Category: Trip Reports
Unenticing weather
21st November 2009 The least sign of dampness or greyness shouldn't be enough to put anyone off spending a day exploring hill country, but there are conditions that can cause one to challenge the sense of any such scheme. A day-long soaking or hefty showers coming in on top of one another are on that list, but the recent record-breaking deluges only can be sure to send you indoors. As those who have had it happen to them will tell you, that's all very fine, so long as the nasty conditions stay outside and don't come in after you or put out your heating or lighting. Anyone who has come a cropper in the flooding that has visited too many places has my sympathy (seeing photos showing Derwent Water and Bassenthwaite Lake nearly becoming one really captures the scale of things for me).
It was all so different last Sunday when I grabbed the chance of an outing in bright sunshine. My destination may not have been the countryside, but I got to see plenty of that out through the train windows as I wound my way over to Chester and back again. Any gaping at what lay outside has planted some ideas in my brain for future outings that are relatively near to hand. An amble about Delamere Forest is one such possibility, as is a stroll along the banks of the River Dane near Northwich. Aside from this pondering, I came away with photos (the main motivation on the day) even with Chester being under cloudier skies that only release the sun late on during my visit. A late train allowed me to potter around Stockport to explore its more pleasing parts (yes, they do exist!) and make more of them than I was to make of Chester's much more esteemed architecture.
Last Sunday's trip may have been urban in the main, yet it did break any descent into the rut of indoor winter hibernation. An escape into some fine countryside would make an ideal next step, but it would be better if the threat of deluges was lifted, but there's little sign of that now (it's raining well as I write this). However, just as good spells of weather have to end, the bad episodes can't last forever either, even if we remember them all the more clearly. I'll be awaiting that chance of an escapade.
Travel details:
Return train trip from Macclesfield to Chester with a change in Stockport.
A day out in limestone country
26th October 2009 As I start to write these words relating an outing among the hills of the western Yorkshire Dales, we are in the grip of a mild end to October when there is occasional dampness and rather a lot of cloud filling the sky for much of the time. Of course, that mildness can end all of a sudden like it has done in some previous years with down jackets being quickly grabbed from where they have been for the summer. That realisation reminds me that the outer of my North Face Nuptse needs a clean, but there's time for that yet.
Returning to that trot from over a week ago, I arrived in Ingleton at a decent hour when its library was still open, so there was ample time for a day of walking. There were cloudy skies overhead like what those over Cheshire so far this week but I am not deterred so easily when my mind is set on a task so I ventured forth underneath the village's disused railway viaduct to seek out the horse manure soiled single track piece of road that is Oddie's Lane. The lane was quiet with only the occasional walker or Land Rover about as I ascended the gradient from the river banks of the Doe and the Twiss. It wasn't to be a day when there were enough people about to get in each other's way, though we did bunch together from time to time. While most go to Ingleton for the Waterfalls Walk anyway, my horizons were extended beyond that.
Staying on tarmac as long as I did might have seemed a peculiar choice when travel over softer ground was available, but the OS doesn't seem to show the Waterfalls Walk so well and I might have ended up feeling corralled anyway. As it happened, I was to leave the tarmac for part of its route near Beezleys. A well-made path was sufficient to compensate for a certain lack of signage on the roadside and Twisleton Hall was passed without a blunder. The path turned into a track that I was to leave for a bridleway taking me up the slopes of Twisleton Scar End. There were others with the same idea as myself, but there was no mob so we all got along as we picked our way through the limestone pavement.
In time, we all scattered such that each had a piece to themselves, so there was an opportunity to have some quality carefree time when the following of rights of way on access land could become something that fell by the wayside. All the while, I knew where I was on Scales Moor, so there was no flirtation with mortal danger. At times, I was to revel in the sights of limestone pavement with Ingleborough beyond it. Being lit by the sun was a hit-and-miss affair with Gragareth having more luck than where I was wandering. That piece of "off-piste" travel was well apparent when I joined the track down to Chapel-le-Dale and it shortened the walk a little too, taking time pressures even further out of the equation.
Chapel-le-Dale is but a small place and I was across the Low Sleights Road (B6255) in no time at all to shorten the distance to the summit of Ingleborough. My course was to have its moment of problem-solving when I worked out the way around Souther Scales after a little lunch. It may have been over three years since I last trod in these parts, but my memory was still up to the task of informing me that I was taking a different course from last time, at least at the start, before I made out the trail that had taken me to those heady heights before.
Knowing that the way ahead was to have steeper moments than that around Souther Scales meant that I opted for a steady gait through the Southerscales Scars and over any duckboards. A short break was taken at Humphrey Bottom before tackling the steep slopes that lay between me and Ingleborough's summit. The path is well pitched though some may find the way in which it has been done a little unnerving. Having gone the way before, it didn't phase me though I was conscious that other folk were after me and making good progress. The top of the steep section came along in its own good time and I grabbed a chance for a little breather before scaling the final approach to Ingleborough's flat top. Others going my way needed longer to recover and more again sailed on regardless, so Ingleborough attracts all sorts by the sounds of things.
With the sun staying well hidden from me, the summit of Ingleborough wasn't to be a place where I was going to linger. Still, I could see where I had been on the way from Ingleton and Whernside was an unmissable whaleback along with the distant humps of the Howgill Fells. Ingleton wasn't too far away and the next bus to Lancaster wasn't until 18:50 so I could afford to take my time. Not being in a mad rush (never a good idea on hills) meant that there was no angst on the initial part of the descent to reach a decent track. Looking ahead of me took my eyes out towards Morecambe Bay and the Irish Sea, both seemingly blessed by the sun as might have been the lower reaches of the Lune Valley too. Cloud may have been over me, but Scales Moor seemed to be starting to catch the sun. The prospect of low evening sun dropping beneath the clouds to liven the landscape began to intrigue me and the signs of that pleasant possibility steadily grew.
As I continued on downhill, I wondered at those who were coming against me at that hour of day and where they may have been going. Could they have been on a similar circuit to me but with cars parked in Chapel-le-Dale instead or was Ribblehead train station in their sights? Horton-in-Ribblesdale or Clapham would be other potential destinations but they were further away. Wherever they were headed, there seemed to be a sense of purpose to all their endeavours and I am not one to intrude so I passed the time of day and left them be.
When I got as far as Fell Lane, the sun finally dropped below its cloudy obstruction to show the surrounding countryside at its best. It might have been better for my DSLR not to run out of power at this stage, but a backup film SLR was there to do the honours, so there was no drama. If I didn't possess the time to make what I could of what lay around me, it would have been more annoying and that's the advantage of leaving a little slack and not filing every second of it. Of course, the daylight eventually did give out but I was walking through the heart of Ingleborough as the sun disappeared below the horizon. A satisfying day was ending well and it's telling that it might have been utterly fantastic if the skies were clearer. Nevertheless, there were plenty of sights that captivated my attention, even under cloud cover, and that really is telling. The prospect of a spot of sun might even tempt me back and there's no better way to leave anywhere than that.
Travel arrangements:
Return train journey from Macclesfield to Lancaster and return bus journey on Stagecoach Lancaster service 80 from Lancaster to Ingleton and back.
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.
