Category: Long Distance Trails
Pennine Way gallery added
28th July 2007 Despite the fact that I haven't done all the photo processing yet, I have created a Pennine Way section to my photo gallery as promised. Photo selection was a little tricky because of the nature of the countryside frequented by the Way: not only is featureless moorland a navigational challenge but it is also a photographic one. The lack of any focal point makes for dull photos, so effort is required. Still, I hope that you enjoy the photos. This gallery is a work in progress, very much like the completion of the long-distance trail itself.
Along the banks of Loch Lomond
30th May 2007 Despite the weather outlook, I decided to brave the elements and catch up with the part of the West Highland Way that follows the shores of Loch Lomond. This was going to be a two-day walk from Inverarnan to Drymen with an overnight stay at the hostel at Rowardennan, so I took my chance on the bank holiday weekend and with an extra day off work. As it happened, the weather wasn't too unkind, with only the odd light shower offering any dampness while I was out on the trail. There was a downpour at one point, but that had the good manners to wait for me to arrive at Rowardennan and savour the scenic delights on display in some fine evening sunshine before it did its thing. Thankfully, I was under cover, but that was no consolation to those campers with flooded tents - I encountered one such refugee who had made his way to the hostel for a night's stay and to dry out his gear: a very sensible decision. Other than that, it was largely dry if cloudy for a lot of the time; any sun was enjoyed with gratitude.
Loch Lomond may have a certain genteel reputation, especially with there being a song extant called "The Bonnie Banks O' Loch Lomond", but the track followed by the WHW has a reputation not in keeping with this impression. It is that part between Inverarnan and Rowardennan where the main difficulties are found; that was why my two-day walk headed south rather than north. Nevertheless, the track is not all bad, with only the section between Doune and Inversnaid being an unavoidable test of sure-footedness, balance and agility. The only other real difficulty on the WHW occurs just north of Rowardennan and a 4x4 track (a WHW route option) helpfully by-passes this obstacle course littered with fallen trees from one of this past spring's storms while also being a victim of erosion to boot.
An early morning start from Inverarnan got me on my way under predominantly cloudy skies, and they were to be with me for most of the day. In contrast, if I was heading north towards Crianlarich, blue skies and sunshine would have been my reward, but that was not the plan that I had concocted for this time around. The likes of Ben a' Chleibh, Ben Lui, Ben Oss and Ben Dubhcraig gave me much cause to gaze northwards and slow me down in the process, even if a pesky power line threatened to place a dampener on the glory of the vistas set out before me. At the very least, I know that there is some appeal to following the WHW north to bridge the gap between Inverarnan and Bridge of Orchy.
Having managed to drag myself away from the sights of such glories, it was not long until I found myself in conversation near Ardleish with a gentleman from Bangor (Wales, not N.I.) who was walking the WHW northbound with his son. We exchanged experiences before continuing our respective journeys. Having negotiated any path difficulties and enjoyed seeing bluebell carpeted woodland, I paused for a food stop at Inversnaid; I didn't venture into the hotel since I had some food with me. As I passed the hotel, I spotted a lady with a severe expression looking out through one of the front windows (no, she wouldn't have seen me taking lunch outside). It was almost as if she were on watch for aberrant walkers who might try to enter through the front door; there's a very separate entrance for us at the back and a place for us to put our rucksacks too. Severe expressions were soon replaced by far more delightful prospects: more bluebell woodland; it might have been the end of May, but they were still in their prime up here. Rowardennan remained far way, but I was at the hostel by 18:00 and, with my booking was confirmed, I found my bed for the night. This was after my adventurous side taking me away from the sensible 4x4 track at Rowchoish to follow the loch-side obstacle course; I must have been out of my senses, but it did avoid some extra ascent. Once, I sorted myself out at the hostel, I went out into the fine evening for some photographic exploits before I headed to the hotel for dinner. After that, I retired for the night.
The next morning began with more photographic activity before breakfast. Knowing how fickle Scottish weather can be, I take any chance of sunshine that I get and there was plenty on offer at this time, but cloud was to dominate skies later on. A light breakfast, which included porridge, was to set me on my way and progress out of Rowardennan was slow, not because of tired muscles but because of the views that were behind me. Beyond Rowardennan, tracks are easier to negotiate, even if the way to Balmaha is still littered with sharp little ascents and descents. Proximity to the road may not be ideal, but delights are still there to be enjoyed. South of Balmaha, there is another route choice: high level via Conic Hill or low level beside the Drymen road. I stuck with the latter, even though the restrictions around Conic Hill were lifted for another year; use of the low-level route is mandatory during the lambing season. After carrying a heavy pack for a second day, I decided to leave Conic Hill for another time (combining it with a section of the Rob Roy Way for a longer hill day, perhaps?) and made my way into Garadhban Forest from Milton of Buchanan in which I negotiated a diversion due to tree harvesting operations. Much to my own surprise, I really got into my stride here, and that continued all the way to Drymen on what became a glorious evening. From there it was onto Balloch by bus for an overnight stay before I headed home again by train.
A bimble in border country
22nd May 2007 Even with showers forecast, I fancied taking myself off somewhere for a walk on Sunday. Because I wanted to continue my hiatus from the Pennine Way for the sake of variety, wandering along a bit of the Offa's Dyke National Trail appealed. I planned my hike using Anquet Maps to get an idea of what I was taking on and, while I departed from it at times, my planned route was essentially the one that I followed on the ground. The software also gave a projected time for the walk and, though it was largely correct, I might be tempted to add a bit extra to the predicted time for future excursions; I still kept an eye on the time and had alternate plans if it was taking too long.
With that in mind, I travelled to Chirk after braving the hoards of the Macclesfield Bikeathon and picked up the Llwybyr Ceiriog Trail and followed it along the Ceiriog valley until I met both the Offa's Dyke trail and part of the aforementioned earthwork itself, after crossing from Wales into England (Chirk is almost on the border between Wales and England). In fact, I was to have the famous military barrier for company for a good part of my journey to Craig Nant. It was while I was following this section that the sun came out for a brief spell on what was a mainly cloudy if dry day; the threatened showers thankfully failed to materialise. In fact, it caused me to dawdle for longer than maybe I should have done.
Progress from Craig Nant was steady as I rounded Selattyn Hill on my way to Racecourse Common, part of which unfortunately involved some tarmac bashing. Once past Racecourse Common, it was on into Racecourse Wood for views east over Shropshire with the humps of Long Mynd making an appearance; as luck would have it, the sun was very much in evidence further east, and I wonder what delights I would have savoured if skies were clearer for more of my journey.
These days, Racecourse Common and Wood are an amenity for those wanting a stroll but, as the name implies, there was indeed a racecourse here, and it was for horse racing. Its heyday was the early nineteenth century before the coming of the railways, and a less than salubrious crowd put paid to its continued existence.
It was about this point that I started to think about getting to Oswestry so that I could start on my journey home. The plan was to leave the national trail for a public footpath taking me most of the way to Oswestry, but the need to catch a bus from Oswestry meant that I instead pounded more tarmac than I would have liked. The sun had by then escaped from behind the clouds, and I was treated to pleasant scenes as I continued on my way; I still found some time to stop and admire my surroundings.
Oswestry is certainly a pleasant spot and one where I wouldn't have minded lingering but for time constraints; I needed to catch the 18:15 Arriva service to Shrewsbury. The wondrous St. Oswald's Church and the pleasant town centre may well inspire another excursion, and one with ample time for my training my camera on the sights. I will hold it in mind for the future. Until this walk, Shropshire hadn't really been subject to my attentions even though it does have its hill country; the Long Mynd and the country round about it certainly do look very attractive through train windows as I ply my way to Abergavenny for the hill country of the Brecon Beacons National Park; it's almost a shame to do so. Speaking of Wales, one thing that you don't need to do is go there for places whose names reveal Welsh origins; there are plenty in the west of Shropshire, as OS maps will show you. It's a part of the world to which I can return.
Pennine Way adventures in the Yorkshire Dales: Part 3
16th April 2007 The weekend forecast got me returning to Yorkshire for the continuation of my Pennine Way quest, this time for a day trip on Saturday. The fact that I had no driving lesson to do allowed me to head off. It was an over and back trip with no overnight stays involved. My target was to head from Malham Tarn to Horton-in-Ribblesdale, crossing Fountains Fell and Pen-y-Ghent along the way. To get there, I caught the first train from Macclesfield to Manchester at 07:10 and onward connections via Leeds got me to Settle in time for the 11:30 minibus to Malham.
That got me to Malham Tarn around 10:45 and the prospect was much, much better than it was on Easter Monday. The spring sunshine, however hazy, lit up the scene more fully than I had ever seen it before; my 2002 visit was a cloud-bound affair. I retraced my steps around the tarn and made my way to Tennant Gill, from where the ascent of Fountains Fell began. That ascent is a long-drawn-out affair, but with the prevailing conditions, it was a delight, though the day was beginning to heat up. With my now well-worn OS OL2 map duly changed over to the correct side (the breeze and the bone dry conditions underfoot meant that it was placed on the ground to do this), I trooped over the fell, only to lose a lot of the height that I had gained.
The bulk of Pen-y-Ghent was temptingly close, though some miles were to be trodden before I was to reach it; the Pennine Way never goes at anything directly... After a spot of road walking to Dale Head, the ascent began again. Strangely, it didn't seem to take a lot out of me until I encountered that testing step near the top of Pen-y-ghent. Maybe, it was my taking it nice and easy, so that explains it. Nevertheless, I always find it strange that the Pennine Way goes up and over Pen-y-ghent when it could easily go around it. That would avoid the piece of clambering over limestone slabs that nearly caused me to bottle it. Nevertheless, I did conquer myself and go to the top of Pen-y-ghent for the second time. On the event, I did feel a little queasy after the clambering, and I don't know whether it was vertigo or something else that caused it.
My first trip up Pen-y-ghent followed the Pennine Way from Horton, but an inspection of the map convinced me, rightly in my view, not to come down the southern slopes of the hill; that was where I ascended on my second visit. Instead, I walked over Plover Hill and came off that way. The way down was still steep, yet I managed it, and I then followed a bridleway from Foxup Moor until I rejoined the Pennine Way to return to Horton. That was in April 2004 when the wall on the top of Pen-y-ghent was a standard affair with two stiles over it. Then, I got myself told off for descending from one of those in the wrong fashion as I was heading for the hill's trig point; I had been facing away from the wall rather towards it. Later that year, a spot of refurbishment was carried out, and this added wind shelters and more manageable stiles than the traditional wooden ones that did the job previously. Apparently, it was done to celebrate 50 years of the Yorkshire Dales National Park.
Returning to the second Pen-y-ghent encounter, the seats in the wind shelters allowed me to rest a while in an attempt to settle myself down before the descent to Horton. That descent is known territory to me from my previous outing, and I took it easy and enjoyed the way down as much as possible; without walking poles this is a knee-jarring stretch, so my full attention was required. It is also a stretch where you should not be rushing to catch a train, so I discarded any thoughts of using the 17:44 departure, which proved to be just as well; I would have been more than 15 minutes late. The evening was glorious, and I rediscovered views that I first encountered three years previously. Awaiting the 19:29 train allowed me to fully settle down after the day's exertions. Though that train was late, I still got home as I had planned, and the day out had been as good as I had hoped.
Pennine Way adventures in the Yorkshire Dales: Part 2
13th April 2007 I spent my Easter Monday journeying between Malham Tarn and Gargrave. Apart from the absence of platform information on the departure screens in Leeds train station, travelling to Settle was an uneventful affair; a quick word with station staff set the world to rights as to what platform to use. Once in Settle, I awaited the minibus service to Malham Tarn.
In Settle, the weather was cloudy, but Malham Tarn was shrouded in dense fog. Even so, I took a stroll around the tarn before breaking from the Pennine Way to take the road down towards Malham. As I followed the road, the fog turned to rain and my Rab Latok jacket got its first true wet weather test and it performed well. Eventually, I was to leave the road on a public footpath that reunited me with the Pennine Way, and I continued until the top of Malham Cove. By that time, I had got the sense that wet limestone was too slippery for my liking. Also, given that a walk from Hebden to Malham in July 2002 had proceeded along the Pennine Way between Malham Tarn and Malham, I decided that a diversion would not be a shameful act and had allowed me more pragmatism during the prior bout of road walking. Therefore, I picked up the footpath to another road that dropped me into Malham, where I indulged myself with an ice cream and a bottle of Lucozade Sport from the shop at the bridge.
By then, the rain had cleared, though dampness still pervaded the air. So, it was with resting waterproofs that I again picked up the Pennine Way on my southbound itinerary. The mist still pervaded the heights and dark skies prevailed, yet my walk was enjoyable nonetheless. Even with that atmosphere, Malham was still the honey trap that it always is, but I was soon to escape the throng, if that's the right expression. Flat riverbank walking was to be my lot following a spot of up and down at Hanlith; for the next few miles, bell ringing from the church at Kirkby Malham was to enliven the air. As I got beyond Airton, I begin to see signs of what proved to be an improvement in the weather, and this improvement began to make itself known as I crossed the Aire to begin an ascent of Eshton Moor.
That ascent was to precede a bout of rather disgraceful field navigation, but I found my feet. Navigating my way across fields has never been a strong point of mine, and having multi-cornered examples did little to help me. Nevertheless, some calm thought and map reading proved up to the task of reorienting myself and enjoy what had by now become a very pleasant view in the sunshine; it made the whole day and my camera(s) were set to work. Though lacking in height, Flasby Fell proved a wonderful muse. I eventually made my way onto the road into Gargrave, which had lost the sun by the time of my arrival. Again crossing the Aire, I continued to the train station where an approaching train took me to Skipton, from where I continued my onward journey.
