Another Long Walk: Day 15: The Highest Low Point

August 10, 2024: The wind died down during the night, but the weather gods decided to switch out the wind with rain. Better than wind and rain, though!

Because of the rain, I lingered in a camp a bit late trying to wait out the rain, more-or-less successfully.

The trail descended to a valley bottom before climbing again, this time popping out by High Cup Nick, an impressive gorge and cliff in the ground before the trail descended a long way down to the town of Dufton.

I stopped at the Stag Inn hoping to grab lunch, but it turned out that they weren't serving food at the time. I was disappointed about this, I got a Pepsi while I got online and used the bathrooms since I was there already.

Later, I headed across the street to the Post Box Pantry, which I thought was some sort of convenience store and maybe I could get food there. I was correct in the fact that I could get food there, but it was more of a cafe than a convenience store! That was fine by me--even better, actually, since now I could order a proper lunch. =)

Post Box Pantry

But the day was still early, and I had miles to do. After finishing lunch, I headed out of town climbing steeply toward the highest point of the entire trail: Cross Fell.

But before I reached that point, I had to reach a few other smaller peaks. First there was Knock Fell, then another peak, and another peak--the names of each aren't important--but it was demoralizing to reach a peak, then know there was another peak further ahead, and another. It was exhausting, not the last of which because the fierce wind had returned and it was absolutely brutal, often pushing me over and off my feet.

Great Dun Fell had a giant radar station on top, which made that particular peak memorable. There was a large building by it, and I hoped there was a space where hikers might be able to get out of the wind, but not only was not that the case, but there was a large fence around it that didn't even allow me to get next to the building where I could use it as a windbreak.

Great Dull Fell had this radar station on the top--which I could actually see all the way from back in Dufton while eating lunch at the Post Box Pantry.

And the trail became horribly boggy at the top along the ridgeline! My feet were positively soaking. Even the stepping stones meant to keep me out of the bog were often under an inch or two of water.

I really hit rock bottom by the time I reached the peak called Little Dun Fell. I had been certain that it was actually Cross Fell and excited to be done with the last peak, but as I neared the summit, I realized that it wasn't the high point. The next peak along the ridgeline was visible, and it was tall and steep and when I realized that I still had to climb it, I practically wanted to cry. I was so tired, cold and my feet were soaking wet. It was really my low point on a mental level despite being so close to the high point of the trail.

There had been a few wind breaks created from the rocks nearby, so I took a brief rest behind one of them. If it was large enough to camp, I would have been happy to stop right then and there, but it was never intended for camping and definitely not large enough for even a small tent. No, I would have to push onward to Cross Fell and beyond.

Karolina looks for protection from the brutal winds in this windbreak on Little Dun Fell. That's Cross Fell in the background.

After the quick break, I continued hiking. Down off the peak we were on, then up the steep slope to Cross Fell which looked like it had a large plateau at the top.

At the top of the steep slope, I once again thought we were at the high point but once again found my spirits smashed when I realized that it was a false summit. The real summit still lie ahead, somewhere ahead. Fortunately, it was just the high point on the plateau and didn't require a steep climb to reach, but I still found it dispiriting. When would I ever reach Cross Fell?

But finally, late in the day, I reached it. Exhausted and tired. There was a windbreak at the summit, and I now stood at the official high point of the trail at 2930 feet (893 meters) above level. I took another short break before heading down the far side for a place to camp.

The windbreak at the top of Cross Fell was huge!

For camp, I had my eyes set on Greg's Hut, one of the few shelters on the trail. Given the hurricane-force winds at the top, I definitely wanted to reach Greg's Hut for the night and have some solid walls to protect me from the brutal wind.

It wasn't long before I could see the hut in the distance, far below the slope I was descending. Deep in the valley, it was already in shadow before I arrived, although the summits were still in the sun. Not for much longer, however, as the sun was setting rapidly.

At one point, I took a step on what I thought was solid ground, or at least marshy ground, but it wound up having this weird feeling of a waterbed. The ground itself looked solid, and I nearby fell when it wobbled unsteadily. My foot didn't plunge through, however, like it usually did in boggy areas--like mud that's a lot softer than you expected. The thick vegetation was enough to support my weight, but there was obviously nothing but water underneath it, and it quite literally felt like walking on top of a waterbed.

Luckily for me, I took the step with my good foot. I'm not sure my twisted ankle would have handled the unexpected wobble very well, but my momentum pushed me another couple of steps which, I'm happy to report, were back on solid ground.

I finally made it the rest of the way to Greg's Hut without any further problems.

Greg's Hut was my destination for the night!

At the hut, a couple was already there who had set up their tent just outside. The wind wasn't so strong here anymore, but it was gusty and I was surprised that they hadn't chosen to sleep inside of the hut. I definitely intended to do so, however, and it was a wonderful hut separated into two main rooms: a living room and a sleeping space with a wooden deck to sleep on.

There was a register in the shelter, which Bob had signed and left a note for me. He even signed it as "Bob Ross", the trailname I suggested for him looking like a young Bob Ross. Maybe it's a trailname that will stick?! =)

I'm signing the register inside the hut

The hut was located next to an old, abandoned mine. Tailings were piled high all over the area, and the hut was originally used by the miners before falling into disrepair. Later, when the Pennine Way was created, it was rebuilt into a hut that hikers could use and find protection from the elements.

Karolina had bought a pasta dinner back in Manchester that she planned to eat on the trail, but until now, she hadn't actually cooked anything at all. I didn't find a hardware store to buy the alcohol for the soda can stove until several days in the hike, and technically, open fires--including on my stove--weren't allowed in the backcountry. I might have tried using it despite the ban, but there was never really a good place or time for it. It was always too windy, or too wet, and inside of a tent seemed like a dangerous place to cook a meal. (Tarps definitely worked better for that purpose!) Plus, with all the restaurants along the route, I didn't feel a strong need for a hot meal. And thus, Karolina had been carrying this pasta meal for the last two weeks.

But inside the hut seemed like a good place to finally cook it. It was on solid rock, which certainly wouldn't burn by accident, and I could finally use the fuel I'd been carrying. I didn't actually have any food that needed cooking, but Karolina took the opportunity to finally eat her pasta dinner.

Afterwards, realizing how little I was actually cooking meals, I decided to leave the rest of the fuel in the shelter. Others had left other items like partially used fuel canisters, wet wipes and other stuff--kind of like a hiker box without the box, so I decided to leave the fuel for the alcohol stove behind and lighten my load. Maybe someone else will get more use out of it than me. I was thrilled to lighten my load as well. =)