A naked blue sky and the mere whisper of a breeze. High pressure loitering over Britain, an ‘Indian Summer’ of sorts and the perfect weather for a trip up the coast.

We had no particular plan, simply a day to enjoy the remnants of the month along Northumberland’s golden edge. So we set our sights on Alnmouth, picture postcard perfect and slap bang in the middle of an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty. But first Amble, last visited many years ago and by all accounts now enjoying something of a renaissance. Lying at the mouth of the River Coquet and commonly known as ‘the friendliest port’, the town is dominated by the impressive marina and its innovative harbour village, the ideal spot for an al fresco cappuccino and a slice of lemon drizzle cake – delicious beneath the midday sun.

Next, time to kick-start the legs so off we drove to Alnmouth, home to England’s oldest nine hole links golf course and a magnet for tourists. Once parked we wandered northwards, a huge sky and a distant low tide, acres of sand stretching as far as the eye could see. A series of timber groynes and then Marden Rocks, huge black boulders, smooth as beeswax, and a single curlew’s call. Here in August 1928 the Clyde-built steamship S.S. Monaleen was swept onto the rocks in gale force winds and eventually split in half. Now it was as quiet as a country churchyard.

On along the beach, above us and out of sight was Foxton Hall golf course and then Seaton Point, popular with anglers and an eclectic collection of beach huts and static caravans. We weaved our way through a maze of bracken-fringed footpaths, the route of St. Oswald’s Way and the 103 kilometre long Northumberland Coastal Path, and onto Boulmer, a natural harbour and one of the last traditional fishing villages in Northumberland. A Sea King helicopter, distinctive in yellow, flew overhead, the final day of search and rescue operations from the nearby base – the sad end of a glorious era.

The tide was on the turn, time now to retrace our footsteps back to Alnmouth, a race against the incoming sea. Once past Marden Rocks and a single motionless grey heron we were high and dry with only an easy stroll back to the car. No need to hurry. In the distance, hazy on the horizon, tiny Coquet Island haven to an array of bird life: puffin, rosette tern, kittiwake, fulmar, arctic tern, sandwich tern and eider duck – the ultimate twitchers paradise.

A sublime sky and the River Aln slipping into the glittering sea, the Northumberland coast was at its most magnificent. We were not yet ready for the day to end. Then, as if from a magician’s hat, an idea, simple enough, a meal at the nearby Hog’s Head Inn, echoes of Harry Potter and Aberforth Dumbledore. And so, with our tastebuds tingling in anticipation, we headed fleet-footed to Alnwick, ready to sample the Inn’s highly recommended scampi and chips. The seaside theme continued

by Geoff Holland © 2016

Geoff Holland has contributed to a number of magazines and has written four books of self-guided walks, ‘The Hills of Upper Coquetdale’, ‘The Cheviot Hills’, ‘Walks from Wooler’ and ‘Walks on the Wild Side: The Cheviot Hills’. All books can be purchased online from www.trailguides.co.uk. Geoff, who has lived in Monkseaton for over 40 years, also operates the award-winning website www.cheviotwalks.co.uk. His poems have appeared in a number of publications.

It was my first solo hill walk of the year, and I needed to slowly rebuild my fitness level with a route less strenuous than normal. So, on a bright, late summer’s day, I headed up to Wooler and the nearby Humbleton Burn Picnic Area, an ideal spot to start any number of fine walks into the Cheviot Hills.

I had mapped out a six mile route containing a variety of terrain, not overly demanding but with sufficient ups and downs, twists and turns to keep me happy. Initially I followed the route of St. Cuthbert’s Way, first alongside the tiny trickle of Humbleton Burn and then across the gentle, emerald green slopes of Wooler Common. To the west lay the track to distant Broadstruther, once a derelict cottage now renovated for use by grouse shooting parties. My route, however, turned south first to Earlehillhead, a handful of neat farm buildings, and then onto Switcher Wood and one of the loveliest views in the area.

The panorama was immaculate, a single native tree in the foreground, Langlee and Housey Crags in the middle distance, heather-clad slopes slipping down to the tree-veiled Harthope Burn, and conical Hedgehope Hill, the second highest hill in the range, majestic in the background.

Then down I went, turning to my right to follow the  delightful Carey Burn upstream. First an easy grass-carpeted track, then a narrow, scree-clinging path until, caught in a jumble of dense foliage and tumbling over cold, grey rock, I reached Careyburn Linn, a diamond in a magpie’s hoard of precious stones. Peaceful, simple to reach places do not come any better than this and I was reluctant to leave.

But on I eventually went, threading my way through the narrow, bracken-infested upper reaches of the valley as far as the junction with the bridleway linking Wooler Common and lonely Broadstruther. This marked the extreme point of my walk. A sharp right turn and I was confronted with a stiff, breath-stealing climb up the tree-covered slopes of Watch Hill to the sun-stroked open moor, where a sea of deep purple flowering heather stretched towards my next port-of-call, flat-topped, grass-covered Hart Heugh.

I was almost within touching distance of this super little hill and I was soon picking my way towards the large pile of stones which marks its 326 metre high top. Whichever way I looked familiar hills came into view: Broadhope, Preston, Watch and Hedgehope Hills, as fine a quartet as you could wish for, The Cheviot with Bellyside and Braydon Crags vying for attention and, last but not least, Cold Law looming large across the deep incision of the valley I had earlier wandered through. I wallowed in the beauty of Northumberland’s finest hills whilst enjoying a very leisurely lunch.

Before I left Hart Heugh I made a first ever visit to its subsidiary top, a puny five metres lower and little more than stone’s throw away from the true summit. The detour proved worthwhile, offering me a slightly different perspective of some of my favourite hills in the range. I then wound my way back to the Humbleton Burn, satisfied with my day’s walk.

by Geoff Holland © 2016

Geoff Holland is a regular contributor to a number of magazines and the author of four books of self-guided walks, ‘The Hills of Upper Coquetdale’, ‘The Cheviot Hills’, ‘Walks from Wooler’ and ‘Walks on the Wild Side: The Cheviot Hills’. All books can be purchased online from www.trailguides.co.uk. Geoff, who has lived in Monkseaton for over 40 years, also operates the award-winning website www.cheviotwalks.co.uk. His poems have appeared in a number of publications.

A number of factors had conspired to scupper our country walking plans over the previous handful of months so, as we made our way north on a delightful summer morning, we travelled more in hope than expectation. But optimism quickly grows and, after a very pleasant pit stop in Rothbury for a much-needed caffeine kick, we were soon pulling onto the village green in the tiny settlement of Alwinton.

It had been a long time in coming, our first trip back to Coquetdale for nearly eleven months, but at last we were about to start our wander into the nearby hills. It was the ideal place to begin our day, mimulus, foxgloves and meadow cranesbill tumbling down to the Hosedon Burn, swallows sweeping low over the surrounding grasses and the pretty stone-built Bridge End Cottage a perfect picture-postcard backcloth.

The distinctive mellow song of a single blackbird caught our attention as we crossed the narrow wooden footbridge over the crystal-clear burn and then, with a signpost pointing towards the distant Border Ridge, we headed up the ancient line of Clennell Street. This track, which runs from Alwinton to Cocklawfoot in Scotland, has a history dating back to time immemorial and has over the centuries been used by smugglers, peddlers, reivers and drovers. These days it serves those more inclined to recreational pursuits: walkers, runners and mountain bikers.

The buildings of Alwinton Farm were quickly left behind as we followed the rough, stone-strewn track uphill, sheep-filled fields and the River Coquet over to our left, Clennell Hall and the River Alwin away to our right. A brief stop to admire the view towards the wooded Harbottle Hills and then upwards again, contouring the flanks of Castle Hills and on past tree-shrouded Clennellstreet Cottage.

The track, now grass-carpeted and gentle on our feet, continued its uphill trajectory and, as the gradient began to ease a little, the views towards shapely Clennell and Silverton Hills and the lonely ruins of Old Rookland opened up. Ahead lay the southern, recently harvested fringes of the vast Kidland Forest and, as we paused to cast our eyes along the undulating horizon, we were able to pick out the animal feed store close to the site of the long-gone youth hostel of Wholehope.

We had reached the extreme point of our walk and, with the pangs of hunger beginning to remind us that it was way past lunch time, our thoughts turned to the tuna-packed poppy seed bun we had bought just before leaving Monkseaton. So, without any discussion, we back-tracked a short distance, left the main track behind, headed steeply uphill and then, some 364 metres above sea level, we settled down for a leisurely break high above the delightful and secluded valley of the Hosedon Burn.

The wall to wall panorama from this modest height was dominated by the nearby pyramid-shaped, bracken-clad Lord’s Seat and the straight-edged plantation wrapped around the head of the Alwinton Burn. With our legs stretched out and the warm breeze brushing past we were happy to be back in one of the most beautiful parts of Northumberland.

by Geoff Holland © 2016

Geoff Holland is a regular contributor to a number of magazines and the author of four books of self-guided walks, ‘The Hills of Upper Coquetdale’, ‘The Cheviot Hills’, ‘Walks from Wooler’ and ‘Walks on the Wild Side: The Cheviot Hills’. All books can be purchased online from www.trailguides.co.uk. Geoff, who has lived in Monkseaton for over 40 years, also operates the award-winning website www.cheviotwalks.co.uk. His poems have appeared in a number of publications.

On average July is the warmest month of the year but it is also one of the wettest. However, as I stood in the narrow, emerald green valley of the Rowhope Burn, less than one hour into my first walk of July, the air was already as warm as a freshly barbecued chicken. The ‘Weather Gods’, it seemed, had woken up in a particularly pleasant mood.

I was about to start the exceedingly steep climb up Rough Knowe, a south western spur of iconic Windy Gyle – a hill I have visited more than any other but never by this particular route. With nothing in the way of a path or sheep trace to guide me, I simply made a bee-line to the highest visible point through a dense forest of knee-high bracken. I was mightily relieved to reach slightly easier ground close to the head of Outer Green Cleugh.

The views opened up around me as I plodded on over knee-jarring terrain whilst a succession of impressive hill-splitting cleughs slipped down from the distant high ground of the Pennine Way. I could clearly pick out the deep incision of Foulstep Sike, an aptly-named watercourse I had crossed on numerous occasions in the past. Mile after mile of rolling hills stretched out in every direction as I continued upwards in boot-placing, muscle-stretching concentration.

Then, all of a sudden, little more than 50 metres ahead, I spotted a herd of wild goats happily grazing on this lonely and rarely-visited hillside. I stopped dead in my tracks, desperately hoping that I had not been spotted by these shy and sensitive creatures. But to no avail, my cover was instantly blown and, after the herd had cautiously sized me up, they moved, almost in unison, slowly and easily uphill. I continued behind them and, initially I was able to keep them well within my sights. But man is no match for these fleet and sure-footed beasts, custom-built for the wild and rugged Cheviot terrain and soon they had all disappeared from sight.

On I went, clambering over the damp, peat-riddled source of the Rowhope Burn, on over the post and wire border fence and then finally along the boot-worn Pennine Way path to the summit of Windy Gyle. It had taken me two lung-expanding hours to reach the highest point of the day and, as I sat with my back against the hill-topping triangulation pillar, I was joined by a further four like-minded souls. Pleasantries were exchanged before I then made tracks towards the age-old border crossing at Hexpethgate and then onto the meandering line of Clennell Street. An easy stretch of downhill walking led me towards my next port-of-call, the summit of Hazely Law and thence to the Hepden Burn, where I splashed my face with the cool, clear water of this beautifully sheltered burn.

I was well on my way back to where I had parked my car close to the River Coquet, a mere stone’s throw from the quiet farmstead of Windyhaugh. From a number of alternatives I decided on a route which would eventually take me over Shorthope Hill, grass-carpeted and enjoying superb views of the tidy farm of Rowhope. With little in the way of additional climbing how could I resist a visit to this fine little hill. How indeed!

by Geoff Holland © 2016

Geoff Holland is a regular contributor to a number of magazines and the author of four books of self-guided walks, ‘The Hills of Upper Coquetdale’, ‘The Cheviot Hills’, ‘Walks from Wooler’ and ‘Walks on the Wild Side: The Cheviot Hills’. All books can be purchased online from www.trailguides.co.uk. Geoff, who has lived in Monkseaton for over 40 years, also operates the award-winning website www.cheviotwalks.co.uk. His poems have appeared in a number of publications.

Striding out across the high lonely ground of the Cheviot Hills on a beautiful summer’s day it is so very easy to forget that in bad weather this can be an unforgiving place. Even the most experienced, weather-beaten walker is not immune from the potential hazards of the unpredictable and ever-changing weather conditions; just ask any member of a Mountain Rescue Team.

On a mid-April afternoon in 2005 two Pennine Way walkers, little more than eight miles from the end of their 270 mile journey northwards, left Auchope Cairn in rapidly deteriorating weather. Blizzard conditions quickly made route finding impossible so the walkers decided to pitch their tent and to sit out the storm. Gale force winds piled snow against the tent forcing the sides dangerously inwards. The poles became worryingly bent and then, after more than 12 hours huddled inside the tent, the walkers finally made a potentially life-saving 999 call.

The Border Search and Rescue Team was alerted and, despite being hampered by flooding, 70 mph winds, temperatures of -15°C and waist deep snow, the rescue team slowly made their way high into the hills. Eventually, after nearly 5 hours, the walkers were found and both were treated for hypothermia. The weather had been amongst some of the worst ever experienced during the month of April.

In October 2013 five walkers set off at lunch time from Wooler intending to walk to Byrness in Redesdale, some 25 miles away over exceptionally hilly terrain. By the time they had reached the mountain refuge hut at Yearning Saddle, and with 10 miles still to walk, it had turned dark. Inadequately dressed, and with only a torch to guide them, the walkers decided to cut their journey short and to head towards the lonely road through Upper Coquetdale some 4 miles away.

They quickly became disorientated and, with one member unable to carry on, they sensibly made an emergency telephone call. The Border Search and Rescue Team were mobilised and were joined by the Northumberland National Park and the North of Tyne Rescue Teams along with a helicopter from RAF Boulmer. Eventually, the bedraggled walkers were found, all suffering from hypothermia.

Even the hardiest and self-sufficient of fell runners can find themselves in difficulties as was demonstrated in January 2013, when a number of competitors in the gruelling ultra-marathon event, The Spine Race, were forced to seek overnight shelter in the two isolated mountain refuge huts in the Cheviot Hills. Three Mountain Rescue Teams were alerted and eventually the exhausted and cold runners, all of whom were well prepared, were safely assisted off the hills.

In each case, all members of the Mountain Rescue Teams were volunteers, as are all Mountain Rescue Team members throughout the country, and without their dedication to helping other in difficulties many of the walkers and runners rescued may never have arrived home safely. They deserve our support.

by Geoff Holland © 2016

Geoff Holland is a regular contributor to a number of magazines and the author of four books of self-guided walks, ‘The Hills of Upper Coquetdale’, ‘The Cheviot Hills’, ‘Walks from Wooler’ and ‘Walks on the Wild Side: The Cheviot Hills’. All books can be purchased online from www.trailguides.co.uk. Geoff, who has lived in Monkseaton for over 40 years, also operates the award-winning website www.cheviotwalks.co.uk. His poems have appeared in a number of publications.