A Northumberland Adventure

Amongst the many scraps of paper, notebooks and diaries that Ronnie gifted us, we have found a hidden gem!  We have discovered that between Ronnie and her husband, Chris, they wrote a piece on their new adventure to Northumberland. 

So, for one week only we have Chris & Ronnie’s Ramblings!

Allenheads Lodge

Ronnie and myself had been travelling all day from London, the weather was bad, the traffic worse and I had a headache.  We eventually found accommodation in Newcastle for the night with our only friend in the North East, Peter, who insisted we went out for the evening. 

We followed him across Newcastle, twisting and turning, jumping traffic lights at red, frightened we would loose him in the traffic.  Eventually we arrived at Gosforth Park Hotel, at the time it seemed it was in the middle of nowhere, but in fact it was in the middle of a race track.  I was glad we got there in one piece without getting lost!

Peter is a very popular person and it seemed as if he knew everyone in the lounge bar, we were shunted from one group of people to the next.  Peter would introduce us “I would like you to meet Chris and Ronnie” and they would say in polite English “Hello, pleased to meet you” but as soon as Ronnie and I said anything they immediately changed to broad Geordie ”wor gannin to kip” or “what fettle”.  We managed one word in five and were constantly asking people to repeat themselves, we thought we were in a foreign country for a while!

The thing is, I’m from Plymouth and Ronnie from Cornwall, we had been living in London for a while where anyone who lives north of Watford Gap is a Geordie.  But according to the Geordies anyone living south of Durham is a Southerner, I still cant work out who lives in the middle!  Anyway our first meeting with the Geordies at play was very confusing but this was only the beginning!

The following day we moved into our new “kip” a small cottage attached to Allenheads Lodge Outdoor Centre, situated at the head of the Allen Valley, right on the meeting of three borders, Northumberland, Durham and Cumbria.  At the turn of the century Allenheads had been a thriving community, lead mining being its main industry. 

The language problem was even greater here, with a variety of local dialects, miners, shepherds and Geordies each with their own distinct way of saying things!  I wondered what I had let myself in for! 

Allenheads Lodge had originally been the Methodist Chapel, it was then opened as a hostel by the YHA and called the Dirt Pot Hostel.  Then in 1973 it was sold to Northumbrian Adventures Limited, a private company of three directors, its purpose being to provide instruction in outdoor pursuits with accommodation for 28 people.

The activities included walking, climbing, canoeing, skiing alongside field studies on industry, geology and archaeology.  For the lazier, visiting places of local interest such as the Roman Wall and Alston.

Allenheads Lodge in the snow

I spent the first five days in a frenzy of activity, painting and decorating, buying furniture and carpets and helping Ronnie to straighten the cottage to make it our new home.

On Friday, it hit me, the first group arrived, 24 children and four staff.  I was in a panic, I had never worked in Outdoor Education full time before, I didn’t know the area and I had not given the weekend a single thought.  “Where do I begin” I asked myself.  I put on a brave face and went out to meet them.  After introductions to the staff, we discussed what the group wanted to do for the weekend and horror of horrors, they wanted to go camping!

Well, that entailed checking all the tents and stoves, easy you might say but the equipment store resembled a jumble sale without the tables!  Everything was in a big heap in the middle of the floor.  I checked and lit every stove, only to find three not working but I took parts from one to mend the other two.

I had just started on the tents when Albert, my weekend voluntary instructor arrived.  I was very pleased to see him, even with a bad leg, there’s nothing like moral support!  We took all the tents out onto the grass and an assortment of poles, pegs, tents and flysheets, we were amazed to find they were all complete.  It was the biggest jigsaw puzzle I’ve ever done!

We then kitted everyone out with waterproof tops and bottoms, boots, maps, compasses, tents, stoves, billies and a rucksack.  Feeling quite proud of our marathon efforts we decided we deserved a pint, unfortunately it had taken us five hours to get the group organised, it was now 11.30pm and so that was the end of that idea.

Albert and I spent the following morning teaching the kids how to light stoves, pitch tents, read a map and compass and follow the Country Code.  In the afternoon we set out up the hill to Killhope Law, the largest hills in the proximity to the centre and then across to the Cumbrian border, to a village called Nent Head, a short walk of about five miles.

It was an enjoyable walk in the freedom of the hills, the sun was shining and all was well.  Every so often a grouse would fly up in front of us going “Whir-Whir” wrenching Shep, our border collie, off after it.  We found a lovely campsite beside the river just outside of Nent Head and set up camp for the night.

I went from tent to tent, assisting and advising, I came to a group of girls “we’ve finished” they said as proud as punch.  It was perfectly put up, except one thing.  “Why isn’t the fly sheet on” I asked “we don’t need it” they answered “there aren’t any flies about”!

Famous last words!  We’d finished our tea, the sun had gone down and out came the midges.  Thousands and thousands of them, never before or since have I seen so many.  They drove us out of camp, we found if we kept walking we were alright but if we stopped to look at anything they were right there, so kept on the move until dark, when it was safe to go to bed. 

What an introduction to outdoor life!

Ronnie and Chris lived in Northumberland for many years, they moved to an Outdoor centre at Ewart near Wooler, which they ran for several years.  Here, they made friends for life, Jo and John.  After Chris died, Ronnie visited her friends and persuaded Jo that they should walk the Pilgrims Way to Holy Island, something she had always wanted to do.  The two of them had an absolute blast and tales were regaled for many years after their adventure!

The Pilgrims Path to Holy Island