THE HIGHEST PEAK
Wednesday 14th September 2022
High Cup Nick to Little Dun Fell
I must have really needed sleep last night because, despite the discomfort, I sleep right through my 6am alarm and wake up after 7am. Emerging into a thick fog, I immediately regret not taking a walk around last night and admiring High Cup Nick in clear weather. Now one of the most spectacular highlights of the PW is shrouded in mist.
I take a couple of Ibuprofen and wait around for my tent to dry and for the fog to lift. By 8.30am the tent is still as wet as an otter’s dreams, so I pack it up anyway. By the time I’m ready to leave at 9am the fog has cleared enough to give breath-taking views down this glacial U-shaped valley and into the lowlands at the other end. I follow the trail across the top of the valley and along the top of the ridge on the opposite side. The remaining wafts of mist combine with the ubiquitous calls of Red Grouse and Ravens to enhance the atmosphere.
On the walk down into Dufton I stop to watch a farmer with a border collie wrangling a flock of sheep off the hills and into a pen. There are good views of the Lake District fells in the distance ahead of me.
I’m surprised to come across a juvenile Cuckoo. As brood parasites with no need to raise their own chicks, adult Cuckoos leave the UK well before the end of August and will probably be in Africa by now. Occasionally you come across these brown juveniles later in the year after they have been raised by their foster parents – in this case almost certainly a pair of the Meadow Pipits that have been so abundant along the whole PW, their ‘Seep, Seep, Seep’ calls accompanying almost every step of the way. This Cuckoo will also soon be off to Africa.
Mid-morning I arrive in the village of Dufton and stop at the Post Box Pantry for coffee and lemon cake, and to buy supplies for later. I fill up my water bottles at the nearby YHA hostel and have a perfunctory wash in the public toilets. I wait for the pub to open for lunch, but it doesn’t so I go back to the café and have an all-day breakfast. Excellent decision – best breakfast of the walk, with top quality ingredients. I also use their wifi to book into a hostel for tomorrow night – I want to be sure of a bed and shower after two nights of wild camping.
From Dufton I now have less than 100 miles to walk.
After lunch I pop a couple more Ibuprofen, hydrate as much as possible, fill the water bottles again, and set off towards Cross Fell, the highest point of the Pennines, and indeed in England outside of the Lake District.
It’s a long, mostly steady climb, with a few steep kickers, up to Knock Fell. Every time I stop to catch my breath I look back the way I came at a magnificent view of the Lakeland fells in dappled sunlight filtering through the clouds, and the stretch of lower-lying farmland between here and there, spreading out vast distances to either side of my viewpoint.
Fun Fact: Sheep sound disturbingly human when they cough. I’m not sure why I’m suddenly hearing so many coughing sheep, but I hope they stay well away from me.
In a small valley I flush four Ring Ouzels from a berry-laden Rowan and watch as they circle high before flying off. These ‘mountain blackbirds’ breed in the high moors but also fly south for the winter, so I don’t know if these are locals or migrants from further north.
A Brown Hare runs straight towards me along the track. I stand still and it doesn’t see me until it is way too close for its own comfort. Raising my camera alerts it to my presence and it turns 180o and sprints off back the way it came.
Two Buzzards here are the first I’ve seen for many days. This area doesn’t appear to be used for grouse shooting so it probably isn’t a coincidence.
I pass the wonderfully chunky cairn on Knock Fell Old Man and then arrive at Knock Fell summit (794m). Just before I get here, a fog blows in but soon blows out again.
Continuing over the other side of the hill I flush two small waders from a boggy area. One flies off into the distance but the other lands within view to reveal itself through my shoddy binoculars as a Dunlin. It crouches in plain view not far from me, confident in its camouflage.
The next climb up takes me to the science fiction radar station on Great Dun Fell, followed by a descent and then another climb up to Little Dun Fell (841m). Just beyond the summit I find a good wild camping spot and decide not to walk on to the next peak – Cross Fell itself: the main event for which the last three peaks have been mere support acts. So I don’t quite make it to the highest peak today but I can almost touch it from here, and I’ll tackle it with fresh legs in the morning.
I really enjoy the walking today since Dufton. These last couple of peaks have felt more like proper mountain walking than anywhere else on the PW. For the first time it also feels less damp up here, with more of a dry, wind-scoured mountaintop feel. Hopefully my tent will be free from dew in the morning.
Once pitched and fed, I watch the most immense sunset over the distant Lakeland. I try my best to take photos but, as I’ve found repeatedly on this hike, the landscapes are just too vast and panoramic for my compact camera to do them justice. All I can do is take the time to appreciate the scenic splendour with which I both started and ended this day.
Once it gets too cold I get in my tent, which is always surprisingly much warmer than outside. I read and write by head-torchlight before falling asleep. The wind gets up and the night is quite cold and uncomfortable. But I didn’t come here to be comfortable, did I?
10.5 miles; 17 km; 9.5 hours
Vole Explosion 
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