The barman summed it up when he looked at the three of us and said, ‘I knew you lot were going to be trouble’. It’s a long time, in fact decades, since we went on holiday together and now I know why I left it so long!

Older and greyer .. but no wiser

The wonderfully isolated and haunted seventeenth century Tan Hill Inn was the perfect place for our rendez-vous. The fact that it was one of the settings for ‘American Werewolf in London’ and yet also the location for the Everest Double Glazing ad (‘For when you really need to keep the elements out’), probably says it all. The landlady’s reputation came before her. All the locals we’d met along the way had told us about her turnover of staff and indeed we witnessed the exiting of one rather loud, distraught Eastern European chamber maid, over breakfast .. the police were being called as we left. The Romanian chef remained more resilient, although there was a degree of consternation when his baked beans were rejected. Thankfully Nick soaked up the surplus.  Having said all that, we couldn’t have chosen a better place to stay. The bar was full of character, with an excellent ale brewed specially for Tan Hil and a roaring log fire making for a very welcome retreat from the bleak moors outside. Apparently the fire has never gone out .. although when I went down for an early coffee to write up the blog, there was a tell-tale gas canister being used to light it. If you fancy a taste of the place take a look at 2009 Vodafone ad, which was filmed there. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IE1tFkenzQc

Making up for the last two short days, we walked 17 miles today. I’d thought it might be a bit of a bland day, with little variety but oh, how wrong could I have been. (The boys were not nearly as tedious as I’d remembered .. only joking!) We had moors, becks, pasture, rivers, meadows, forests and many, many splendid views all among the changeable light and conditions that April showers brought to the day. 

Far-reaching swishy-swashy views across North Yorkshire

A tip from the barman at Tan Hill meant that we opted for the road for the first two miles of the day. Apparently he’d had many a walker return from the PW beyond the pub, who’d clearly been up to their knees in bog. .. and the suggestion of some that never return! It was not a busy road .. in fact it was only the cops who passed us on their way to the inn, with a resigned look on their faces. It was lucky really, as the wind was extremely strong, buffeting us along the road.

Windy day

There was much banter about which sort of hat afforded the best protection against the elements. Nick stuck steadfastly to defending his hat with ear-flaps, which he has to lock away in a secret cupboard at home, to prevent his wife and kids from chucking in the bin. This prompted AC, with a flourish, to pull out the exact same hat from his backpack. Much silliness resulted.

Hat envy? I don’t think so

Maybe it was the wind or perhaps it was the work of a prankster which meant that one of the signs along the way was pointing in completely the wrong direction. Spot the difference ..

Visual A

Visual B

Sleightholme Moor started gradually to give way to more characterful landscape, as we made our way to the A66 which we had to cross on our way north.

Sleightholme Beck

We spotted numerous black grouse across Sleightholme Moor, with their jaunty red fascinators atop their heads. There were rows of grouse butts too, from which the black grouse are shot each season.

Nick getting his eye in

Just before the main trunk road of the A66, which incidentally is an old Roman road, we came to the fabulously named God’s Bridge. It spans the faltering little River Greta and no human hand was used in its creation.

God’s Bridge ..

.. crossing the River Greta

Once we’d passed underneath the road we had six km of moorland to walk before crossing from Yorkshire into County Durham. We didn’t see too many other walkers on our journey today but those that we did were undertaking really interesting challenges. My favourite were a Swiss couple who were walking the E2, from Galway, through the Scottish Borders to Nice in the South of France. Their descriptions of the trail sounded really exciting .. maybe next year.

One of my best photographs of AC

The moorland was beautifully empty and bleak, with no visible evidence of human impact. AC saw it as a marvellous affordable housing development opportunity. He must be stopped! At this stage we we were hailed upon .. divine intervention?

More gorgeous views

We descended down to one of several reservoirs. While we were consulting the map by a metal gate we became aware of ethereal chords drifting on the breeze – was it some mystical, music-making faerie?  Quite possible amid that wild, untamed landscape.  But it turned out to be the the wind playing the gate like a strange musical instrument. From here on the landscape changed. We left the barren moorland behind and entered a world of rolling hills and lush pasture. Cattle supplanted sheep as the dominant livestock. This of course rendered the going underfoot in the farmyards rather malodorous.

Fields of grazing porcupines, testimony to the agricultural diversity and entrepreneurship of the Northern farmers

Blackton Reservoir, with its ‘Needless Bridge’

Over another hill and down into Lunedale alongside Grassholme for another reservoir. One more climb lay between us and our destination. The legs were unwilling but the views were outstanding and well worth the effort. We could see as far as the Tees Estuary and the North York Moors.

Far-reaching views in the late afternoon sun

We passed by an ill-timed tuckshop which sadly did not sell sundowners, by Wythes Hill Farm .. most welcome at any other time of the day though, I’m sure.

Tuckshop

Lone tree on our way down to Brunswick House

Walking the last leg on our last legs

The small market town in Upper Teesdale expanded in the early 19th century when the London Lead Company moved its northern headquarters there. Much of the architecture from its days as a company town is still clearly visible. This includes Middleton House, formerly the headquarters of the company. It’s a handsome grey house, which most likely has wonderfully high ceilings beyond its large sash windows. We could see it as we descended into the valley. The company had Quaker origins and tried to provide for its workers who suffered appalling conditions underground and from working with the ore. In Middleton the company built houses for its employees. When the first occupiers moved in it was to the accompaniment of bands playing music. Being a Quaker initiative, ‘temperance was required of the employees in their new houses’. Quite a stiff price to pay, methinks.

Three valleys and seventeen miles later, over a well-deserved glass of Sauv Blanc, I was thrilled to hear the change in accent when the waitress took the dinner order. No trace of the gruff Yorkshire brogue, now replaced with the soft lilting Durham tones.

Black Dog Tails
Jayne was left blind after being attacked by her violent ex-husband. Cali is her wonderful guide-dog.