Or more specifically, Botham’s of Whitby original Whitby Gingerbread.

It is exactly what it says on the tin wrapper:

Gingerbread has been made in Whitby for the seafaring community since time immemorial, its good keeping qualities making it ideal for taking to sea. In 1865 when Elizabeth Botham began baking, gingerbread was naturally one of her first products.
It is not a sticky cake but a firm loaf with a texture between a bread and a biscuit. Today we enjoy it thinly sliced, buttered and served with a while farmhouse cheese, lemon curd, honey or preserves.

I was intrigued to find Whitby Gingerbread while walking the Pennine Way, as I was nowhere near Whitby. I thought it might well go well with a cup of tea, and being of a firm texture I suspected it might also travel well in a rucksack – and it did. So I investigated further…

The gingerbread is not particularly sweet, and as such is able to take both sweet and savoury accompaniments particularly well. Its firm texture also allows it to be easily buttered, even with butter which is relatively unyielding. It may well also be possible to lightly toast the gingerbread, though out on top of a fell I was without a toaster and unable to test this theory.

Whitby Gingerbread has a long history, and I for one hope it has a long future.

While walking the Pennine Way I was in need of sustenance to keep me going through the day. While I found some good biscuits, cake is less prone to disintegrating (or at least more easily squished back together). Having spent quite a while wandering along the route through Yorkshire I was pleased to find a supply of Parkin, a cake with strong local connections.

Parkin is generally a moist, and even sometimes sticky, gingercake – and is readily distinguishable from other (lesser) gingercakes by the high proportion of oatmeal and treacle used in its making.

It is also said to keep well, though why you would want to do this with such a delicious cake I am unsure – however it is said that ‘connoisseurs often prefer to eat it slightly aged’.

Parkin is also strongly associated with Bonfire Night, but after consuming the cake pictured above during mid May I am able to confirm that it can also be enjoyed at any other times of year.

In walking the Pennine Way I spent quite a while within Yorkshire – with the opportunity to try some of the wonderful delights on offer that go well with a nice cup of tea.

I had occasionally seen Yorkshire Tea Biscuits advertised on TV, but never found a good supply of them. In Hawes I was delighted to find numerous shelves fully stocked with a wondrous range of these biscuits, though disappointingly I probably only had room for two packets of biscuits in my rucksack, so I chose the Original and Chocolate Chip varieties – leaving the Oat & Honey and Ginger ones for another time.

Yorkshire Tea Biscuits are basically a rich buttery shortbread biscuit, but there is nothing basic about them. Much thought has obviously gone into the crafting and baking of these biscuits, and the result is a chunky T shape – which makes it ideal for dunking (as does the solid texture of the shortbread).

While the T shape is good for dunking it is bad for packing, and thus the amount of packaging to biscuit ratio is high – which results in each biscuit probably having a greater than average carbon footprint (which is particularly disappointing for such an excellent biscuit).

A hint of Yorkshire Tea has also been baked into each original Yorkshire Tea Biscuit, to great effect – adding a delicate flavour note. The hint of tea might well be included in the other varieties – though of the Chocolate Chip variety my tastebuds were rapidly seduced by the large chocolaty chips, at the expense of some of the other delicate flavours.

Having tried to approach the tasting of Yorkshire Tea Biscuits in the most scientific way possible (for a hungry walker) I have to admit to running out of biscuits before completing the rigorous dunk test timings – though I am happy to report that they held up well (to the dunking, but not to a hungry walker!).

I was extraordinarily lucky to have only 2 brief periods of poor weather in all of the 19 days I was walking, and even that only added up to a few hours (perhaps half a day in all). It was a bit of a shame that the views were so hazy at times, but far better to be hazy due to the high temperatures that mist or fog!!

In many ways I found the Pennine Way to be a bit of a tamed beast: with the good weather, long sections of slabs, excellent sign posting even in the remotest of areas, and some unseasonally dry conditions under foot. Nevertheless 260 miles is still a bit of a trek whatever the conditions…

New header images from my Pennine Way travels

After an early breakfast I was out on the road by 8am, so that I would have as much time as possible to complete the stage. I hoped it would take around 10 hours, though it could easily take more.

There was a sharp climb out of the valley, along a narrow path through tall plantation conifers – then at the top of Byrness Hill I was hit full in the face by the gale force wind that was still blowing from the northeast. That wind was going to make the day a whole lot harder.

The path skirts along the edge of a large MOD training area, with all of its warning signs and keep out messages – and every so often you could hear the sound of explosions coming from over the hill.

The path then headed for a fenceline that marked the border between England and Scotland, though after a few brief metres in Scotland it headed back to England and around the rather disappointing earthworks of a Roman fort at Chew Green.

After another couple of flirtations with the border, and after following the line of Dere Street (an old Roman road) the first of two mountain huts is reached. I sat down inside to get out of the wind for a few moments, though I did not pause for long after reading the notices about what to do in an attack from ‘guns, mortar or proxy bombs’.

Leaving the hut behind me the path heads uphill and alongside the border fence (which it seemed to do for most of the day – both continue uphill and with the fence!).

I made Windy Gyle in good time (the name is most appropriate) and decided that I was going to do the stage in one, so cancelled my other arrangements and set off at a brisk pace towards The Cheviot – not that I could see it, it was covered in low cloud.

I stopped for a little sit down near King’s Seat, and took my time to reach the top of West Cairn Hill, though when I got to the cairn the weather had worsened and the cloud had got thicker. There was no point in heading up to The Cheviot so I took the left turn passing Auchope Cairn and headed down to the second mountain hut.

I was more than two-thirds the way, but there was still quite a way to go. Heading up The Schill I started to rue my decision to complete the stage in one go, I ground to a halt about half way up with a total lack of energy. Thankfully many days previously I had packed a small bar of Kendal Mint Cake and that perked me up a treat.

There are two possible routes to chose from: a higher route into Kirk Yetholm, or a lower route. I chose the latter and headed off into Scotland. Descending down into the valley and it started to rain, though I was now getting a bit of shelter from the rain. The path meandered around a bit, though it was gentle walking and I was soon with just a mile of the finish.

Having travelled down the valley, along Halter Burn, and joined up with the higher level route which also descended to cross the Burn, there was just one small hill to go over before the descent into Kirk Yetholm. Then as you enter the village the end is in site at the Border Hotel – I had made it!

Center of map

Route

More photos (from all the days of walking) can be found in the photo gallery.

I was so pleased that the ground was so dry as there were no slabs to aid you on your way, and by the look of the deep footprints left in the peat this area could be quite a quagmire when it is wet.

I was making quicker progress than I expected and was soon passing the large pepperpot cairn on Padon Hill and clambering up a steep slope next to a large plantation forest.

The path flirted with the edge of the forest for a while but eventually headed into the plantation and passing a sign proudly welcoming Pennine Way Walkers. It was not the greatest welcome in the world as the handful of waymarkers on the forest roads were few and far between. I suppose they think if you have made it this far your sense of direction and homing skills will have been finely honed.

The only progress indicator of note was the sound of the Bank Holiday Monday traffic roaring up and down the A68 on the other side of the valley.

Following many miles of dry forest roads the path finally reached the River Rede, and a nice stretch of walking along the riverbank took the path into the hamlet of Byrness.

The day’s walking was now over, just one more stage and 26 miles of the Pennine Way was now left.

Center of map

Route

More photos (from all the days of walking) can be found in the photo gallery.

Having wandered around on Hadrian’s Wall yesterday I decided to forgo another trip along the top and headed north to pick up a path that ran along the base of the escarpment. It was not long however until I rejoined the Pennine Way, as it turned northwards away from the line of Hadrian’s Wall and headed towards the plantation forests.

The forests looked quite foreboding yesterday, though today I was quite looking forward to reaching them for the shelter they might provide from the wind.

The plantations however were quite open, with large areas of open space. The path then crossed a bigger area of open space that looked like it had never been planted, before heading down into a denser plantation.

After another section of plantation, the path headed out over moorland and then down into improved pasture amongst little hidden valleys – some of which were quite steeply sided.

I was making steady progress, with the mast in the distance on top of Shitlington Crags becoming ever closer. It was then down into the valley of the River North Tyne, and the path joined the road into the centre of Bellingham.

Having crossed the bridge it was a relief to get off the road and join the path that followed the broad sweeping curves of the river, though before long I was in Bellingham and at the end of the day’s walk.

Center of map

Route

More photos (from all the days of walking) can be found in the photo gallery.

Leaving late I was quickly back onto the Pennine Way, and walking alongside a huge ditch – which was part of the Hadrian’s Wall defences. It was like all the climbs of the day, short and sharp – and with a seemingly gale force wind that would hit you in the face every time you reached the top.

There were routes that would contour around the hills, and keep you sheltered from the worst of the wind, but that would take you away from the most interesting bits of the walk – alongside the wall (be it Roman or just a rebuilt ordinary drystone wall) on top of steep sided escarpments.

To the north I could see the great swathes of plantation forests, and the route ahead, but that was for tomorrow. I headed south, down to the military road and the hamlets of Once Brewed and Twice Brewed*.

*Apparently the ale served at the inn was said to be so weak that it was demanded it be brewed twice, and the name stuck. When the neighbouring Youth Hostel was officially opened by a staunch teetotaller it was mentioned that they hoped the tea would only be brewed once, and that name stuck too.

Center of map

Route

More photos (from all the days of walking) can be found in the photo gallery.

After a brief excursion back up onto moorland the path descends again into farmland, before rising once more onto a more significant piece of moorland across Featherstone and Blenkinsopp Commons.

While the sun was out the very strong easterly wind made progress much harder, lets hope it drops tomorrow as I will be heading almost due east along Hadrian’s Wall.

The route across the commons was one of the trickier sections to navigate; all of a sudden the path just vanished and there were very few landmarks and points of reference to go by. Using a bit of dead reckoning, and sheep tracks to navigate through the more marsh areas, I eventually came to a fence line and followed it almost due north – finally picking up the cairns and trig points marked on the map to confirm I was in the right place.

As the path and the way ahead started to become clearer it entered another marshy area, thankfully it had been very dry so it was only slightly squelchy underfoot.

While the route has to cross the A69 (not a pleasant crossing) it then tries its best to skirt around Greenhead. Thankfully it makes for Thirlwall Castle – an early 14th century fortified house, with turrets and a five storey tower, and built entirely out of stone from Hadrian’s Wall (which might explain the lack of walling in this area!) – and a really nice tearoom to end a day’s walking.

Center of map

Route

More photos (from all the days of walking) can be found in the photo gallery.