Last Hurrah Part 1: I found the bees!

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Let me start with a brief note about my progess on the course:

I have a Masters Degree!

That's all. Moving on.

As many of you know, my time in this amazing and fascinating little country is drawing to a close. Two weeks from yesterday, I will go back to the States, likely for good. There are many mixed emotions about this, but that's not why you're here. So without further ado, here is the first of my series of final entries on the magnificent little place they like to call England.

The lease on our house expired about three weeks ago, leaving me with a month to roam around and sleep on couches and spare rooms. (With permission, obviously, I didn't just sneak into random houses.) There were a couple days here and there when no one was available, so I did have to fill in those gaps with hostel stays. So far, it's been fantastic, and a great way to say goodbye to this place.

First stop: Wooler



Wooler is a small town in Northumberland National Park, just to the northeast of the Cheviots, a mountain range on the border between England and Scotland. It has everything that small English towns have, plus a fantastic Youth Hostel and a few outdoor shops, to cash in on the walkers and cyclers who come through there. St Cuthbert's Way, one of a few long trails in the UK, passes through the town on its way from Melrose Abbey in Scotland to Lindisfarne Priory on Holy Island (remember Holy Island?). Wooler isn't easy to get to by public transit (one bus to/from Berwick and one to/from Alnwick, neither of which operate evenings, Sundays or bank holidays), but the area is beautiful and it has great access to multiple walking trails in the Cheviots.

As usual, I took my trusty guidebook, which outlined an 11-mile circular walk starting and ending in Wooler, almost on the doorstep of the Youth Hostel. I didn't go to the summit of any of the mountains, but I did pass through some amazing scenery.



The weather was supposed to be nicer in the morning, so I started early. Like most walks, it followed paths and farm roads over moors and through woodland. In Britain, it's very common for marked public footpaths and bridleways to cross private land, especially farms.

By the way, to everyone who has been worried about the drastic disappearance of bee populations in the past few years, let me assure you that they're not vanishing. It's just that they all came to Northumberland. The heather on the Cheviot mountains has attracted them, likely from all over the world. So you can relax. They're all here. ALL OF THEM.

On a semi-related note, what kind of idiot apiphobe brings an orange on a hiking trip through heather? Seriously? Why did I think that would be a good idea? At least I can rest assured that the trail was mostly deserted, so there was no one to witness me screaming and flailing like a tiny, tiny child.

Anyway.



The trail was pretty easy to follow, with some exceptions. Because the book is two years old, and logging is still an industry in this part of the country, sometimes the forests were smaller or more nonexistent than the book described.



But I do think this is one of my favorite walks that I've done, which is saying something because I've enjoyed all of the walks (the Rothbury one I loved so much, I've done it about 4 times). There were very few people, especially on the first parts of the walk early in the day.





The one other TINY complaint I had about this walk is that, shortly after the stretch where these pictures were taken, you pass through a field of bulls. Not as in a field of cows, or a field of cows with one bull, or a field of Highland Cows that sort of look like bulls. An actual, fenced-in field of bulls. And I was supposed to walk right through the middle of it. And, like most farm animals do when you get close, they look up at you and just stare. Which is unnerving even with sheep. Forget about bulls.

This farm had the best views of the highest peak in the Cheviots, aptly named 'The Cheviot.' Unfortunately, I was so busy trying to work out how to cross the farm without being pinned to a fencepost by bullhorns that I forgot to take a picture.

I decided to leave the path slightly so that I could walk around the outside of the field instead of through the middle. I walked briskly. Making no eye contact but keeping them all in my peripheral vision. They were very interested in me, but thankfully I was not gorged by a farm animal on this day.

So I don't recommend that part. I have the sneaking suspicion (or I hope) this is not where the bulls were kept when this book was written.



Tom Talon's Crag. This part of the trail was actually a section of St. Cuthbert's way, which was cool.





A view of the (flatter) farmland to the north of the Cheviots.



A very nice last-walk-in-England to do. I've given the book to a coursemate now, and I hope she enjoys it as much as I did. Aside from the occasional field of bulls. Or bees.

Next: A day in Alnwick and a week with a coursemate in the Teeside.

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Comments

[Wendy L]

beautiful
As always, your writing and your pictures entice me to travel to the locations you visit! And thank heavens you found the bees.

[Mom]

Bees
Beautiful pictures of a beautiful area. I love the heather! Bummer about the bees, though. Pretty sure they would have found you even without the orange....