Lord Crewe Arms

It’s worth coming to the Lord Crewe Arms for the approach alone. Heading north, the finale of this eight-hour drive from London is one broad windswept road which undulates past the Derwent reservoir, with fantastic, panoramic moorland views of the valley.

We arrive at night, in the snow, and although just 20 minutes from our final destination, we can’t resist stepping outside to feel the frozen ground beneath our boots. (Because, regardless of whether you plan to attempt one of the several bracing hikes or just meander up to Pow Hill, one of the last strongholds of the red squirrels near the reservoir, you’ll need a pair.)  

This hotel sits in Blanchland: an almost too-perfectly constructed village somewhere between Northumberland and County Durham, surrounded by soaring pine forests. The village, once part of Blanchland Abbey but bought by Lord Crewe in the early 1700s, has the original church and a shop, but its hotel and functioning inn form the beating heart of the area. On any given night, it will be half locals, half tourists like us.

Built in 1165 as an abbot’s lodge, the hotel has retained its historic credentials, from the outside at least: stone archways, wide flagstone floors, crenellated towers… We, however, spend most of our time huddled round the fire in the vaulted crypt bar. If you’re lucky enough to bump into Peter, the night porter, be sure to quiz him on some of the spooky goings on over the years. It’s nothing to fear but does make for a great bit of storytelling over a hot toddy.

Aesthetically, the actual hotel is faultless. We stayed over the road in the Abbot’s Guest House, a set of large rooms which complement the history of the building (tweed abounds) while staying modern and luxe enough to feel cosy. But as they say, it’s the little touches: we were greeted each day by a slab of fudge which we would take on our walks. A teapot comes with a proper tea cosy, and each room has a copy of a book on WH Auden and his connection to the area, an ordnance survey map of the local area and a torch.

The food is also of note: a fantastically warming white onion soup with rarebit, a tender and well-seasoned flat iron steak, and a cup of tea with a homemade ginger parkin stay in our memory. The breakfast, too, is hearty and warming (I tried everything but have finally decided the tomatoes and feta on sourdough was the best hot option). 

During our stay, the Lord Crewe Arms revealed in me two passions I had no idea I possessed: history (the winding narrative involves one of the former owners hiding in the huge fireplace during a Jacobite uprising, some monks and Philip Larkin) and proper hiking.

We go walking on the North Pennines, following the road from the hotel and into fields, climbing upwards, snow lining the ditches. The walk is 12 miles long and takes most of the day – staff are happy to give you directions (directions that sometimes lose clarity out on the moorland, with the grouse chirruping away to themselves, disturbed by our blundering progress). The higher you get on the moorland the further you see. The routes we take are old lead-mining trails – once the lifeblood of this part of the world. Where miners and their animals once went, now go walkers, but not many of them – not in February at least. We see barely a soul in six hours.

The North Pennines are not as celebrated as the Lake District, and not as picture perfect, but that makes them all the better – a place to call your own; a place to commune with the land. This is about as wild as England gets.

The monastery that once stood here bears testament to that geography. Scottish raiding parties used to descend on this area and once, it is said, a fog enveloped the monastery, hiding (and saving) the monks. In their haste to thank their god, the monks rang the bells, alerting the retreating raiders who returned to kill the monks. A painting on the wall of the hotel reminds the visitor that this is also the country of the border reivers: bandits who roamed across country lines, stealing from the wealthy and evading the law.

If the Lord Crewe Arms has one striking advantage, it’s this geographical one: a place from which to set out into the border landscape and all its romance.