Day 9 Tan Hill Inn to Middleton in Teesdale. The boggiest bog so far.

A fine but misty morning to start today’s 16.5 miles. The .5 may seem pedantic, but it’s starting to matter; I am looking forward to a rest day tomorrow.

I left Tan Hill shrouded in mist and set off walking in fleece and gloves, it was 6c.  However, after about half a mile I popped out of the mist like coming in from Narnia. It was like stepping though a door into the sunshine as I walked out of the bank of cloud sitting on the hill.

The Tan Hill Inn in early morning mist

Stepping out of the mist on Sleightholme moor

I was now on Sleightholme Moor in Durham. Yet again as I change from one county to another the way marking and footpath management dramatically changes. Durham seems to have ignored the PW for years; no flagstones across the bog and very few, very old, way markers. I was glad of my GPS today.

 

Old Durham County Council way marker

I was warned about the bog. The guidebook had this to say: “even fans of the bleakest, most barren moorland will find it difficult to warm to Sleightholme Moor. It’s boggy, treacherous, the path isn’t always obvious and if your boots dried out overnight you’re about to find out what a waste of effort that was”. The author of “One Man and His Bog” said that on his death bed he may well murmur the words “Sleightholme Moor” involuntarily as he expired. Wainwright was equally lyrical about the Moor. He said that it was “like walking in porridge”, or, after heavy rain “oxtail soup”. Not sure I would want to have his soup recipe. He called this stretch a “journey of despair”

 

Sleightholme Moor. The sunshine is deceptive of what lies beneath.

Don’t let the sunshine give a sense of comfort. The absence of flag stones meant that I was walking, wading, leaping from tussock to tussock across a very soft bog. I found that I was walking fast, my theory being that the less time I spent in contact with the ground, the better. My feet remained dry, just about, but once again the leather in my boots was saturated. I was zig zagging all over the place trying to avoid the worst bits whilst at the same time trying to keep on course. I understand now why the path is not obvious, there isn’t one; its everyman, woman, child and dog for themselves.

 

At the end of the bog I joined a gravel road obviously frequented by the shooting community judging by the number of new shooting butts erected at the side of the road. There were also Red Grouse everywhere; I was almost stepping on them. I also saw several Curlews and lots of skylarks. Having complained about the absence of way markers, this one awaited me at the end of the bog. Strangely enormous and in the direction from which I had come but nothing to say where I wanted to go.

Large PW sign at the end of Sleightholme Moor

 I then had that familiar, to me anyway, sound of a distant road that had been absent since I left the M62 on day 3. This was the A66, an A road which sounded like a motorway. I was grateful of the underpass as I approached it.

 

There followed more moor, but thankfully a largely dry one this time in the form of Bowes Moor. Again, this was the habitat of the Red Grouse and its hunters. Thankfully no shooting was in progress as I crossed.

As I descended down off the moors into Middleton in Teesdale route finding became an issue and again I relied on my GPS for guidance. Whilst there were a few, old, footpath way markers there was very little by way of PW signs. I did spot one very old one fixed to a tree that looked like it was slowly being assimilated into said tree.

Old PW sign. 1960s?

We are now camped at a very pleasant little site on the side of a hill. It is a small holding (17 acres, not that small) and we are parked next to a 1960s VW camper, tin top (ie no lifting roof) in immaculate condition. I asked the occupants how they coped without the elevating roof and I got the reply that they were very short people; silly question I guess.

 

Glad of the rest day today – chance to dry and re-proof my soggy boots and prepare myself for a series of long 20 milers in the days to come.

Catherine meanwhile did a circuit from Tan Hill, down through Keld, across to Reeth, where she had a fine coffee and walnut cake at the Bike Centre in Fremington, then back up the 10 miles or so to Tan Hill along the ever inclining river valley road - thankful that the sun was warming and there was only a light headwind.

Spotted these against the wall of a farm. In  need of some attention.

AW