This tale dates from a time when Broadstruther farm was semi-ruinous and the adjacent byre was used as a hay store – although lots of walkers used the location as a bad weather shelter or an overnight bothy when heading to/from the SYHA sites at Kirk Yetholm or Ferniehirst Castle in Scotland, or the YHA hostels at Wholehope Cottage or Alnham in Coquetdale. It seems likely that these 20th century folk were carrying on a tradition dating back many years, because Broadstruther farm is on a drove road that went south via Langleeford, then over the hill down to Threestoneburn and onwards to the cattle market in Morpeth and the drovers likely used the fields and byre as ‘lairage’.
My wee story is set in 1957 and began with a Friday night bus trip from Newcastle Haymarket up to Wooler. My companion was George S, a North Shields lad and a fellow employee at Reyrolle and Co, where he was a draughtsman wearing a suit and paid a monthly salary and I was a lowly apprentice toolmaker wearing a brown warehouse coat and getting a pay packet every Friday. Sartorial and pecuniary matters aside, we were both keen walkers, YHA supporters and members of the newly formed Northumbrian Ski Club and our differences evaporated as the factory siren set us free for the weekend.
Our flexible plan was to walk via Wooler Common up to Broadstruther to doss there overnight amongst the hay bales, then start early for a walk over to Wholehope via the side of Cheviot to Scotsman’s Knowe, then Lintlands hill to Bloodybush Edge and over to Clennel Street and so down to the rendezvous at Wholehope. This was in mid-summer, so the long hours of daylight would allow a diversion to Davidson’s Linn and some skinny dipping in the pool below the waterfall..
A pleasant stroll brought us to Broadstruther at dusk, where we made an evening meal and sat outside for a while chatting – but the weather was changing and raindrops started to fall as we moved inside for the night, carefully lifting the rotting door into place (the bottom corner of the door had completely gone) before getting into our sleeping bags.
Nodding off to sleep, I was dimly aware of the wind increasing and heavy rain battering on the door, but in those days I slept like a child so I was soon fast asleep.
Unbeknownst to us, in the dim dark hour before dawn the bravest of the local ‘hefted’ ewes (see footnote) crept into the byre via the hole in the door and lay down on the hay bales close to where George lay. George was a nervous chap and a restless sleeper, and in his dreams he sleepily became aware that something was beside him and switched his flashlight on – straight into the reflective eyes and horrible brown teeth of the ewe, at which the creature panicked and began bounding around looking for the exit.
His nightmare suddenly real, George screamed that we were under attack and began leaping about like a big green caterpillar (he couldn’t get out of his sleeping bag), then dropped his torch so that the light went out.
Also zipped into a sleeping bag, I had no idea what was happening and I thought that George had finally flipped, so I rolled off the bales into a corner and hid until he stopped screaming and found his torch. When the dim light came on again I was down behind the bales and out of sight, George then got fully out of his sleeping bag and ran outside looking for me!
Further sleep impossible, we packed our gear and set off in the general direction of Scotsman’s Knowe, there to make a brew and to watch the clouds disperse as another beautiful Cheviot day dawned.
In the 61 years since the events described, Broadstruther has been rebuilt as shown below. Les Hull’s photo shows the refurbished house and byre, now used as a lunch place for shooting parties on the adjacent moors. The building may be renewed, but memories are written into the ancient stones.
Wandering the green and lonely Cheviots back in the 1950’s, we took the amenity value of the hills (and the presence of the hill shepherds and their families) for granted, foolishly imagining that the animal husbandry and forestry practices that had produced the mesmerising landscapes would continue ad infinitum and that our grandchildren would enjoy the same freedom to roam. Bitter reality has proven that we were wrong on both counts!
Sixty years of changing agricultural policy and the after effects of the Foot and Mouth plague have produced an economic reality that has depopulated the hills and encouraged the development of monoculture forestry plantations.
Now, Mammon reigns supreme and imagination is required to visualise the same green and beautiful vistas with lots more sheep (and shepherds!) but very few trees and in particular no massed and sterile sitka plantations and no logging roads or awful ‘clearfell’ moonscapes.
In those days, many hill sheep were ‘hefted’ to their home pasture. They did not roam free even on unfenced land, because each animal had its “home” territory. When hefted sheep were brought down for dipping, lambing or shearing, on release they would return to their “home” territories.
13 thoughts on “Geordie’s nightmare – a sheepish (and sleepless) night at Broadstruther”
What a wonderful read! This takes me back to that heaven sent period ‘56-58 prior to national service when, although I had no interest in skiing I spent every weekend hiking mainly the Cheviots. Many thanks for this contribution Trevor…it certainly stirs the memories!
Thanks George, glad you enjoyed the piece!
Having been in that area I enjoyed mentally walking it with the read. It must have been terrifying for George seeing those eyes and teeth. I have this image of you, Trevor, trying to sleep on. An interesting and exciting read, thanks Trevor.
Glad you enjoyed it !
Laughing my head off! Great read – thank you 😁
Different times. Youth hostels almost all gone and Facebook full of pictures wanting to be seen on the highest hills and hardest climbs. Rarely meet other people when walking in Northumberland.
Very true Nick. The YHA grew and prospered in times when ordinary working folk lived simpler and more frugal lives, when limited car ownership meant we used the local buses and stayed out for the weekend. A spin-off was that we developed high levels of independence (we carried everything we needed on our backs!) and also formed lifelong friendships with like-minded people. Modern youngsters have more gadgets, we had much more freedom – and heaps more fun!
Been on that Newcastle to Wooler bus in the early 1980’s when it was still run by United.i went camping up in the Cheviots as I recall staying in one of those two bothies on the VA Cheviot ridge.
We came across this house months back doing the Gold Duke Of Edinburgh Award with three other mates. For us it has a creepy undertone to it, which is why i feel so connected to this story lol.
We were hiking through and at this stage was paggered, low water and low moral so we decided to take a rest break at this place. Youthful curiosity had us gripped and we needed to investigate this odd seeming cottage that seemed as if it had been picked up and plucked out of thin air. It didn’t help that the grass was VERY nicely trimmed and there was a buzz emanating from it. So I gingerly open the small gate and edge closer to it and when i peak inside the key hole..a fly shot through the key hole and within that moment all the flies shot to the windows and there was hundreds if not thousands dotting the thin glassed windows.
Nevertheless, we left that place quite quickly haha
Thank you for sharing your tale of this place as for a young man, it’s nice to see that it has been the breeding ground for similar weird experiences for a long time lol
I was actually born in that house ( Broadstruther ) 1943. Pre. NHS.
No telephone / electricity. Thank god no internet #
Horse transport. Peat or wood for fuel. Large garden. Hens. Pigs. Paraffin or Tilley Lamps.
Wireless run off an accumulator
Hi Pauline. If memory serves, the roof was pulled off the house in 1953/4. The byre stood for many years afterwards.
A great story like Pauline I lived in the Cheviots , my father and his family lived in Broadstruther in the 1920’s