Cheviot and Hedgehope

Wim and Peter dodge the bad weather on Chevoit

The Cheviots are a funny place.
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Amidst the bogs and the long-backed, muscular undulations that the range compromise, Cheviot looms henge-like and wise. Whilst Hedgehope angularity perches to its flanks, seemingly shifty and distrustful. The geographical equivalent of Dumbledore and Snape.

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Much like their literary counterparts, Cheviot often promises so much, only to have its esteemed reputation needlessly and maliciously cut short, whilst its true significance is posthumously renovated with retrospective grandeur and wisdom. In this scenario, think of Malfoy as the fog which blindly ruins the already quite average summit, and Voldemort being the ever-constant, generally malevolent knee-deep bog which plagues the region year-round. It could also be said that Pete looks a bit like Dobby.

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Meanwhile hedgehope, visually the more aggressive and saturnine of the two, provides a far more rewarding emotional climax to proceedings. Despite its surly and distrustful demeanour, it loved you all along.

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Peter and I chose the classic circular route from Langleeford to Cheviot, across to Hedgehope via a brief flirtation with the Pennine Way, before descending through the Tolkien-esque Long Crags to return to the car. Within the concise 9-ish miles we experienced the usual lung-busting ascent, underwhelming summits, and general barren beauty of the place. However, what came as the greatest surprise was the ease underfoot; we only disappeared up to our knees in peat twice.

Wim opted for shorts, Peter went for his trusty Fjallraven trousers

If ever there was a good time to introduce yourself to these venerable old wizards, now is ideal.