Category: Outdoor Activities
An amble down Great Langdale
16th February 2009 It's amazing how pondering ground conditions during periods of cold weather can be a harbinger for foreboding. You get to think of iced-up roads and pavements that's even before you consider how it might be at greater heights. As it turned out, there seemed to be even less snow (saying that there was no snow at all wouldn't be such an inaccurate description) lying about at lower levels on my visit to Cumbria the Saturday before last than I encountered on a previous one in December when I went exploring the Howgill Fells. However, I didn't have to look very far to find the white stuff with many a fell coated in it. Following various warnings and some fatalities, I stayed low to follow the Cumbria Way on a hike from the Old Dungeon Ghyll Hotel to Ambleside. Even though I was hopeful for some sun, grey clouds blocked out the sun for most of the time that I was on my hike; ironically, the sun had stayed out while I was awaiting a bus at Windermere.
To get to Langdale, I needed to run the gauntlet of some roadworks, but any delays proved not to be disruptive to my scheme. In fact, when I got to Old Dungeon Ghyll, I pottered a little north-east to look up along Mickleden to gaze upon those snow-covered summits. I soon turned around to the task of passing one hotel to make progress on the way towards another. Because parts of the track along which I was going to take the form of a watercourse, there were stretches of ice that commanded care and attention as I passed. Still, I was on a quiet stretch with a good few folk heading down Mickleden and others heading for the Pikes.
After getting to the New Dungeon Ghyll Hotel, a crossing of the B5453 and Great Langdale Beck took me on a journey along the other side of the valley. There were enough people around for me to wonder if I was going to get stuck in a hiking convoy, but that was to melt away to leave me some space within which I could enjoy my surroundings as I journeyed along the lower slopes of Lingmoor Fell. That took me a little higher for a while, but the terrain levelled out when I returned to the banks of the beck again. In a field near Baysbrown farm, a tractor was out muck-spreading and the loading of the spreader forced me to divert from the track that it had obstructed. It was so easily avoided that there was no point in fuming over "wilful" obstruction of a public right of way. After passing an empty campsite, I skirted Chapel Style and my surroundings took on a less rural feel until the village of Elterwater was left after me.
Once past that village, it was a case of reaching the shores of Elter Water and following them around. My first sight of the lake in question was through trees, but the woodland was soon exited to reveal a very idyllic setting. It's being accessible meant that many were out and about on often muddy paths, but their presence was no perturbation to me and I didn't begrudge their presence at all. Even in the greyness, the beauty of the spot was without question, with the Langdale Pikes and other fells forming a pleasing backdrop to the lake. Even with the gloom, the setting was sufficiently wondrous as to cause me to make a mental note of the idea of returning when the skies are clearer, should that kind of opportunity arise.
Skelwith Bridge was the next point passed though trees obscured any view of it. As it happened, I inadvertently continued a little further along the Cumbria Way than I had intended before leaving it for the day. After shadowing the Coniston road for a little while, I ventured onto it and made my way towards Skelwith Fold and Clappersgate on a mixture of minor roads and public footpaths while a spout of sunlight momentarily lit up Loughrigg Fell. From there, I made good progress along roadside footways into Ambleside to catch a bus to Windermere, from where a railway journey home. It goes without saying that the outing had been a good one, though it looks like a return is needed if I am to come away with the sort of pleasing photos that I would enjoy sharing with others. Hopefully, I can make the journey there on a quieter day too.
Travel Arrangements:
Return train journey to Windermere, 555 to Ambleside, 516 to Old Dungeon Ghyll Hotel and 599 from Ambleside to Windermere.
A good walk home on a blustery day
11th February 2009 Recent entries on this blog have wandered into areas not often frequented by my thoughts so it is high time that I got the first trip report of 2009 on here. One of the causes of those thoughts darting here, there and everywhere is the current cold spell with its numerous dumps of snow. In everyday life, snow has become avoidable but, on my first trek of the year, I didn't encounter any of the white stuff at all.
That was because I was out the day before the snow came. When it came to weather, a strong frigid south-easterly was the main encumbrance though it was possible to escape its influence in sheltered spots. That didn't stop me taking a bus journey up to the Cat and Fiddle Inn between Macclesfield and Buxton to commence a walk back to my house again. The idea had been in my head for a while and the fact that it would only take part of a day allowed time for other things afterwards has its appeal for me.
It was sufficiently breezy about the pub in question that I invested more attention in crossing the A537, a road with a foul reputation thanks to its ability to attract bikers with its many bends. The reason for that crossing was to pick up a bridleway that was more or less due south, though it does change to a more easterly direction later on in its length. In November 2004, this was the start of a very muddy hike (some may have forgotten it now but the whole year was well wet and grey and that's how I remember it) that took me to Rushton Spencer with much of the route following the Dane Valley Way and passing Three Shire Heads, Gradbach and Danebridge along the way. In fact, I met up with the Gritstone Trail as I approached the A523 for a walk into Rushton to catch a bus home.
Returning to 2009, I was going nowhere near Three Shire Heads, let alone Gradbach, Danebridge or Rushton Spencer. In fact, I wanted to pick up a path that tempted me in 2004, but thoughts of muddy feet kept me away and there is irony in the way that things turned out that way as it happened. So, I continued along the bridleway through former coal mining land until I lost sight of Shutlingsloe and Croker Hill to reach the signpost erected by the Peak and Northern Footpaths Society. Progress was set to be downhill from here as Cumberland Brook was first found and then followed. At one point, I may not have followed the path as intended but, given that it was all Open Access land anyway, I was never going to have anyone shouting at me for it. The path met a track that was to take me towards Clough House near Wildboarclough and by a delightful wood too with views of Shutlingsloe ahead of me.
There might have been a path by Clough House but I stuck with the road rather than cutting though its yard. Another path was reached without delay and I was on my way towards Shutlingsloe itself. At this stage, I was between two minds as to go around the hill or up and over. Having walked to its summit twice before, I was minded to skirt its slopes but decided to ascend it in the end. The path rounded Banktop to reach my second island of access land after leaving the first en route to Clough House. That allowed me to pick my own more gentle way to the top of the hill and it proved to be just as well with the public footpath taking a steeper line through crags. In one sense, the gentler line might have been more manageable with the strength of the wind but it could also have been that the traditional route was less exposed to it. Returning to the strength of that wind, I and those around me were to feel it more keenly the higher that we went. I have to say that this was the strongest breeze that I have ever felt and there was one that came close when it hit near the end of a hike from Horton-in-Ribblesdale to Hawes along the Pennine Way. Even standing was difficult and movement became much more of a feat than usual. Nevertheless, I was so near the top that I continued inching my way forward; in another situation, I would reconsider what I was doing. Intriguingly, the wind was less strong on the top and standing around the trig point was no problem; it can be surprising where shelter is found.
I felt the wind again on the way down along the slabbed path to Macclesfield Forest but it was no way near as intense as before. On the way into the forest, I met a gentleman who was wondering where the path along which I had come was going. I showed him where he was on his forestry visitor map and he decided on another course that kept within the forest itself; he and his young one might have been better off. Rather than dropping straight down to Trentabeck Reservoir, I chose a concessionary bridleway that took me round by Nessit Hill before dropping me on a minor road next to Ridgegate reservoir. That track was very muddy in places thanks in no small part to tree felling operations but it took nothing from my enjoyment of the walk.
From the road, I took another concessionary bridleway before making my way onto the Gritstone Trail to come out on Clarke Lane near Bottoms Reservoir. After a walk along the road through Langley, I left tarmac after me again to tramp though fields around by Macclesfield Golf Course while en route to Macclesfield Canal. Tiredness raised its profile about this time, but home was near at hand and a mixture of street negotiation and canal bank strolling returned me to my doorstep. I suppose that staying upright in that strong wind had taken its toll, as did the distance travelled together with the amount of ascent and descent that was involved. It had been a good few hours walking on a dry if cold day with the sun occasionally breaking through the cloudy sky. 2009 had started well.
Travel Arrangements:
Bus service 58 between Macclesfield and the Cat and Fiddle Inn.
Stark warnings
9th February 2009 While out on a trot from Langdale to Ambleside on Saturday, I spotted a stark notice on a gate. It was on a path leading towards the Langdale Pikes and issuing a strong message that ice axe and crampons were needed above 300 metres in height; I was staying low with plenty of hillside bereft of snow while the white stuff made itself plain to see at higher altitudes. Of course, there have been fatalities on the "Pikes" so the strong wording was not without good cause. It was also a reminder of similar unfortunate outcomes in Wales and Scotland. I can't say that I have heard of anything like this from Ireland, but something tells that full winter conditions must be blanketing those hills too.
The trouble with official warnings is that we have seen so many that could be termed an overreaction that heretical thoughts begin to percolate into your consciousness not long after you have seen the warnings. There are those who issue shrill warnings without they being truly needed, acting in a manner akin to the shepherd boy who cried "Wolf!" in the Aesop's fable. This time around, I am inclined to think that the "wolf" is real and have got to moderating my usual questioning. This is for a number of reasons. First, the warnings were coming from mountain rescue folk, and they didn't overreact to events around the time of the OMM in Cumbria when a deluge came from the heavens and caused raging roads to turn into rivers. The other chastening observation supporting that suspension is that there have been those serious accidents and fatalities.
Another factor in all of this is that we have been spoilt with the milder winters of late. Apart from the shorter days, the occasional spell of snow and ice or a storm, winter walking became perhaps no less accessible than at any other time of year. In contrast, this winter is a sharp reminder that what we have enjoyed of late isn't always the case and preparedness for winter walking can be another matter entirely. The whiteness is attractive, but there's a certain "here be dragons" element lurking too, particularly with inexperienced folk being drawn out to enjoy the prettiness. That could be the reason behind the advice given by the head of the Lake District National Park last weekend, particularly with the school half-term holidays and their bringing more folk with many perhaps without the requisite equipment, knowledge, skills and experience (the LDNP is between a rock and a hard place: in these trying times, they need the visitors, yet safety remains vital too).
Speaking of experience, assessment of conditions is a big part of it, and any disparity between those on high and those in the lowlands makes it tricky unless you have some experience of being up high in the first place. For instance, snow coverings among the hill country lining the Cheshire-Derbyshire boundary are measured in feet while those on the Cheshire plain are inches in thickness if they lie at all. Increasing the height differential can only exacerbate that sort of difference and entrap the unwary. Saying that, it doesn't take much to realise that any whitened hills look very different to the green valley bottoms with their icy patches due to paths having turned into stream beds; that was very typical of the Langdale that I encountered on Saturday. Mountains and hills do make their own weather, and it seems that winter conditions bring that into sharp relief.
The warnings and the fatalities can make one feel that they are on the outside of a different world, looking into it. They certainly challenge any perception of readiness for winter conditions and set you to thinking, particularly about those who have been left behind by those deaths. That certainly is the case for me, but barriers should be overcome carefully rather than allowed to stop you in your tracks. Even so, the mountains won't melt away overnight, even if the snow does.
Update 2009-02-10: It now appears that winter conditions have gripped some of Ireland's hills too. In fact, the Irish public service broadcaster RTÉ has a report on two men lost on Lugnaquila, Wicklow's highest mountain with a height of above 3000 feet, after dropping their map in foggy conditions. They have been out all night and mountain rescue teams are searching for them, but there is a glimmer of good news: mobile phone contact has been maintained throughout. Let's hope it all ends well.
A useful discovery
19th January 2009 There are times when you learned something new that you wonder why you didn't find it before. My discovery is that I have in my possession a part of boots that take crampons, even if their maker recommends emergency use. The boots in question are the Scarpa ZG10's that have featured on here a few times already; I think that I may be beginning to get a handle and making them fit me better, so long as laces don't loosen, that is. Apparently, they are rated B0/B1 and that means that they can take flexible crampons like Grivel's G10 New Classic (classified as C1). The result of that revelation is that any barrier to a greater enjoyment of those ephemeral episodes when white wonderlands greet us has lowered just a little for me. For my tentative steps forward, it looks as if the Scarpas have a little more to offer, and I intend to treat the possibilities in a manner to acquiring a first SLR camera: there are advanced functions that allow you to grow and advance, but a spot of learning is in order first. I suppose that I need to watch that recently acquired BMC winter skills DVD before proceeding any further. I may not need new boots, but I need to know what I am doing with crampons before attempting to use them to avoid doing anything daft, overly adventurous or unsafe. A journey continues...
A look back at 2008 Part 3: Beyond Midsummer
17th January 2009 Midsummer in 2008 might have been a time when I felt that the year had peaked, and the encroachment of unsettled weather may have had something to do with that view. Certainly, the year will not be remembered for having a sunny summer and many were disappointed, even if it did have its better interludes.
Personally, I reckon that it's best to try and enjoy what is visited upon us at any time of year, and seem to have come to the conclusion that the traditional summer holiday season is overrated. There may be more hours of daylight but, if the days get too hot, it may be worth sticking to the cooler parts of the day and that reduces the amount of time available for wandering through the countryside anyway, perhaps restricting the time available until it is not that much different from spring or autumn anyway.
Even with the feeling that the second half of a year feels like an anticlimax after the first, I continued to get out into attractive countryside. I found hot sunny weather in July, was extremely lucky with my visits to Scotland in August, had an easier September and October before taking advantage of numerous wonderful opportunities in November and December. There was much to behold, so here are a few recollections of it all.
July
In walking terms, July was another fallow month, with a sun scorched saunter along the Offa's Dyke Path near Welshpool at the end of the month being the main trip of note. Otherwise, time limited by other activities ensure that most of my major outdoor activity was to be cycling rather than walking. The month's mixture of weather contributed too, but I was feeling that the best of the year had passed by this time anyway, and began to wonder if the timing of the school holidays was more than a little nonsensical. I also got to mull over island wandering as a possibility for my now habitual longer Scottish walking break. My few hours on Kerrera in May may have had something to do with this inspiration coming upon me, and I felt the need for a longer break anyhow.
August
The main even in August was that island hopping trip to Skye and the Western Isles. Though, anyone surveying the weather and the weather forecast on the eve of the trip might have questioned my sanity for even considering what I was about to undertake. In the event, I struck the jackpot: while other parts of the U.K. and Ireland were getting a soaking, I managed to find wonderful sunshine and avoid those downpours. That was thanks to the belt of rain getting stuck across the north of England and the south of Scotland. Harris was to prove the highlight of the week, without Skye failing to satisfy or the peace of the Uists being forgettable. However, it does need to be said that South Uist felt a little like an anti-climax after Harris, so it might be best to journey in the northbound direction on any future visit. A social visit to Edinburgh followed, but I still got in a few hours among the Pentland Hills, an area that I surprisingly ignored when I lived up there in that city.
September & October
September and October turned out to be pivotal months for many reasons, the economic situation in the wider world being one of them. For me, it was a period lacking in longer walking excursions, but shortening days meant that walks at lunchtimes started to take over from evening cycles.
Another trip to Ireland in September allowed me to spend a few sunny hours around Gougane Barra. Even though I felt unable to add a fuller narrative for that trip, the photos found their way into the photo gallery very quickly.
Alongside this, the realities of writing a longer trip away were made plain to me as producing reports for my Hebridean trip began to take eat up their share of time. It wasn't just the writing that slowed progress, since choosing and processing the photos to be included as part of the descriptions nearly were more rate limiting than the actual writing itself. That experience had been happening throughout the year, but it really came to a head with the larger block of writing.
Staying with the subject of lessons learned, I started to cast more of a critical eye on the focus of the blog and came to the conclusion that much of the musings on public transport really belonged elsewhere. In time, another blog was spawned for that, but travel matters relevant to the exploring of wonderful countryside will continue to make their appearance here. In time, any old posting falling outside of this might get moved elsewhere as part of continued content reshaping, yet I'll leave things as they are for now.
November
November saw me re-emerge into areas well populated by hills again. The first of two trips to Cumbria saw me embark on an out and back trek from Windermere's train station to Yoke. I had gone north with a few ideas in mind, and this proved to be just as well when public transport and the available daylight constrained my ambitions a little. Neither did anything to spoil my enjoyment of the day.
A miscalculation on the following weekend had me walking from Ardlui to Butterbridge a day too early for good weather to do its magic on the landscape. In some respects, the hike echoed my February outing to the area in that showers got going to make things feel unpleasant as I descended towards the end of my walk. I may not have seen the countryside in its best light, but plans for potential excursions came to mind, and they may compensate for this at some suitable juncture in the future.
Dullness of a drier variety was set to dominate my walk from Ambleside to the top of Red Screes and back the next weekend. Some sunshine managed to escape from its cloudy prison towards the end of the walk, yet the intense cold remains in mind, particularly since the turning on of Ambleside's Christmas lights delayed my journey home.
December
December may be considered by meteorologists to be the start of winter, but my walking was not about to go into hibernation, especially with the possibility of sampling some snow. So, the first Saturday of the month saw me return to the Howgill Fells after the briefest of visits a few years earlier. The snow that I met got me wondering about winter skills and such like, but the experience was one not to be missed. The day after had me out exploring Macclesfield's hills with an out and back hike from my own doorstep. I might have been trampling familiar ground, but there were some new sides to be seen too.
A trip to Ireland for Christmas and New didn't stop my walking either, even if road walking took up the most of what I was doing. Nevertheless, I got to get off-road to explore around Springfield Castle near Broadford in County Limerick and even got to sample a little piece of the Dingle peninsula around Camp and Castlegregory in Kerry.
Sunshine enlivened both walks, but that part of Kerry was frequented by a biting wind while we were there; nevertheless, it didn't stop me wandering a little way along a track (used by a tractor to get winter feeding to livestock by appearance of things) through the dunes at Maherabeg (Machaire Beag in Irish) in the late evening sunshine, at least shadowing the Dingle Way if not actually following it. That brought a year packed full of walking trips and opportunities to a delightful close. 2009 awaits.
