A huge void was left following the death of my grandfather. He was a salt of the earth man, a grounding force to everyone around him. He was a working class man from the north east of England, from a mining community. He built trains until Margret Thatcher closed the shops. He was a cornerstone, an anchor. The type of man of which I feel few remain. The kind of man I aspire to be. I was approaching my 30s, and feeling like I was floating though the years without an anchor. I began to dream of a landscape that had moved me, The North Pennines. The last time I stood there I had felt a deep connection to the land that I could not explain. For years I had been having visions of a journey in a bus that I could not explain nor tether to a meaning or motivation. One day the two thoughts collided and I realised they were part of a film. I enlisted the help of Tom Pickard, a director friend of mine whose previous films so elegantly explored grief and mortality. Together we made this film.