get outside – The Man in the Buff

Date walked: 23rd January 2021
OS Map: Explorer 307 – Consett & Derwent Reservoir/Explorer 316 – Newcastle upon Tyne
Start/finish point: NZ 185 608
Distance: 21.73km
Elevation gain: 296m

With January being all about staying local, revisiting the paths I’ve walked many times and trying to see them through new eyes, I was beginning to think I’d explored pretty much everything there is to see around Gateshead. Granted there are always occasional rights of way you spot when poring over the OS map, and can’t quite remember if you’ve trodden them or not, but in terms of longer, more ‘interesting’ walks, I was perhaps getting tired. Thank goodness for Viewranger, then. In ‘Outdoors Map’ mode, I’ve noticed that all manner of labelled paths and longer distance walks are shown, some of which don’t appear on the OS map – other than as various green lines. So, we’re au fait with the Tanfield Railway path, we’ve walked the Bowes Railway path a dozen times, we’ve done the large and impressive loop that is the Tyne & Wear Heritage Way – 128km of local underfoot goodness – in both directions. Then there’s the Red Kite Trail.

The what?

Yes, the Red Kite Trail. Perhaps I missed the memo, perhaps everyone has walked it a million times, perhaps I’ve just been blind to the way markers. In my defence, though I’ve lived in Gateshead for eight years, I’ve been walking for only a quarter of that time. Perhaps I’m still young, fresh, and ignorant. Well, certainly not young. Whatever the case, the Red Kite Trail is a delicious circular walk of about 20km taking in a stretch of the popular Derwent Walk, a tantalisingly short foray into the ever more popular Chopwell Wood, before heading up onto some high level (for Gateshead) farmland above Rowlands Gill, eventually dropping back down to your starting point at Winlaton Mill. Of course this is well known for being red kite territory – some 94 of these majestic birds of prey were reintroduced to the Derwent Valley between 2004 and 2009, and they seem to thrive. Many’s the time I’ve glanced up from my map on hearing the kite’s distinctive call, and watched one or two birds glide just above the treetops. They have their own walk, and I decided to explore for myself.

The walk starts at the wonderfully named Land of Oak & Iron, a local heritage centre with a substantial car park. The centre was, of course, closed due to a certain lockdown, but the car park was open, free, and not gated. This spot is well served by public transport, too: Go North East have all the answers.

This was one of those mild but frosty mornings we’ve had so many of lately, a little crunchy underfoot and the sun shining brightly most of the (short) day. A plethora of way markers served only to make me feel even more ignorant, and took me through a section of the Derwent Walk Country Park, around Kite Hill (the clues really have been there the whole time) and then soon up onto the Derwent Walk itself. This old railway, repurposed as a multi-use path between Swalwell and Consett, is a path I’ve walked many times, and makes for an easy and at times scenic (especially at the viaducts) plod. Number of red kites seen so far: none.

The Derwent Walk comes to a halt at Rowlands Gill to make way for a road, which must be crossed, but then I was soon back on the path and wandered another couple of kilometres until finally leaving the railway path above Lintzford. Just the A694 to cross now, then the rest of the walk would be all tracks and paths, or else very minor roads free of traffic. A word of caution – emerging at the pretty hamlet of Lintzford onto the road, I missed any way markers that may have been there, and for some reason followed what felt like the natural course of the path to the left, expecting to cross the road further up and head into the obvious woodland. Turns out a few other people made the same mistake (note the spur on the map above!), and after bothering to check the OS map, we found ourselves wandering awkwardly back down to the actual path – directly over the road from the bridge at Lintzford. An all-the-gear-and-no-idea moment, if you like. Anyway, once over the road I was greeted by a gate, a sign, and a path into Chopwell Wood. Number of red kites seen so far: none.

Chopwell Wood is a delight. 360 hectares of mixed woodland, with plenty of paths and enough ascent to remind you of more dramatic woods further north in Northumberland, it’s a popular spot for walkers, bikers, and apparently, red kites. The Red Kite Trail touches only the eastern edge of the woodland, the track rising steeply at first before levelling out and offering one or two very good viewpoints over the treetops. Atop one such viewpoint sits a wooden sculpture of a red kite – would this be the only red kite I’d see today? Pausing to enjoy the woodland views, and a sandwich, I did hear the mildly aggressive call of several jays, and caught the odd glimpse of light purple plumage in the trees. Number of red kites seen so far: none, unless you count the wooden one.

Onwards. Emerging from the woods, and after a short section of walking on a very quiet road, I arrived at Spen Banks. This smaller area of woodland was largely deserted – once out of the popular Derwent valley, it seems only dog walkers bother to explore here. I got the same kind of feeling I get whenever I watch the hordes ascending Helvellyn from my little vantage point at Stang End. I started thinking of the Lake District – something I keep doing during lockdown, and something I have decided is not healthy. Will we ever get to see lakeland again? My mind returned to the muddy path in front of me, and I kept my eyes and ears open for red kites. Soon the Red Kite Trail merged with the Tyne & Wear Heritage Way, so I was walking familiar territory. Then a little detour. Taking the track north, the RK trail heads up to the little village of Barlow, which at about 170m makes for a surprisingly good viewpoint north. This is the edge of kite territory, and after first questioning the detour, I acknowledged NZ 152 606 would be a perfect spot to linger, hopefully. Number of red kites seen so far: none.

After the Barlow detour, I followed the way markers back down to meet the heritage way once again, and the two trails became one for the rest of today’s walk. This is all farmland walking, with pleasant views south towards the Derwent Valley. Thornley Bank, High Thornley, Low Thornley, you mark your descent as much with etymology as you do with contours. The light was fading now, but still way markers appeared now and then, seemingly to remind me that I must have been blind not to have seen the RK trail when plodding these paths previously. Number of red kites seen: none.

The home straight. Once over the A694, the path snakes high above the river Derwent, along Winlaton Scar. I can vouch for one or two quite stunning viewpoints looking through the trees across to Gibside and the Liberty Monument, but by now it was dark and it was much more about negotiating patches of ice, mud, or both. The path drops down to the Derwent Walk Country Park, and soon I found myself on the path back to the Land of Oak & Iron. Where earlier in the day it had been all about looking down at water and frosty bullrushes, now it was about ending the day looking up at silhouetted trees, feeling the tinge of sadness I get at the close of every walk, and pausing to appreciate the beauty to be found on my doorstep.

Number of red kites seen: none.

Date walked: 1st January 2021
OS Map: OL42 – Kielder Water & Forest
Start/finish point: NY 839 833
Distance: 6.97km
Elevation gain: 132m

During lockdown I have explored a lot of places in Northumberland, but am ashamed to say I hadn’t heard of Hareshaw Linn until very recently. Perhaps because I try to avoid tourist hotspots where possible, perhaps because there is so much more to the beautiful county of Northumberland than I ever thought. I decided to stride into the New Year with a spring in my step, and headed across to Bellingham on New Year’s Day.

Bellingham is a pretty village in the centre of Northumberland, the River North Tyne running to its south, the military ranges and expansive moorland opening up to its north. There is a free car park at the start of the popular path to Hareshaw Linn waterfall, but for public transport users there is also an excellent public transport service in this part of the world, with buses connecting Hexham and Bellingham at least every couple of hours. However you get there, you soon find yourself on the easy path north out of the village, and that’s exactly where I found myself this crisp New Year morning.

The good path soon became muddy and icy in quick succession, and gradually gained height above the burn flowing noisily below. Shortly I came to the first of several well-constructed wooden bridges (the first of six, if I recall) that cross the burn as the path winds its way further up what can, by this stage, safely be called a gorge. For a wintery day during lockdown, I was perhaps surprised at the number of other visitors and walkers, but then it was New Year’s Day and of course this is (so I learned later) a beauty spot that features on many ‘must visit’ lists of Northumberland locations.

Some slippery rock steps negotiated along the way, and one or two small, appetiser, waterfalls encountered, I found myself at a high vantage point with the magnificent Hareshaw Linn revealing itself through the trees ahead. The gentle walk up the gorge had taken about an hour. The roar of the falls was tremendous, and the cliffs on either side of the gorge rose to giddying heights. A pool at the base of the falls completed the idyllic picture (I’m sure in summer this place is heaving with visitors, many of whom will doubtless take a dip), and a series of stone steps led the way down to the waterfall itself.

With my waterproof coat on, and hood up, I scrambled down to get even closer to the waterfall and enjoyed the odd sense of silence and calm that comes from one of the loudest forces of nature. I could have stood there for hours, but a fairly steady stream of visitors was arriving at the falls and I’m sure they didn’t all want me standing in their photographs.

Reluctantly, I peeled myself away from the waterfall and headed back up the pretty stone staircase to the path. The return walk is by exactly the same route, and so the whole walk came in at around two hours, allowing for plenty time to admire scenery and eat sandwiches. Hareshaw Linn is a remarkable sight, and such an unexpected surprise given the sprawling moorland that surrounds on almost all sides of the area. I can’t wait to return – in all weathers – to again pay my respects to one of the most impressive and powerful wonders of Northumberland.