Tuesday, 14 August 2012

Bellingham to Byrness

I've mentioned before the dilapidated state of many properties in the countryside. At Gilsland, I noticed a particularly sad example: a fine house with a large part of the roof missing which I therefore assumed was empty. However my host informed me that the owner still lived there but refused to undertake any repairs despite the coaxing and cajoling of the local community which in desperation had even offered to buy it.  In other places, it's not unusual to see substantial farmhouses with relatively minor depredations completely abandoned as farms have been amalgamated and people have moved away from agriculture. Demolition is, I suppose, expensive and unnecessary while conversion to holiday accommodation requires available capital and some guarantee of a market, so many places are just left to decay. Passing them, I can't help wondering about the lives of those who lived and died there and how they would feel about their cherished homes being left to the elements.
The walk from Bellingham to Byrness was one of the least inspiring so far. Almost half the distance comprised boggy ground interspersed with tussocky grass and heather. Avoiding the mire is awkward and timeconsuming while treading on the spongy ground in between saps the energy, like walking on a sandy beach. The tussocks are hard and uneven so it's difficult to get a firm footing and I would have fallen or twisted an ankle on several occasions had it not been for my pole.  The remainder of the route followed forestry commission tracks which were better underfoot but afforded views only of uninspiring coniferous monoculture so I was pleased when I finally reached Byrness.  
On most days, I've encountered very few other walkers. Except for the sponsored group on Hadrian's Wall, the daily tally has rarely exceeded ten and normally it has been far fewer. I'd been wondering whether there would be a day when I saw no one else at all and I was beginning to think this was it. Then in the last mile I caught up with a woman who had started the PW a couple of days after me but had not taken any rest days. When we arrived in Byrness, she went to the youth hostel and I headed for my B&B, and that made me think about the different modes of travel on the trail.
PW walkers fall into three groups who can usually be identified by the size of their backpacks.  Some, like myself, choose the most luxurious mode of travel, short of a helicopter, which is staying in B&Bs and having baggage transported. This means that it is only necessary to carry a daypack while walking, but does limit one's flexibility as overnight stops are planned and booked in advance. So far as I can tell from the limited number of PW walkers I've met, the largest proportion stay in youth hostels. Of course they have to carry all the clothes and other accoutrements required for the entire expedition, but it's cheaper than B&Bs. Youth hostels are sparse, so that option affords limited flexibility and as several hostels along the PW have closed, perhaps reflecting the decline in popularity of the route, this group is sometimes forced into B&Bs. A surprisingly sizeable minority camp along the PW which minimises cost and maximises opportunities for impulsive variations. Lee, who I met way back in the Peak District, was one example and I've encountered several since. At Byrness, my accommodation also provided camping facilities which was being used by a man with two children.  He had completed the PW by himself some years ago and obviously thought it would be selfish to deprive his children of the experience. They were going north to south and had needed a rest day after an overambitious start. They joined me for dinner in the guest house and were clearly reluctant to leave the cosy log fire for chilly tents. As I was setting off in the morning they were packing up. The children were auditioning for the "most sullen teenagers" competition and I didn't envy their father the next two weeks.

© David Thompson 2012

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