From the very first day of my walking Land's End to John o'Groats I'd dreaded today's challenge. Having had such great weather over the course of the last week my trepidation had lifted. In good weather you're meant to see a long way from the top of Cross Fell.It is the highest point of both the Pennine Way and the End to End and you'd have earned it having climbed from 160 meters to just under 900 within 9 miles on open moor land.
I woke to rain and as I climbed out of Dufton along Hurning Lane was forced to concede that the weather forecast was correct and I'd be forced to tackle rain, mist and winds- just like last time. The climb wasn't so bad, I trudged very slowly but with no breaks and was shocked at how much easier I found it. As I began to get higher the wind picked up and visibility dropped to five or so meters. With my boots on my back dry and protected my feet remained exposed in my sandals. For a large part of today my feet were deep in water and bogs and it was inevitable that I slipped and fell flat on my face at least once. When it did happen it was dramatic but quick and relatively painless. My mood was more affected than anything else, and my left half was now covered in mud. At some point the wind had also ripped away my sack rain cover and my once protected boots were steadily been soaked.
By the time I skidded down Cross Fell I was shacking with cold, soaking wet and desperate to escape the winds. I reached Greg's Hut and struggled to write in the blog book because my hands were too cold. In this shelter I cooked myself some soup and dipped my last two wraps into it. Food helped a lot and I left feeling considerably warmed. I can imaging Greg's Hut having saved a few lives, it's still high at 700 meters but sheltered from the wind has a wonderfully welcoming feel. Other hikers have left a mountain of things, soups, lighters and snacks.
The path down is easy enough. The first time I did it, two years ago, it shredded what was left of my feet but they've toughened over the last few weeks. In the Hut I changed into my boots.
At reaching Garrigill my earlier weariness had lifted and I was tempted to walk on but with no certain destination and a free camp behind the hall I dropped my stuff and pitched my tent. By this point I was out of food except for a packet of instant mash, the pub wasn't open and the post office was also shut when I reached town at 4:30. The only upside to a far too Spartan night was a basket of moisturizers in the ladies toilets- although I'm unsure if they had any affect when layered over several millimeters of grime.
