This account was written in 1977 by an 18 year old version of myself. I lived in Birmingham at the time. I have copied it directly from the diary I kept at the time and it must be stressed that almost certainly a lot has changed, the humour might not suit everyone, but too bad. If you are a snowflake, stop now, otherwise continue to read assumes you accept the content as is. I would also add that, apart from the final photo on the final page, all of the other photos are either mine from a much later time, or obtained from the internet and are only representative of the location of the photo. Due credit is given.

It is not meant to be a guide to walking the Pennine Way, nor would it be relevant today as many of the Youth Hostels used at the time have closed. Some have vanished, others have become lodges or other accommodation. You are strongly advised to do your own research. One thing this does do is to provide a reasonable itinerary for aspiring Pennine Wayfarers. Text in italics has been added at the time of writing (2024)

Overnight accommodation was at Youth Hostels, the destination name each day was the Youth Hostel. There were two exceptions: Bowes and Alwinton, both of which were B&Bs.

An account of the trials and tribulations of two innocent cherubs on what must be Britains worst self-inflicted torture; the above mentioned footpath from Edale to Kirk Yetholm. 270 miles of sheer hell, it can only be put on a par with such horrors as Sale of the Century, Crossroads or climbing Everest backwards. The following pages are the happenings of three weeks of sheer murder, or as far as we get. (Slight exaggeration but at 18, everything seems hard!)

Our first tragedy of the trip happened before we had left Steves house! One of the straps on his rucsac broke! Realising Millets may not replace the damaged article without a receipt Steve raced up to his bedroom in search of the magical piece of paper, needless to say, the search was in vain, no receipt. Suddenly and without ceremony I announced that I had kept my receipt for an identical rucsac and so, picking up our belongings we were chauffered back to my house where the, by now, much sought after receipt was collected. Next stop, Millets.

We arrived at Millets withoout further ado and informed the Manager of our predicament. The rather sweet looking fellow obliged us and replaced Steves red shoulder strap with a tatty blue one.

Equipped with a faultless strap we proceeded to Ashbourne where we ate probably the best meal for the next three weeks; roast lamb at the Green Man and Blacks Head pub. After lunch we travelled by the scenic route to Edale, we then strolled along the lead up to the Pennine Way start, having decided to leave any of the way until tomorrow. We strolled back down again, pausing for ice cream as we went.

After coffee and scones we were driven up to the driveway leading to the Youth Hostel. Here we were left to walk the mile or so (it's nowhere near a mile, but might seem like it!) to the Youth Hostel itself, we arrived totally shattered!

The Youth Hostel is a Superior with all the requirements of two cherubs out for a spot of adventure. The games room consisted of table tennis, pinball machine and a juke box. Most of the evening, apart from having a meal, was spent in the games room, vast fortunes were gambled away on pinball, table tennis and listening to records.

An early start would be advisable but no doubt we shall be amongst the last to retire to bed.