Spithope Bothy to Bellingham

There is a simplicity to bothy life that is hard to leave behind; chopping wood, heading down to the bubbling stream to collect water or cooking on the roaring stove. Luckily for me the complications of modern life rarely feature on the trail either, finding food, water and shelter are my main concerns.

On the path down to the road, I was joined by a companion who had stayed with me in the bothy, and we made our way through the pines. As last night's frost began to melt, water dripped from the wet needles and the ground underfoot no longer made that delicious crunching sound. Then I was back on my own again.

I followed the Pennine Way alongside an attractive river in the valley of slightly excessive place names. After the farms at Cottonshopeburnfoot and Blakehopeburnhaugh it was time to return into the trees. Endless forestry tracks led uphill, although recent felling reduced the usual claustrophobia with views of distant forests and moorlands. Wherever the way leaves the track, the signposts point hopefully across a maze of stumps, discarded branches and pools of dark water. This ground is hard going compared to the soft pine covered path through the trees that once must have been, but these moments of respite from the sandy tracks are worth the effort.

When enough height had been gained, the route moved out onto open moorland and a more authentic pennine experience. The way is obvious and boggy, often with a thin crust of dirty ice where there is more water than mud. Trusting this to support my weight was sometimes useful and sometimes disastrous.

It was getting late in the day as I covered the ground over the bleak moorland and skirted Hareshaw House. Here the signposts showed me a choice of routes, and I reckon I chose the least popular way since I was soon without a path to follow and forced to navigate by the many craggy edges. This mistake cost me any chance of arriving in Bellingham in the daylight (the guidebooks claim it is pronounced Bellingjum, but you never really believe it until you hear the locals say it). I sneaked through farmyards in the darkness, hoping I didn't look suspicious enough to set the dogs on.

After my first full day on the Pennine Way I feel I am in safe hands. No more worrying about whether the predicted paths and bridges will exist on the ground, whether the route will overgrown or forbidden by shooting or stalking. Walker friendly accommodation is spread out only the route, meaning daily mileages can be adjusted to mood and weather conditions. All I have to do is keep walking . . .