Section 2, Day 3: Moralee to Fourstones
We park the car near West Moralee Farm having left the other car in Fourstones. Again, a short enough trip, but we’ve come to know well by now that speed and distance is not what this is about.
A garden warbler sings overhead as we start the walk up a narrow road. The few cars that pass, generously make way for us seeming to recognise that we are really the ones with right of way here.
The track drops down past a farm and traverses large empty fields on the valley edge above a small woodland. We pass a gateless opening in the wall, and a bonsai blackthorn stands up perkily from the leaning wooden gate post.
We round a bluff and cross a stile to meet a beautiful wide view of the valley; Haydon Bridge town settled like sediment in the bowl. We stop to rest and to write. We reflect on the near total human management of the land in view and the dual response that arises of comfort and reassurance on one hand and a longing for something missing or lost in that – a loneliness of sorts. We reflect on the wealth and diversity of life that would irresistibly spring forth here if it weren’t for the large and constant input of energy us humans exert to keep it at bay.
We continue through a friendly seeming farm. The dog that waddles up to meet us confirms this with her one blue-blind eye and her warm welcome. There’s an inadvertent art installation on the corrugated steel fence where the sheep sprays have been tested. We regain the road and slightly regret not having knocked on the door back there for a chat.
We’re caught up by two young men, one with golden retriever in hand and the other an expensive looking camera. We strike up a chat. They’ve done 18km today (before we’ve done 6km). They do something every weekend more or less – coming out from Whitley Bay and Chester-le-Street. We naturally part and continue into the town separately.
We cross the stone bridge in Haydon Bridge and read the interpretation board that talks of when it was one of only 3 bridges on the Tyne and of women beating cows through the water to avoid the tolls.
Gaining the north side of the Tyne we amble for the first time today right by its banks, sandy beaches and stony outcrops. We encounter a dog walker who talks of his early years when he lived in Wallsend and his Granny would bring him to the caravan up here. She’d tell him and his brother to stay out of that river but they’d go up and nick old lorry tubes from the garage and float down it anyway.
We realise that next the footpath will take us mostly along a road and we wonder if instead we can find our way between the railway line and river without getting snagged in vegetation or falling off a cliff. Another local dog walker seems to suggest we could . We find the inevitable desire line that runs along the river edge skirting around fenced off sections and fallen trees.
Eventually on reaching the large Allerwash estate, where the desire line peters out, we reluctantly find a railway crossing and regain the road.
Walking a good deal faster now we cover more ground and reach the river on the other side of the estate. The first folks we meet excitedly tell us of the otter they have just seen. It’s a beautiful wide stretch – much the widest we’ve seen the Tyne so far.
A lad and his dad are flyfishing out on the rocks, a kingfisher zips past. We sit to rest and write again, hoping they’ll pass us to chat on their way home. Sure enough they do. Darren’s been tickling trout on Devil’s water since he was a kid. Now he and his son Archie spend hours down here.
Archie is oblivious to us as we talk – engrossed in searching for tadpoles. We ask what it is apart from the fish that draws them here. “Well it’s like the sea. It’s just the water isn’t it”. That kind of sums it up for us. We continue to Fourstones and find our car where we left it. Somehow that is a surprise. Like how after all we’ve just seen has it just been here, just like that?
