• Date walked: 16th May 2020
• OS Map: OL31 – North Pennines (Teesdale & Weardale)
• Start/finish point: NY 996 306
• Distance: 9.75km
• Elevation gain:408m
• Hills climbed: Pawlaw Pike (488m), Five Pikes (478m)

This was the first walk outside of my immediate area in almost two months, and while Weardale is still only a fairly short drive from Gateshead, I still felt like a naughty school boy doing something I oughtn’t to be doing. I reasoned that actually I was less likely to come into contact with people up here than if I went to my local park again, and I was right – I didn’t see another soul all day, but for an estate worker driving along moorland tracks, checking on the shooting huts.

There is a small car parking area at NY 996 306, near Little Eggleshope Beck, and immediately you see the well-constructed paths onto various hillsides, and of course the roads and tracks built for the shooting fraternity. These paths make for easy walking, and so before long I was gaining ascent without really noticing, and heading for the first hill of the day – Pawlaw Pike. Staying local has given me an appreciation of unclassified hills. These modest summits often have interesting names and are all marked on the map, but don’t fit any of the criteria to be hills on tickable lists, or to pique the interest of hillwalkers at large. I find them fascinating, and have enjoyed walking and ticking-off all the hills on my local maps, regardless of their modesty. Pawlaw pike is merely a raised lump on the otherwise featureless moor, but forms an impressive little peak in its own way, and allows wonderful panoramic views of Weardale and Hamsterley Common. Dropping back to the track , I headed on towards Five Pikes, with its trig point at 478m and the well-made stone currick offering views down towards Hamsterley Common.

There was a warm wind which just offered enough relief from the sun, and I enjoyed the sound of silence as I plodded ever downwards, towards the interestingly named Meeting of the Grains. I say silence, but I ought to mention the electronic calls of the defensive Lapwings, swooping close-by to make sure I didn’t leave the track and disturb their nests, and of course the disgruntled calls of the ubiquitous Red Grouse, who seem to wait until you’re almost on top of them before they dart out of the heather. Perhaps they want to make sure we know what it feels like to get a shock to the system. The expanse of moorland visible on all sides at first seems fairly featureless, but the more time you spend in the heather, the closer you look at even the smallest of patches of ground, the more you realise how much these landscapes teem with life. There is nothing dull about walking on moorland, and in these weather conditions, where even potentially boggy ground was dry as a bone, it was hard to imagine wanting to be anywhere else.

The Meeting of the Grains is an unexpectedly green, wooded glade tucked away between heathery slopes, and struck me as being a perfect bivvy spot for future visits. Sheltered from the wind, lush and green, and with a pond and a beautiful babbling stream running through it, this little oasis seemed a natural place to stop for lunch. It was with some reluctance that I stood up again 15 minutes later to stomp my way up the heathery hillside and across Hamsterley Common.

The footpath across the common soon deposits you on the northern edge of Hamsterley Forest, and a stiff and seemingly underused gate grants you access to this vast woodland. I’d not set foot in Hamsterley Forest since I was a child growing up in County Durham – sad to think that it has taken lockdown to get me to explore the place again. A narrow forest path that wouldn’t be out of place in a Grimm fairy tale leads gently though the trees and deeper into the forest, emerging at a forestry track and a sign that warns of a ‘dangerous descent’ ahead, and a ‘stream crossing’. I peered over the edge into the valley in question, and decide that whoever made the sign was perhaps overcautious. a gentle trot down the hillside brought me to the stream, which was fairly dry due to the recent hot weather. And in any case, there were stepping stones. From here I took a sharp right and joined another track, which snaked up the hillside to the area know as Sharnberry Flat. Rabbits darted across the track every now and then, and at one point I thought I saw a deer out of the corner of my eye, but whatever it was, it moved too fast to be sure.

Sharnberry Flat and my brief foray into Hamsterley Forest eventually gave way to a path high above Sharnberry Gill, where remnants of the area’s mining past were clearly visible. A shaft opening here, a scarred hillside there, the kind of landscape you become very used to in the North Pennines. Sharnberry Gill winds its way back to the car park, or should I say from the car park, given that this home strait was uphill. I stopped near the modern shooting huts to rest by the ice cold stream, before pushing the final few hundred meters to the car park. This first substantial outing since lockdown began was a treat, and the weather could not have been better. A reminder that there is some wonderful walking almost on the doorstep, so long as you don’t mind leaving the tickable hill lists at home once in a while.