I woke up at about 7am, but I was so snug and secure in my bed that I couldn't get up until 7.45am. I'd arranged breakfast for 8am, so there was now no time to be lost. I got a quick wash, and then noticed a large spider stuck in the bath. I was concerned about what might happen to it later on, so I spent 5 minutes trying to persuade it to climb onto a piece of loo roll so that I could lower it out of the window. It wasn't willing to co-operate, though, so I went back to my room, dressed in a T shirt, shorts and a pair of socks and began to gather my things together. Shortly after that I left my room in search of breakfast.
Unfortunately, and as you may have gathered, I don't have much of a sense of direction, and so when I opened the door to the dining room it turned out to be the door to the other guest bedroom, and I've been left with an enduring image of the couple I'd met after dinner the night before, staring at me in shocked surprise from their bed...
I apologised and retreated quickly to the hall, where I decided to call for directions before I did anything even worse, and fortunately Mr Dent came out of the kitchen and rescued me. Soon after that I was sitting at a large table in the dining room looking out onto a garden full of beautiful flowers as I sipped fresh orange, nibbled at toast and tried to look as though I wasn't expecting someone to emerge from the bedroom and clip me round the ear. Mrs Dent had asked me the night before what I'd like for breakfast, and I'd decided on smoked haddock. Major treat! It soon arrived, and I enjoyed it very much. I drank my tea as I finished the toast, and then returned to my room to get my things together. I was keen to leave before the other couple emerged and exposed my embarrassing mistake...
Another 5 minutes with the tarantula in the bath finally paid dividends, and I was able to lower it to safety on a length of loo roll. I then made my own escape at about 8.25am, and made my way back down to Alston. Annoyingly, I'd realised that morning that I'd need to visit a cashpoint machine, as I was low on cash and unlikely to find a bank for at least another 3 days. I was told that the cashpoint was right at the top of the hill at the far end of the town - which I suppose just goes to confirm that cashpoint machines are indeed the invention of the Devil - but I had to get there and so I pressed on. In fact it wasn't too far a walk at all, and Alston was quite an attractive place at that time in the morning.
I stopped at a chemist on the way back down the hill to buy some camera film, and at an organic food shop (another major treat!) to buy some snacky things to eat with coffee during the day, and by about 9.30am I was back on the path retracing my steps of the previous evening.
I rounded a corner not far from some buildings and found Gordon the wild camper standing in the middle of the path, staring at the ground. He looked up and saw me, and when I approached he told me he'd been looking for my tracks. The night before in the pub he'd said that he could follow people's tracks in the grass, and he'd mentioned watching me climbing the hill out of Dufton through a monocular. I hadn't paid much attention at the time, but to tell me now that he was looking for my tracks seemed a little over the top. I didn't like it very much.
Gordon and I walked on together for a while...
...but then he dropped behind, saying that he liked to stop regularly to admire his surroundings, so I pressed on ahead.
Not long afterwards I found myself confused about which path to take over a little hill, and looked back to see where Gordon was. There was no sign of him, which seemed a little odd. I began to feel uncomfortable, and decided to dump the confusing path conundrum, cut down to the road and make my way straight along the A689 to the next crossing point at Castle Nook. I didn't like the idea that there was someone following closely but invisibly behind me, and I hoped to get ahead on a flat section and leave him behind.
I got to Castle Nook fairly quickly, and cut down across the fields, where I soon approached a farmer working with his dogs to separate some sheep.
I stopped some distance away to let him complete the task, but he beckoned me on. One of his dogs ran out to meet me, apparently trying to round me up :-) When I got closer I stopped for a chat, and to admire the farmer's most attractive sheep. He told me he was separating off the prettiest of them to take them to the Alston Show. He'd already been round and trimmed them with the hand clippers, and they certainly looked very impressive.
I carried on after that towards Slaggyford, but shortly after Kirkhaugh I looked back as I climbed over a stile and saw that the wild camper was back on the track behind me. I still had an uncomfortable feeling about it, and so I decided that when I got to Slaggyford I'd continue along the A689 to Burnstones, rather than taking the higher and therefore slower hillside path to the west.
Along the way I passed another rope swing suspended from a tree above a river, and stopped to see if I could find the launching off point. In the course of looking I noticed an amazing sort of bracket fungus, large and round and considerably bigger than the average dinner plate.
A little while later I took what would probably have been my best photo of the entire trip, had the malicious Macro button not decided to clip off the right hand side :-( Still, it's a good one by my standards.
In due course I left Slaggyford by the A689 as planned, but when I got to Burnstones I returned to the Pennine Way path, and began to make way back up the hill towards the moor.
Almost all day, I found it very difficult to get into my stride. Partly I think I was still tired out - both physically and mentally - from the exertions of the day before, and partly I was a little unsettled by the sensation that someone was watching me. As always, though, the miles eventually have to be covered if the walk is to be completed, and so I just had to keep pressing on.
I descended to the road near Lambley some time around midday, and stopped for my usual lunch. First I combined a photo opportunity provided by a stile with the chance to rest my back...
...and then I lay down to consider the view and enjoy the sound of absolutely nothing but the hum of the bees and the breeze in the grass.
Eventually I had to move on, and the landscape changed entirely once again as I progressed towards moorland.
I was surprised on this walk to realise just how very quickly landscapes can alter, and just how bleak and lonely moorland can appear after the immeasurably more friendly and comforting picture presented by soft green pastures grazed by cattle and sheep.
I was tired but progressing steadily across the moors when I glanced behind and noticed Gordon standing still beside a stile, some distance back: probably a quarter of a mile away. This gave me perhaps more of a shock than it should have done, but I was quite scared to see him there. My detours must have saved me some time and I'd not spent long on any break, so it seemed surprising that a slower walker, using the conventional route, was still only a short distance behind me. It certainly shook me straight out of my reverie, and I now put on a spurt and pushed on as quickly as I could for half a mile or so. I'm a pretty fast walker when I have to be, and so when I turned round half a mile later and saw Gordon just as close as he'd been the last time I looked my tummy really turned over, because I realised that he must have put on a similar spurt to keep up with me.
I took out my mobile phone and was very relieved to find signal. I wanted to make contact with someone from home, and so I rang a friend, seeking reassurance. Unfortunately he didn't answer, but I left a message and within a minute he rang back. I spoke to him as I pushed on up the hill towards the trig point on the skyline, and felt a bit better. When I got there I promised to ring him back as soon as I got to the Youth Hostel, where I had arranged to stay, and pressed on a little calmer. Almost immediately, though, I saw Gordon coming up behind me again, and at that stage I began to panic.
I started trying to get down the hill as fast as I possibly could. There isn't a clearly defined path, and so it's not easy to know precisely how to get down. Almost a K along I turned right along a track by pylons, and out of the corner of my eye I could see Gordon not an awfully long way up the hill behind me. I wasn't sure where to turn left off the track, and made a mistake, finding myself needing to get over a locked gate surrounded by barbed wire covered walls. By now there was no way I was turning back, though, so I just climbed over the gate and then took off my pack, threw it over the wall and followed it over myself. I got straight back into it on the other side, and continued down the hill at almost a run. Near the bottom I came to a point at which I had to take off the sack and drop it over a wall again in order to get over a stream, but eventually I managed it and finally I emerged onto the very busy A69, crossed it and ran along the old road down Greenhead Bank, towards Greenhead. As I did so I wiped away tears of fright for the second time in a week.
It was another 10 minutes before I got down to the Youth Hostel, passing the campsite on the way, and the first person I saw was Dave. He'd been there fore some time and told me I'd missed Stephen - whose last day this had been - and we arranged to nip across the road to the pub for a drink as soon as I'd been inside to check in. I've rarely been so relieved to see a familiar face in my entire life.
I checked in, dumped my kit in my room (the first one I'd had to share) and went back outside to meet Dave for the drink. He'd already been to the pub and bought two pints, and we sat outside at a little table in the fading sun and drank them together. Later, after I'd taken a shower and put my clothes in the washing machine, we went across the road for dinner, and I ordered garlic mushrooms and then 3 cheese broccoli pasta. Half way through dinner Gordon turned up, as I'd thought he might, and proceeded to cross-examine me about the route that I'd taken during the day, and in particular the points at which my route had departed from the Pennine Way. It was perfectly clear that he'd followed every move I'd made, and he seemed to be getting a kick out of letting me know. I got angry at that stage and told him in unequivocal terms that it's not acceptable to follow people in that way, that he'd scared me half to death and never to do it again. Shortly afterwards he moved to another table, and eventually Dave and I went back to the YH. I hung up my clothes in the drying room, and went to bed.
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