The Reivers Way

A 5 year, 9 day hike

As we approach the anniversary, it seems fitting to relive the culmination of our grand adventure. The one that first gave me a taste for hefting a bag and wandering as far as my feet will carry me.

Michael and the author, five years on: left 2020, right 2025 — all photos by the author

Five years to the day after we called it quits on the Reivers Way, Michael and I returned — with a new face in tow — to complete the 254km journey that had been in progress since the first lockdown.

On the 15th of August 2020, we caught the 9:23am from Newcastle Central Station to Corbridge with face masks securely fastened, bags packed to bursting, and Marlowe’s recently released album, Marlowe 2, running through my head. We then proceeded to wander across almost 200km of agricultural land and national parks. Through old growth forests and over ancient borders, over extinct volcanoes and through extensive marshland.

The crest of an extinct volcano

We walked beneath the full spectrum of British weather, got lost and rescued more than once, and fled from charging cattle too many times. I’ll never forget the silhouette of one herd in particular. The falling sun at their backs as they lined up atop a hill, separated from us only by the ravine which we’d leapt across in our haste to escape. Their shadowed outlines are burned into my memory. Dispassion vivid in their glares.

We limped into the village of Wooler on the 22nd of August 2020 with blisters upon blisters and too little time to finish the nine day adventure after having taken an impromptu rest day midway through. There, we decided to call it a day.

Until the 23rd of August 2025, that is, when we once again found ourselves in Newcastle Central Station with bags packed to bursting and an excited glint in our eyes. The travails of 2020 lost to nostalgia…well, almost.

The addition of Tomma sparked a new energy in the team and, somewhat poetically, he entered our journey at the same age we had been five years prior.

We managed to avoid fleeing from charging cattle this time as we strolled east from Wooler and the Cheviot Hills towards Bamburgh Castle and the North Sea. We met relatively few others on the trail, but then Northumberland’s solitude is one of its great characteristics.

Despite having only met briefly before, Michael and Tomma quickly found common ground. I let my mind wander as they bonded over military literature, then tuned quickly back in for a debate over the success of Southgate’s England tenure.

Two fellas making friends

That night, we set up camp hidden amongst the dunes beneath the grandeur of Bamburgh Castle.

There had been a little miscommunication on my behalf, however. Tomma wasn’t aware that we would be camping, and so he hadn’t brought any of the necessary gear. I apologised, and we each offered to let him share our tents — admittedly, though, my offer was rather half-hearted given there’s barely enough room for one person in there.

Star-Crossed: Bamburgh Castle with Lindisfarne in the distance

He decided a sleep beneath the stars couldn’t hurt too much and, armed with both his and my rain jackets to use as blankets, we left him on a grassy bed atop a dune. I heard the gentle patter of rain soon after, but no tap came on either of our tents asking to share our shelter.

Instead, a tap came long after the rain had passed, accompanied by an urgent, hushed:

“Quick”,

I roused myself and emerged from the tent to find three young deer prancing through sunrise in a lea between Bamburgh’s dunes. I joined Tomma and Michael at their viewpoint and we watched in silence as they frolicked in the early morning, seemingly engaged in some sort of game, before disappearing into the woodland behind the beach.

Not our sunrise deer, I had no camera handy for them, but we saw plenty throughout the hike

Seems Tomma made the right call after all. Describing the night in hindsight via WhatsApp, he said:

I’ll never forget that Sunday morning! Waking up to the birds above me and the castle next to me, the deer running about and the sun breaking through the clouds on the Farne Islands.

Sunrise over the Farne Islands

Our route then led south, following the Coastal Path down through Seahouses and Beadnell, past the crooked remains of Dunstanburgh Castle, and into the picturesque town at the mouth of the Aln via a rather stunning golf course. We walked through a number of golf courses, in fact. Each subtly more impressive than the last.

Upon reaching Alnmouth, we found a pub and a shitty pint of Madri with which to toast our success. Those 254 kilometres finally put to bed.

I hadn’t had my camera to hand that morning for the prancing of the deer through the sunrise, so no photos exist. But, like Tomma, I too hope that that is the image that stays with me from those final two days. It was a rather magnificent way to round out our five year, nine day epic.

The 2025 team — Michael, Tomma, and myself

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