Northumberland

There are just two Simms below Hewitt height in Northumberland, The Schil and Peel Fell. Both are on the Border ridge. 

From the summit of The Schil

The Schil (1987ft) is on the Pennine Way, and I walked this section on Wednesday 8 June 2016. It’s described on my High Pennines and Cheviot page, but to save you the bother of following a link, I wrote that “its tor-like top [is] far more deserving of [Hewitt status] than, say, the grotty dump called Comb Fell just south of The Cheviot, or indeed of The Cheviot itself”.

I’ve delved into the archive, and found this pic taken from the summit, though I didn’t seem to take a pic of the summit, which is a shame.

Peel Fell (1977ft) is in Kielder, that vast, largely forested area which has Kielder Water as its centrepiece.

I’d never been to Kielder, so it was a welcome bonus of tackling the Simms that I had an excuse to visit this area. I’m never a fan of the word ‘remote’ – if you’re there, it’s not remote to you, is it? – but for most Englishmen, Kielder is a long way from anywhere. So I decided to tackle Peel Fell from the Lake District, a couple of days after finishing the Hewitts on Great End. A long way, but not as long as it might be.

“Deadwater Fell is closed.” That was pretty forthright. The guy went on to show me a map showing that forestry operations did indeed prevent access on a key part of my descent. “If you go down that way, they’ll turn you back.” He was kindly enough about it – not as brusque as I may have made it out – but clearly a rethink was in order.

Luckily, in my planning I had found a straight up-and-down from a layby near Kittythirst Cottage, on the road into Kielder. I’d even checked the layby as I driven past, just in case. So plan B it was.

The forestry ops map in the MTB bike shop didn’t extend out there, but I reckoned that they couldn’t be working on the whole area. Ploughing up the track, it was about a mile in that I saw the signs. “Keep off log stacks.” Whatever. “STOP. No access for unauthorised personnel beyond this point.”

I’d been passed by a few forestry vehicles and they’d seemed unconcerned; and I could see more on the cleared fell about half-way to my target. I slowed pace for, oh, maybe ten metres, then cracked on again. After all, I didn’t know if I was unauthorised until I asked.

I came to the vehicles ten minutes or so later on, and I’m sure they would have clocked me. In front was a vast AW Jenkinson truck, behind some kind of shredding machine, and a further truck beyond, but off my route.

I came to the first truck and gave the driver a cheery wave. He waved back, and beckoned me to pass on the right. The guys on the shredder gave me a wave too. Isn’t this easy!

The forestry tracks end at Rushy Knowe, where the Border ridge is gained. I was a bit surprised to find a waymarker for the Kielder Stane Walk, but it was a welcome sign. You’re on the open fell before too long, and the going is never too difficult, with a bagger’s path all the way.

The summit itself is somewhat flat and peaty but there’s a cairn for the summit, safely in England rather than perched equally in England and Scotland.

It’s a good viewpoint, with the Lake District fells to the south, The Cheviot north-east, and the Southern Uplands across the northern horizon. I could pick out the little Eildon Hills, which dominate the skyline of Galashiels, and that took me back to my time on the Southern Upland Way. Tantalisingly close, of course, was Deadwater Fell, with its MoD masts. Maybe I could safely have dropped down from there. I’ll never know.