Publish and be damned.
Well I guess you will be.
Into Northumberland again, for the seers foretell of inclement weather to the West…..we encounter quite the opposite on this brief sojurn.
Just left the car park….somewhere there (probably) is my house key…but that is another story….
The plan is to camp on a fine escarpment overlooking the primitive country of ‘Scotland’….without having to deign to set foot thereon. We will ascend via the Hen Hole, reputedly the playground of faeries…well yes, one might call my companion that.
The bog cotton (there is a clue to the normal nature of the Cheviots here) bloometh must fulsomely and paints a pretty backdrop…
…all too briefly..
Prance we must twixt waterfalls and rivulets.
Some prance slowly…
This way up is a delight, quite the contrast of our descent into Hell (the original name) some years ago in sopping wet conditions.
One wishes for strange things……some unkind..
…ah well
Once out of the ‘jaws’ of this cleft the real work will have to begin, up those benign-looking slopes…two feet of spongy heather does not for legs of steel make.
Water for the evening is gathered, resolve too as the last ascent looms.
The heat, dissipated by a light breeze over water in the gorge now kicks in a plenty, close and cloying.
And there is Auchope Cairn. And views. Light winds. Sunshine. Warmth.
Moment No. 1 – Matinée Idol
As el is without a signal I message this to his wife (such trust); her somewhat sarcastic response assures me their marriage is at a mature stage
Tents up. Time to stroll around and take pictures from every angle to appease one’s ‘followers’.
I had posited the idea of carrying on a bit if we were early; like that was ever going to happen….
Dinner time.
A finely-crafted Trail Designs Titanium cone.
And something else.
Moment No. 2 – move over Rodin
Really…what was he thinking…
Cue the sun dipping…although it never got that dark all night…
Most things look OK after 2 glasses of red wine, most
Yes well, they do come with all those special effects filters these days..
Time passes.
Clang a few pots.
Life ebbs away…..
More time passes.
Moment No. 3 –dithering déshabillé
And back to the cotton grass….
Cheviot summit after a nice early morning stroll; not quite as warm as when I was here a couple of weeks hence, but not bad.
And down.
This seems to be a rich valley, very well kempt homesteads. Lots of grouse management.
Mopsy.
Cottontail and Peter are in a pot.
Yes well, he should not have bothered them on the walk-in should he?
And so, after a fine trip we wend our way to the café.
Mince and dumplings.
