Category: Trip Reports
A Scorching Sojourn: The Parched Paths of Macclesfield
26th July 2006 As I pen these lines, the United Kingdom is basking in the prolonged warmth of a summer heatwave. While such delightful weather undeniably holds its allure, it also carries certain pitfalls, one of which is the looming specter of drought. A leisurely ramble around Macclesfield last Sunday week served as a stark reminder of this reality.
The countryside, typically a verdant tapestry of vibrant hues, now wore a somber brown palette. The ground beneath my feet was dusty in some places, cracked and parched in others - a testament to the ravages of the dry weather. My journey began along the Macclesfield Canal, before I ventured onto a footpath leading me towards Gawsworth. Returning using a combination of footpaths and roadways, I was reminded that even in such conditions, the great outdoors continues to offer a unique blend of challenges and rewards.
Walking under the scorching sun necessitates a degree of caution. While some might argue against rambling during such sweltering weather, especially for the very young, the elderly, or those with underlying health issues, I believe there's a way to navigate these conditions prudently. Essential items such as ample water and sunscreen become indispensable companions on such outings. One must always prioritize the prevention of conditions like sunburn, melanoma, sunstroke, and heatstroke.
Peering into my weather app, I was reassured to see that rain is indeed forecast, interspersed with bouts of sunshine. A recent meteorological prediction hints at a milder, wetter winter than usual - a hint we might as well heed and make the most of the remaining warm days.
My ramble around Macclesfield served not only as a reminder of nature's cyclical transformation but also as a testament to its resilience. It offered a silent soliloquy on the beauty that lies in adapting to the elements, and the joy that comes from exploring the great outdoors, even in challenging conditions.
As the leaves begin to turn and the days grow shorter, let us not forget the lessons learned on our sun-kissed ramble. Let us embrace the coming changes with open arms, ready to explore the beauty that each season brings. And who knows? Perhaps the next adventure awaits just around the corner of a dusty path, leading us to new discoveries and memories yet to be made.
Yorkshire to Cumbria: A Ramble
5th July 2006 As I write this, the World Cup is coming towards its climactic end and a heat wave has nearly run its course. While I certainly know what has been happening with the football, I have tended to find other things to do instead of watching it. I have nothing against football but, as you might tell, I am light years from being obsessive about it. Even so, someone (a total stranger to me) was asking if I was watching Germany playing Italy and opined that I didn't like football when he heard that I wasn't. As it happened, when I completed my ramble last Saturday, England were playing Portugal and it was easy to sense the excitement. However, I had no inclination to watch, for reasons that may become apparent in a while.
Saturday was forecast to be cooler than Sunday so that's when I decided to walk from Ribblehead to Sedbergh, Yorkshire to Cumbria. This area was subject to country boundary changes in the 1970's when Cumbria was created from Cumberland, Westmoreland and parts of Yorkshire and Lancashire. The result is that part of Cumbria is within the Yorkshire Dales National Park, the boundary of which still follows the old county border. Further confusion is likely if, as has been put forward, the Lake District and Yorkshire Dales National Parks are extended to protect area lying outside of them such as the Howgill Fells (near Sedbergh) and Borrowdale (the one near Tebay). Planning permission for a wind farm in the former has recently been refused. The whole issue highlighted the natural beauty of the areas left out of the two nearby national parks.
The Howgill Fells cannot be missed if you are going on either the M6 or the West Coast Mainline. My ramble to Sedbergh allowed me a closer, if fleeting, look at them and the journey from Sedbergh to Kirkby Stephen really shows their extent. A word of warning though: don't drive and look at the hills simultaneously for there are sheep likely to be walking the road.
From Ribblehead, I skirted around Whernside on the Craven Way (a bridleway unpleasantly rutted in places) to join the Dales Way which I followed until near Sedbergh. Part of my journey took in the lower section of the bridleway headed for Whernside's summit (subject of an earlier day out) but these had so many out on it that it was the walker's equivalent of the M6 but I got off it and things soon became quieter and more pleasurable, an amazing sight when you see the hoards heading a different way from less than 100 metres away from you. I was glad that I tackled Whernside earlier in the year.
After not following my instincts, I lost 15 minutes finding the Dales Way from the Craven Way (someone put a church on the map but you couldn't see it!). From here I strode past Dent to Sedbergh (covering something like 6 miles in a bit of a hurry) but missed my bus. I was a little worse for wear after my exertions, my excuse for missing out on the football, so I waited a while before calling a taxi to get to Kirkby Stephen railway station and begin my train journey home.
This was not my first foray along the Yorkshire-Cumbria border since I was hopping over and back across the line in question while exploring Garsdale in 2004. I got some heavy showers that day, unlike last Saturday, before the evening cleared up and showed me what the area offered. If it is wild country that you are after, this part of the Yorkshire Dales has it in spades. It also means that public transport provision isn't what it might be, so you need to be careful.
Southern Scotland Revisited
18th June 2006 The last two weekends have seen me revisit southern Scotland. This weekend saw me venture among the Southern uplands. My base was Lockerbie (of Pan Am 103 fame) but my walking took me in and around Moffat. One of my rambles was a circular route involving the Southern Upland Way. When I was returning to Moffat by road, a friendly motorist offered a lift to Moffat and I took him up on the offer (not something that I'd normally do for obvious reasons...).
That gave me more time for exploring, and I got a glimpse of the Devil's Beef Tub to boot. Later, I also got to Lochmaben, four miles from Lockerbie. All this got done yesterday but, though pleasant, the day was largely cloudy, and the sun came out just as I had to leave Moffat for Lockerbie (sod's law, really): a later bus would have been perfect. The threat of rain today brought me home on the first southbound train of the day. Nevertheless, the scenery was wonderful, and a return is very tempting.
Last weekend, I planned to savour the hills around Wooler in Northumberland, only for accommodation availability in Berwick-upon-Tweed to change my plans, though it was still useful for a Friday night arrival. Next day, I took myself off to Galashiels by bus and dropped off part of my load at the Abbotsford Arms Hotel (Abbotsford was the name of Sir Walter Scott's home in the area) before using another bus to head for a ramble from Peebles to Innerleithen by way of an old drovers' road and the Southern Upland Way. Unlike yesterday, the sun was very much out, and it would have been quite hot if a useful, if strong, breeze hadn't blown up. Sunday saw me take a short stroll around Galashiels before heading home, starting with a bus journey to Berwick-upon-Tweed and continuing by train from there.
Travel Arrangements
Return train journey between Macclesfield and Lockerbie; return bus journey between Lockerbie and Moffat. Bus journey from Lochmaben back to Lockerbie.
Return train journey between Macclesfield and Berwick-upon-Tweed. On bus route 67 from there to Galashiels via Coldstream, and bus route 60 via Duns to get me back to Berwick-upon-Tweed from there. Onward travel from Galashiels to Peebles on bus service 62, followed by another on the same route from Innerleithen to Galashiels.
A first visit to Pembrokeshire
6th June 2006 Here is an account of my trip to Pembrokeshire last weekend. An article in TGO and the gift of a fine weekend propelled a somewhat hastily arranged visit. The fact that I was in Ireland on what turned out to be a gardening holiday (yes, work rather than leisure) didn’t allow me any more time to pull myself together. As if that weren't enough, a Friday afternoon meeting threatened to derail an already precarious plan.
Nevertheless, I did get there in the end. After work, I headed south-west on a journey that took me around by Birmingham. Bristol and Swansea. Defeating the conspiracy of a late First Great Western express to scupper the last leg of the journey, I got to Carmarthen almost as planned (even if I was 20 minutes late!); the provision by FGW of a taxi from Swansea helped towards that end.
The next morning, I got to my Pembrokeshire base of Haverfordwest. That might come as a surprise to some but it functioned as intended and I got to sample the Pembrokeshire Coast Path, which was my main reason for coming all this way. Public transport options allowed me to savour the delights around St. David’s, Marloes and Newport before I made my way back home on Monday. That gave me plenty of walking and sea air to enjoy, even if things got a little too hot at times. The up-and-down nature of the stretch between Newgale and St. David’s left me feeling a little “cream-crackered” but the walking around Marloes was a lot easier on the legs. Only having an hour or two meant that I only got a brief taste of the hill country around Newport, but a return is a definite possibility.
My journey home took me through Cardigan, Aberystwyth, Shrewsbury and Crewe, but this was more direct than the way that I came and could be the way I would go if I got the opportunity to return again. After all, there is much more to see. For instance, the Preseli hills are definitely worthy of exploration and I only sampled a fraction of the 186 mile (299 km) length of the Pembrokeshire Coast Path (though the heavily industrialised section around Pembroke and Milford Haven is an acquired taste).
A bank holiday trip to the Scottish Highlands
3rd May 2006 The prospect of fine weather meant that I took myself up to the Scottish Highlands for the May Day Bank Holiday weekend. To make the most of time, albeit at the expense of a sound sleep, I got there thanks to the overnight National Express 336 service to Glasgow and then the 07:00 Scottish Citylink departure to Fort William. Thanks to congestion on the motorways, the National Express service left Manchester an hour late but was only 15 minutes late when it got to Glasgow!
Despite a load of bikers descending on Fort William for the weekend as they traditionally do, I managed to find somewhere to stay on Saturday night. Once I dropped off some of my stuff at the B&B, I caught a train from Fort William to Corrour. From Corrour, I walked along hill tracks skirting Loch Treig and Allt na Lairige all the way to Spean Bridge. Along the way, I got to pass through some pretty wild country, but all was pleasant in the sunshine.
The next day, I left a cloudy Fort William on another Citylink coach and headed towards a sunnier Inverness before stationing myself in Pitlochry for the night after a train journey. My planning hadn't got to booking my Sunday night accommodation on the Saturday and got a surprise when I found Inverness tourist office shut! The Fort William office was also shut, but I already knew about that; Inverness though was unexpected, especially considering its recently gained city status. In the event, a quick call to Visit Scotland wasn't long in sorting things out.
When in Pitlochry, I did consider walking to the top of nearby Ben Vrackie, but I arrived at my hotel at around 18:30, and I usually don't start that kind of expedition at that hour of the evening. In the event, I did take in the fine evening with a short stroll but, the next morning, it was raining lightly, and I didn't feel like carrying a laden rucksack to the top of an 841 metres high mountain, so I began the train journey home. Maybe one for another time then...
