Even further north today as we head for Norham, former home of the Eadington family. There is a beware of the otters sign near the camp site. Chris says our neighbour has seen one so maybe we will go otter hunting one day. We do see some roe deer on our journey. We arrive at St. Cuthbert’s Church in Norham, which is inevitably covered in scaffolding. 4 x great grandfather, Peter Eadington, was the local miller. I have ascertained that the mill no longer stands but Chris is asking locals where it used to be, without success. We enter the church where the vicar and two parishioners are pew moving. The vicar sports two earrings (in the same ear); he’s my kind of vicar. The wooden predecessor of the current church was reputedly brought from Holy Island. The Lindisfarne monks took refuge in Norham from the invasion by Hubba the Dane, bringing with them the body of St. Cuthbert. The church was badly damaged in the border raids associated with the Battle of Flodden of 1513. The Parliamentarians also caused some minor damage when they were in the village with Cromwell in 1648 and 1649. I already know that there are no relevant gravestones, which is a shame as gravestones in the area seem to contain quite a bit of information. Many also seem to be eroded in the centres in a strange way, presumably because of the sandstone that has been used.

Amazing co-incidence, one of the pew movers lives in the miller’s house! He kindly asks us back to examine his deeds. He shows us ‘Miller’s Path’, alongside his house and the alleged former mill. This is now named Tower Cottages, inhabited by 95 year old Bill, who comes to the door just as the vicar arrives; the vicar must think we are stalking him. I had been thinking water mill but apparently the mill that was Bill’s house was a windmill. There is some controversy over whether the mill actually was a mill or whether it was a dovecot. Our benefactor’s home is lovely, with a large and eclectic selection of books. His deeds do clearly state that the owner in the late C18th was a miller. Unfortunately no mention of Peter Eadington but maybe he was an assistant miller, or worked at another mill. It turns out that our helper is a fellow member of the Guild of One Name Studies.

We take a look at the exterior of Norham Castle, now closed for the season. It was an important part of border defences. We decide to take a long way round back to the van so I can visit Scotland, which I’ve never done before. We drive past Jedborough Abbey; Jedborough was the former home of Mary Queen of Scots. Next is the Kielder Forest with panoramic views and a glorious rainbow; a complete arc that is actually revealing both its ends. Next a detour to Great Tosson, one of the settings of the novel Devil Water by Anya Seton. This was my favourite book as a teenager and it recounts the story of the Radcliffe family’s involvement in the Jacobite Rebellion. I am re-reading it in honour of our trip. Our journey back to the van takes us through Rothbury, where the Jacobities rallied before the rout at Preston in 1715.

Today we are in search of the ancestral haunts of the Pearson family. My great great grandmother Elizabeth Pearson gave her place of birth as Togston Barnes, which I have identified on my trusty OS map, so off we set so I can take a photograph. Finding what is now Togston Barnes Farm was not the problem. It was more the three German Shepherds and the warnings of possible dire fates should anyone trespass. Nor was I reassured by what I assume are the dogs’ names, Tinker, Lizzie and Rosie, carved on the gates. I decide that our best course of action might be to pretend we are lost, followed by a hasty retreat. This is not Chris’ modus operandi and he winds down the window, that would be the window on my side of the car, to talk to the lady who has come out to investigate why the dogs are pacing threateningly and barking quite a lot. She a great deal friendlier than the dogs and the signage, not that that would be difficult. She tells us that there is a lack of grazing in the area because insufficient top soil was put back following open cast mining in the area. It seems likely that the Pearsons lived in cottages attached to the farm rather than the farm itself but who knows.

We move on to the nearby coastal town of Amble where Isabella Pearson, mother of Elizabeth, lived with her children when she was widowed. Chris enjoys looking at the harbour and we see some moulds for fibre glass boats. There are many sea birds in the estuary of the River Coquet and I spot an eider duck. I try to photograph some typical Amble cottages, such as Isabella might have inhabited. Unfortunately it is recycling day and I have trouble finding any that do not have bright blue bins outside. I have a cursory but unsuccessful look for a welly selling shop to solve the leaking shoe problem. Difficult to retain dry feet when looking round churchyards.

Next stop is Warkworth, just up the road. We look round the church then visit Warkworth Castle, originally built c. 1200 by Roger Fitz Roger but later the home of the Percy family who made many additions including the impressive tower and the Lion Gate. Warkworth was the first market town to declare for James, the Old Pretender, during the 1715 Jacobite Rebellion.

Lion Gate, Warkworth Castle

Finally we move on to Alnwick, the ‘big town’ where Isabella Eadington and John Pearson married in 1809. On Martha’s recommendation I visit Barter Books, a wonderful emporium in the old railway station. There is a distinct lack of parking and we are not in a designated parking space so Chris elects to stay in the car. Apart from the books, the atmosphere is great and there are opportunities to sit in front of  the open fire with a coffee and read. The shop owners were responsible for re-popularising the wartime ‘Keep Calm and Carry On’ slogan that has now caught on. The church was locked but we wander round the town and then home via food shopping. I manage to escape the book shop without parting with any money so I risk the antiques centre. I am obviously feeling restrained as I don’t buy anything there either.

The morning breaks and this is what passes as a dry day in Cumbria so we decide to walk in to Coniston before setting off for Northumberland. It is predictably muddy and there is the odd shower but we have at least got out on foot. Chris spots a couple who look remarkably like our friends Dave and Gloria from Essex; that would be because they are our friends Dave and Gloria from Essex. What a shame we are leaving today so we can’t meet up.

Overlooking Coniston

We set off on our 145 mile, four hour journey to River Breamish near Alnwick. As we travel eastwards on the A69 the scenery changes and become less barren and we see our first dry roads for a week. The views are beautiful as we drive along parallel to Hadrian’s Wall, although glimpses of the wall itself elude us. We cross the River Tyne, with no fog in sight. As we get nearer to Newcastle there are some signs of industrialisation. We then start travelling northwards on the A1 and the lovely scenery reappears and even better it is bathed in sunlight. The drystone walls have disappeared and the building style is very different from further east, with plenty of yellowish stone. This is the furthest north I have ever been and I am excited at the prospect of treading in the footsteps of great grandfather John Hogg and his ancestors.

The site at River Breamish is lovely, with plenty of wildlife promised. I spot what I think may be a blackcap. Unfortunately, as I was already pushing it with the number of books I have on board, I left the decent bird book at home so a positive identification will have to wait. The site is within a mile of an antique centre and the nearest town is home to one of the largest second hand bookshops in the country, perhaps staying here should have a government health warning. We go for a brief walk round the nature trail attached to the site. Although today is the best weather we’ve had since Tewkesbury, there are clear signs of the heavy rain that also affected this area last week. I am still having problems with my boot leaking and I point out a possible crack in the sole. Chris is unconvinced but nonetheless decides to test my theory by attempting to insert the handle of a teaspoon through the alleged hole. The spoon handle disappears convincingly. Gratifying though it is to have been proved right, I am yet to be persuaded that this was the most sensible course of action. The hole may be repairable but probably not within the next week. Inspired by the lack of rain I do some washing at the site laundry, where the sinks are designed for vertically challenged persons with very long arms. I wonder if the designers own shares in the local chiropractor.

More torrential rain over night and this continues the next day. No longer can this be described as showers or drizzle and we exercise caution, staying in the van for the morning. We then take the short journey to Troutbeck, near Windermere to visit Townend House, home of the Browne family for over four hundred years. This is certainly one of the gems of the National Trust. The basis of the house is late C16th, with later additions. There is plenty of mock Jacobean carving, done by Victorian owner George Browne. Browne had delusions of grandeur and made up his own coat of arms. The property has an extensive library dating back 500 years. Chris is fascinated by the full length musket and a pike that looks a little thin for use. Apart from the wood and the books, I am taken with the smoke hole above the chimney, the weaving looms and the rush light holder. There are also large glass bowls of water, which, when placed near the candles, helped to concentrate the light. I finally manage to get a photo of a rush holder. In extravagant households both ends of the rush would be lit – hence ‘burning the candle at both ends’. A fascinating property, all the better for being a real home and some interesting guides to chat to.

Townend, Troutbeck