Tommy Ogden

Ladder Stiles FTW. Photo credit.

In the two weeks before I stumbled heavily down from the Cheviots into Kirk Yetholm, I’d clambered over 249 timber and 183 stone stiles, and negotiated 287 gates. That’s about 47 barriers crossed each day, so perhaps you’ll understand and excuse me holding forth on a subject so trivial.

I’d never supposed that there might be so many different styles of stile or gates of such diverse, er, gait. There’s any combination of steps, springs, latches, levers, bolts, ropes, chains and hooks to deal with on each crossing. With agriculture having been established several thousand years ago, one would guess that an optimum solution to the problem—of how to allow bipedal dumb animals like me to leave a squishy field while preventing quadruped sheep and their like from making a similar escape—would’ve been arrived at by now. Apparently not.

Are some breeds of sheep smarter than others? Have successive generations learned how to surmount the walls in order to make their jailbreaks? Perhaps. Whatever the reason, the mechanism designs confused me at least once a day. ‘So hold on, I lift this, then pull that…no, slide it. That’s got to be it. Why isn’t it moving? What’s the deal here?’ Often, the cause of immovability was a rusty bolt or a crooked hinge that the farmer, in obvious distain for walkers, hadn’t bothered to maintain or replace for decades; sometimes the mechanism itself was just bloody complicated. The majority are excellently maintained by National Trails—I wouldn’t want to discredit their efforts. Alls I’m sayin’ is: find the right design and stick with it, because I don’t want to think about rotational mechanics every time I want to leave a field.

Here are the winners and losers in my Pennine Way Stile Awards.

Worst Stile

The Gated Stile. So, this dry-stone wall model that has presumably worked for a hundred years or more now needs a gate added across the tiny gap up here? Have Westmorland ewes mastered the Fosbury Flop? The difficulty is that I’ve used my non-stick-holding hand to climb up here and balance at the top of this wall, so it is not easy to open a spring-loaded gate towards me, knowing that as soon as I let go it will snap shut on my blistered heels, propelling me off into the swamp on the other side.

Best Stile

The Ladder Stile. No moving parts; just up and over. Only discouraging at the end of a long day with a heavy pack, when achey leg muscles have little inclination to leave the ground. Also, please make sure there’s enough room to turn around at the top.

Worst Gate

The Chain and Hook Gate. When a weak, wonky hinge means I have to lift and drag a wide, heavy, five-bar gate back into position while attempting to stretch a rusty chain with my cold fingers to get the hook back in its loop, ‘SHUT THE GATE’ can be an unappealing request.

Best Gate

The Kissing Gate. Not only does it sound fun—it is. I push into the wood effortlessly with my torso, spin into the space, allow the gate to return in front of me and then walk out on the other side. No hands required, no steps climbed, no sheep on the run. Brilliant. Let’s make them all Kissing Gates from now on, yeah?