Walking in County Durham (Sunderland Bridge)
The weather forecast is only reasonable today (ie grey and murky, but not too cold, and not actually raining). Never-the-less a walk is planned. Peter, has to do his Florence Nightingale act again, and look after his wife Val, who is recovering from a gall bladder operation. So once again it is down to myself and Phil, to sally forth.
We choose a walk from Phil's book of walks in County Durham.
The walk starts from a place called Sunderland Bridge, this is about 3 miles south of Durham City and only a short drive (south along the A167) from where we live. I was aware of where it was before setting out, but as with so many things or places you drive past or through, I found I did not have the true picture.
For those of my generation, the A167 is often refered to as "the old A1", since, before the A1(M) motorway was built, the A167 was numbered A1 and was the main road to the south. We found that Sunderland Bridge is a very old bridge crossing the River Wear near Croxdale and was clearly once the road which pre-dated the A167, so I suppose it is the "old old A1".
As I say the route starts from the north end of the bridge and follows the River Wear, under the Croxdale Viaduct, yet another impressive (Victorian?) brick built viaduct, with I think 13 arches, carrying the east coast main railway line magestically over the River Wear.
The path is actually part of a longer walk called the Weardale Way. It roughly follows the River Wear, not right on the river bank, but for most of the time the river is in sight as we walk along a well defined gravel track, very gradually up hill, through some very pleasant woodland, past a number of isolated houses and farms until we eventually come to the main road from Durham to Crook (A690).
We cross the A690, and walk a short distance through a wooded area until we join the route of an old railway track, which has now been converted to a walkway. I think this is the old Durham to Bishop Auckland line, but I am not sure about that. Now we head toward Brancepeth Station, which is on the edge of Brancepeth Village. The station is no more of course, it's buildings having been converted into rather nice houses.
We pause here, near a small parking area, to take a few photographs. I should point out, that I have acquired a camera so the photographs included here are my efforts. If you think the artistic quality has declined, that is the explanation. I fear that quantity has suffered, as well as quality, since I have not yet got into the habit of snapping as I walk along.
While taking our photographs another chap arrives in his car, presumably with a view to taking a walk himself. He engages us in conversation and tells us that the village of Brancepeth is interesting enough to warrant a small detour. It is only a distance of approximately 500 yards, so we decide it is a worthwhile suggestion.
Brancepeth is another of those places which I was aware was there, having passed by it many times, but I had never taken the time to stop and explore.
From the road there is a castle just visible through the trees. Although the present building is of more modern construction, it would appear there has been a castle here since before William the Conqueror. This site tells the story it includes a bit of advertising, but is quite informative.
The castle is approached via very impressive wrought iron gates, and just beyond the Castle itself, but within the grounds is St Brandons Church.
From the outside, this is visibly a very old church, it apparently dates back to 900AD or thereabouts.
Unusually, in these days of theft and vandalism, the door was open and we were able to explore inside as well as the outside.
The inside was something of a revelation, since I had been expecting something old and rather sombre, given the obvious age of the outside. But the inside is surprisingly bright and modern, without being tasteless.
At this point Phil delved into the deepest recesses of his brain, and recalled a recent news item about a church which had been almost totally destroyed by a fire in 1998,
and had recently been rebuilt and restored to it's former glory.
He recalled another snippit of information about the event, concerning some medieval tombstones, which for some reason had been hidden in the walls of the church and had been revealed as a result of the fire.
There was, apparently, about 100 tombstones discovered. They are of a type known as cross slabs and are decorated with swords, crosses and emblems, including in one case a pair of shears to signify a housewife.
Some of the tombstones are displayed on the walls of the restored interior of the church.
I have included this dose of culture so that you can understand the real reason why we undertake these walks, it is not only for pleasure, nor is it simply to escape the housework or other chores, but to broaden our minds.
Very often with walks taken from a walk book, there is a problem with the instructions not being very clear. So far, with this walk everything has gone like clockwork. The obvious thing to do now, is to retrace our steps for 500 yards and rejoin the correct route as shown in the book. But we are men of vast walking experience. Armed only with a sketch map about 2 inches square, which contains virtually no information about anything off the actual route. It is overcast with no sun visible, so it is difficult to tell in which direction we are walking. We decide we can "take a short cut" and rejoin the route at a different point.
We rejoin the A690, from where we can see the line of trees marking the old railway line, and set off walking parallel to the required route, convinced that at some point we will cross our original route and be able to rejoin it, heading toward a place called Page Bank Bridge.
After at least a mile of walking, the line of trees marking the old railway line stubbornly refuses to cross our path, and we both agree that our "short cut" has taken us at least a mile, perhaps two off track. Yes, I know, the sensible thing to do here is to turn around and go back to rejoin the correct route. But, there is a Coffee shop along a public footpath signposted to our left. We call in for a coffee.
Suitably refreshed, we study the lie of the land and decide, the path we are now on must take us toward the river, and that once there we can simply walk down stream to Page Bank Bridge. You have to understand our instincts are finely honed by watching numerous repeats of "Ray Mears" on channel 19.
Amazingly, we turn out to be right, and by simply adding two or three miles to the distance we have to walk, we find our way to Page Bank Bridge, which, a plaque on the bridge tells us was openned by Tony Blair.
A short stretch alongside a road now, and we come to Whitworth Hall. This rather grand stately home is now a Hotel and "Country Park" with deer wandering in the extensive grounds. An information plaque tells us this was the home of the famous Bobby Shaftoe, about whom the popular northeast song was written. Shaftoe became an MP, it is said he chose to abandon his first love, Bridget Belasyse, of nearby Brancepeth, to marry (the wealthier) Anne Duncombe, of Duncombe Park, Helmsley, Yorkshire. This I suppose makes him something of a cad, so not much has changed there, given the behaviour of present day MP's.
A well marked path takes us through farmland towards Spennymoor. We skirt the edge of what appears to be a rather pleasant part of Spennymoor. I found these old photographs of Spennymoor using Google. They may be interesting, but they are hardly likely to encourage anyone to migrate their business from leafy Hampshire or where ever to bring much needed jobs to the area.
We stop here for our lunch, sitting on an old log to eat our sandwiches and drink our coffee, In the surrounding trees we have a good number of birds to attempt to identify, including a couple of robins, various tits (which we think are blue tits and coal tits) and finches (which we think are green finches and gold finches).
The walk continues alongside open fields with horses grazing, and then back into a wood, following a small stream with an odd name "Knickynack beck" I think it was.
It now becomes extremely muddy, but eventually we cross the stream via a small footbridge and find ourselves back in sight of the Croxdale Viaduct.
The original walk in the book was meant to be 11 miles, but I think, including our "short cut" we must have covered approximately 13 miles.
A short drive and we are home. Here I find that Kathleen has been working her domestic magic (as usual), and a tasty evening meal is already cooking, awaiting my return. I am so lucky!
Sorry, after Kathleen had proof read this, she pointed out to me, she had also, hoovered the whole house, cleaned the bathroom, and done the shopping, in my absence.
I returned from the Grey Horse last night at about 23:45, it was cold, but there was no snow. Woke up this morning and looked out of the window to see this in our back garden, about four inches of snow has fallen at some point during the night.
After clearing the snow from the drive, and the car, I decide to go to the allotment anyway, if you just ignore the fact that the ground is covered in snow, it is a beautiful winters day. Clear blue sky and bright sunshine, with even a hint of warmth in the sun.
I took a couple of shots, to just set the scene, above you can see someone actually has a palm tree of some kind growing this far north, while on the right, you can see out over the north sea.
