Vole Explosion

ICE COLD IN ALSTON

Thursday 15^th September 2022

Little Dun Fell to Alston

After a bad night’s sleep I emerge to a fine but cold morning, just in time to see a sunrise every bit as sublime as last night’s sunset. I eat some cereal bars (always with the bloody cereal bars!) and, since my tent is bone dry, I pack it up straight away. I descend from my night-time peak and use the momentum to continue straight up Cross Fell, reaching the tall cairn on a false summit within half an hour, and then the real summit, with its trig. point and impressively built x-shaped shelter, less than 15 minutes later.

The highest peak at last – surely it’s all downhill from here? The crisp, clear air reveals an absolutely jaw-dropping 360^o panorama stretching for miles. The most spectacular view yet, and I have it all to myself.

I follow the cairns down the other side and begin a gruelling slog to Garrigill along a hard, stony, leg-jarring dirt track, winding past Greg’s Hut mountain shelter (closed for renovation) and through endless grouse moors. Long, boring and painful. This is called The Corpse Road, and after walking it for more than three hours, I too long for the merciful embrace of death.

I crest Pikeman Hill and then lower down, just before Garrigill, there are tons of grouse on the track taking grit. All Red of course, none Black. Many allow quite a close approach.

In Garrigill I buy some snacks and a drink from the post office to accompany the sandwich I already have, and I eat them on the village green. Some signs warn motorists about Red Squirrels, but I don’t see any (squirrels, that is. I see plenty of motorists). There’s also another closed-down pub here, which seems to be a theme of the PW. If too many food, drink and accommodation places along the PW close down it will surely become impossible to hike in the future, and the rest of the businesses that rely on hikers will also go to the wall. Am I witnessing a dying trail? I really hope not.

I continue for the last four miles to Alston along a pretty wooded path by the River South Tyne, with Dippers and Goosanders in evidence. I also find a dinner plate-sized Fly Agaric toadstool – the biggest one I’ve ever seen. I could probably sit on it and pretend to be a pixie.

At an early-afternoon rest stop I take two more Ibuprofen and hit on the idea of cutting down the front of my left sock to see if it eases the pain. The elastic is cutting into my swollen upper ankle and probably making it worse. They’re only cheap supermarket socks – no expensive hiking socks for me. I think hikers waste too much mental bandwidth worrying about socks.

The rest of the walk is through pleasant wooded farmland. I can’t check in to tonight’s hostel until 5pm so I’m in no hurry. I take my time and hang around in likely Red Squirrel habitat, but I don’t see any. They’re probably all hanging out with the Black Grouse.

I arrive at YHA Alston at 3.30pm and dump my pack before continuing into town. They tell me I can check in just after 4pm. The first thing I do is visit the pharmacy to show a bit of leg. While sympathetic, it’s immediately obvious that the guy doesn’t really know what to do with my leg and would probably prefer to see it walk out of his shop, closely followed by the rest of me. So… mutilated socks and Ibuprofen it is then.

Stop for a pint in the Turk’s Head and sit outside by an attractive square – well really more of a triangle. It is here that I have my daily Sir John Mills moment. I refer to the 1958 war film Ice Cold in Alex, in which Mills plays an alcoholic Captain crossing the North African desert to Alexandria. He vows not to drink until he can have an ice-cold beer in Alex. Every day, as I cross peaks, valleys and moors, I look forward to my first beer of the evening, and the bar scene near the end of the film always plays in my head as it is being poured. I haven’t gone as far as lovingly stroking the condensation on the glass yet, but there’s still time…

I pop into the Cumberland Hotel on the way back to the hostel before checking in, spreading out all my stuff, and handing my laundry to reception (which they kindly put in the wash for free). My room overlooks some woodland, so I may yet get to see a Red Squirrel.

Later I go out again, have another drink in the Turk’s Head, then dinner in the Alston House Hotel – lamb Henry, followed by white chocolate and raspberry brûlée. I then fall asleep back at the hostel watching ASMR videos on YouTube.

13 miles; 21 km; 8 hours