Anyone who fails to love this heartbreakingly rugged and underexplored corner of the north Pennines should be put in stocks and have rotten tomatoes thrown at them. And, handily, the sweet village of Romaldkirk has a set on one of its three greens. You could mistake this village for the Cotswolds, so quaint are its cottages. They’re warm honey-grey, gentle and welcoming, not glowering and flinty as you might expect in the far north of England.
Completing the scene – one notch back from chocolate-boxy – are a bunting-festooned village hall, the part-Norman Saint Romald’s church and, beside it, the ivy-covered, 18th-century Rose & Crown. It is this renowned inn that is putting me up. The entrance feels olde worlde: squeaky dark wood doors lead to a passage with an exceedingly cosy-looking bar that makes me instantly feel like ordering whisky (though I hate it), and there is a reception desk tucked away where I gather chatty leaflets produced by the hotel. (Their titles: Sling Your Hook, On Your Bike, which mentions “hero points” for jumps, and Take A Walk.)
Though there are bedrooms upstairs and a self-contained cottage, the Monk’s House, adjoining the inn (whose downstairs lounge and kitchen all hotel guests have access to), I’m in a newer stone outbuilding beside the car park – sorry, Courtyard. These modern box rooms are low-ceilinged and quite featureless – typical of the country hotels that chucked out their chintz, but replaced it with just-as-unoriginal greige, semi-modern. Nothing really wrong with them though, and I like the oil paintings of the sea. Rooms in the main house have more beams and colour.
I haul my toddler out for a walk round the village, from which paths lead out to the hiking terrain that defines this region. The path at the bottom of the village thwarts us with its tangle of nettles, but I find another, the Teesdale Way, heading in the opposite direction, and follow it beneath a canopy of trees, over uplifting fields and past romantically derelict farmhouses until I’m stopped by a padlocked gate that requires vaulting. Still, an hour’s hike with a pushchair is a result, even if the magnificent moors elude us.
Because I have to have my dinner at toddler-friendly 6.30pm, we’re alone in the dining room at first. Warm breads arrive – walnut and apricot, rosemary and sea salt; good flavour, bit dry. Then a brilliant kedgeree amuse-bouche, spicier than I’ve ever had in a main dish, with pickled lemon. My pigeon starter is pleasantly gamey with a good nutty bacon and hazelnut crumble, then brasied Herdwick mutton and mutton sausage very good, but I regret it – it’s heavy, man, though I love the spinach, pea and mint accompaniment. The only let-down is peach alaska – deconstructed! That means ice-cream with meringues around it, and a smear of sauce. It’s a bit lame: gimme baked!
Though the bar hits the spot, with its stone fireplace, copper pans, tartan, wood panels, pews, and ports chalked up on a blackboard, the dining room is a little old-fashioned. This point is underlined at breakfast, when dishes of tinned grapefruit segments and Kellogg’s variety boxes are laid out. But the menu options of porridge, Hodgson’s smoked white haddock with eggs, honey and mustard roast ham and cheese, and quality sausages are not to be sneered at. Fine fuel for a romp to nearby Barnard Castle, and its antiques shops, ruin and splendid Bowes museum (no relation, sadly).
This area holds a special magic for me: I spent much of my childhood here, visiting my grandparents. I blurrily recall that the Tees teemed with minnows to be caught in jam jars; Barnard Castle’s smallish ruin was a fantastical towering fortress; High Force was as important as Niagara … even far-from-quaint Darlington held the thrilling prospect of the Dolphin Centre waterslides.
I don’t think it’s just my nostalgia that makes me feel there’s an effervescent quality to this underrated region. It’s full of the charm, beauty and peace you might hope to find only in the most neglected corners of the Lakes, and this inn is a wonderful base from which to explore it.
• Accommodation was provided by the Rose & Crown, Romaldkirk, County Durham (doubles from £115 B&B, 01833 650 213, rose-and-crown.co.uk)
Ask a local
Adrian Jenkins, director, the Bowes Museum
• Walk
I live in the heart of Upper Teesdale, with a range of walks from our front door. Across the valley are the majestic crags of Holwick Scars. From here, a lovely circular walk (14 miles, but there are shorter versions) takes in the waterfalls of Low Force, High Force and Bleabeck Force, culminating in the splendid falls at Cauldron Snout. The return to Holwick along the higher moorland of White Well Green and Thistle Green includes navigating some boggy marshland but you are constantly rewarded by wonderful birdlife.
• Eat and drink
In Holwick, the cosy Strathmore Arms welcomes wet and muddy walkers with a log fire burning all year. Its gammon with eggs and homemade chips is recommended, with a pint of Strathmore Gold.
• Shop
In Middleton in Teesdale, traditional ironmonger J Raine and Son is a great place to find something you hadn’t realised you needed.
• See
From Middleton, a short, uphill walk to the bronze age site of Kirkcarrion is worth it for the views alone. It is thought to be the burial site of a chieftan called Caryn.
The Yves Saint Laurent exhibition at the Bowes Museum runs until 25 October
