GRANDADDY OF ALL TRAILS
Roly Smith remembers the special day he walked with the founder of England’s first National Trail
It was a day I’ll never forget. I was walking up
Edale towards the cragrimmed summit of Kinder
Scout with Tom Stephenson, creator of the Pennine Way, the grandaddy of Britain’s
National Trails.
Stephenson’s “long green trail” from the Peak to the
Cheviots celebrates its 55th birthday in April. Back in 1976, I felt immensely privileged to walk the first of its 268 miles with my hero and the man who came up with the idea.
In that warm Lancashire burr and with impish glee, Stephenson recounted the battles he fought with resolute landowners to create Britain’s first long-distance path.
“But when I see young people enjoying themselves on the Way, it makes it all seem worthwhile,” he smiled.
The Pennine Way remains the ultimate challenge for the long-distance walker. Most prefer to do it in sections these days (as did Stephenson and the author of its most popular guidebook, Alfred Wainwright). Spring or autumn are probably the best seasons for wayfarers, and you’re likely to encounter a wealth of wildlife along the route – from the ubiquitous red grouse of the gritstone moors to the bobbing dipper of the many streams and rivers that flow off England’s backbone.
PENNINE CANYON
My favourite day is the 13 miles from High Force to High Cup Nick, ‘the Grand Canyon of the Pennines’. As you leave the falls, where the peat-stained Tees leaps 70 feet over a dark crag of volcanic Whin Sill, the path passes through a jungle of junipers into Upper Teesdale. In early summer, Ice Age relics such as bird’s eye primrose and electric-blue spring gentians sprinkle the pastures.
The crags of Falcon Clints then lead on to the foaming Cauldron Snout, thought to be
England’s longest waterfall at 183 metres. Crossing the infant Tees, you follow Maize Beck towards perhaps the greatest spectacle of the entire Pennine Way, High Cup Nick. Nothing quite prepares you for the jawdropping moment when you find yourself teetering on the edge of a yawning abyss.
As the ever-pragmatic Wainwright pointed out, it is slightly galling to note that, as you enter the charming village of Dufton, your long-term objective of Kirk Yetholm is actually further away at the end of this glorious day than it was at the beginning. Thanks Alfred, but it was worth it.