Outdoor Discoveries

What originally was a news section for the rest of the website soon became a place for me to write about human-powered wanderings in the countryside. Photography inspires me to get out there, mostly on foot these days, though cycling got me started. Musings on the wider context of outdoor activity complete the picture, so I hope that there is something of interest in all that you find here. Thank you for coming!

Jersey revisited

29th April 2023

After my trip to Ireland in March, I noted how much good it did me and started pondering an Easter getaway to further the improvement. After surveying possibilities and rejecting a few because of the predicted inclement weather, I decided to base myself in Jersey instead.

For the sake of speed, I flew there and back to enjoy a week-long stay. St. Helier was where I based myself and a good bus network got me where I wanted to go. After that, ferry services allowed day trips to Saint-Malo and to Guernsey. What was not so convenient were some of the timings with an early morning arrival from Manchester along with early morning sea and air departures. The departures particularly meant that breakfast was skipped on some mornings in favour of getting something on the way.

Arriving early on Wednesday did mean a day of exploring though and it was possible to check in early at the hotel too. A stroll across the beach took me to St. Aubin, from where I ventured to Noirmont and wandered around its German gun emplacements. Sunshine was in short supply when I began this and cloud cover grew all the while with rain encroaching on the way back to st. Helier with the tide having come in while I was in Noirmont. It moves fast on these islands and covers a large area as it does so.

Thursday saw me head to L’Étacq, from where I was to walk all the day to Rozel in bright sunshine. Along the way, I passed Grosnez Castle, Plémont, Greve de Lecq, Bonne Nuit and Bouley Bay. After Greve de Lecq, there was an inland detour before the coast was reached again near the Devil’s Hole. A motorsport track meant another slight detour later on, but this was no deprival. There was plenty of dramatic coastal scenery to savour on what was the longest hike of the trip, and all the ups and downs made for tired legs too.

Friday became a day composed of shorter trips. The first was to La Corbière, whose dramatically sited lighthouse grabbed my attention while passing on the bus the previous morning. Next was Noirmont again, this time in bright sunshine so better photos could be made before strolling back to St. Helier across the beach. After that, there was an evening visit to Gorey to see and photograph Mont Orgueil Castle. That was a short stay but it was still long enough for the tide to come in to its full extent.

For Saturday, I went to Saint-Malo to retrace old steps from a school trip longer ago than I care to admit. The old town looked stunning as ever despite being festooned with a crane. Most of my time was spent beach hiking as far as Pointe de la Varde. The sun beat down on me as I did so and it felt unseasonably warm to me too. On the way back, I followed the GR34 and along a promenade much traipsed in that August numerous years ago. There was a brief call to Centre Patrick Varangot where we stayed back then. The hostel had not changed much apart from the sports facilities in front of it. Being there and spotting the hypermarché where midday lunches were sourced brought back some memories before I returned to the coast again. That was a quieter interlude before I ventured among others again, and especially so around the old town, which was very busy. Fancying somewhere quieter, I went out along Môle des Noires, a breakwater with a lighthouse at its end. By this time, I felt tired so I returned to the ferry terminal even though it was a bit early. It had been a good wander anyway.

On Sunday, the skies grew cloudier, but there was ample time for photographic wandering around St. Helier. That was followed by a saunter from Rozel to Gorey past St. Catherine’s under clouded skies. That may have limited photographic activity yet it was still a good stroll and finding a good vantage point for viewing Mont Orgueil Castle in the wrong weather was no perturbation.

Rain made a visit on Sunday night but I still went to Guernsey, perhaps with more hope than expectation. The weather improved as the day wore on, so there were plenty of dry interludes and occasional sunshine too. My wandering took me out of St. Peter Port, past Fermain Bay and as far as St. Martin’s Point before retracing my steps with some unintended deviations. There were views of nearby Herm and Sark to complement what was on Guernsey itself. There was a motorsport event at St. Peter Port so I was happy to get away from that, and there was plenty of peace and quiet away from that. While I might have fancied a visit to Castle Cornet, I thought it to be best to be at the ferry terminal in plenty of time with a deliberate detour through the town centre.

Tuesday morning was the drier part of the day and desire for a sighting of Jersey cows sent me out to St. John. That errand duly satisfied, I then made my way to the Waterworks Valley, through which I headed to First Tower on the island’s south coast. That was a rewarding hike and would benefit from a sun-blessed return, yet I did not feel short-changed. A stroll along the promenade by the beach returned me to St. Helier before the rain got too heavy and I was back in my hotel relaxing before my early departure the next day.

The whole trip had been very rewarding, and whets an appetite for a longer visit to Guernsey and perhaps Brittany. Only time will tell what becomes of such prospects with what else there is in my life. There was much gained in any event.

An Irish Year

25th December 2022

Changes that I am making to matters in Ireland were the cause of my spending a lot of time there this past year. That also meant that I really got to see more of the place than ever before. That was just as well for two reasons. One is that my explorations of Irish hill country have been more limited than I fancied. The other is that the pandemic had grounded me for 2020 and 2021. Being over there a lot allowed me to get more courageous again. There is further to go, but this start was useful compared to where I was earlier in the year.

The nerves applied during various trots starting and ending in Marsden during the spring, so some movement was needed. A day trip to Dublin got me started on flying again. After that, there was a hotel stay in Limerick that allowed me to sample the delights of Adare, the Limerick Greenway, the Lough Derg Way, the Slieve Felim Mountains, Killarney and around Lough Derg. Much of this was in unexpected sunshine, and some was inspired by what I saw from my hotel room as well.

A getaway from jubilee celebrations returned my Ireland. This time, my base was Tralee and I got some wet weather as well. Even so, any sunny interludes got used when other matters allowed. A hike along the Dingle Way from Tralee to Camp was one such beneficiary, as was a circular walk featuring Dingle and Ventry. An amble along part of the North Kerry Way also saw dry weather before something inclement arrived in for the evening time. That affected a second trip to Killarney as much as the presence of a bikers’ festival in the town. The weather also affected a hike from Dingle to Anascaul that might have seen me wander up to the Conor Pass if there were better views up there.

The Lake District got some attention for the first time in some years as well. One trip featured both Lingmoor Fell and Loughrigg Fell on a walk that attended to a photographic need as much as using up an idea that had lain in my mind for a few years. That was followed by a reprise of the Fairfield horseshoe, along with an ascent of Helvellyn. All of these enjoyed warm sunshine that allowed many photos to be made.

The same could be said for the major holiday trip of the year, for that took me to Ireland again. Killarney and Cork were the bases for this one. The former allowed me to frequent parts that I had not surveyed for nearly thirty years. There was one all-day stroll that took me around Knockreer Park, Ross Island and Muckross Lake. This was followed by a hike from Kenmare to Killarney that used past of the Kerry Way, with a diversion to the top of Torc Mountain. The Kerry Way also had a part to play in a serendipitous walk that took in the Gap of Dunloe, the Black Valley and the Upper Lake. These were followed by trips to Bantry, Whiddy Island, the Knockmealdown Mountains, Kinsale and Cobh as the weather continued to warm.

There was a return to Scotland too, though luck with the weather was such that a return trip is in mind. Staying in Stirling again would allow the Ochil Hills and Ben Ledi to be revisited. That awaits longer hours of daylight and a favourable weather window. The two trips that I have had already whetted my appetite for a part of Scotland that I either overlooked or surveyed twenty years before.

There was one trip to the Welsh hills too. This took me to the Ogwen Valley for a dramatic day that saw me go over Glyder Fach and Glyder Fawr. Eroded slopes were the cause of some adverse comment, but this was a warm, sunny day that offered much. Any plans for descending to Pen y Pass and Llanberis were rejected for time and transportation reasons. Assessing one’s progress often needs a change of route, not that it mattered in this case.

The last Irish trip did not allow more hill wanderings. Time was short, the weather was unfavourable, and other matters needed attention anyway. It was not as if a lot of satisfaction had been given, so I was not put off by this. The temptation might have been unwanted anyway.

The rest of the year saw me grow increasing tired, mostly because of lack of progress with the things that I need to get done. They are spilling into 2023, but that is another year. It remains to be seen how that will go, but trips to Galway and Clare as well as other parts of Europe and North America entice. Only time will tell how things proceed.

It takes time to write

14th December 2022

The last few weeks have seen a spurt of writing on my part. On here, that has manifested itself as an effort on catching up with the writing of trip reports. So far, I have been getting them done for 2018, but there may not be as many for 2019 as I might have feared. After those, we are into 2020 and pandemic times. The passage of time may mean that those will not feel as raw as they otherwise might have done. 2021 seems to have been a walking gap year in many respects, so my next move would be to write up the outings for 2022.

Malham Cove, Malham, Yorkshire, England

With all of these, it is not the actual writing that takes time, but the choosing and processing of any photos. With digital capture, it is very possible to make many images, only for choosing between them to become difficult. Even with using Adobe Lightroom, this is quite a task. Once decisions are made, the actual processing does not take that long, especially since I do not go overboard on tweaking photos and there is ever advancing automation that helps as well.

Still, the selection process does bring its own rewards because it reminds me of what I experienced out on the hike in question. That helps with doing the writing afterwards as much as taking my mind away from all the doom and gloom that pervades us at the moment. As much as having too many photos can be frustrating, they undoubtedly act as an aide de mémoire when there is a lag of some years between hiking and writing.

Thankfully, the whole process is cathartic as well. Otherwise, it might become a chore that one wishes to avoid. Maybe, that is partly why the backlog has resulted. There are other reasons too, such as the rawness of looking back during lockdowns. It is easier to recall freedom when you still have some than when your movements of restricted. That is how it is now, so the therapeutic side can win.

Grey at the start and at the end, lots of brightness otherwise

9th December 2022

The trouble with trip reports is that they can descend to being a direct factful recollection of a route followed on a day hike. That may explain partly why I have been tardy with sharing these, but the lockdown period of the pandemic has had its impact as well. Sometimes, it works best to leave things a while so that their associated emotional intensity wanes. The vantage point at the time of writing matters too; when there is nothing much happening in one’s life, it can result in uninspired scribblings.

This is being written in a time of tumult, when looking back on the past can offer a brief diversion from a life beset by strikes, wars, ongoing works and increasing costs of living. Public transport is not as dependable as it once was, so getting into the countryside now involves a mix of patience and creativity, unless you have your own transport. In fact, many will rely only on their own resources when others appear to be letting them down.

When I went to Shropshire in February 2018, none of this lay in my mind. Then, I was on a career break and contemplating my next career moves. This was a matter of rest, healing and reflection after a few years of upheaval, bereavement and legal works that wore me out more than I had realised. Only later did I learn how caffeine consumption covers up a lot of this weariness.

The prospects for a sunny day out did not look good when I arrived in Church Stretton. Skies were grey and gloomy, and there was a hint of drizzle in the air. None of this deflected me from heading for Carding Mill Valley, and my first encounter with this part of Shropshire may have been on a grey, cold December Sunday, assuming that my memory is not failing me.

Shropshire’s hills may be low in stature, but many of the ascents and descents are steep and joint-testing. Thus, there was quite a pull to get into the Carding Mill Valley, and it got tougher on the way up Mott’s Road. This did nothing to deter others who were going the same way, persisting as I was.

Looking across Hawkham Hollow, Btechcott, Shropshire, England

The Port Way, Betchcott, Shropshire, England

Looking back towards Paulith Bank, Pulverbatch, Shropshire, England

In time, gradients eased and people peeled off on my going onto a bridleway leading me towards the Port Way. Instead of continuing on towards Woolstaston, I turned left towards the Betchcott Hills. Around there, clouds broke overhead to give more hope for the rest of the day. Clouds were still going to obstruct the sun at times, but there were photographic opportunities to come too.

Farm tracks were what was going to convey me across the Betchcott Hills to Wilderley Hill. Until there, navigation was a simple affair. Near Thresholds, things became a bit less clear, so my route finding was not as smooth as I might have liked on someone else’s land. The size of the field meant that it probably was ideal for map and compass work, but I found my way without any untoward encounter or any exchange of cross words.

The Stiperstones as seen from Cothercott Hill, Picklescott, Shropshire, England

After becoming more confident about where I was going around Cothercott Hill, views of the Stiperstones opened up before me. There was a catch though because there was a stiff descent down to the road near New Leasowes Farm. Some of the going was muddy, too, especially as I neared the road. From there, I went around by Leasowes Bank Farm by byroad and farm track until I met with another lane.

While I fancied cutting the amount of road walking by following a right of way that lead through Hollies Farm, this did not look like such a friendly option even if it was part of the Shropshire Way. Going through farmyards never appeals that much to me anyway, so I opted to walk the quiet road instead while marvelling at how many larger vehicles were travelling along the one linking Stedment and Stiperstones. The surrounding countryside appealed to me too, which lessened the length of the journey for me.

Nameless hill near Stedment, Shropshire, England

Looking towards Marehay Farm from Stedment, Shropshire, England

Near Stedment, I turned right to close in on the Stiperstones ridge. On the final approaches to that turning, I noted how old my paper map was. There was an entire farmyard missing from it, so it was time for a replacement. Given that I was backed up by the Ordnance Survey app on my phone, there was no chance of a wrong turn based on old information. A new paper map was acquired soon afterwards.

Gaining height meant opening up more views of what lay about me. If there was more traffic on the road crossing the Stiperstones than what I saw earlier, it largely is lost to my recollection now. What I do remember is seeing a tractor being used to put out winter feeding to otherwise grazing sheep. Seeing the size of it caused me to remark to myself how large tractors had become these days compared to what they were when I was growing up on an Irish dairy farm.

Rocky Outcrop, The Stiperstones, Shropshire, England

Manstone Rock, The Stiperstones, Shropshire, England

Looking east from the Stiperstones, Shropshire, England

Looking west from the Stiperstones, Shropshire, England

Since it was half-term time and I may have seen more people about because of that, I chose to overshoot the obvious way up to the top of the Stiperstones ridge in favour of a quieter approach. That meant that a father could ask me about a good way up there for kids with trainers. As I often find myself doing, the answer included perhaps vaguer directions than I might have liked to give. The way that I was going might have been one suggestion, but I directed them to where I had deliberately overshot. In any case, I was not seeking company and my line may have been too muddy for them anyway. Not everyone goes out in the countryside equipped for what they can meet; there was a car park and visitor centre not far away, which explains the encounter we had.

My way towards Manstone Rock was the quieter one, and I relished both that and the well sunlit views that going that way offered. In time, I was to join the main track, which was surfaced in a better way for trainer travel, so my instincts had been the rights for that family who I met earlier. The surface may have uneven, but it was not muddy like what I had traipsed. These rocky outcrops probably fascinate kids anyway, since many would clamber onto them. That certainly was what was happening to one concerned mother who was having her patience tested by her boisterous boys around the trig point on Manstone Rock. Quite why Ordnance Survey surveyors placed the trig point upon such a difficult to reach site is beyond me. What is equally beyond my understanding is how they got their heavy equipment onto the thing afterwards. The sighting of these things can amaze.

Looking east from the Hollies, Snailbeach, Shropshire, England

My own desire was to get back a sense of grater calm. Beyond the Devil’s Chair, that really proved to be the case, and I relished this in the late evening sunshine. However, I did not get it all to myself on the way to Snailbeach. Still, I managed to get myself as much solitude as I could by veering away from my preferred route, and the final descent was a steep one.

My heart sinks a little whenever I see a large rambling group out on perambulations. They take up a lot of space if anyone needs to pass them, and I wonder just how present one can be in a scenic spot when chatting with others, as they often do. It also prompts the following question in my mind: can groups like these just get too big to be in the countryside? We are social animals, though, so I can see the attraction this holds for many, and they are often friendly to more solitary creatures like me.

Once I reached Snailbeach, I saw the minibus that was awaiting them, for this was an organised outing. They reached it while I was awaiting my bus to Shrewsbury, and one said to me that they thought I knew my way down. In reality, I only was finding my way on the go, as it is with so many things in life. They left before I did, and I then wondered if my bus would show up, or if I would need to consider later alternatives, possibly from elsewhere. As I continued my vigil, rain arrived, but this was no dampener on my spirits given the day that I had enjoyed. The bus came too, and I started on my return home after a very satisfying outing.

Travel Arrangements

Train journey from Macclesfield to Church Stretton. Bus service 552 or 553 from Snailbeach to Shrewsbury, followed by a train journey from there to Macclesfield. Doing this walk on a Saturday, like I did, now needs a route reversal since later departures from Snailbeach have been removed from the timetable.

Scottish return

3rd September 2022

It has taken quite a while but I recently enjoyed some Scottish hill-wandering around Stirling. Stirling also was where I went when I last was in Scotland so there is a sliver of continuity despite the break of over three years. The main cause of this was the arrival of the pandemic which added travel nervousness on my part.

In 2019, the main reason for my trip was photographic and I stayed near its castle even though part of the structure was covered in scaffolding at the time. Even so, I could not help admiring any views of the Ochil Hills that lay before me. These were to prove a lure for a return trip once I summoned the courage to do so.

Before that, I have been finding my feet in England and Ireland. The latter has seen a few trips this year and the former has hosted various visits to the Pennines and the Lake District. Before the trip to Stirling, I even enjoyed a hike from the Ullswater to Thirlmere that took in the tops of White Side, Lower Man and Helvellyn in pleasing sunshine. The way up was gradual but the same could not be said for the testing descent that was on the point of beating those who were coming the other way.

My time in Stirling saw me mount more summits but without the accompaniment of the sort of weather than blessed my ascent of Helvellyn. Because the second hill day was set to be overcast, I was divided over where to go because going to Callander for an ascent of Ben Ledi had entered my head. In the event, it was that which was done on the better day and got me back somewhere that I had not frequented for around fifteen years. Skies were largely clouded so another return trip is in prospect whenever bright sunshine and clearer skies are likely. Still, the sun did break through the clouds from time to time so it was not all gloom. The landscape was stunning though and seeing that in brighter conditions remains an attraction.

It must have been stubbornness that led me to hike the summits of Ben Ever, Ben Cleuch, Andrew Gannel Hill and King’s Seat Hill in poor visibility and it was just as well that I had wet weather gear given the enduring dampness on those tops. This was never a day for views but my navigation did not falter and the quietude of the experience was transporting. Perversely, the next day came sunny so a quick morning trip for some photography was in order before I needed to check out of the hotel. It was constrained by my not having charged camera batteries as much as was ideal but I still came away with much of what I had sought. Even so, a return in better weather cannot be ruled out since the incursion certainly got me away from everyday living and what I did get to see appealed to me.

Having reasons to return somewhere may be frustrating for any sense of closure but Scotland is laden with these for the weather does not always perform according to human desires. My only stay in Callander may have taken some of the sights around ben Ledi more than twenty years ago but it only was a halting point while en route to Fort William and Portree as I ran away from rain approaching from the east. As it happens, both Lorn and Lochaber have their share of sites where I fancy making better photos and even supplanting good images captured on film with digital counterparts. There is plenty of inspiration left yet.