Thursday May 11 Dufton to Garrigill
It was a slow start today. Trudy promised me
breakfast at 7:45, but it was a half hour late
although very good. She gave me an old plastic water
bottle to supplement my water. I’ll need it for the
hot weather and the hard pull over Cross Fell.
I took a shortcut over to the PW so I wouldn’t have
to go back through the village. I pass a large farm,
climbing uphill on a lane between trees until I
emerge to overlook the Eden Valley and Dufton. Many
sheep and lambs are here on the hillsides. I cross a
stone clapper bridge at Great Rundale Beck, Dufton
Pike looms on the right, then a large, modern
footbridge over Swindale Beck.
Here starts the long, steep climb up Knock Fell
following the cairns which mark the path. I pass
Knock Old Man, a hugh cairn providing shelter from
the wind, then up to the summit of Knock Fell, 2000
feet above Dufton. I traverse over to Great Dun
Fell, passing just below the hugh radar/weather
station. Cross Fell dominates the skyline ahead, but
in the foreground is Little Dun Fell which I access
by sweeping downhill to a marshy saddle and climbing
steeply to its summit.
Cross Fell now looks like a goliath as it is the
highest point on the Pennine Way and is very broad
at the top. Near the top, I find a spring where I
fill my water bottles with pure, sweet water. No
animals are this high, so there should be no
contamination. I meet several locals out for the day
walking up from the north face, two men here, two
ladies there. I hope they haven’t contaminated the
water.
The surface of Cross Fell plateau is rocky and
barren with short grass. As Hopkins says, “like
stepping back into post-glacial Britain”. The summit
trig point at 2930 feet is near a cross-shaped wind
shelter with benches (like at Great Shunner Fell). I
have lunch here, a breakfast sausage, an apple,
orange and cookie. It is 1:30 pm, halfway to
Garrigill. Although the day has been quite warm, it
is cold up here on the summit. Luck is with me as
the day is fairly clear and there is a spectacular
view for miles in every direction.
It’s a steep, boggy descent down the far side of
Cross Fell, crossing numerous streams until I come
to a drover’s track, the “corpse road”, which
eventually leads to Garrigill. I have to stop and
think a minute to figure out whether to go right or
left. It was right! A bank of snow lies above me,
slowly melting, just under the brow of the plateau.
A couple of miles down the road, I stopped at Greg’s
Hut, a mountain emergency shelter with fireplace,
table, chairs and Tibetan banners, unlocked for
everyone’s use.
Then its nothing but miles of desolate, rocky track
slowly descending, dotted with old lead mines here
and there. The track seems to go on forever. Again,
I think of how glad I am to have my walking poles.
As I stop for water and a rest, a walker catches up,
greets me, and hurries on. He is really fast!!
Soon I crest a hill, round a bend, and Garrigill is
spread out before me. Another half hour and I’m
there. The fast walker is on the village green
opposite the George & Dragon pub finishing off a
pint before continuing on to Alston. I check into
the Post Office B&B. My room is nice, but on the 3rd
floor. Bath and toilet are on the 2nd floor, very
inconvenient as it is the only one for the B&B
guests.
After my coffee, tea and shower routine, I go next
door to the George & Dragon for dinner. Sadly, a
notice on the menu board says DUE TO ILLNESS, NO
MEALS WILL BE SERVED TONIGHT. So I order a Black
Sheep with a bag of peanuts and go sit with two
Dutch cyclists. They are in the same boat as me,
staying at the B&B and drinking a beer with potato
chips. We commiserate together. The nearest place to
eat is quite a few miles away. Eventually, an
employee takes pity on us and after apologizing for
the lack of meals, offers us a choice of pizza or
salad w/ham and cheese. The Dutch choose pizza and I
choose salad, both excellent.
We exchange our stories. They are touring by
bicycle. One has done this many times all over
Europe. He is retired from the UN. The other owns a
wood flooring company and is an avid cyclist, but
this is his first time cycling out of Holland and is
having a great time. Nice fellows, good company.
I go back to the B&B and ask Anne for an early
breakfast at 7:45. I have to catch the bus in Alston
at 10:20 (only one per day) to go to Carlisle for
the train to Manchester. I prepare for tomorrow,
write in my journal and read myself to sleep.