Ian Battersby explores gorges, waterfalls and mines
AN EARLY RISE full of enthusiasm was soon dampened by an influx of gloomy cloud, carried on a keen wind and threatening a downpour. We lowered expectations and chose a route to get us in and out of the hills quickly, but nonetheless found astonishing gems in a forgotten landscape.
We left Garrigill, crossing flower-rich hay meadows, where brown smudges of rabbits shrank into the feast. Grey cloud flamed along margins as we joined the River South Tyne, following it upstream towards Ashgill. It flows through shadowy chasms so deep that only the growling water churning
through unseen rapids signalled its presence between vertical slabs topped with birch, hazel and ash. The first spots of rain pattered through quivering leaves, and the gorge revealed hypnotic patterns of foam spiralling over ominous pools of dark, peat-stained water.
Unexpected thrills continued to astound. In Ashgill the beck rambles over wide shelves of rock, then rushes through constricting cracks, eager to rally with the river. As we climbed, leafy umbrellas delayed the downpour, and we sheltered in slowly dripping, pungent woodland, with Ashgill Force thundering down through the slender arch of an exquisite bridge, through which sunshine flashed.
The deluge eased as we climbed towards our only summit at Flinty Fell. Behind us clouds gathered and glowered; but Cross Fell took the brunt, and slowly chinks of light began to emerge. Cottongrass waved in the wind, while moorland grasses and mosses gathered sunlight in dainty drops. The path skips by the top, but once beyond the upper wall and fence you can reach it over the brow. Curlews went crazy, alarm calls frantic as they ushered us on from hidden young.
Meanwhile the path dived into a cosy gill that sweeps round to Nenthead. We wandered into an old mining area, passing spoil heaps and abandoned buildings.
Then came a stone-covered leat, still working and shepherding water to a miniature reservoir set above astonishing smelt mill remains. Tours take interested parties into the mine, and much of this valley holds scheduled monument status.
Nenthead, regarded as the best-preserved mine in the North Pennines, was a leading producer of lead. It also processed zinc and possibly silver, though tales abound in the area. One resident proclaimed Nenthead as England’s highest village. It probably depends on how you define it; but there is no disputing its beauty and fascinating history, which we continued to ponder over Nunnery Hill, and during our descent past Bentyfield Mine to Shieldhill and Loaning Head, where we picked up the track back to Garrigill.