Category: Outdoor Activities
Unto Yorkshire again
19th October 2009 Outings beget photos and photos can beget ideas for more outings. In recent weeks, I have been sprucing up the Yorkshire Dales photo collection that I have on display for all to see on the web. Many of these were taken on negative film, so new scans of old prints were attempted in order to make more of the results. Back then, I did things with my SLR that I would try to avoid now. Included among these would be a determined attempt at picture making in the middle of a hazy summer day. That's not to say that such conditions would stall play but I'd be more judicious about what I'd record. Whether it is down to the advent of digital capture or not, it does feel like I have developed more of feeling of how a scene before me will come out in a photo. The reason for my suspecting the effect of technological progress is that I may spend longer looking at my photos now than was the case when I exclusively used film. The fact that I am in total control over the entire process in the digital world may have a bearing because making prints from negatives or transparencies involves a certain amount of interpretation on the part of the printer, even if we are not talking about fine art monochrome images. In time, I may get around to adding more new images, but my attention has gone forth to a spot of under the bonnet work on my slide show machinery followed by giving my Isle of Skye photo collection (still under way) the same sort of attention lavished on that for the Yorkshire Dales.
For a few years, I have not been devoting so much attention to the Yorkshire Dales, but that may be finding itself seeing some recompense. Last month saw me out in the midst of the gentle surroundings of lower Wharfedale while last weekend saw me out in some wilder countryside. A circuit from Ingleton saw me both thrilled by limestone pavements, even under duller skies, and immersed in spacious open country. That's never to say that there was no one else about, yet we each could have our own corner for a little while and chilling out was well possible on the moors around Twisleton; there was none of the feelings of being in a cavalcade that entered my mind between Burnsall and Howgill in September. It was a little busier on the way up Ingleborough from Chapel-le-Dale but dropping off in the Ingleton direction wasn't long losing any semblance of crowding though there was little sign of anywhere being overrun. Bunching together became a reality on the steep approach to Ingleborough, but that's always the way so it's never any real trouble so long as you don't rush things and keep an awareness of whoever is about you; we all can share a bit of countryside anyway. The day provided the sort of experience that draws me back time and again and it helps that there is more to explore too. Getting a sunny day to make photos reminiscent of those by a certain Granville Harris would be a bonus.
Photographically, it was a day of digital and film capture. Perhaps perversely, the sun found breaks in the clouds at precisely the moment when my DSLR ran out of electrical juice; being ever ready with a charged battery might have been a help but I only can own up to my own fecklessness. Then, it was over to the world of film to capture the wondrous lighting as I tramped the final miles towards the end of my hike. The instantaneous nature of digital capture may have been missed, but a spot of patience is all that's needed to see how well the results of my endeavours worked out for me and to use a lab that I know to do the business for me. If I had no back up camera, I would have been kicking myself, so this is no problem. In fact, the incident probably justifies my continuing to bring both a DSLR and an FSLR on walking trips, even if there is a weight penalty.
Like the film photos, the full account of Saturday's walk should follow and I need to look at those digital images and charge up that camera. A spare battery might be a sensible purchase, but any excuse for a spot of film photography never can be bad. My recent exploits with old photos in Photoshop Elements using exposure correcting tools like levels, curves, hue/saturation tweaking and shadow/highlight adjustments have shown me that new life can be added to an old photo (hopefully) without overdoing things. Of course, there has to be some potential for decent results to be obtained and you always want to avoid some abomination in keeping with the punch drunk efforts using filters in the 1980's. Having a good sense of what is natural and what isn't has to help, but there's a very fine line between having the right amount of colour saturation and contrast and ending up with a day-glow semi-fluorescent effort; I aim to stay on the right side of that line.
A day spent passing bridges
10th October 2009 The Indian summer that we had been enjoying for a few weeks has decided to take a break from us but it looks like a session of stable weather awaits us once this weekend is over. It may be the sort of weather that brings frosts after dark that make you reach for winter warmers, especially when your toes are frozen after a bike ride. In the last week, there has been the occasional deluge locally but nothing like what other places got. Last weekend, I was grounded by a spot of furniture rearrangement, but this weekend offers a chance for a bit of brain clearing if I can stop tweaking the online photo gallery for a while (more on that in another post). In the midst of this, I have got to turning my mind to recounting that stroll along the banks of the Wharfe at the end of September. It might have sounded a little late in the year to seek a sun-drenched paradise anywhere in Britain, let alone Wharfedale in Yorkshire, but that's undoubtedly what I found.
The wondrous weather meant that many strollers were drawn out and about and I spent the section of the Dales Way between Burnsall and Howgill (yes, there is one here too) feeling a little hemmed in by those perambulating at a gentler pace. It cannot be pleasurable for anyone to have someone continually leap frogging them so that realisation meant that some of the photographic opportunities were more rushed than I would have liked. That was not the way at the start, with Burnsall looking splendid in the sunshine with the only disturbance of the peace being an overly enthusiastic spaniel putting the wind up the local ducks, triggering a spot of human mirth in the process; the aberrant mutt's owner wasn't so pleased.
Once on my way, I sought out the Dales Way and saw that I was going to be sharing it with a goodly number undertaking shorter saunters, perhaps a circuit taking in Appletreewick. This always raises the prospect of speed mismatches and the last thing that you want to do to anyone is constantly leap frogging them so any episodes of DSLR action were curtailed in their length. I was still undecided whether the walk would take me all the way back to Ilkley or whether my sole means of propulsion would start to tell me that shortening it and letting a bus carry me the rest of the way would be the most sensible choice. The plan was to see how things went and decide as I go.
Things quietened markedly after passing Howgill and I got the sense that I had more space to myself and got to relax a little more as I shortened the trail to Barden Bridge; I could see folk a field or so behind me, but that was no perturbation. The scenery was pastoral too, pleasant but nothing to draw the occasional ambler. That may have been a contributor to my increasing personal peace too and it wasn't long before Barden Bridge was reached and I entered the Bolton Abbey estate. A convenient bench allowed a chance to rest a little while before continuing forth. Barden Tower, the now ruined stronghold of the "Shepherd Lord" Thomas Clifford, remained hidden from view among the trees until an ornate aqueduct took me across the Wharfe. There were more folk about at this stage but I was past the point of caring. In fact, it was no throng and I just ambled along through Strid Wood with the sense of personal peace continuing unruffled. The shade from the afternoon sun was welcome if it did mean that it limited chances for camera usage.
My next stopping point, apart from a short rest in the woods themselves, was the Cavendish Pavilion where day trippers really had gathered. It came in useful for attending to human needs and acquiring a map that was missing from my collection and would become useful for the final stretches around by Addingham and Ilkley itself. Having a Quo print-out meant that I wasn't dependent on finding a shop selling maps along the way, but my expectation was that urban Bradford or Ilkley would have been where the gap in map collection was filled rather than rural Wharfedale. The A4 sheet would have sufficed but having the full OS article felt so much more reassuring because of being able to get a wider sense of where I was.
From the pavilion, I continued my way southwards to reach Bolton Priory, part Church of England parish church and part ruined abbey. In fact, it was this that drew my attentions to the lower reaches of Wharfedale in the first place. When those first monks selected the site all those centuries ago, they certainly knew idyll when they saw it. The human incursion really does seem to add to the mixture of rolling hills and a meandering angler-friendly river. Though there are stepping stones, I stuck with the bridge; the last thing that you want to see on such a long crossing is a lapse of common sense and someone coming the other way. As it happened, I witnessed some folk having a go, even a cane wielding pensioner (I would have thought them too far apart for someone less mobile, but there's always one...), but no mishaps of the type that I imagined. The mixture of directional sunshine, a stunning focal point and pleasurable surroundings had me engaged in photographic capture. There was plenty from which to choose and that was with a goodly number about but not so many as to be intrusive.
Pulling myself away from Bolton Priory took some effort, but constant withdrawal was the answer and humanity was left to its honeypot as I continued to ply the banks. Bolton Bridge came soon enough and a handy underpass escorted me beyond the busy A59. A section of the narrow B6160 awaited me but I escaped from the passing traffic onto a path just inside a wall after Lob Wood. A little route finding and a road crossing about Lobwood House was all that was needed to stay on the straight and narrow. The only fly in the ointment was a certain feeling that I was at risk of falling out on the ground from the top step of a stone style, not a good thought at all.
The outskirts of Addingham came up soon enough and I left them after me as I rounded by its parish church and old mill. Though I was approaching the A65 all the while, the Dales Way escaped back onto the turf again to shadow the river bank as it had been doing all day. Constantly changing surroundings provided reassuring confirmation of progress with views of Ilkley's outskirts with Ilkley Moor behind them changing into the very urban surroundings within which the old bridge that marks the end of the Dales Way is located.
A look at an OS map might lead one to believe that it goes beyond this point, but my understanding is that they are mistaking the link trail from Leeds as part of the Dales Way proper. While the U.K. walking community is to be envied when it comes to mapping, it goes to show that the OS isn't infallible either, but who is? It's not a subject on which anyone needs to dwell for too long and neither was I as I made for Ilkley's train station with the 18:51 to Bradford coming easily to hand after a good day spent following the course of a river.
Travel arrangements:
Train travel between Macclesfield and Ilkley with changes in Manchester and Bradford. One way bus travel from Ilkley to Burnsall.
First viewed from afar, then seen up close
26th September 2009 It may be prone to cloudiness around my way lately, yet dry weather has been much of our lot for the last few weeks. Some of that time has seen us visited by bright sunshine more in keeping with an Indian summer. Enjoying that sort of glory can cause the sort of posting hiatus that has visited this blog recently, but there can be other causes too. In my case, autumnal torpor following a bout of seasonal flu is as much to blame as was the diversion of my attention elsewhere. That's not to say that I thoroughly ignored this website because other parts, such as the photo gallery, saw a bit of work. Even so, I'd rather keep new adding things on here too and a few posting ideas are in mind, though there might be a gestation period before anything comes of them.
First on that ideas list is saying a little more on that day spent out among the Pentland Hills while up in Edinburgh a few weeks back. The Festival Fringe may have been coming to an end at the time, but the bank holiday weekend in England, Wales and Northern Ireland only can have helped to send in a few stragglers like myself to Scotland's capital. On the evidence of where I was staying, coach parties were still coming to see the place too.
With a spot of sunshine forecast for the Saturday, I decided to fit in an amble in the midst of Edinburgh's nearest belt of open hill country. However, that was preceded by a walk along Salisbury Crags in Holyrood Park with plenty of camera action in the morning sunshine. From the park, I made my way towards Princes Street and The Royal Mile before rounding Castle Hill to drop onto Lothian Road. It was busy in the sort of way that would have made Chris Townsend yearn for the Cairngorms (I wonder if he considered the Pentland Hills for a breather?).
From Lothian Road, a bus (Lothian Buses' service 10) whisked me off to Bonaly where the lack of people was striking after where I had been. Anyone wanting a respite from Edinburgh's festival frenzy was sure to find it here. My first staging post was Bonaly Country Park, where I picked up the old right of way to Glencorse Reservoir. Until I passed Bonaly Reservoir, I had a good track underfoot all the way, and all I needed to do was look behind me to see that civilisation was not at all far away. After the reservoir, conditions underfoot became boggy in places, and the immersion in hill country became more and more complete as I passed through a section of MOD land. Capelaw Hill was left after me, with Castlelaw Hill replacing it for accompaniment. Other folk may have had the idea as me, but it was no throng.
On the way down to Glencorse, the shapely hills behind the reservoir loomed larger than their 400-600 metre high tops might suggest. While the sun was to become obscured by clouds at times, these hills were to tower above me as I headed west along the shores of both Glencorse Reservoir and Loganlea Reservoir. Tarmac reigned supreme underfoot on this part of my reservoir round, but various escapes by the sun were sufficient to stop me and set a camera into action, totally removing any opportunity for onward progress to become a slog.
The tarmac ran out after Loganlea, and it was back to having solid earth underfoot as I began the stage of the walk that was to round Black Hill. On my way up Green Cleugh, the intoxicating mix of sun, blue skies and shapely hills was so complete that it looked as if it was about to last all day. When it came to choice of route from Green Cleugh, I stuck with a hillier approach to Threipmuir Reservoir. As I gained more height, I began to observe that the earlier pleasantness was but a brief mirage, with surrounding hills beginning to accumulate shower activity. In fact, one shower was to find me as I crossed over a narrow neck of Threipmuir Reservoir to pick up a path that was to take me near Harlaw Reservoir without following its shoreline so closely as to add to my mileage for the day. The only tricky side to this, apart from the light rain, was that my Explorer map made no real attempt to show the path that I was following; its Landranger and Harvey counterparts do better on this point and I can put things together using later Explorer data in Quo. While that left me with a bit of thinking to do, it proved to be no trouble at all as I had a copy of Cicerone's guide to the Pentlands in my pocket anyway. It was that which gave me the idea for the walk, even if I deviated from the suggested route from time to time.
The rain died out as I began to leave Harlaw Reservoir after me to shorten the way to Wester Kinleith. Along the way, I encountered equestrians who took longer to overtake me than I expected. A short stretch of tarmac was to take me past Middle Kinleith on the way to Easter Kinleith where a little more head scratching ensued before I made out the switchback that I need to escape tarmac again. From this point forward, I largely had things to myself and I only miles away from many pondering what festival show they wanted to see that evening. Clubbidean Reservoir and Torduff Reservoir were to be passed before my Pentlands meander was to complete.
You'd think that I had enough walking done by this time, but I truncated my return bus journey to pass on foot old haunts like Bruntsfield Links and the Meadows. After all this, I was more in need of a restful, easy evening than one packed with festival action, so those shows were left to others. It had been excellent use of what turned out to have been the best day of the weekend.
It all doesn’t end with a damp start
12th September 2009 Before I set off for Aviemore, a look at any forecast could leave you with only one conclusion: that it was going to be a mixed bag. It certainly was just that, but the other thing that was predicted was that Thursday was to be the best day of my stay. By the time that I got up on the said day, it wasn't looking that way. As if to prove that hill country microclimates can rubbish the very best weather forecasting, incessant light rain was what was visited upon Aviemore when I arose.
That was enough to inspire me that and staying indoors for a little while might have been a good idea so I undertook an out and back trip along the Strathspey Railway propelled by a steam locomotive named Braeriach. Because I was leaving on the Caledonian Sleeper that evening, I had everything with me, so having some respite from load carrying was no bad thing either. Having been put off the idea of steam train travel by a very smoky ride on the Jacobite steam train between Mallaig and Glenfinnan a few years back, this was a far better experience. The cause of all that smokiness was passage through tunnels and none occur on the course of the Strathspey Railway, so that must have been how the air remained clearer. The best part of the journey lay between Aviemore and Boat of Garten but it was pleasant and relaxing throughout with the rain clearing all the while.
That encroaching dryness was enough to send me on another bus back to Glenmore. Under largely grey if bright skies, I reprised Tuesday's walk over the Ryvoan Pass albeit continuing instead to Strath Nethy by following a Right of Way leading to Braemar. Starting later meant that I had to restrain myself so as not to overdo things and run out of time or energy, an important consideration when maps reveal places like Loch Avon, Bynack More and Bynack Beg. The weather was friendly to midges, so any stops had to be where there was a breeze so as not to get overrun by the blighters. As it happened, the sun was battling gamely with the cloud cover without much to show for it, so there was little chance of that driving away the incessant ones. Still, I was satisfied with my out and back hike that had me rounding Creag nan Gall, passing by Loch a' Gharbh Choire and beneath Stac na hIolaire. Even with my thinking head on, I was tempted to go further but I still stopped on the eastern side of the Nethy and lingered a while with An Lurg and Cairn Bheadhair looming ahead of me. Looking up along the glen brought my eyes upon the aforementioned Bynack Beg and Bynack More. Seeing a good path ahead of me sowed the seeds of a plan for using it to get to one of the two summits. That meant that there was an air of unfinished business about my venture as I pulled myself away again, but that air so pithily summarises the scope of my Cairngorms explorations so far.
It looked as if it were going to be a case of following a by now familiar track back through Glen More until I got near An Lochan Uaine again but I decided on a different route. Very soon, I got to chastise myself for not noting the gradients crossed by the narrow path that I had chosen, especially with what all that I had in tow. However, that is not to say that there weren't rewards when the sun finally broke through the clouds to give all abroad a blast of heat and the landscape a blast of life with some invigorating views of the mountain after which that steam locomotive had been named. Thankfully, these really opened out for me when kinder gradients allowed a chance for a restorative rest stop. The hard work along the lower slopes of Meall a' Bhuachaille were more than repaid. It was all downhill afterwards with the forestry track returning me to the Forestry Commission visitor centre where I considered my next steps.
One idea, maybe the more sensible one given the walking that I had been doing, was to the bus back to Aviemore but I chose to make my way back along the not too exhausting Old Logger's Way instead. In truth, there is nothing old about this new path/track that shadows the road out for much of its length. It is both cycle and walker friendly and anything has to be better than road walking. One thing that strikes me about Aviemore is how cyclist friendly the place is. In a way, this reminds me of Pitlochry, but there's more about the more northern stop on the Highland Line. Not only does the National Cycling Route 7 pass the way, yet there are plenty of opportunities around Rothiemurchus too. In time, I might even get to shorten distances on two wheels while parking them somewhere secure while exploring higher slopes. Given that my interest in cycling is resurgent these days, you never know what might come of thoughts like these. My progress along the Old Logger's Way was steady on an ever greying evening and there was some time for obtaining sustenance before catching the overnight train south.
With all of my wandering along Speyside and among the Cairngorms so far, all that I can say is that I have only nibbled at what is on offer. It's always the best state in which to be leaving anywhere, so any opportunity for a return could make use of ideas involving first Munros, cycle trails and the like. The mixture of weather left me with no complaints at all; anything's better than constant damp wetting greyness and I got in some good sunny spells. As it happened, I did have Mallaig in mind as a destination for a longer summer trip but decided that I'd rather not see what's about there in the less than ideal conditions that were predicted so I stayed east after the delights seen at Easter time. That proved to be the right call and my train journey home had a certain feeling of satisfaction about it.
A day when long heather tamed vaulting ambitions
10th September 2009 The chance of having a less laden rucksack for day two of my Aviemore escapade set my imagination to soaring when it came to walking possibilities. Thoughts of summits like Creag Dhubh and even a putative first Munro bagging all started to queue up for consideration. You would have thought that the efforts of the day before would have forestalled thinking like this but it simply wasn't so. In fact, what proved to stall the putting of such schemes into action was something lowly: a thick blanketing of shin-high woody heather that obscured any paths that the OS chose to depict on its Explorer map for the area. That there was other woody growth abounding only could help in the return of an until then unleashed imagination to earth. Now that I cast my mind back over the day, I reckon that the outcome was only wise.
The day itself was blessed by sunshine with only the occasional light shower, a definite improvement on the preceding day. I took myself off to revisit Rothiemurchus as I made for Loch an Eilean, following tracks and trails that I first met last April. Showers were visiting the hills ahead of me, but dry sunshine was my fare as I made my way around by Inverdruie and Lochan Mor. All of this remained familiar to me until I stayed with the shore of Loch an Eilean rather than reprising that Easter Monday hike. Relaxed progress got me to Loch Gamhna from where I stuck with the lower slopes of Creag Fhiaclach. I had it in mind to check out the path leading to higher slopes from Inshriach bothy and the line looked anything but clear so I decided not to go doing the fool with it. If the path had looked usable, it would have taken me up by Allt Coire Follais before pathless progress would be needed to make it onto the summit of Creag Dhubh. Instead, I continued to Inshriach forest from where I checked out another seemingly promising track until it ran out at what appeared to be a weather station. Not being in the mood for cross-country travel over low and not so low-level vegetation, I decided not to persevere with checking out potential routes to the heights and took in low-level views of them instead. Plenty of tempting targets lay before me with Munros like Geal-charn, Meall Buidhe, Sgòran Dubh Mor, Sgòr Gaoith, Carn Bàn Mòr and Meall Dubhag. Beyond a number of those lay Loch Eanaich, the cliffs that loom above it and other lofty summits such as Braeriach.
On walking back from Inshriach, I opted to round Loch Gamhna even though it was raining at the time. That rain wasn't to outstay its "welcome" and passed on soon enough and I had a dry weather amble along the western shores of Loch an Eilean with some spotlighting of the surrounding countryside by the sun. I even got to take some time out to stop and relax a little before leaving the loch to follow a different way back to Inverdruie in preference to the one that I had enjoyed earlier that day. The walk had been a good one for a subsequent visit to the area, but it does amaze how I managed to call it right on that Easter Monday visit; choosing vistas over heights certainly paid off in spades and it was just as well that I did.
After getting fed and watered in Aviemore, I decided to go investigating a short section of the Speyside Way only to find that its depiction on my map didn't fully correspond with that on the ground. This type of discrepancy would also appear to have afflicted those various routes to the heights that I explored that afternoon so I am left wondering if OS need to issue a new edition to include any changes since 2007, not at all that long ago. Still, the hills were coloured russet from the evening sun and I got to walking off any excess that I had taken on board so it would be very thankless of me to be grumbling. All in all, it wasn't a bad day at all.
