Matt Deaves

Been a bit quiet on the twitter front, sorry about that.

Everywhere I rang ahead, I got the same reply – ‘Sorry, we’re booked up’. I had prepared myself to join up a few of the stops into some more massive walks to make sure I kept a good pace along the trail, I didn’t think I’d be doing it to get a roof over my head. Even that way my only option would be hotels charging quite steep prices for a bed. YHA’s are shut or full of cyclists.

After chat and some help ringing around from the YHA I’d pleaded to get into, it turned out my best option was to get a bus to Newcastle and then another 3 back into the Pennines and arrive at Alston or Dufton. Pretty disappointed at this as I’d be missing out some of my favourite bits – waterfalls and High Cup Nick amongst others. The hotels in Alston where out of the town itself and asking for 40 to 60 quid a night. Sat at Newcastle bus station I was still pondering what to do. My legs felt fine, I could walk the rest of the way and I’d had such a great start hammering out the Cheviots in 1 day. The bus to Newcastle had shown me just how much of the walking I was missing out on during the hour and a half journey. I decided I’m in this walk for all or nothing. Having bussed this large section with an aim to skip 4 or 5 stops, I’d only have the nagging feeling that I needed to do the whole thing again next year, so that’s exactly what I’ve decided to do.

I had a look around Newcastle and then headed off to Sheffield to see my brother. He met me on the street outside the side entrance and wouldn’t come near me. I was wearing my hiking gear still and as he approached, his grimacing face explained why no one sat next to me on the bus. I stank. I stank really, really bad.

After harassing me up the stairs and forcing me to strip to my boxers in the quite public hallway outside his flat, he caught a whiff of my trousers while trying to stuff them into the washing machine and immediately hunched up and began to violently dry wretch. I haven’t laughed so hard in a while. He got his own back though, half way through my hot shower he burst in armed with spray bottles of bleach and doused me from head to toe shouting at me like Father Merrin.

I think Lauren must wonder what she was thinking getting involved in with our family sometimes.

So, anyone up for doing it next year or indeed just the Cheviots over a long weekend or something let me know. I know that route like the back of my hand now. You better be able to do it in a day though.

I arrived in Kirk Yetholm with the Sun still high in the sky and warm against my face. I thought it’d be darker at 6;30 but it looks like the days will hold out for me.

The journey up here was easier this time and I wasted no time finding bus stops or a pub to wait for my ride to the next town. With time to kill I bought a couple of steak pies from a local butcher and sat in a little pub off the high-street. After some glowing idyllic countryside on the bus journey, I repeated this in Kelso (minus pies) after taking a few shots of the town square. Stood at the same old bar, moving to the same seat as last time. Couldn’t have been easier really.

‘Closed until next year’ read the MS Word printout on the inside of the YHA front door. ‘hhhhmmm…’ I pondered, scratching my head.

I plodded off to the border hotel for a pint. As it goes they were fully booked too which in a way is a good thing as 60 odd quid a night would dent my finances quite severely at this early stage. After some ringing around the landlady found me a room at the Plough Hotel in Town Yetholm, about 300 meters down the road. Chatting with the locals I’m reminded yet again that the 24 mile walk (since arriving in Byrness I’m assured it’s 27) straight to Byrness is a tough one. I remind myself I’m travelling lighter this time, whilst stealthily fondling the packet of water purifying tablets I shoved into my pocket at the last minute this morning.

The plough is more if the locals local than the gastro-pub-hotel the Border Hotel is. I like it, the rooms are fine, the bed the same and the people proper local as in from across the road. I share a bench with a local’s dog and sit down to bang out these words over a pint of black sheep. The dog is ginger, lean and curious about what I’m doing. He has a great vantage point being stood on top of my table.

Having gone into the warm I ordered a wild mushroom risotto and another pint. The risotto was a bit vinegary and not easy on the eye but I ate it all anyway. Went to bed and watched Hotel Rwanda on my iPhone. Why did I bring that film with me?