Detour #125: On two wheels across the North Pennines, UK
North Wales, North Coast 500, Nordschleife? You can keep ‘em, says Sim Mainey.
The only north I’m interested in is the North Pennines. Straddling the middle of the country and hemmed in by the A69 to the north and A66 to the south the North Pennines appear as a large blank area, both on the map and in the mind. Neighbouring the better known Yorkshire Dales and Lake District this part of England is often overlooked. But it’s for that reason, and more, that it makes a worthwhile destination for a road trip. I threw a toothbrush in my camera bag, jumped on my motorcycle and pointed my wheels north.
The North Pennines, not the Lake District, is home to Cumbria’s best driving road. Leaving Penrith on the A686, the road meanders across the Eden valley before kicking up and doing its best Alpine pass impression on the flanks of the Pennine fells. From the car park that marks the top of the pass you even get a better view of the Lakeland Fells than you would in the National Park - all without the stifling speed restrictions and tourist traffic.
The descent down to Alston does nothing to dissuade the preconception that the North Pennines are empty. But this is a landscape of subtlety and minimalism, one stripped back to the bare essentials. And it’s so much better for it. Road, moor, sky. That’s it. After the manicured tea-box scenes of the Dales or the classically rugged mountains of the Lakes, the North Pennines can seem plain, austere. It takes time to warm to the moors and appreciate the beauty of a place that does not reveal itself so quickly or obviously.
My motorcycle tour of the North Pennines is less one of purpose and more one of exploration. Cumbria seamlessly becomes Northumberland then County Durham. While the counties might change, the overall feel remains the same. The North Pennines is very much its own thing and couldn’t care less for county lines.
Running through the valleys and crossing the hills that act as a watershed for the great northern rivers is a network of roads that, unlike the landscape, don’t require any acclimatisation. Long, wide stretches of Tarmac with well sighted corners drape across the moors to meet the horizon, allowing my wrist to twist just a little further. These are matched with tight, twisty sections that keep my Honda in second gear and on the boil for whatever comes next.
No matter where I go the roads are quiet. Hardy hill farmers in pickups, bimbling day trippers and the occasional biker seem to be the only people up here. The road condition is surprisingly good with only mild scarring from winter’s freeze and melt cycle, and an ever-shifting landscape, throwing up some ripples and holes.
Considering their demure nature the hills that make up the North Pennines are deceptively large. Their smooth humpback profile disguises their hulking mass and it’s only when viewed from atop that the full scale of the landscape starts to click. Summiting the road that climbs out of St John’s Chapel to Langdon Beck I stop to watch the clouds open and close like the aperture of my camera lens, selectively illuminating the landscape and bringing into focus the enormity of the place, making me feel very small. With night drawing in I head back to Alston and the warmth and wifi of the YHA hostel.
Weather plays a huge role in the feel of the landscape. Back on the top of Langdon Beck the next day a canopy of blue sky seems to dwarf the landscape, quite some feat. Clear sky, clear road, clear head. Somewhere around 9,000rpm on a deserted North Pennine road it strikes me that this is the reason why I ride. You can’t ask for much more from a road trip.
Words & Photography Sim Mainey Instagram
