I was keen not to travel too far on a day threatening to be excessively windy and the stone-built town of Wooler, little more than a sixty minute drive from the coast, seemed like the ideal place. However, having tramped the hills around this cosy town more times than I cared to remember, I was anxious to attempt something new. I had an idea: a circuit of eight of the smaller hills immediately to the west of the town, a seemingly perfect nine mile route for a late autumn day.

The wind was already making a nuisance of itself as I left the bitterly cold Humbleton Burn car park and headed up the Common Road. Once onto Wooler Common and exposed to the full force of the vigorous wind, forward momentum on a rising track was painfully slow as I laboured on to my first hill, cairn-topped Hart Heugh. From the summit, buffeted by the constant gusts, I admired the crystal clear panorama and the rich autumn colours as best I could.

Next Watch Hill, a tangle of deep foliage and the awkward remnants of a harvested plantation and then a rocky outcrop offering superb views of the Cheviot heartland, with the tiny building of Broadstruther cut adrift in a vast expanse of moorland. A sudden change of terrain, a mixture of pathless grass and rough track, as I trudged onto neighbouring Fredden Hill. The summit, the highest of my walk, was marked by a number of flat-topped rocks, perfect grey platforms from which to enjoy the enormous landscape.

On I continued, downwards past a series of shooting butts and the ruins of one of the four cottages that once stood on these lonely slopes. Then the occupied bungalow of Bell’s Valley, by-passed through bracken, autumn-bronze and a jumble of irritating stems and outstretched leaves. Finally, boots planted on St. Cuthbert’s Way, I headed towards Gains Law, my fourth hill of the day, and the only triangulation pillar of my trip.

With four hills still to climb, a quick drink and away I went, cautiously plotting the best downhill line through dense, chest-high bracken. Alongside Monday Cleugh and close to the site of the Battle of Homildon Hill, I was on my way up again, lung-bursting into a fierce headwind. A small cairn ultimately indicated that I had reached the summit of Harehope Hill, not a place to linger on an unsociable day so I made a 45 degree turn and then the short descent towards the base of Humbleton Hill, my next climb.

With the wind now at my back I fairly flew up this popular hill, cresting through the remains of an Iron Age hill fort that once occupied the summit. I was now feeling peckish and ready for an energy boost and a break from the incessant pummelling. So, down I went and once in the shelter of the conical hill I sank to the ground and began to tuck into my sandwiches.

I still had two hills to climb, Coldberry Hill and Brown’s Law, tiddlers in the grand scheme of things but necessary to complete the planned set of eight. However, as I sat there enjoying the brief calm, I was content to leave these hills until later – after all they would still be there when I had finished my lunch.

by Geoff Holland © 2015

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.

The first time I headed up Mid Hill, an outlier of the mighty Cheviot, foul weather had forced a quick change of route when I was a mere 600 metres short of the summit. A necessary step in the interests of personal safety but one that had left me somewhat frustrated. Fast-forward two hill-packed years and I was up and away on a crystal clear September morning intent on completing what I had set out to do all those many months before.

There is no simple way to reach the start of the climb up Mid Hill and I chose to approach from the Harthope Valley, a walk of just under four undulating miles. These were easy miles spent wandering through swathes of honey-scented, bee-busy heather, brushing past dew-damp, waist-high bracken with an immaculate blue sky overhead. Time hurried by all too quickly and soon I was standing at the point where the Bizzle and Bellyside Burns collide before they tumble, bodies entwined, into the Lambden Burn, a delightful watercourse I had followed for the last two lazy miles.

I now began my journey upwards, first along a faint track through grassland dusted with yarrow, white turning pale pink, and then, more steeply, on an indistinct path through heather speckled with patches of wavy-hair grass, delicate flower heads hanging motionless in the still morning air. Ahead, just visible above the brow of the next rise, the cold grey rock of Bizzle Crags rose vertically towards the cloudless sky.

I stopped to gather my breath, a break to enjoy the view behind me over Dunsdale, a holiday cottage, white-walled and pretty in a patchwork of greens. In the distance, the College Valley squeezed into the scene, rounded hillsides littered with plantations, conifers in regimented blocks, a hint of Cuddystone Hall beyond the working farm of Southernknowe. Upwards again, steady going through eye-catching bog asphodel, saffron-coloured and screaming out “damp ground”. Then a variety of grasses, wild bilberry in abundance and a conical-shaped walker’s cairn, remembered from my previous visit, with spectacular views into the vast ice-carved bowl of The Bizzle.

I adjusted direction, turning south easterly and began picking my way across random patches of loose grey rock, stepping stones to flatter ground. Ahead, as the gradient gradually eased, a large rambling shelter cairn came into view cast adrift in a small sea of moss-encrusted stone, a rough refuge in a wild and exposed place. I had finally reached the top of Mid Hill. I paused awhile and, as I stood looking out across the vast Northumberland landscape of rolling hills and distant fields, miniscule from that elevated place, the only sound I could hear was the call of an unseen bird.

I wallowed in the silence and for a brief moment in the hugeness of time and space I felt absolutely alone, a rarity in our frenetic technology-driven world. But all things must pass, and with a list of interesting places still to visit on my 12 mile circular walk, I needed to press on. As I did, I spotted a peacock butterfly on a nearby rock and alongside a solitary crowberry hanging from a cluster of bright green leaves. It was, I thought, time for lunch.

by Geoff Holland © 2015

Geoff Holland has contributed to a number of magazines and is 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.

It was 10 am, I was standing on the flat summit of Mozie Law within hugging distance of the Scottish border and I had been on my feet for two sun-kissed hours. Dressed in robes of the finest purple heather I had seen for many years, the hills of Upper Coquetdale had never looked better. Skylarks rose vertically out of the long grass and wheatears danced from fence post to fence post. The crack-of-dawn start was already paying rich dividends and, at 552 metres above sea level, I had reached the watershed.

I stood for a while admiring the superb view towards the distant Cheviot plateau and then, after one final photograph, I swung my right leg across the border fence and planted my foot firmly into deep Scottish heather. My left leg quickly followed and then, with my back to the fence, I set off to find the track which I knew would lead me into the Heatherhope Valley. The track was rapidly located, at first two faint parallel impressions in the lush grass and then firmer furrows as the twin tracks wound lazily downhill.

The views sprang into life, prominent Callaw Cairn and nearby Church Hope Hill, and then, as I wandered downwards, the tiny square of the redundant Heatherhope Reservoir, a rare blue body of water in a landscape of greens, grey and purple. In the mid-distance, the iconic Eildon Hills, much-loved by Sir Walter Scott, stood head and shoulders above the surrounding patchwork of fields. Down I continued on a meandering course through patches of heather, interspersed with shin-high bracken and yellowing grasses, with cone-shaped Sundhope Kipp on neighbouring Greenbrough Hill and the long incision of Philip Hope especially eye-catching.

The depth and height of the invasive bracken increased as the valley drew near until at last I was standing next to the slender Heatherhope Burn close to a well-situated animal feedstore. The air in the narrow valley, sheltered from the breeze by its steep sides, was particularly hot and heavy and with the bracken now shoulder high it felt exceedingly oppressive. Thankfully, my visit was a brief one and after little more than ten minutes I was again climbing towards the border fence, this time up long and lonely Phillip Shank.

As I continued to climb the views behind me became more distant until I could no longer see the light-reflecting reservoir. The views ahead grew in stature, first Windy Gyle and then the broad back of The Cheviot until, on reaching the ancient border-bound line of The Street, a whole gamut of familiar hills came into view. A nearby three-fingered signpost pointed to Hownam, Calroust and finally to the Pennine Way.

I had now completed more than half of my walk and soon I would be back on home turf heading first to the iconic summit of Windy Gyle, unbelievably my forty-seventh visit to this honey-pot top, and then to Loft Hill where harebells flourished on rarely-visited, grass-carpeted slopes. In all, I was destined to have seen only nine other walkers during the whole day, all of whom were taking in the glorious grandstand view on the cairn-topped summit of Windy Gyle. Solitude, I thought, as I sat quietly beside the River Coquet at the end of my day, comes to those who seek it out.

by Geoff Holland © 2015

Geoff Holland has contributed to a number of magazines and is 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.

As I listened to Woody Guthrie singing, “I roamed and rambled and I followed my footsteps” from his 1940 song ‘This Land Is Your Land’ I thought how lucky we are to have more or less unrestricted access to vast tracts of England’s beautiful and varied hills and mountains. I thought how easy it would be to take this freedom for granted and forget how it had been a long, hard fought battle to establish the “right to roam”.

Even before Northumberland-based W. Ford Robertson published his 1926 guide, ‘Walks from Wooler’, a ‘freedom to roam’ bill had been introduced into Parliament each year between 1884 and 1914 and had, on every occasion, been soundly defeated. With this in mind, Robertson included a short section in his book entitled, “Note on the Law of Trespass”, where he pointed out that in respect of the Northumberland hill country, “there has always been a generous latitude shown by proprietors and tenants with regard to trespass upon unenclosed land”. In the circumstances, his advice to walkers was that, “if you conduct yourself as ladies and gentlemen should…you are welcomed, and not regarded as a nuisance”.

Landowners and tenants in other areas of the country were not quite as enlightened, and the long battle for greater access resulted in the mass act of wilful trespass at Kinder Scout in the Peak District on 24th April 1932. This trespass, which resulted in the arrest of five walkers, marked the beginning of a long media campaign by the recently-formed Ramblers Association for public access rights over upland areas of England and Wales. This campaign eventually paid dividends when the Countryside and Rights of Way Act 2000 finally entered the statute books on 30th November 2000 with the ‘right to roam’ provisions coming into effect on 25th May 2005.

This landmark piece of legislation allowed walkers to roam freely on designated ‘access land’ with no necessity to keep to official footpaths or bridleways. However, the Act did give landowners and farmers permission to restrict, in certain circumstances, the ‘right to roam’ for up to 28 days each year. Despite these minor restrictions, the Act was a major, if long delayed, victory for the those walkers wishing to explore and enjoy England’s beautiful uplands.

Ten years have passed and whilst there has been little impact to walkers aware of the ‘custom’ of relatively free access to Northumberland’s upland areas, to less-informed souls this law is a liberating step forward. Previous uncertainty has been swept away; the ‘access land’ is shown marked with a light yellow background on Ordnance Survey Explorer maps and, at many entry points to the ‘access land’, stiles and gates carry a brown ‘stick’ man in a circle way-marking symbol.

Summer is now in full swing, wildflowers run riot and birdsong fills the air. It is time therefore, with Northumberland’s vast countryside at my fingertips, to make tracks for the hills. Then, as I brush past the dew-kissed bracken and stride out through the deep purple heather, I will once again remember how lucky I am to be able to wander far from the maddening crowd and to make my own unique steps through our beautiful northern hills.

by Geoff Holland © 2015

Geoff Holland has contributed to a number of magazines and is 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 has lived in Monkseaton for over 40 years and operates the award-winning website www.cheviotwalks.co.uk. His poems have appeared in a number of publications.

Caught between the River Coquet and the Usway Burn, Shillhope Law stands a modest 501 metres above sea level and enjoys outstanding views. Of all the Northumberland hills it is undoubtedly one of my favourites, so, with June in full flow, it seemed like the perfect time to again visit this special hill.

A steady climb up the emerald-green slopes of Inner Hill soon had me crossing its grass-carpeted ridge whilst peering down at the meandering Usway Burn and the line of beautiful interlocking shanks which follows the burn downstream. A short, sharp descent and then a quad track-following ascent quickly led me to the cairn- and triangulation pillar-crowned summit of Shillhope Law.

I continued downhill through patches of heather and flowering cotton grass and then pressed onto to Kyloe Shin. Once I had clambered over a near-vertical ladder stile I was into the coniferous Kidland Forest and heading across Middle Hill through lush, thigh-high grasses. The trees closed in around me, shutting out most of the sunlight. Then, another ladder stile and I was out into the daylight once again with the short, sharp slope of The Middle looming ahead. I made quick work of the climb then headed downwards towards the Hepden Burn and the course of an old cross-country track. Pausing briefly, I found it hard to believe that in days gone by this peaceful place, known in medieval times as Oswold Myddle, was one of the most important track junctions in the border hills.

Back into my stride, I briefly joined the gravel track which links the isolated farmstead of Uswayford with the narrow single track public road through Upper Coquetdale, before turning past the head of tree-shrouded Murder Cleugh where a memorial stone stands bearing the words, “Here in 1610 Robert Lumsden killed Isabella Sudden”.

The story goes that Robert Lumsden, who lived nearby and had been linked with several other deaths, was a violent and independent character with a taste for other men’s wives. Instructed to arrest Lumsden, a number of the King’s officers, who were based in Durham, rode for two days to Lumsden’s house to be greeted by him uttering, “I care nothing for the King, I care nothing for the Queen and I care nothing for you”.

Assisted by cronies, he relieved the officers of their pistols and swords before beating them. The officers fled back to Durham, never to return. Eventually, Lumsden was arrested in Newcastle and was tried, excommunicated from the Church, forced to renounce his sins in Alnwick Market Place and served one month in jail. A case, it would seem, of excessive leniency.

I was now well into my journey, heading towards Barrow Law and on to the beautifully located Barrowburn Farm. This remote two-storey farmhouse, which now doubles up as a tearoom, is renowned for its beautiful upland hay meadows. Despite the smell of sizzling bacon wafting through the clear country air, I resisted the temptation to pop in; I was focused on a lunch break high on the steep slopes of Shillhope Law where I knew I could enjoy the best possible panorama of Upper Coquetdale. I headed upwards.

by Geoff Holland © 2015

Geoff Holland has contributed to a number of magazines and is 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 has lived in Monkseaton for over 40 years and operates the award-winning website www.cheviotwalks.co.uk. His poems have appeared in a number of publications.