John hadn’t been there before…. Er… anyway. It was roughly the same as it had been on Monday – maybe just a bit more water. But, in leaving the place this time, we took a little side path that I happened to know about and this lead us up to an overhanging crag – apparently impossible to climb without pitons and a friendly helicopter. Or a friend with a very long ladder. R Kidd expressed the view that he wouldn’t be able to climb it.
But there’s a little slot in the crag, gained by a short but slippery rock step and this slot leads fairly steeply but nevertherless quite easily up through the crag in a sort of underground fashion and pops out in a surprising sort of way at the top. Just a bit bizarre, but interesting nevertheless.
After this adventure, we walked up a bit of tarmac, noting the red squirrels trotting along the wall tops – and up onto the moorland of the Weardale ridge, topping out at the summit of Dead Stones, at about 700 and a bit metres. Dead stones has a shelter or bothy on the top. You wouldn’t want to spend a night in there, though – inside there’s just a slimy bench and a tiny fireplace and no door.
We followed the ridge Northwards for a while and chatted to various grouse beaters waiting to start their drive on the way. We were advised two or threee times which side of the hill to walk on, but, generally, the encounter was friendly.
As it started getting a bit late, we shortened the walk at this point and headed down towards the col between nenthead and garrigill and then, by field paths in gathering gloom, back to the South Tyne and Garrigill.

As we came close to Garrigill there was a rabbit tottering around blindly and, as it sensed out approach it desperately tried to find a hole in the wall. In the end it just cowered behind a patch of rushes. It couldnt see a thing. Myxamatosis (I'm not sure of the spelling)

We tutted but carried on but as we crossed the next stile, a chap in camo gear carrying a rifle appeared. We told him about the rabbit and he went off to introduce it to it's maker. A single shot a short while later probably indicated the poor thing's final end. I hope so, anyway.

We finished the walk witha short conversation with an old bloke sporting a pool cue. Apparently there's a full-sized table somewhere in Garrigill.

Brian, my pal from Nenthead provided welcome hot coffee on my way home.

Cracking few days.

Incidentally, I used the new headlight whilst camping and to find Brian's kettle as he had all the lights off