Category: Times and Seasons
A last blast of winter?
3rd March 2009 Whatever my views on the meteorological months of winter might be (if I had my way, I would bring everything forward by two weeks but I digress), it has to be said that we have been having one of the colder ones with milder spells like those that we got last month and the one before becoming more like exceptions in the memory. Dumps of snow are forecast for Scotland but getting snow in early March isn't so strange and it has happened a few times in recent years. In fact, last year saw us getting a white Easter at the end of the month.
Speaking of Scotland, I actually managed to spend a bit of time up there over the weekend. In fact, Sunday saw me out among the hills around Tarbet, Arrochar and Glen Croe; my walk took me from Tarbet to Rest and Be Thankful. While I was lucky to get some spring sunshine early in the day and got to hear birdsong filling the air, there were prolonged rain showers wandering the hills too. In the afternoon, they started to come in one after another, so much so that leaving for greater shelter seemed the most sensible option when I did so.
I'll tell more about that escapade later, but the transition from snow to mildness to soaking rain to snow again is a striking one, especially when you start getting to think about what unstable snow packs can do. Snow seems to have left the Cheshire hills that I can see from my house and the forecast shows no sign of it returning to them this time around. In many ways, it has been an amazing winter and one that I'll continue to remember, at least if those late springs and early summer days deliver the weather goods appropriate to showing off their wares.
Update 2009-03-05: A dusting of snow has been granted to us but it's inconsequential in the lowlands. Peering into the hills though reveals a greater covering.
Greyness
20th February 2009 It has been a very grey week in weather terms around where I live and I could do with seeing a spot of sun and blue skies sooner rather than later. Given the times in which we live, the grey onslaught might be seen as a case of pathetic fallacy but we could all do with something to go and cheer us up. I find that I can only take so much grey weather before needing to head off where there is some sun and, though the sun has been trying to break through today, I feel the need for something more substantive. Saying that, the recent mildness, the return of birdsong and the general feeling of spring in the air has been welcome. That's not to say that the recent cold spell didn't have its bright spots, but the saying that a change is as good as a rest is what comes to mind.
As it has happened, my two most recent forays into hill country were under largely grey skies. The Cumbrian outing may have had its sunny interludes in the cold, but the mildness of the Irish escapade came with no sun at all and it took a while for the day to brighten up with my Pentax's metering showing how dark it thought everything was. Speaking of photography, the lack of sun does make it tricky to capture something in the way in which I would like to share with you. The result is that the occasional posting has appeared on here without any photos.
Part of the reasoning for that dates from over a decade ago when I was building the first incarnation of my online photo gallery. Then, all that any search for photos on the web yielded for me were grey day pictures that I didn't find appealing. The result was that I vowed that sunlit scenes were to be what went on there and I have to say that, apart from the occasional departure, the same thinking rules the roost here too and that's the way that I'd like to keep things.
That is not to say that concentrating on details found underfoot or ensconced in places where flat grey skies can be excluded will not yield anything. For instance, Torc Waterfall near Killarney in Ireland produced the goods on an otherwise damp and dreich day. The waterfall trick has worked elsewhere for me too, with one cataract allowing me to illustrate a trip report for a walk from Ardlui to Butterbridge utterly devoid of sun last November. No doubt, other details that work well in such diffused light would suffice too.
Thoughts of monochrome photography have sneaked into my mind too. A day that mightn't be one for capturing colour vistas might yield good black and white vistas. To me, the trick is to ensure that there is enough tonality to carry off the exploit and not every dull day offers that, so the monochrome route is not a panacea for rescuing otherwise gloomy efforts. In fact, I recommend a look at Craig McMaster's Elements if you want to how much better landscapes look in black and white when there is good light available. Taking colour digital images and converting them to mono like the examples that I have added below (no perfection or greatness is being claimed here) is more involved than merely clicking on the right buttons. Ideally, the photo should have been pre-visualised or planned as a black and white one rather than converting a few and seeing what happens. Of course, there's no harm having a go at that in a spare moment to see what works and what doesn't. That can only help develop your monochrome eye anyway and my impression is that there will be more misses than hits before any refinement starts to come on stream.
2009 seems to have got a start with long grey spells and plenty of ice and snow thrown in for good measure. That's not to say that it hasn't had its sunny interludes but the precedent of 2004 lingers in my memory. That year is one that I'll always remember as being one where sunny spells were a rarity and its summer and autumn didn't help its case, even if the deluges of 2007 and 2008 are perhaps more memorable for some, though that's not how I'll remember those (2007 was decent up until the middle of June if I recall correctly). Let's hope that 2009 brightens up and there's plenty of time for it to do the deed yet. With all the doom and gloom that surrounds us, it looks like we could do with it.
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 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.
A feast of fog and frost
1st December 2008 One of the problems with a flatter area like the Cheshire plain is that fog can accumulate and, even though Macclesfield is set higher on the cusp of hill country and it's not near any major rivers or other bodies of water, we were graced with very thick fog for the whole of Saturday. The thickness was sufficient to make one wonder about the sense in navigating through the countryside without the full picture, even if walking in foggy conditions does possess its own charm.
That fog cleared progressively on Sunday and all that remains is a faint haze today. However, frosted vegetation is everywhere for all to see, acting as a reminder to wrap up warm and my North Face Nuptse is brilliant for this so long as conditions remain dry. Seeing everywhere as if it was immersed in a freezer cabinet has its own delights so long as you keep your wits about you and do not take a tumble from slipping on ice; it's the black variant that really catches you out and it's amazing how clumsy people can be with throwing water about the place.
In fact, all that's needed to complete the picture is snow and that seems to be arriving too, even if my cynical self believes that we should never expect that much of the white stuff and that's even with my venturing out on snow-covered lands from time to time; those parts with greater altitude and higher latitude seem better endowed. Photographically speaking, it all looks a bit monochrome under grey skies but something can be made of that also. And, with sufficient preparation, it all can make for wondrous winter wandering.
Snow and frost is something that we don't get to notice for so long these days, especially with the usual pre-Christmas hurly-burly, so it's probably no bad bad idea to make what we can of it if and when we can (I am trying to shake off a cold at the moment). Every season has its own delights and I am beginning to wonder if summer is overrated and so reckon that it's best to get out there to savour whatever is on offer whenever it comes. I'll see if I can fit in an outing among all the other things that need doing.
Update 2008-12-05: We have had our snow and it's gone for now though it always can return.
