Day 7: Garrigill to Dufton

Prior to the 7am alarm I pondered my options for putting some of my weight into Simon's bag for transport. I did a quick risk assessment and decided not to send any essential kit. So not the tent or my sleeping bag and I would have to take back the stove and pans. I have no excess clothes but could forward spare food.
Rob was hammering on the door at 7.45 to pick up Simon's rucksack, just before we had our breakfast.

Left the village hall at about 9 o'clock. It had been raining earlier but had been stopped a while. The sky looked threatening but an old man, looking like a long in the tooth farmer attuned to the seasons and the weather told us it would blow over. No timescale was promised.

So off we set, up the track towards the cloud and gloom, with hope in our hearts and a spring in our step, towards Cross Fell – the highest point on our walk. Without his rucksack Simon was skipping along like a spring bunny.

We soon entered the mist, out of which emerged an interesting collection of machinery, including this mobile stone crusher

It had been involved in the laying of 4 miles of resurfaced track. At first this was well compacted and easy going. But then looser sections with larger stones. The views were non-existent and then the mist turned into light rain which turned into heavier rain. All accompanied by a strong wind driving into our faces and driving the temperature down. We were soon rather bored of this gradual uphill trudge.
Our initial target was Greg's Hut, 7 miles into the day. The hut seemed never to arrive. A vague shape would emerge out of the gloom, the hut perhaps, only to reveal itself as an old ruined building. But perhaps Greg's Hut was indeed an old ruined building and our dreams of shelter and comfort were merely dreams

Eventually something much bigger loomed into sight, a proper shelter indeed. Would it be a locked shooting lodge or an accessible mountain bothy. Fortunately the latter

But who should already be in residence but our old friend Joshua. We swapped news of our journeys to date and I fired up the stove to make a brew for everyone. It should be noted for the record that the indoor temperature was 6 degrees. Outside? Who knows. We managed to persuade J to have some malt loaf while we had a full three course meal – ½ a sandwich, a pasty, and malt loaf. Joshua was planning to stay till the weather lifted, which we pointed out might be never

We eventually had to leave as we had places to go, notably Dufton. So we began our final trudge up the slopes of Cross Fell. At least the rain had stopped, but visibility was down to 20m or less. The path was not defined in this section and I was navigating by compass bearing. A mosque like building appeared ahead, and then morphed into the summit cairn

48 years appears to have done little to the temperature, but the cairn has clearly developed into a much grander structure

We now continue our journey over the Cross Fell massif, passing an interesting collection of cairns. We also achieve a significant milestone, passing the 100 miles walked point near the head of the river Tees

Little Dun Fell is our first target. The wind there is so strong that it is difficult to stay upright

The next summit is Great Dun Fell with its interesting collection of golf ball dome and assorted equipment. It is served by the highest tarmaced road in the country and thus a destination for cyclists. None today though

We then begin the long and gradual descent towards Dufton. As we drop below the cloud base the views start to open up. We can see the Northern Fells of the Lake District and the lush green Vale of Eden in front of us

There looks to be rain heading our way, but also bright beams of sunshine playing onto the broad valley. All quite delightful.
As we descend the temperature increases and I gradually remove layers of clothing. Overtrousers, then hat, then thick gloves, then mac, and eventually thin gloves. Still wearing two fleeces when we arrive at the Dufton city limits and book ourselves into the youth hostel. It's a rather grand building inside - I'll try and get some pics for you tomorrow. After washing socks we had a brief problem with washed off grit preventing the plug in the sink from being opened. I had to use the special sink tool in my penknife. Then across the road to the Stag Inn

Another open fire for our smelly boots to luxuriate in front of. As Simon puts it: the days are crap but the evenings are great. It's  Chip Tuesday at the Stag and the locals quite chatty. There is also a ladies darts match taking place to liven the scene. Food is excellent as is the beer and we emerge many hours later to walk back to our hostel. The silence outside is quite profound, and something that is so rare to get these days.

Distance walked today: 16 miles
Total trail walked: 107 miles

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