Trails and trials of the writer who walks
I have never before pitched my one man tent in a campsite where the shower block has underfloor heating, piped music night and day and baths! Herding Hill Campsite is on Shield Hill: go east out of Haltwhistle, cross Haltwhistle Burn, turn left, slog your way up the hill past somewhere called Pyke Dyke Neuk (I would love to set a children’s story in a place like that) and Herding Hill Campsite is on your left. £10 a night was a bit steep (like the hill) for my little tent but could happily have slung my sleeping bag in the bath and slept there. I liked these wooden ‘Missen huts’ (you have to be about 80 years old to know what they are) which were labelled ‘wigwams’ on the site and many had their own hot tubs. The reception sold a limited and rather pricey range of alcohol, but, hey, one of the best evenings in I’ve ever had under canvas. To do it justice, I broke out a packet of Ainsley Harriott Moroccan Medley cous couse. If only I’d arranged a Tesco delivery of bubbly and scented candles.