Pennine Way - Alston to Appleby-in-Westmorland (★★★★★)

Today we are back ticking off sections of the Pennine Way - and after today we will only have the one section left to complete, between Byrness and Kirk Yetholm (although the plan is to finish this trail next year, as I now start to wind down the walking miles).

My most recent day of walking on the Pennine Way also started at Alston - but since then there has been a change in the bus timetables, and so whilst the first bus out from Haltwhistle previously got in at 10am, that has been pushed back to 10:46 - which is a little bit too late a start to be comfortable in terms of train times in Appleby-in-Westmorland.

In response I have changed the approach, and yesterday I took the train over to Carlisle, and stayed overnight.

This is a stop over I have used many times, as the Travelodge in Carlisle is usually very cheap (typically £40) - but it has become more expensive this year (increasing to £80 a night), and I'm hoping it returns to it's former pricing - as it has been a very useful stopping point in recent years.

At the same time, this change in the timetable has somewhat eliminated the benefits of splitting the walk at Alston - which was done on the basis of this being two one-day walks - and removing the need to stay over between.

But as it is, the plan is to head out by bus from Carlisle to Brampton, and then from Brampton to Alston - and whilst the first bus out is fairly average, the second bus proves to be exceptionally pretty as we make our way up, and into, the hills. And this more than makes up for the change in plans.

On the Pennine Way

Now in Alston (getting off by Henderson's Garage - just a few minutes up from the Pennine Way), it is an easy walk south to meet up with the Pennine Way - and here we follow a very nicely finished path through woods, until we start to venture out through the farmland that lies to the south of Alson.

Here it is an enjoyable walk, as we follow the path of the River South Tyne - as it cuts it's way through this hilly landscape.

Following the South Tyne Valley

Before long we reach a bend in the river, and head east instead of south - and also drop down to walk closer to the edge of the river.

Here we find ourselves walking through a less good stretch of path - and it is both wet under foot, and quite overgrown - but we do eventually make our way across to a bridge, that offers hope of a better path on the far side of the river.

Crossing over the river

Once on the far side, we do indeed find a better path - and here we are able to once again enjoy out walk through this very pretty valley, as we start to make our way round to Garrigill.

Making our way towards Garrigill

This stretch of the Pennine Way is uncharacteristically flat - but I'm a big fan of these steep (and often very green) valleys - and it almost feels a shame to eventually be closing in on Garrigill, knowing that this stretch of path is set to come to an end soon.

At Garrigill we find what looks very much like a pit village (with the classic style of worker's cottages) - and it's unusual name gives a bit of a hint about it's more long-term history, with -gill being a more unusual suffix, that stems from the Old Norse word gil, for a steep-sided valley.

But whilst -gill is a fairly unusually suffix, this valley is full of them - with Ashgill, Crossgill, Dorthgill and Littlegill sitting nearby - and then up the Nent valley we have Blagill, Browngill, Galligill and Wellgill (the Nent joins the South Tyne at Alston).

This shows a high concentration of Norse habitation - and is an indication of that period of time when small groups of Vikings settled themselves across Cumbria.

Alston itself has a different sort of name - but it both is and isn't an exception to this Viking invasion - with Alston being thought to derive from the Danish (rather than Norse) name of Halfdansby ("the settlement or farmstead belonging to Halfdan") - before later being recorded as Aldensby in the twelfth century). 

After this there are about twenty or thirty different iterations of the town name recorded over time, before the modern name of Alston seems to have been settled upon, towards the end of the nineteenth century.

But despite the maps showing a deep Norse history, what we see of Garrigill today shows off it's more recent history - and here we must go back to that first impression of this town as a pit village, because it was indeed built out for the mine workers.

The Victorian-era church at Garrigill

There is a walk that explores the mining activities in this area - the Isaac's Tea Trail - which whilst named after the tea selling route of a chap called Isaac Holden, is really an exploration of the lead mining works in the area (centred at Nenthead).

And it was that industry that dominated this region - with this village housing 1,000 people at it's peak - with this being almost five times the number that live here today.

But we are soon through this village - and after a very flat start to the day, we now start what will eventually be a long (and slow) climb - that will take us up to the highest peak not just in the North Pennines, but in the Pennines generally - at Cross Fell.

But whilst this might seem a bit daunting, the ascent is pretty smooth - and so the total ascent across this day won't be too bad - and well below what you can achieve on days with smaller - but repeated - peaks.

All the same, the climb gets off to a fairly steep start, as we leave behind the River South Tyne - which is by now only about three miles from it's source (just to the south of a very young River Tees) - with the Tees, Tyne and Wear all having their source up in the hills above Garrigill.

But we get a decent return here for our efforts, with some lovely views back into the valley below.

Heading out of Garrigill

Watching the South Tyne head off to it's source

The first bit of the climb is fairly steep

By the time we get up to Black Band, we have ticked off the first two hundred meters of ascent - and although we still  have about three hundred to go, that remainder will now be achieved over the course of about five miles.

But whilst it would now be nice to stop and have a bit of a rest, that is not really an option today - for up here in the hills there are about a million flies - and more specifically we have a mass of Heather Flies.

These flies are harmless, and so there is no need to worry about getting bitten - but they are reasonably large, and have a very bad habit of flying into you - and so this part of the walk is spent trying not to get frustrated over a load of flies testing out the strength of their skulls on my face.

A Heather Fly having a rest on my leg (a male - due to it's massive eyes)

Eventually we break through the worst of these - and as they drop from a mass to an occasional flurry, things get more enjoyable again.

The views are at least good

And as we continue on the flies disappear entirely, as we head through a long expanse of pretty much nothing but heather and hills - and with us heading far away from the few roads that cut through the North Pennines, we are able to enjoy being in very pure countryside.

The benefit of this, is that you don't get many people out and about - and whilst there are a few routes down into the villages bordering the Settle-Carlisle line on the far side of this ridge, this is the only route up from the Alston side - and there are no car parks bringing the hoi polloi along to spoil our walking.

As we keep going, we keep steadily (but slowly) ticking off the feet of ascent - as we clear Rikeman Hill, and start to make our way up past Long Man Hill.

Winding our way up the ridge

Beyond Long Man Hill, we start coming across a number of disused mines and mining buildings - with these coming in particular as we pass Rake End and Cash Well spring.

This area is thought to have been first mined in the 18th century (likely from the second half of the century) - and a small smelting mill was built in the area around 1800, with the mining activity continuing until around 1921.

Here we are following a long 'hush' (you can see on the map lengths of ground marked with 'hush'), and a 'hush' would have resulted from the creation of a temporarily dam, that would have then been breached - releasing a flood of water that would strip away vegetation and soil, exposing the bedrock (and any metal ores) below.

This was a method of mining that was first used by the Romans (with it being notably used to mine for Welsh gold) - and it was a very effective (if slightly destructive) way of exposing the lead ore beneath the surface.

As we pass round to Blackstone Edge, we soon walk below Upper Slakesike - the site of an eighteenth century lead mine and ore processing site. 

And whilst we only pass some of the buildings on the edge of this site, what we pass here is in as good condition as the rest of the site.

And in all honesty, this history is welcome - because whilst we have very good views out over a vast stretch of countryside, what we are looking out across is also an endless stretch of very similar countryside.

Heading along Blackstone Edge

We're very much in the middle of nowhere now

But at the end of this stretch of path along Blackstone Edge, we do have a point of interest - as we reach Greg's Hut, which is the highest bothy in England - and where we pass over the 700 meter contour line (with just under two hundred meters left to go now).

The name Greg's Hut is a reference to a climber by the name of John Gregory - and it was his friends that adopted what was previously a ruined Blacksmiths Shop (supporting the lead mines) - and built it into a bothy in John's memory, after he died in a climbing accident in the Alps in 1968.

This remote bothy has been well maintained since, and is here to provide shelter to any walkers stuck in bad weather - and is also too far away from any roads for any rowdy youths to be a problems.

Greg's Hut

Today it seems to be the sheep who most appreciate the hut (with no need to shelter from anything but the sun today) - but it also marks the end of the more gradual ascent up this hillside, and the start of a steeper section of climb - before we will finally reach the top of Cross Fell.

Sheep tracking my progress beyond Greg's Hut

And with this in mind the path soon start to climb the slope more aggressively, as we make our way on to the Yad Stone - and there we change direction, for the final hundred meters or so of ascent, up to the highest point.

On this final climb we (don't) enjoy the return of some fairly wet ground - before we eventually make our way onto the drier plateau at the top of Cross Fell.

By now on the plateau

And getting our first views out towards the Lake District

Here on the western side of Cross Fell, the main highlight is the view towards the Lake District - and here we can see a very long stretch of hills that span from High Pike (in the north of the Lake District above Keswick) round to the general merging of the Lakes and Yorkshire Dales.

And once up at the bench by the peak, I opt to sit on the western side of the bench - and look out across to this wall of hills in the distance.

Part of that wall of hills (zoomed in a bit so a bit blurry)

From here we make our way across this plateau, heading in the direction of Tees Head - with our path then heading over Little Dun Fell and Great Dun Fell - with the later being easy to spot due to the radar station that sits on it's peak.

Now heading across the plateau (Little and Great Dun Fell in the distance)

From the next stone stack

Now starting to descend

We first have a bit of descent to clear, before we start to head up Little Dun Fell - and here we have a very easy opportunity to tick off the three highest peaks outside of the Lake District but still in England.

And a bit of research tells me that Cross Fell is in fact the eleventh highest peak in England - with Great Dun Fell and Little Dun Fell being twenty-fifth and twenty-seventh.

What is remarkable (if a bit obvious in hindsight) is the degree to which those hills we could see to the west of Cross Fell dominate the list of tallest peaks in England - with eighty-seven of the highest peaks in England being in the Lake District (with nine being in the North Pennines, three in the Yorkshire Dales, and one in the Cheviots).

That said, a lot of these peaks sit close together - without much of a rise and fall between them - and an example of this can be seen through Knock Fell (the fifth highest in England outside the Lake District), which from our direction barely counts as a peak (we will pass over it after Great Dun Fell, but without doing much ascent).

Equally though, those walking from Dufton will insist that it is Knock Fell is one of the toughest climbs you can come across, with Cross Fell in comparison being relatively straight-forward - and this provides a useful lesson in hill climbing - which is that is is much more easily done when starting from a favourable starting point.

And as if to prove this point, the trip down and up Little Dun Fell is very easily done - and here we also have some lovely views out over the valley below to enjoy.

View towards Wildboar Scar

Closing in on the space alien station at Great Dun Fell

After clearing Little Dun Fell, the next peak of Great Dun Fell proves to be similarly straight-forward - and here we head past the radar station, which takes the prominent spot at the top of the hill.

This radar station continues to be a key part of Air Traffic Control for northern England - and it's road has a claim to fame as being Britain's highest road - with the road taking on a steep route all the way to the top of the peak.

This means that the road gives of a very similar vibe to those famous Tour de France climbs you get to watch on the TV - but remarkably this stretch of road has never featured in the Tour of Britain (which tends to take things a bit easier, and stop for some sandwiches and a spot of tea along the way).

But one cyclist is giving it a go today - and nearly cries when he has to stop upon reaching the barrier blocking the road. Having wheeled past this obstacle, he is soon on his way - albeit with a bit of a whimper as he gets going again. But bravo to him, because he's put a decent effort in today.

That said, this guy is soon eclipsed in my mind by the next person I come across - and as he makes his way up the slope coming the other way, I declare "bit of a climb that one" - in the manner of one craftsman to another.

As he stops for a quick chat, I ask where he is going - and he replies with "Alston", which causes a bit of puzzlement in my mind - as he's very late in the day to be coming from Dufton (we aren't far off Dufton after all).

But this mystery is soon solved when he explains that he has come from Middleton-in-Teesdale - and is training for the Spine Race.

Here I realise that if this is indeed a chat between fellow craftsmen, then my craft is finger painting - whilst in comparison, his is painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

Today he will be walking forty miles, taking on over five thousand feet of ascent - with long stretches of bog and leg-sapping boulder fields to endure along the way.

At this point, this walker is clearly enjoying my very genuine appreciation of what they have done today - and it is rather incredible what these hikers/runners do.

For those unaware, the Spine Race is an ultra-marathon that makes use of the Pennine Way - with participants given seven days to complete the 268 mile course, over brutal terrain - although the course organisers have lightened up a bit in recent years, and added an alternative summer version - in additional to the core winter version.

These days you can track the runners online to follow their progress - and the fastest time to date has been set by one Jack Scott, at just under 73 hours - with that coming in January 2024.

If we had a properly functioning police force, I'm pretty sure they would lock him up as being an obvious wrongun - purely on the basis of his opting for a total one hour of sleep during that run - and for achieving something that us mortals couldn't even get close to.

But it is fortunate that the police don't round this lot up (for obviously being a bit wrong in the head), because it is pretty incredible what these runners/hikers can do - and it does make you wonder if we live in a simulation where nothing is real - because what an astonishing thing to be doing.

Fortunately my route is a lot easier, and soon I'm taking on that very tiny climb up to the top of Knock Fell - and from here we will turn, and start the descent to Dufton.

But on the way across we hit the wettest section of the trail so far today - and it is truly amazing just how wet it has remained up here in the North Pennines (while the rest of the country has dried out at an alarming rate).

Not much of a drought here

And as we turn and start the descent, it is clear that this is a far shorter leg down the slop than the one we went up from Alston - and so this section of the Pennine Way is almost certainly going to be more tiring when walking in the more traditional direction of Appleby to Alston.

At the same time, I suspect that this direction is the prettier of the two - because the views have been far better looking forward across this section of the trail, than they were looking back on our climb up to Cross Fell.

And it is as we drop off the side of Knock Fell that the views hit their absolute peak - with it being a stunning landscape to be dropping into.

Knock Pike is the lump up ahead

Although we are giving up quite a bit of height here, the descent is done in a very continuous way - and so there are no overly steep slopes to navigate down - just quite a long period of constant descent.

And to keep you entertained on the way down, there are lovely views both across the valley of the Swindale Beck, and across to the surrounding hills.

Now across the Swindale Beck

Looking back at the bridge that took us across the beck

At the start of the day, we got to enjoy a lovely walk along the South Tyne Valley - and so once we have the bulk of the descent behind us, there is a nice symmetry as we end our run into Dufton with a stroll through some truly lovely countryside.

Cows in front of Dufton Pike

Now on the edge of Dufton

We do soon reach Dufton - which proves to be a very lovely little village - and now all that remains is our final trip on towards Appleby-in-Westmorland.

Along the roads to Appleby-in-Westmorland (from Dufton)

Last time I did this, I used the A Pennine Journey route, which proved to be wet, muddy, and problematic (mostly because the route itself vanishes half way round). 

And so on this occasion, I opt for the road route - and in the end stick with the road all the way through into Appelby (with pavement appearing for the busier final stretch after the change in direction just beyond Brampton Tower).

In the end it is not a terrible walk down, but it remains a slight shame that there isn't a better route given how pretty the area above Dufton is - and given how easy it is to get to Appleby.

But as it is, I make it through to Appleby okay - and tonight the plan is to head back to Carlisle, where I will stay over for a second night, ahead of a shorter walk along the Dales High Way tomorrow.

Total Distance: 22.6 miles (19.4 miles on the Pennine Way)

Total Ascent: 3,350 feet (3,077 feet on the Pennine Way)

Enjoyment Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ / 5

Click for the connecting walks along the Pennine Way from Alston to Haltwhistle and from Middleton-in-Teesdale to Appleby-in-Westmorland.

Disclaimer: This writeup provides a narrative of what to expect rather than a route guide to follow. The route is covered by the 87 and 91 OS Landranger maps - while there is also a Pennine Way guidebook which includes OS mapping (links redirect to Amazon). The route is in general well way-marked