Windy Gyle to Byrness: E2 Day 53

Lovely scenery over the rounded hills of the Cheviots, but I was feeling tired.

Clear sky greeted me this morning as I left my tent. The sun had not yet risen but it was being announced by a pinkish glow on the horizon below darker blue skies, a few stars still sparkling. A few strands of cloud on the skyline were catching the light. Although a fresh breeze was still blowing, it was much reduced from last night when the flapping flysheet made me concerned as to whether the tent would stay intact. Fortunately the pegs were firmly in, holding the tent in place, so I had difficulty pulling them out this morning. 

Sunrise over the Cheviots.

As I walked along the ridge line that the Pennine Way followed, I marvelled at the way the morning sun was turning the grass, heather and rushes a shade of red. An early milestone was reaching Windy Gyle, a summit on which there is a pile of stones with a trig point half way up one side. It had been painted a brilliant white, similar to one I saw yesterday evening. 

Morning sun turning the moorland red each side of the path.

Next milestone was reaching the refuge of Yearning Saddle, a small, single room cabin with benches located around the edge on which to sit or sleep. I sat inside to enjoy a snack and read the comments in the log book, adding my own. After the refuge I met several people walking in the opposite direction to me, both Pennine Way walkers and those out for the day.

Rounded hills with heather or grass typical of the Cheviots.

Having heard the sound of what transpired to be clashing horns, I walked over to a fence to see three feral goats having a fight, oblivious to my presence. Either there was a close combat of interlocking horns or else they moved back, rose onto their hind legs and then crashed down on each other with a sickening clash of horns. It was only after I moved away that I saw there was a fourth, diminutive goat with small horns. Were they fighting over her?

I continued over Chew Green, the site of a Roman fort, although there is little to see. By now I was feeling tired and looking forward to reaching Byrness. For much of day I had to be careful to avoid deep or slippery mud, working my way around pools of water on tussocky grass, reeds or heather with hidden holes. This irregularity of the ground meant that I put a lot of effort into where I placed my feet. I needed to avoid damage to my delicate left knee. Such worries made me timid in the placement of my feet, lacking fluid, bold movements, like an old man fearing to fall. All this effort added to my general feeling of tiredness. Even where there were slabs of rock laid over boggy areas, some of the slabs had sunk into the mud or water, making detours into rough ground necessary. There also seemed a lot more hills than I remembered from my last walk along this section. After over three weeks, most people in books claim to gain a level of greater fitness, sometimes I do, sometimes I do not, as on this trip.

Finally reaching Byrness I stopped at St Francis' church to sit down on a pew and check how to reach the campsite where I planned to stay. Dating from 1793 I gave thanks for my progress so far in the simple, small building. 

I would have preferred to stay at "Forest View", a guesthouse catering for Pennine Way walkers, a good place to chat with other hikers about our trips over dinner, and noted as one of the highlights of the Pennine Way in the comment book at Kirk Yetholm. Unfortunately it was closed for the season so I am now at the campsite. Apparently it had been a prisoner of war camp in the Second World War. A metal detectorist was looking for remains. He had found many nails, but also an officer's "star" from his uniform.

Unfortunately the zip of my flysheet is starting to give trouble, separating in places it should not. I am worried it will soon cease to function.