We set off from Bellingham, leaving the Black Bull Hotel behind as we set our sights on. Byrness and the Forest View B&B – two nights indoors in a row felt like absolute luxury!
The trail promised a steady uphill grind all day. We quickly swapped pavements for fields and then open moors, swathed in beautiful hues of purple and orange. As the knee-high heather swallowed the narrow path and scraped against our legs, we realised this would be a great way to exfoliate – who needs body scrub?
Looking at the map we’d spied woodland on the second half of today’s journey and kept walking towards the crop of trees we’d seen in the distance. As we approached the trees, we spent an age skirting the edge, tackling a brutal climb on one of those ‘is this really a path’ type sections. At the top we finally veered into the edges of Kielder Forest on a stony track that ran for miles and miles. By 15km we started to feel hungry and searched for a while for a large log or rock to sit on and have lunch. Eventually we gave up and sat down on the dirt to enjoy our spread: the predictable cheese sandwiches.
The path dragged on long enough to cross into dull territory, beautiful scenery or not. As a hiker you get greedy, wanting a change in scenery or terrain to keep the weary mind entertained. Finally we started to descend down to Byrness. Just before we came out onto the road, we bumped into Michael, whom Kate and Maren had introduced us to at the pub the night before. He was planning to go a little further than us, heading to a bothy he had seen on his map.
Just before the B&B we walked past St. Francis Church. It’s absolutely lovely – quaint in the best possible way. We’ve read hikers can sleep in there if they wish – which is incredibly generous.
A mile down the road we came to Forest View B&B and although too early for our rooms, we were able to go inside and sit in the conservatory to wait. Within minutes hot mugs of tea were pressed into our hands and after a while a trickle of other walkers came in, including Leuan and Ginette. Once everyone staying over was assembled the owner, Roxanne, came in and showed us all incredible hospitality: our boots were whisked away to be aired or dried, orders for dinner and breakfast were taken (we would all eat together) and any questions on the route, maps and other needs were answered.
She explained their legendary shuttle system for the 40km leg to Kirk Yetholm. Some would walk the whole distance, some would stop half way to a bothy or wild camp and others could be helped by the Forest View service: hike to a designated waypoint, drop off the ridge, get whisked back for a meal and bed, then get dropped back to the same spot the next morning. Her efficiency even extended to putting out a water canister so we could fill our hydration bladders as she ‘knew how hard it was do that in the sink’. I could not recommend this place enough – top class.
In the evening, we gathered around the big dining table with our fellow hikers, passing food and sharing stories of where we’d been and where we were headed. There was something truly magical about a room full of strangers bonded by the exact same journey.
Day 16.
We woke up and had breakfast early, keen to set off and get going as we would still be covering nearly 31km today. This would set us up at the second bothy up on the Cheviots and allow for an easy 11km trundle into the finish line the next day.
The first couple of kilometres were a brutal steep climb up through woodland, including some rocky step ups near the top that required you to swing your poles out of the way and get your hands involved (even a knee on one occasion).
Once at the top, the views were to die for. You could see in every direction for miles and the weather was glorious. We felt incredibly lucky – the sun had really arrived at the right time in our journey. It took 15km of undulating single track to reach our first Bothy. The views were so incredible we were stopping often to take photos under the cloudless blue skies.
We briefly fell in step with a German family we had meet at Forest View before parting ways again. The first Bothy offered the perfect place to sit down and have lunch and a rest. This was where Kate and Maren had spent the night whilst we were in Byrness. We knew that in this moment they (and Leuan who had been dropped off by the shuttle halfway) would be well on their way to the finish line in Kirk Yetholm.
We continued on to Windy Gyle which very much lived up to its name. That was the last time we saw a soul for hours. The afternoon unfurled in much the same way: endless rolling landscapes and wide open skies. A minor navigation hiccup and some bog dodging kept our minds sharp.
After 29km we came to a signpost that pointed us to the Cheviot summit. Looking at our expected full day stats: ca 31km and 1200m of climbing – we politely declined. Trig hunting would have added another 4km – we took the fork straight to our bothy for the night.
The last little bit was a very steep down and another very steep up again on legs that were now really tired. When we finally got there and stuck our heads in the Bothy, who should be sitting there, but Michael. He was also spending the night there. I wavered between sleeping inside the bothy or outside in my tent. Since the weather seemed fine at this point, I decided to join ‘the lads’ and pitch up outside – gambling that it would be comfier – huge mistake.
The second I pulled the tent out of its bag, the wind picked up violently. Within ten minutes I was engaged in my favourite sport: Chase the Flying Tent quickly followed by Sit on the Canvas and Get Some of it Pegged Down. Both classic games. Looking back – I should have admitted defeat then. Rookie error.
Once we all got our tents sorted, we piled into the Bothy to have our various dinners – which turned out to not be various at all. We had all opted for packets of cheesy pasta. It must be a hiker thing. Afterwards, we all opted for an early night and retreated to our respective shelters. I lay in my tent for barely an hour as gale-force winds whipped the fabric back and forth like a sail. Giving up, I hauled my mat and sleeping bag inside the bothy where I attempted to pin them on one of the narrow benches. These are not very comfortable I hasten to add. I managed to get a few hours sleep lying in a straight line on the bench. Sometime after 2am, the bothy door burst open. In came Chris and Michael, clutching my fully assembled tent – contents still inside along with my soaking wet boots and a handful of loose pegs. They dumped the whole heap on the floor and told me they had just rescued it from taking off. Oops.
Chris headed back to his tent while Michael decided enough was enough and went to get his sleeping gear and sleep in the bothy. Since he couldn’t fit into the ‘lie like a plank’ position on the other bench, he wisely opted to sleep on the floor. Safe to say it wasn’t the best nights sleep of the trip, but at least my gear was dry and I managed to drift off here and there.
Day 17.
Morning came and Chris came in. His tent had stayed up and he had slept pretty well. Michael and I hadn’t but it was the last day for us, so id didn’t really matter. Michael was still deliberating whether he was going to head to Kirk Yetholm or more directly over to Wooler.
Chris and I didn’t have much left to eat or drink, so breakfast was a bar each.
The last 11km took far longer than they should have. Aside from an initial 2km climb, it was all downhill, well, except for the last kilometre into Kirk Yetholm, which is surprisingly steep.
Ironically, this proved to be my hardest day on the trail, despite being the shortest. Every missing hour of sleep and calorie deficit caught up with me at once; I couldn’t wait to reach the end.
It was with a mix of excitement and relief we spied the village green and the Border Hotel.
After snapping the obligatory finish-line selfies, we walked inside to claim our free rewards: a free half-pint of beer and our official Pennine Way completion certificates.
We sat with the landlord over coffee and crisps, but before long, we made the 1km trek to our own hotel in Town Yetholm for lunch. By that time, I was so spent I was practically ready to fall asleep in my soup. We spent the day, recovering, resting and eating everything in sight.
The Pennine Way was everything. Brutal, challenging, beautiful, wild and filled with incredible like-minded hikers who quickly became friends.
