[25th November 2025]
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There’s a reason I don’t manage to get up to Northumberland much, and that’s the 5 hour drive. I thought leaving at 05:00 would’ve been enough to dodge the traffic, and sure, I probably did miss a chunk of it but it still wasn’t enough. Also, my satnav trying to take me down a road signed as “unsuitable for motor vehicles” and through a thunderous ford didn’t help with the delay issues. Still, the drive into Northumberland was stunning as always and soon I’d past through the final village of Wooler and was into the beautiful landscape of the Harthope Valley. I parked up in a layby at Langleeford, grabbed a quick drone shot of the valley and strapped my pack nicely on my back. Home sweet home.
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The winds were biting right from the off. It’s incredible how tempting it always is to put on loads of layers to keep warm. Other than my waterproof layer I refrained from layering up and stayed cold until I found the track and began the ascent. I was hit by an initial steep ascent and within 5 minutes my waterproof layer was sent to the pack. The chilled air was now so welcome and I continued on up to the first summit of Scald Hill. This, other than a few steep parts and snow drifts to fight through, was relatively easy to climb. Halfway up I could see a weather front heading towards my position from the ocean in the distance. Within a few minutes it was upon me and the waterproof jacket was back on. Happily, this front was an unexpected snow shower which was absolutely awesome. There’s nothing more magical than being in the mountains with the snow falling. I seemed a little distracted by this as I hadn’t realised I’d reached the summit of Scald Hill. One thing I wasn’t expecting… was to be seeing this same summit only a matter of hours later.
I crossed over a stile and straight into the worst bog I’ve ever encountered. It was very much like line dancing, heading sharp left, take 2 steps forward then slide to the right, except the reality looked like I was a horrendous dancer and to make matters worse, suddenly my right leg sunk swiftly into a boggy abyss. It literally took less than a second to be knee deep and on my back with my left leg beneath me. I rolled over so I could use my left leg to pull my right one out. Thankfully, I was absolutely fine with nothing but some stray heather branches clinging on my microphone muff and one very muddy gaiter. Thank god I had those on as my boot would’ve been flooded. I continued on my way, albeit cautiously now and soon I was through the bog field and right against the continuous incline up to the top. The snow drifts on this ascent were brutal. The top layer was a solid crust but with combination of my body weight and the weight of the pack, without notice my feet would break through. This could be anywhere from foot deep to three quarters of my leg throwing me to the ground once more. It was exhausting and had me thinking for the first time, should I call it and find somewhere to pitch lower down. I don’t like these thoughts but sometimes they speak sense.
I got my head together, and a quick drink and snack and continued on up, instantly wondering why am I continuing on but instantly correcting that thought with “it’s part of the adventure”. Soon I was at 600 meters, then 700 meters and then I managed to get the final 100 meters done and the incline eventually eased off and soon I was greeted by the cairn before the trig. Having sunk into more snow drifts I eventually hauled my now exhausted body over the final stile and began the frozen kilometre long path towards the summit. It was so surreal up here as at one point, I’d been walking for what felt like a lifetime but still hadn’t reached the trig. It just looked exactly the same, like being on a treadmill and getting nowhere. Soon, a shape began to emerge from the fog. I was relieved to see the shape of the trig and finally I was within reach of it. I’d made it!
I got my head together, and a quick drink and snack and continued on up, instantly wondering why am I continuing on but instantly correcting that thought with “it’s part of the adventure”. Soon I was at 600 meters, then 700 meters and then I managed to get the final 100 meters done and the incline eventually eased off and soon I was greeted by the cairn before the trig. Having sunk into more snow drifts I eventually hauled my now exhausted body over the final stile and began the frozen kilometre long path towards the summit. It was so surreal up here as at one point, I’d been walking for what felt like a lifetime but still hadn’t reached the trig. It just looked exactly the same, like being on a treadmill and getting nowhere. Soon, a shape began to emerge from the fog. I was relieved to see the shape of the trig and finally I was within reach of it. I’d made it!
It's so baron, so flat and so uninhabited. Nothing around but a few footprints of the day’s successful climbers. I stayed at the summit for a while, rebuilding some energy with more treats and water before switching to the next objective… where to pitch. I returned back along the path I’d taken, looked back at the trig one final time and watched as it disappeared into the fog. The temperature began plummeting further as the sun began to set. There wasn’t much time and now, I had to really layer up as the bite of the wind was a concern. I descended 100 meters out of most of the snow cap and found a relatively good area to pitch. Yes, it wasn’t exactly level and it was based on some snow but it offered some solid ground to get a tent peg in… that’s good enough for me. I had just 30 minutes to get everything sorted before the sun was done for the day. This had to be quick.
The wind was making this not an easy task BUT, I’ve done this a good few times in the past. Get your outer tent on the ground as flat as possible and throw your pack on the top of it until you can get a few pegs in the ground. That should be enough to prevent it from blowing away and yet again, proved a solid method. All you need to watch from here on out is your tent poles. With 10 minutes to spare before sunset I had the tent pitched and got everything set up. More importantly I got some good layers on before I lost my body heat and a nice hot coffee on the go. Simply, bliss. All of a sudden it was dark and all that was on my mind… FOOD!
I cooked two chunky pork steaks throwing 800 calories into the system with a lovely follow up meal before bed of some noodles throwing in over 400 more calories. Plenty to keep me toasty warm through the night. What was a little disturbing was in the bog field, I noticed a bright light shining my way. It would move every now and again but other than that, it was static facing up the mountain. Very strange. There’s grouse huts heading up Scald Hill but nothing along that stretch. Anyway, I kept an eye on that while enjoying some amazing food from the Rucker Galley. Unfortunately on adventures like this there’s not much point in waffling onto the camera when there’s nothing to see so I did my usual roundup for the evening, opening the Rucker Bar with a new beer to try and to listen to some music while looking at the stars. What actually happened, was devastating.
The wind was making this not an easy task BUT, I’ve done this a good few times in the past. Get your outer tent on the ground as flat as possible and throw your pack on the top of it until you can get a few pegs in the ground. That should be enough to prevent it from blowing away and yet again, proved a solid method. All you need to watch from here on out is your tent poles. With 10 minutes to spare before sunset I had the tent pitched and got everything set up. More importantly I got some good layers on before I lost my body heat and a nice hot coffee on the go. Simply, bliss. All of a sudden it was dark and all that was on my mind… FOOD!
I cooked two chunky pork steaks throwing 800 calories into the system with a lovely follow up meal before bed of some noodles throwing in over 400 more calories. Plenty to keep me toasty warm through the night. What was a little disturbing was in the bog field, I noticed a bright light shining my way. It would move every now and again but other than that, it was static facing up the mountain. Very strange. There’s grouse huts heading up Scald Hill but nothing along that stretch. Anyway, I kept an eye on that while enjoying some amazing food from the Rucker Galley. Unfortunately on adventures like this there’s not much point in waffling onto the camera when there’s nothing to see so I did my usual roundup for the evening, opening the Rucker Bar with a new beer to try and to listen to some music while looking at the stars. What actually happened, was devastating.
I immediately found the new camping mat I’d purchased has completely deflated with no weight on it within 1 hour. I found an issue on the outer rim that I patched and then reinflated the mat to test it but, within minutes it had already deflated significantly. I considered my next move. To sleep on my backpack provided a layer from the frozen ground but only for a third of my body. With my shoulders protected, my backside was on the ground and vice versa. That wouldn’t work. I didn’t have enough layers to provide protection from the ground from the exposed part of my body… I had to make a call I really didn’t want to make. Exhausted and cold, I quickly packed up my gear and began the 2 and a half hour descent back down to the car.
The temperature dropped further and the wind increased to speeds that made me realise, I needed to concentrate more on my descent than record video. I reached a snow drift and instead of my feet making prints and providing grip they merely slid along the surface. This was a nightmare but I had my spikes packed so I attached them to my boots. The bog field was also rock solid now providing an easy way back over to Scald Hill though, I still stepped cautiously. Oddly in this field the wind died down to single figures, and then at points zero. It was silent, deafly silent only to be interrupted by a sub-bass boom. I didn’t think much of it, my attention was still solely on getting to the car. But, there it was again. (Boom). I turned around back towards The Cheviot and stood still for a moment. (Boom). I know how this sounds, like a fictitious story but I swear it’s the truth. I had and still have no idea what it could possibly be. I’ve checked for military bases in the area and found none but distant tank shells colliding with the ground is what it sounded like. I had to ignore this as the wind suddenly built up strong once more. Another thing to ignore was the fact the light that was shining up The Cheviot suddenly disappeared as I got nearby and no further lights like head torches heading down Scald Hill were seen either.
Then the fog set in and I lost my handrail points. Great, like I needed this to get any harder. I switched to GPS and put one foot in front of the other and plodded on through the clag. I walked… and walked… passed the grouse huts… down the steep patch and suddenly I was on tarmac. I was down. The relief of returning back to the car was immense but this valley had frozen up big time too. Once the car was thawed out, I slowly made my way out of Harthope Valley. A 3 and a half hour drive home rapidly increased in time as the A1 was closed, a pivotal A road closed and then the M6 closed too. Typical road works ey! I was diverted so much I drove down what felt like every valley, into every town and village before finally reaching the M6 just south of the Lake District. I was weary and so glad to see signs for home. I got in and simply went straight to bed. No shower, I was done in. Sorry Stacey!
There’s nothing more I could do on this one and given the scenario, I’d do the same again. Maybe I’ll test myself in a similar situation but nearby the car to see just how possible it would be to survive without a mat on icy ground for protection. I made the right call and all this was… is a good resilience check.
My confidence in cold temperatures has not been shaken… it’s only made me respect it more.
Here’s to the next ruck!
The temperature dropped further and the wind increased to speeds that made me realise, I needed to concentrate more on my descent than record video. I reached a snow drift and instead of my feet making prints and providing grip they merely slid along the surface. This was a nightmare but I had my spikes packed so I attached them to my boots. The bog field was also rock solid now providing an easy way back over to Scald Hill though, I still stepped cautiously. Oddly in this field the wind died down to single figures, and then at points zero. It was silent, deafly silent only to be interrupted by a sub-bass boom. I didn’t think much of it, my attention was still solely on getting to the car. But, there it was again. (Boom). I turned around back towards The Cheviot and stood still for a moment. (Boom). I know how this sounds, like a fictitious story but I swear it’s the truth. I had and still have no idea what it could possibly be. I’ve checked for military bases in the area and found none but distant tank shells colliding with the ground is what it sounded like. I had to ignore this as the wind suddenly built up strong once more. Another thing to ignore was the fact the light that was shining up The Cheviot suddenly disappeared as I got nearby and no further lights like head torches heading down Scald Hill were seen either.
Then the fog set in and I lost my handrail points. Great, like I needed this to get any harder. I switched to GPS and put one foot in front of the other and plodded on through the clag. I walked… and walked… passed the grouse huts… down the steep patch and suddenly I was on tarmac. I was down. The relief of returning back to the car was immense but this valley had frozen up big time too. Once the car was thawed out, I slowly made my way out of Harthope Valley. A 3 and a half hour drive home rapidly increased in time as the A1 was closed, a pivotal A road closed and then the M6 closed too. Typical road works ey! I was diverted so much I drove down what felt like every valley, into every town and village before finally reaching the M6 just south of the Lake District. I was weary and so glad to see signs for home. I got in and simply went straight to bed. No shower, I was done in. Sorry Stacey!
There’s nothing more I could do on this one and given the scenario, I’d do the same again. Maybe I’ll test myself in a similar situation but nearby the car to see just how possible it would be to survive without a mat on icy ground for protection. I made the right call and all this was… is a good resilience check.
My confidence in cold temperatures has not been shaken… it’s only made me respect it more.
Here’s to the next ruck!
