Vole Explosion

I AM BECOME DEATH, DESTROYER OF WORLDS

Sunday 18^th September 2022

Haughtongreen Bothy to Whitley Pike

   I wake up at 6.15am but don’t want to get up and disturb everyone. By 7am they’re all still snoring away, so I get up anyway. I quietly get all my poop in a group and take everything outside to re-pack. The only person I meet is one of the musicians, who is also outside making a brew on a camping stove. I leave at 8am.

   After finishing early yesterday and resting for longer, I’m feeling fresh and strong this morning. My pack is lighter, with no beer and less water and food. My feet are feeling good as new and the pain in my leg is negligible. Consequently, I stride out at a good pace and don’t stop for two and a half hours. The walk is through forestry plantation filled with Coal Tits, Goldcrests and Bullfinches, adding a bit more scenic variety to the PW.

   There is a much longer diversion to the route with part of the forest closed down for forestry operations, clearing storm-felled trees. As it is a Sunday, I know there will be no forestry workers around, so I push on into the forbidden zone and encounter no obstacles. I’m glad to avoid the long detour, and my inner purist is glad not to miss this part of the official PW.

   I stop off at a farm tuck shop and buy a couple of snacks. I’m hoping for a cold drink, but they have none. The stuff is actually free, but you can make a donation, which I do. I use their toilet facilities and refill my water bottles. They also have a shower that I’m tempted to use, but I want to get going.

   The only significant climb this morning is a short, sharp one up Shitlington Crag. Seriously though, Slaggyford? Shitlington? Who came up with these names? I feel like I’ve walked into a Viz cartoon.

    Crossing the River North Tyne and reaching Bellingham at 1.30pm, I realise I’ve been a relentless hiking machine today, only stopping once for a break. In the interests of supporting rural economies – and for no other reason – I have a pint in the Rose and Crown before moving on to the Cheviot Hotel for Sunday lunch and another pint. They have a carvery buffet and I eat beef, pork and turkey, with Yorkshire puddings and a shit-ton of different veg. I’m completely stuffed now, and it was shockingly cheap. Well done, that pub.

   This is my last chance to buy supplies until the end of the hike, so I go to the Co-op and stock up from their meagre Sunday leftovers.

   Before continuing back into the wilds, I rest on a bench to digest my lunch. The Tall Guy comes by and we chat briefly. This will be the last time I see him – it’s been fun.

   I’m not sure what is going to happen between here and the end, in terms of overnight stops, food and water. It all gets a bit wild from here on. All I know is that I’m 40 miles from the finish line in Kirk Yetholm and every half hour I spend walking north reduces that number by a mile or so.

   I’m feeling super-strong now and pain-free. My feet feel amazing and I know I’m definitely making it to a triumphant denouement. I have two pints and a massive Sunday lunch coursing through my veins and the power is intoxicating! Nothing can stop me now! I am indestructible! I am Ozymandias, King of Kings. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair! I AM BECOME DEATH, DESTROYER OF WORLDS… erm… ok… I’m sorry… I may have got a bit carried away there. I’m feeling pretty optimistic, is what I’m trying to say.

   Lunch digested, I climb up out of the village and I’m soon back amongst the sheep and incessant Meadow Pipits. I keep climbing and pass the summit of Deer Play, five miles since lunch without any dramas. I consider camping here but decide to put one more mile under my boots to the summit of Whitley Pike.

   There is no clear, short grass area on which to pitch, so I plonk the tent onto some low heather. This gives a springy, comfortable surface and I soon get cosy in the tent out of the cold breeze.

   I drink a bottle of beer I’ve brought up and watch the sunset. I lay down at 7.30pm and drift off to sleep for seven hours, waking at 2.30am. The tent was warm, comfortable and quiet. I lay awake for a couple of hours in a state of pure relaxation, then fall blissfully asleep again.

17 miles; 27.5 km; 10.5 hours