Category: Trip Reports
Sampling some snow among the Howgill Fells
19th December 2008 As promised earlier, here's that trip report for a brief visit to the Howgills at the start of the month. The idea of visiting these parts crossed my mind while happening to perusal a bus timetable during some dead time awaiting a train to take me to Windermere in Windermere. At any other time of year, Saturday bus connections to Sedbergh (pronounced "Sedberr", I believe) wouldn't seem quite so appealing, but the idea of a 15:50 departure on a winter's day didn't seem like leaving too early at all, even if that meant that my time was limited to little more than a few hours. Services on other weekdays allow a longer stay, but there's no service on Sundays, which constrains the idea of a weekend trip using public transport to get there and away.
For the perhaps overambitious, the time that I was allotted might have been enough time for an out and back romp to The Calf from Sedbergh but rushing things like this really is not my style. I go out to sample, to savour and to enjoy; good hill country deserves no less. Snow and ice abounded once a certain not so intimidating height was reached anyway, so rushing about would have been the epitome of foolishness. It may not have lain everywhere, but there was far more about than remained around Macclesfield by the time that I left it that morning. On arrival in Oxenholme, there was no hope of missing the white stuff, and the presence of ice meant that extra care was needed when getting on the bus to Sedbergh.
That bus journey was to mean that more whiteness was to be savoured, particularly between Oxenholme and the M6. A collection of wind turbines that were passed took on an unusually ghostly aspect but continuing past the M6 meant entering countryside where a thaw was in evidence. Higher places still had the snow, even if much green could be seen too. Whatever thaw that there had been didn't extend to many of the footways about the town of Sedbergh, so gingerly progress along roads was in order as I made my way to open country. That didn't take long, and braved a path going by noisy tied up dogs in a farmyard and icy stretches that acted as a reminder of the need for crampons to get to higher slopes where deeper snow underfoot gave my boots something with which they could engage.
As I continued up the side of Winder, I began to meet deeper snow than any that I had ever encountered before. Across the gash cut by Settleback Gill and on the slopes of Crook, there were children playing in the winter sunshine. Beyond any green lands to the south, Whernside and its surrounding humps and bumps packed up the view. Gazing to the east led the eye towards Baugh Fell, Wild Boar Fell and Swarth Fell and all around them. In the west lay the snow-covered Lakeland fells, though I couldn't see them until I emerged from the trough along which I was hiking, and the same could be said for the sights that lay to the north of me.
The saddle between Winder and Arant Haw held a good thick covering of snow over its grassy tussocks, enough to slow progress and make me conscious of the time. If I had ever pondered getting to The Calf, that was put out of my mind as I ventured in the direction of Arant Haw. Though that hill lay within range, I decided in the end to leave it for another time to allow plenty of time for my descent. Instead, I continued to the top of Winder itself and lingered to take in the panoramic views. What it lacks in height, it possesses thanks in no small part to its location, so a spot of photographic activity ensued beside one of those viewpoint installations that are there to tell you what's surrounding you (hills in this case). The sights couldn't be more irresistible with that dusting of the white stuff.
The descent from Winder meant a return to greener ground, especially since I used its western slopes. Like a winter walk that I undertook from Ribblehead to Ingleton via Ingleborough, I saw more of a thaw on western slopes than I did on eastern ones; it must have something to do with catching the warmth of the sun. It must have been the time of day, but I was seeing more folk emerging from the hills, but there was no intrusion on any reverie as I enjoyed views towards the Lune gorge and its viaduct and along the western slopes of other Howgill hills.
I returned to the tarmac in safety, and misgivings about making the most of the day erupted. That caused me to divert onto a public footpath that took me to Marthwaite. From there, it was road tramping to Birks before I plied along a short section of the Dales Way by the River Rawthey. Some more public footpath traversal took me into the heart of Sedbergh, passing by its famous school as I went to await my bus. Daylight was turning to dusk as the bus plied its way through snowy surroundings, and there seemed to be a certain reminder of alpenglow to be witnessed. After an uneventful train journey, I was home again and with some extra time remaining in the day too because of the early finish.
In hindsight, I didn't waste the opportunity that I was offered, and the taste of what the Howgills have to offer has whetted my appetite. It was about time that I set foot among these hills after passing them on train and coach so many times. Apart from that, the only other time that I sampled this countryside was when I reached Sedbergh after spending a hot July day walking from Ribblehead train station a few years back. More return trips beckon, so long as there are windows of opportunity for my continuing to explore the area.
Travel Arrangements:
Return train trip to Oxenholme and a return bus journey using Stagecoach's service 564 between Kendal and Kirkby Stephen.
Another day, another fell
26th November 2008 Last Saturday saw me venture out into hill country again with a trip to explore the fells near Ambleside. The last time that I was up around those parts, it struck me that I hadn't been around Ambleside for a few years, so the seeds were sown for a future outing. Being that time of year when shorter days are visited upon us, I was after a hike that I could complete in the available hours of daylight and ended up ascending Red Screes before descending to Scandale Pass and then down Scandale itself while returning to Ambleside.
My visits to Ambleside seem to alternative between grey days and those with an altogether more sunny aspect. Last Saturday was to prove to be one of those grey days, as was the one when I first went to Ambleside. Then, I plied a short circular route around by High Sweden Bridge and then Low Sweden Bridge. Next time, the sunshine of a crisp clear cold February really showed the landscape at its best as I made my way up Scandale, over Scandale Pass and then back to Ambleside by way of the Kirkstone Pass and down The Struggle; I was enjoying good moonlight on the final stretch of the stroll. A mixture of greyness and sunny breaks were what greeted me while on a round of the Fairfield horseshoe with a start at Rydal to ascend Heron Pike and Great Rigg to continue to Fairfield (the summit was deserted when I reached it so it isn't always crowded) before dropping down to Ambleside again. When a trip to North Wales proved unworkable after a train cancellation, I found my way back to Ambleside and was consoled by the delights of a sunny day and a fabulous evening as I went over and around Loughrigg Fell on a circular hike.
The sun did peep out near the end of the day last Saturday but it was frigid, breezy and bracing greyness for most of the time. There were signs of blue skies in the distance as I left Ambleside to go up the narrow Kirkstone Road. Sufficient cars were passing the way to make me appreciate the off-road travel when at last I started up a public footpath traversing the often soft ground.
Eventually, that softness began to the hardness of well frozen terrain, but there was a fair amount of ascent among stone walls before that transition was encountered. Apart from a momentary spot of confusion due to an overestimation of progress near Snarker Pike, navigation was a straightforward affair. On the lower reaches, I was sheltered from the cold biting breeze from which there was no escape once headier heights were reached and especially as the gradients eased between Snarker Pike and the summit of Red Screes. It was no day to linger on that summit and, very appropriately, it was bedecked with frozen tarns. This was hardly the time and place for conversation but I was asked by a lady where the path that I had following started out; it went too near to Ambleside for her and those with her (there is another possible way down, but even Wainwright suggested that to be too steep for a descent; that might have been how they made their way up).
With the inhospitable conditions on the top of Red Screes, it should come as little surprise that I started my descent with no delay. The greyness was one limitation of photographic exploits but it was the cold that capped it all. Production of anything worthwhile was to await another day and I picked out my path down the slopes to Scandale Pass. A wall provided a useful navigational handrail and Scandale Tarn was in view too. Eventually, I was to lose that biting breeze on the return to more familiar surroundings.
The way down from Scandale Pass was easy walking and softer ground was met as I plied the banks of Scandale Beck until I reached High Sweden Bridge. It was then that the sun escaped from its cloudy hideout and I got to acquire more pleasing results, to my eyes at least. That appearance of sunshine caused me to diverted around by Low Sweden Bridge but it was soon to disappear again. A goodly number were descending this way to Ambleside, including a sizeable group of students; I wonder if they were attached to the University of Cumbria, whose campus I passed as well.
I was easily back in Ambleside before daylight faded for the day. The town was chock-a-block with people, making any aspiration of having a look in outdoor gear shops utterly impractical. The mercury was really dropping by now as I made for the bus stop for my bus back to Windermere, retracing the journey made that morning by train to Windermere and bus to Ambleside. However, I was left waiting in the cold for up to an hour due to the turning on of Ambleside's Christmas lights and its concomitant disruption of any passing bus services (I wish that I knew about this beforehand so that I could have planned accordingly). I still managed to catch my intended train from Windermere to Oxenholme only to have an hour's delay in Oxenholme due to an incident on the line; being able to wait in the warmth of the indoors helped here. Even so, I was back home before 21:30 after a good day out that might yet be the progenitor of more like it.
Crossing a watershed between Ardlui and Butterbridge
17th November 2008 Over the weekend, I was lured north to Scotland by thoughts of seeing its magnificent countryside lying resplendent in bright sunshine, however fleeting that might have been. However, that halcyon dream was merely just that because the predicted continual improvement in the weather on Saturday proved to be more gradual than had been predicted by the forecasters, so much so that it could have been called an illusion. That mountains can make their own weather may not have helped my cause either.
The weather that I did encounter was more reminiscent of that which I got while out walking around Arrochar and Tarbet in February or March. Then, I got heavy showers that got more progressively slow moving and frequent as the day wore on until they grew into the sort of irritant that made me glad that I was leaving when I did. On that day though, there was some good sunshine at times to make up for all the wetness, but my last excursion was bereft of any such succour, even if holes in cloud did allow glimpses of blue sky and the sun did make feeble attempts to get through. It wasn't to be a day for photography, particularly since making pictures of wide vistas was utterly out of the question.
When I got off a coach at Ardlui, there were grey skies but it was dry after a passing shower. I then made my way down a wet A82 to Garristuck cottage, a little south of Ardlui train station. After a short spell along a track that passed two houses, I was into a field and making my way up the hillside. The path that I was following may have been faint, but that was sufficient to steady any navigational waywardness. The plan was to reach a coll between Stob an Fhithich and Stob nan Connich Bhacain and then drop down to reach a path that was to take me over paths and dams to a 4x4 track that would land me on the A83 near Butterbridge, between Cairndow and Rest and Be Thankful. However, the sight of the crags of Stob an Fhithich resulted in a change of direction and I went around to the other side of that hill to traverse gentler slopes. The gradient may have been manageable, but gentleness wouldn't be a quality that I would ascribe to the terrain that I was crossing. It was waterlogged and grassy with occasional crags, bracken and scrub encountered before I dropped into Srath Dubh-uisge, looking very much part of the catchment area for Loch Sloy. For a while, this was to be the type of walking that could be a more effective workout of the leg muscles than any gym and in much more interesting surroundings.
Picking up that informal path (a wonderful description that I found in Walking World Ireland and it was used to describe something similar) needed a bit of searching to locate it, even with the sights of dam railings and such like; it was merely a line of trampled grass that soon enough brought me onto a good track. Up to this point, I only had one passing shower during the hike, but things were to intensify on the weather front while the walking actually got easier. It was just as well that I was by now well on the way to Butterbridge. Even with the greyness, the murk, the heavy rain and strong winds, the colours of the countryside showed themselves. All the while, my waterproofs and my boots very usefully kept out the dampness while I proved that I too could cope with the conditions as well as my gear did.
I continued my way down Glen Kinglass regardless and started to encounter the only fellow walkers that I'd met all day. Any wonderment as to where they might be headed was partially answered by a sign for a track to Ben Vane that I was to see later on. Because of the conditions, I could only imagine how my surroundings might look at their best as weak sunshine attempted to brighten things up while I made out the road up to Rest and Be Thankful. The A83 came soon enough and I awaited my coach back to civilisation while among high hills that need to be surveyed on a more suitable day. I reckon that I was out among them a day too early and, annoying as that might be, it'll take another visit to see them at their very best and I might even cross that coll between Stob an Fhithich and Stob nan Connich Bhacain too. I may not have left with wonderful photos but I have something equally valuable: more ideas for future outings. Those hills won't go away anytime soon so I hope to be able to stage a return at some suitable juncture.
A return to the familiar when other plans come to nought
10th November 2008 The first day of November saw me make an overdue return to hill country, with Cumbria's Lake District acting as my main destination. I had a few walking locations in mind by the time that I reached Windermere train station; the railways served as my way there and away again. However, my train was late (thanks to a little Saturday morning trespassing on the line near Deansgate) so any plans for a return to Great Langdale needed to be placed on a hold and a broken down bus meant that the Coniston fells still await my footfall. That left the option of an out and back hike from the train station to the top of Yoke, and my revisiting familiar terrain as I went.
Even so, I was far from disgruntled, and the sights from Orrest Head should have put paid to any sense of humbug anyway. It was its usual splendid self while I admired the views, even with a very noisy dog and her apologetic owners. The pooch had the misfortune of an aggressive appearance and an equally aggressive bark, but I soon learnt to ignore her enough to make a few photos. The fells by now have their autumn/winter clothes on them, and there's an occasional dusting of snow to be seen in places too. Panoramic views were just the balm to soothe the soul after the noisy interruptions.
Having bobbed up to Orrest Head from Windermere's train station, I bobbed back down the other side as I made for the road near The Causeway Farm. A very short eastbound piece of tarmac bashing later, I began to cross fields again to reach Moorhowe Road where I repeated the shuffle but reaching a gravel track called Dubbs Road. Shortly after passing Dubbs Reservoir, the views over Troutbeck opened out before me and northern vistas were packed full of gloriously humpy whalebacks of hills. All of this was familiar to me from a previous circular walk from Windermere to Kentmere and a linear wander from Windermere to Staveley by way of Kentmere.
Passing a wood to my left, I emerged onto the rougher track that is Garburn Road. In so doing, I left the dodging of puddles that took up near enough the width of the track behind me; these were there on my previous hikes too, so I was unsurprised by their size. In place of those puddles, I got steeper slopes and looser surface that tested the nimbleness of my ankles. Garburn Pass was reached soon enough and, rather than descending to Kentmere as I have done on those previous visits, I left the wide track for an initially boggier one taking me higher up the slopes.
That boggy bit was to turn into a very good gravel path, and it surprises me that there wasn't a good track all the way, but I suppose that it keeps some in their place. As I went ever upward, views to my right opened out before me and the houses of Kentmere could be seen. Ever mindful of time, I continued to inch my way up Yoke with an appropriate number of photography stops. The summit wasn't long coming, even if there was an extra cairn lurking to confuse the unwary. I was tempted by the prospect of Ill Bell, but consciousness of the remaining hours of daylight and the prospect of losing a lot of height before regaining it again made me see sense; the sight of an oncoming shower helped to wean me away too. That other hill can wait for another day.
I came down Yoke in the dampness, and I need to admit that having to pull on waterproofs did cost me some time. Given that the rain didn't stay long, I am left wondering if it would have been better braving it, but you never know with these things, and it's often better to be safe than sorry. The sun was lowering in the sky all the while as I retraced my steps, and I was happy to be making progress all the while. When I made Garburn Road, I decided to stick with that track rather than continuing along Dubbs Road because of the hour that it was. That meant descending on a lot of loose surface, and it did begin to take its toll on my patience, so it was not before time that I left it for the much smoother Longmire Road, another track in spite of the name.
My plan was to return to tarmac before the light dropped too much since I wasn't wanting to have navigational nightmares in the dusk, let alone the dark; it was an objective that was easily achieved. As it happened, I did see someone else who was going to run that gauntlet of crossing fields at dusk, but I left him to it as I descended by minor roads to the A592 that would carry me onto the A591 for the final stretch back to Windermere train station. Even with failing light, the greatest challenge in all of this was one that I encountered earlier in the day: getting across the A591. Thankfully, a kind lady did me a favour for the second crossing.
It had been a great day to revisiting an old haunt but with an added twist. Ill Bell might not have been summited, but hills always last more than a day and Yoke did well what was asked of it. Other plans that fell by the wayside can be kept on file for future visits. What really matters is that I enjoyed the day out, and I remain hopeful of more like it.
Straight into the gallery
30th October 2008 A visit to family in Ireland last month allowed me a day trip to the beauty spot that is Gougane Barra; somewhere to which I have devoted a previous post on here. That also followed a day trip there when the skies remained resolutely grey with any photos not being the type of thing that I'd share on here. In fact, it seems that many of my trips to Gougane over the years have been on cloudy days. My most recent outing looked as if it might have been the same, with the forecast predicting a rain band moving south over Ireland. In the event, we managed to see Gougane under blue skies with the sun making it out from behind any clouds to make photography a more than worthwhile pursuit. The result is that I have some pleasing photos from my excursion and these have now made their way into the West Cork section of the photo gallery and I have taken the chance to freshen up some existing ones too.
The addition of new photos has not been the sole change to that online photo gallery. Some work has gone into simplifying navigation and enhancing the search facility. Behind the scenes, the wonders of ImageMagick (it's a neat command line tool, but that probably makes it best for technophiles) have been such that the process of adding new photos is now more streamlined than it ever was. Even so, the need for devoting some attention to each individual photo doesn't go away and that is regardless of whether it was made on film or digitally. Nevertheless, any time saved might make me add new photos to the gallery on a more regular basis than has been the case in recent times. After all, there's a potential new section for the Western Isles on the horizon and more photos from other outings to be shared.
