Wednesday May 10 Langdon Beck YH to Dufton
After a mediocre breakfast, Oliver and I bid Ruth
goodbye and set off for Dufton. She may spend a
night at Oliver’s mother’s house near Edinburgh.
Along the Tees, we find wildflowers that are famous
here, pink primrose and spring gentian. Beautiful
little things, the riverside is covered with them.
All the farmhouses are painted white, very unusual,
part of a lease agreement dating back several
hundred years.
The Tees snakes its way through Silurian slate which
was used for pencils in school days long ago. We
make our way over boulder fields between the river
and steep rocky cliffs called “clints”. Falcons make
nests up on the cliffs named Falcon Clints. The
boulders are tough walking, the many redheaded
grouse that live here seem to have an easier time of
it. We climb over rockfall after rockfall, no
discernible path, then we hear a loud roar, round a
bend and there is Caldron Snout, a great spew of a
waterfall, a torrent from a narrow cleft below Cow
Green Dam.
We take photos in front of the snout, then rock
climb up to its top and cross a bridge to continue
the path on the far side. Over pasture and farm to
Maize Beck, a rocky stream that Oliver, ahead of me,
fords. He points downstream to a bridge that I
cross. Several more miles and we arrive, 1 pm
lunchtime, at High Cup Nick. This is a highlight of
the whole trip, an absolutely beautiful geological
formation that photos do not do justice. The world
suddenly opens up beneath you, a giant curving up to
the right and to the left but also descending to the
Eden Valley miles away below. It is truly awesome!
A Ramblers group was lunching here, but soon moved
on, leaving us alone to bask in the glory of the
view. We ate something and then started the four
mile descent to Dufton. It is very hot today, but
the sky is clear and you can see clearly the
surrounding hills and the valley below. At Dufton, I
am tired. Oliver hunts for a camping site and we
both buy fruit from the only shop in town. Coney
Garth B&B is a very long mile out of town, a twenty
minute walk. The B&B was advertised to be only a
five minute walk from town, quite a miscalculation I
would say.
I cleaned up, rested, and walked back to the Stag
Inn to meet Oliver for a pint and goodbye. He will
be leaving early tomorrow and traveling fast to make
the 21 miles to Alston. I will only be going to
Garrigill and walking slower. We sit outside the pub
as I eat a very poor Lamb Henry (worst I have ever
had in England) and talk with a touring
motorcyclist. I won’t see Oliver again, but we do
exchange emails. I later heard that Ruth did stay at
his mother’s house.