Scout Scar

Monday 21st December 2015

Two weeks before I did this walk the Lake District suffered record amounts of rainfall leading to serious flooding across the county of Cumbria. This made me worried about the short holiday that I had planned for just before Christmas, which is one of the problems inherent in booking a walking holiday months in advance, especially in Britain where the weather is notoriously changeable. The enjoyment of a walk is highly dependent on the weather as it is much more enjoyable walking in sunny conditions than in dull, overcast weather. When I got off the train in the town of Kendal, just outside the Lake District, it was raining, windy and generally miserable. It was not the sort of weather that you would choose to go walking in, but since I was there I obstinately started off on the walk that I had planned to do, despite the weather. My intention was to do the first walk detailed in Wainwright’s pictorial guide to the Outlying Fells of Lakeland, which is to Scout Scar via Cunswick Scar from Kendal.

After passing through the town I climbed steeply up to the Serpentine Woods on excellent paths that snake through the woodland. Even in winter and under heavy rain these woods seemed a delightful place to walk and must be an amazing place in the spring when woodland flowers are in bloom. Unfortunately the woods are very small and crisscrossed by so many paths I wasn’t sure where I had emerged from them or whether I was on the right path, and the OS map was no help to me. I had found myself on a sloping shelf overlooking the murky town of Kendal crossing Kendal Fell on the edge of a golf course. The ground underfoot consisted of rocks that were suspiciously whiter than the usual dull grey rocks typically found in the Lake District as these were limestone, which is more usually found in the Yorkshire Dales, but sneaks into this south-western corner of the Lakes with dramatic effect.

Under the miserable conditions I followed a clear path that was not actually the route described by Wainwright, which follows the right-of-way beside a wall and below Kettlewell Crag. My path eventually joined the orthodox route after Kettlewell Crag and once I had crossed over the golf course (no danger of anyone playing in this weather!) I followed the path down to the bridge over the Kendal Western Bypass, one of the main roads into the Lake District. On the other side was an open pasture filled with dead bracken and stumpy, little wind-swept trees that was a pleasure to walk through with the wind behind me until I reached a large pile of stones at the northern tip of Cunswick Scar. Unfortunately I now had to turn into the wind and follow the edge of Cunswick Scar where there is a dramatic drop off the edge of the limestone escarpment into thick woodland. The weather was really harsh as it lashed into my face forcing me to keep my head down as I made my way south beside the edge of Cunswick Scar.

Towards the southern end of the scar I was hit by a particularly harsh onslaught of wind and rain that had me cowering on the ground desperate for any shelter on this exposed edge, even if it was merely my own back. It is at times like this that I wonder why I do this, when I could have been anywhere except getting soaked on a Cumbrian fell. However, soon after this the rain actually stopped, and after crossing a road a wide track led me to the start of Scout Scar from where I could see the sun was beginning to peak out from behind the clouds. By the time I reached the shelter known locally as ‘the umbrella’ or ‘the mushroom’ the clouds were clearing to reveal stunning views north towards the Lakeland Fells, and south down the Lyth Valley where extensive flood waters could be seen glistening in the sunlight.

The transformation in such a short time was astonishing and made the views even more amazing and special to behold, however it was still very windy and the umbrella was a poor shelter from the wind as I had my lunch. Despite the wonderful sunny weather and stunning views, the wind was still bitterly cold so I was still snugly wrapped up in my waterproofs as I made my way down the edge of Scout Scar. I was enjoying the views, but the wind was making the walking unpleasant enough so that when I reached a trig point, just after crossing a wall, I turned my back on the stunning views from the edge of Scout Scar, and headed back towards Kendal. Wainwright’s route would have had me continue south for only a little while longer until I reached a cairn where I would have been able to take a path across the fell. There was not much difference in the two routes and the landscape that I was crossing was just as fabulous being filled with limestone in outcrops and with mini-pavements that included the plant-filled cracks known as grikes.

It was wonderful simply being away from the wind and this helped me have a really enjoyable walk across the limestone landscape until I eventually reached the path that I would have taken if I had continued on Wainwright’s route. This took me across a former racecourse and onto a road that eventually led me back into the town of Kendal. The sun didn’t stay out for long and it was soon raining again as I came back into Kendal. This was a very short walk, when the weather wasn’t on my side for most of the day, but when it was, it revealed some stunning scenery that shows how good this walk would be at the right time of the year and with better weather. I should be thankful that, despite the bad weather that I was subjected to, I was also treated to the stunning views that can be seen from Scout Scar.

The National Forest Way, Stage Four

Saturday 13th December 2014

Sence Valley to Ashby de la Zouch

I had planned on doing a stage of the National Forest Way each month, but the demands of work, which had had a detrimental effect on stage three, dictated that I wouldn’t be able to return to the trail until just before Christmas. I had actually attempted to do this stage in November, but poor planning and bad weather had forced me to abandon that walk soon after it had started. Now I parked at the Snibston Country Park, which has been built on a former colliery spoil heap and reclaimed to form woodland with an open, rough grassland area. It was very cold when I started with ice on the roads when I drove in and a deep frost on the ground. I wrapped up snuggly before starting and headed off into the country park climbing to the top of the old spoil heap that is now dubbed Pit Bank. In better weather the views should be good from this vantage point, but the cold ground was creating an inversion with mist covering the low ground. There was nevertheless an eerie atmosphere and one that stayed with me for the rest of the increasingly dull walk.

Descending along a narrowing ridge I came down to a service road and gradually got more and more lost until I eventually got out a map, which I really should have done earlier. When I realised where I was I turned around and eventually found a right-of-way that passes just outside Grange Nature Reserve that took me onto a road not far from the tiny village of Snibston. A dull path through farmer’s fields brought me into Donington le Heath, which I had passed through on the previous stage, but rather than following the route of stage three I now took a footpath that heads towards what I thought was going to be Kelham Bridge Nature Reserve, but actually goes into the National Forest woodland of Kelham Bridge that lies to the north of the reserve. White frost remained on the ground as I passed through the young woodland and over a frosty field to the byway that skirts the edge of Sence Valley Forest Park.

I had been to this country park three months previously when I did stage three of the National Forest Way, but the changing seasons had transformed the park into a winter wonderland with bare trees and dead, frost-laden foliage on the ground. The crisp cold air under clear blue skies had frozen the ground solid, but as I made my along a footpath that follows the western edge of the park I came upon mud that had thawed and was unpleasant to walk along, and eventually forced me to enter the park earlier than I’d planned. Following the wide, clear path down to the large Horseshoe Lake I circled around it while taking in the wintry views across the lake where various wildfowl were congregated on the partially frozen lake. I made my way around the lake and up the steep path to the car park where Christmas trees were being sold by the National Forest company.

The upper car park is where stage four of the National Forest Way begins so it was at this point that I once again descended onto the byway and this time turned left to follow the byway onto Heather Lane. A short walk along the road brought me to another footpath that soon led me to the Woodland
Trust’s Queen Elizabeth Diamond Jubilee Wood. This covers an extensive area where over 300,000 trees have been planted to mark the 2012 Diamond Jubilee of the Queen, however that was only two year and a half years before I did this walk and the actual planting hadn’t started until November 2012, and continued through into 2014. Consequently the recently planted trees were still very small, so the whole thing didn’t really look like a wood yet. However, it was fascinating to see that all the trails through the wood had already been laid out complete with direction posts. This looks like it’s eventually going to be a great woodland, but not for a very long time, which is a problem with all the new woods that have been planted as part of the National Forest, even those planted more than fifteen years ago.

At the other end of the Jubilee Wood I reached the tiny village of Normanton le Heath, but from there the trail deteriorates as I crossed field after field with nothing of interest until I reached Red Burrow Lane. On the other side of the road is some sort of community wood, but I can find no information about it, however I do remember it as being so attractive that I veered off-course through it down to the Gilwiskaw Brook. Eventually I realised that I was not on the trail so I took a path back onto the right route that took me into the picturesque village of Packington. From there the National Forest Way heads over the busy A42 and enters the bustling market town of Ashby de la Zouch. With carols being played loudly on Market Street I caught a bus out of Ashby and back over the A42 to the village of Coleorton, which is where I had done my aborted walk the month before. Footpaths are astonishingly dense in this area and I had an enjoyable little wander around Coleorton Moor retracing my brief steps of the month before as I tried to find my way through the maze of footpaths.

To be honest I can hardly remember the end of this walk as I had lost all interest even though the surroundings were quite picturesque. Looking at a map I must have passed Limby Hall on my way to Cuckoo Gap Wood, which I think was a good, well-established wood that should have left more of an impression on me than it did. Somehow I got over the railway line and the main A511 road and through what is marked as a wood on the map, but all I seem to remember is a dreary, typical urban park. Long before I was back at Snibston Park I had decided that I wouldn’t continue doing the National Forest Way until the winter was over. While the frost had held at the beginning of the day, this walk had held some interest for me, but after I left Sence Valley Park I wasn’t enjoying the walk. By the end I just wanted it to end even though I was passing through what in the Spring must be a lovely woodland, but in the winter and with the mood that I was in I thought it was just dull and muddy.

The National Forest Way, Stage Three

Saturday 13th September 2014

Thornton Reservoir to Sence Valley

Last year I started walking the newly opened National Forest Way and did one stage each month. By September I was up to stage three and was entering ‘King Coal’ country, where the famous ‘black gold’ has been mined for centuries. After the coal mines started closing down in this area in the Nineties, a plan was devised to turn the scarred landscape left behind into a network of woods and nature reserves covering an area of the East Midlands that had previously few trees. At the end of the second stage I had reached the village of Thornton, so that is where I now started, at the reservoir that lies beside the village. After walking along the dam I proceeded along the track that follows the edge of the reservoir and only then realised that I had been there before. I had done a walk around this reservoir five years ago, and just as then I had an enjoyable walk in the morning sunshine around the small reservoir with many late summer wildflowers adding to the pretty picture.

At the western end of the reservoir I turned right onto the route that I had taken the previous month, but soon turned off into Browns Wood to follow a diagonal right-of-way across a typical National Forest wood. Somehow I made a wrong turning and ended up back on my previous month's route in the north-eastern corner, which necessitated a confused retreat back through the wood until I found the gap in the hedge that I’d missed before. Another path took me through a young wood called the Partings and eventually brought me to the village of Stanton under Bardon. After my earlier navigational confusion I was now in more familiar territory as I climbed onto the top of the wooded embankment that screens New Cliffe Hill Quarry. This young woodland is enjoyable to walk through and even more delightful for me was a large meadow filled with many wildflowers of different colours and shapes.

I was entranced as I took many photos, some even while lying along the ground to get a close-up of the flowers. However my earlier wanderings in Browns Wood and now my fascination with the wildflowers had occupied a lot of time and I still had a long way to go just to get onto the National Forest Way. I had planned on diverting to the top of Bardon Hill, the highest point in Leicestershire, but since it was already past midday I bypassed all of that and made my way as fast as I could towards Sence Valley Park. I continued to skirt the edge of the quarry even though the landscape was now considerably less interesting. After crossing a road I took a path that runs between an industrial park and the railway line to the quarry. This path was seriously overgrown with rosebay willowherb that was shedding its feathering seed all over me as I struggled along the path until finally I came down to and across the railway line.

I was mindful of the advancing clock because I needed to go to work once I’d finished this walk, so I didn’t want to be late. I rushed through dull scenery eventually reaching a relatively large area of woodland full of young trees, but I was in far too much of a hurry to linger as I quickly passed through until I reached the Overton Road at the far end of the wood. A walk along the road through the edge of Ibstock and along the road towards Heather brought me to Sence Valley Forest Park. This was once part of a large opencast coal mine, but has now been transformed into a delightful nature reserve with three lakes below steep wooded slopes that has turned the area from a black scar into a wonderful green bowl. I had never been to Sence Valley Park before, but I was immediately mesmerised as I paused from my headlong dash to have my lunch. Sadly I couldn’t linger in this fascinating place as I needed to get back to Thornton as quickly as possible and I still hadn’t started stage three of the National Forest Way.

From the upper car park at Sence Valley I finally began stage three by walking down to a byway that skirts the park and following that across the main road towards Kelham Bridge Nature Reserve. I had been hoping to see some interesting wildlife during my traverse, but the footpath that I was following doesn’t seem to actually go through the reserve so the best that I was able to see was a distant view of a disused railway bridge, presumably the eponymous Kelham Bridge. On the other side of the reserve I came to the small village of Donington le Heath where the National Forest Way turns south at a right angle and heads through boring farmland and the village of Ellistown until it eventually reaches Common Hill Wood, part of the large woodland that I had raced through earlier. At that time I had been heading from east to west, but now I crossed my earlier path at right angles heading from north to south. The trail passes through Workman’s Wood on its way to Battram Wood at the southern end of the woodland.

I was still rushing as I was now convinced that unless I ran the last several miles, then I would be late for work, so the remainder of this walk passed in a blur. When I reached Bagworth I abandoned the route of the National Forest Way in favour of a more direct route onto Heath Road and through Bagworth Heath Woods on the route of the Leicestershire Round. After crossing the railway line again I climbed up to the village of Thornton and then back down to the perimeter path of Thornton Reservoir which I followed back to my car. The linking route that I had devised to get me back to the start on this walk was far too long for the time that I had, but more significantly I had done this stage in an easterly direction even though I was actually doing the National Forest Way in a westerly direction. Once I’d realised that this walk was going to take too long it started to pass in a blur so that now I remember little of it, and I never technically completed the whole route of the stage.

The National Forest Way, Stage One

Saturday 9th August 2014

Beacon Hill to Bradgate Park

In the summer of 2014 I began an attempt to walk the entire length of the recently opened National Forest Way, which is a seventy-five mile trail through the counties of Leicestershire, Derbyshire and Staffordshire. Until recently this area was heavily industrialised resulting in a significant lack of trees in the area, so the National Forest project was an attempt to redress this lack and create a new forest in the transforming landscape. I actually started the trail the previous month with stage two from Bradgate Park to Thornton Reservoir because the first stage covers ground that I walk frequently through the craggy uplands of Charnwood Forest, which is where the best walking can be found in Leicestershire. Consequently this is where I often end up when the weather is good and I want to do a hill walk to up my fitness for my infrequent mountain walks. I have created a six hour walk through Charnwood Forest that includes a traverse between Beacon Hill and Bradgate Park so this stage wouldn’t cover any new ground, or so I thought and that was why I had missed it out.

However, after doing the second stage in July 2014 I decided that it wouldn’t be right to miss out the first stage so I made plans to do that next. I did, though, have other problems. I was very busy at work, even at the weekend, and had little time to spare for walking. On this day I was able to spare a few hours but not the full six hours that my Charnwood Forest Round usually takes me, so rather than using the route of my round to return to the start I came up with a brand new route that is not only shorter but full of interest. I parked in the village of Woodhouse Eaves, as I often do, and headed up the leafy Mill Road branching off to climb steeply through woodland to a lookout point where the base of an old windmill provides a platform for extensive views. I had been to the top of Windmill Hill many times, but I think this was first time that the windmill had actually been open when I was there, although there is nothing in the mill except for stairs to a viewing platform.

A short, quick, descent through the wood and across a road brought me into Beacon Hill Country Park and at the lower car park is the actual start of the National Forest Way. Eagerly I set off along the trail walking along a wide track through woodland gradually climbing until eventually I reached the top of Beacon Hill where extensive views can be seen across North Leicestershire. Resuming my trek along the track that circles around the park I slowly made my way back down the hill until I reached a signpost where a National Forest Way marker indicated that I should turn right out of the park into Broombriggs Farm. This is owned by Leicestershire County Council and is crisscrossed by paths with explanation boards that describe how farms can be managed in the traditional way. I passed through the farm and onto Maplewell Road on the outskirts of Woodhouse Eaves.

Just after passing the end of Mill Road, where I had started this walk, I turned right onto a new diversion for me as the trail took me up the steep dead-end of Victoria Road. At the top of the road I turned left onto a short path that brought me onto the road that I often take out of Woodhouse Eaves. I was now following my Charnwood round and I walked beside the road down Brand Hill until after several bends in the road I entered Swithland Woods. The National Forest Way takes a slightly different route through the wood than I would normally take as I like to immerse myself in this fabulous ancient wood where in the spring bluebells and wood anemones are found in abundance. A permissive path beside Swithland Wood Farm took me out of the wood and across the road onto a track whose goal was plain to see before me. The iconic folly of Old John was sitting on the eponymous hill before me as I gradually made my way along the lane and into Bradgate Park.

However, instead of entering the park the trail follows a right-of-way around the edge of the park to Hunt’s Hill and only then enters the park with Old John Tower standing prominently before me. A steep climb up the grassy slopes and around the crags that defend the tower brought me to the top where extensive views can once again be seen, this time extending over the City of Leicester. This is the point where, on stage two, I joined the National Forest Way so it was the point where I now left it as I descended bracken covered slopes after paying my respects at the war memorial. I left Bradgate Park on my usual footpath that brings out into the village of Newtown Linford west of the main car park, and turned right along the road. At a road junction I left my usual route and branched left onto a footpath that follows the Ulverscroft Brook through several fields. The strong smell of Himalayan Balsam was unmissable as were thick bushes full of the pink flowers. This is one of the most intrusive plants in Britain, along with Japanese Knotweed and Rhododendron, but I love the smell and was quite entranced by them.

The balsam followed the brook and was in places completely over-powering as I made my way along the footpath until I eventually reached Lea Meadow Nature reserve. I first came to this reserve three years ago and found an amazing wildflower meadow overflowing with butterflies. Hundreds seemed to fly up with every step that I took and made for a truly magically experience. As often seems to be the case, subsequent visits have failed to match my memory of that first visit even though on this occasion the meadow was filled with many delightful wildflowers that were a pleasure to walk through. On leaving the reserve I made my way along a road and onto a path that passes the ruins of Ulverscroft Priory and eventually reached Beacon Hill once again and from there returned to Woodhouse Eaves. This was necessarily a short walk, but I had completed the first stage of the National Forest Way even though I have walked most of that stage many times before. The return journey through Lea Meadows was a delight that I have retraced several times since.

The National Forest Way, Stage Two

Saturday 12th July 2014

Bradgate Park to Thornton Reservoir

Around this time of the year I usually run out of walks that I have done recently that I can talk about in this blog, and usually start to describe walks that I did more than ten years ago. This year, however, I don’t need to go back that far as there is a series of walks that I completed over the space of ten months not too long ago that I haven’t put on this blog yet. In May 2014 a new long distance trail was opened through the fledgling National Forest, where an attempt has been made to correct the shortage of trees in the East Midlands of England by planting millions of new trees between the ancient woodlands of Charnwood and Needham. The scheme was started in 1995 and over the last twenty years the trees have gradually been planted in many places in Leicestershire, Derbyshire, and Staffordshire. I have walked through many of these new plantations in Leicestershire before, but had not ventured any further into the National Forest to explore the wide variety of landscapes that are found in the area, so I was eager to start walking the way as soon as possible.

The National Forest Way starts, or ends, at the Beacon Hill Country Park in Leicestershire, and since that is my home county I thought I’d start from there. However the first stage, between Beacon Hill and Bradgate Park covers ground that I’ve walked hundreds of times before so I thought I’d skip that first stage and start with the second stage, which starts in the village of Newtown Linford, just outside the gates of Bradgate Park. Instead of parking at Bradgate Park where the parking fees are high I decided to park at the end of the second stage, in the village of Thornton. I had decided that the best way for me to cover the National Forest Way was for me to walk along each stage and then find my own, different way back to the start of that stage, or in the case of this stage, to walk to the start and then follow the National Forest Way back to my car. Therefore on this walk I didn’t start by walking along the National Forest Way, but along the Leicestershire Round.

I’ve never been interested in doing the whole of this one hundred mile walk before, but I have done this section between Thornton and Bradgate so I knew where I was going as I followed the path from the western end of Thornton Reservoir. After passing along the edge of Browns Wood, which is a National Forest Wood, I passed under the M1 motorway and entered the village of Markfield where I couldn’t resist a quick, sneaky visit to the delightful Hill Hole Quarry Nature Reserve. On the far side of the village I passed underneath the A50 dual carriageway and joined the route of my Charnwood Forest round that I seem to do every couple of months in order to keep up my hill walking fitness. This very familiar route, still on the Leicestershire Round, took me past John’s Lee Wood and through woods that have also been planted as part of the National Forest scheme. Soon I was in the tiny village of Newtown Linford and the start of this stage of the National Forest Way, but I wasn’t ready to start yet.

Instead I headed into Bradgate Park and climbed to the top of Old John, the highest point in the country park where extensive views can be seen across the City of Leicester. I was now actually on the route of the National Forest Way, towards the end of stage one, which ends by descending the bracken-covered slopes of the hill to the ruins of Bradgate House. This early brick-built house is famous for being the birthplace of Lady Jane Grey who was Queen of England for just nine days. I had never been around the ruins before and was surprised to discover that it was open and free for everyone to wander around. Since I had never been inside the ruins before I took full advantage even though there wasn’t really much to see. Bradgate Park is a very popular place with the majority of the crowds staying beside the tarmacked, unfenced road that goes past Bradgate House from Newtown Linford to the car park at Hallgates. I usually stay away from the road and on this warm Saturday in the summer I needed little convincing of the wisdom.

Turning right at Bradgate House I followed the stream of crowds along the road to the main gates that lead out of the park and into Newtown Linford. This marked the end of stage one and is also the point where I could finally start stage two of the National Forest Way. A footpath beside the village shop immediately brought me into what is uncharted territory for me, which is astounding considering the enormous amount of walking that I have done in the area. I was soon also taken aback by the sight of a gorgeous wildflower meadow that was covered in flowers of many different types and colours. At one time meadows such as this were a common sight but modern farming techniques have made them very rare so it was a delight to see this excellent example of a wildflower meadow at the peak of its display. I wish I could have lingered in the meadows but I had a lot of ground still to cover so I kept going, passing through Lady Hay Wood and after crossing the A50 again I skirted the edge of Groby entering Martinshaw Wood.

I had never been in this extensive wood before and I was astonished that I had missed out on a treat as the sight of many Bluebell seed heads indicated delights earlier in the year and had me making plans for the following spring to see this wood at its very best. After crossing the M1 again I passed through a smaller section of the wood before crossing the Markfield Road and entering Pear Tree Wood, which was an early planting in the National Forest. There is a clear difference between established woods like Martinshaw and the new plantations of Pear Tree Wood. The trees in these newer woods are noticeably smaller, more densely planted and with no woodland flowers underneath. This last characteristic is particularly disappointing for me and constantly had me longing for the ancient woodland of the Charnwood Forest. In the woods of Ratby Burroughs I became confused about my route as I was relying on the sketchy map and vague descriptions on the leaflet downloaded from the National Forest Way website.

I eventually went the wrong way in Burroughs Wood and ended up passing beside the Forest Hill Golf Club on a wide bridlepath instead of taking the narrower footpath out of the wood to the north of Old Hays Farm. By the time I was reunited with the National Forest Way I was becoming tired and the final section through several farmer’s fields that eventually brought me back to the village of Thornton did little to engage my enthusiasm. This was a poor end to what had been an enjoyable walk at the start of my attempt to complete the National Forest Way. The meadows that I encountered near the start of the stage were a delight and the woods in the middle of the stage had me clambering to return in the spring, but after Burroughs Wood the walk deteriorated as I lost my way and became tired. On subsequent stages I made sure that I had a copy of the Ordnance Survey map for the area as the maps provided with the directions were not very clear.

The Manifold Valley and Dovedale

Saturday 10th October 2015

Two weeks before this walk I went over the Roaches and on the way there I’d driven through the village of Waterhouses on the southern edge of the Peak District. This had brought to mind a walk that I did back in 2003 along the Manifold Way in hot weather just a couple of days before going to the Lake District. Once my mind had started thinking about the Manifold Valley I felt a longing to return to the area and tie it in with a visit to the nearby valley of the ever-popular Dovedale so at the earliest opportunity I drove back to Waterhouses and set off along the Manifold Way. I hadn’t planned on starting the walk by going that way but I’d already realised that I’d forgotten to bring a map of the Peak District with me and I wasn’t sure of my route to the village of Ilam at the southern end of Dovedale. Assuming that I would find a shop that stocked maps somewhere in the Manifold Valley I set off along the Manifold Way.

The Manifold Way is a cycle-route and several bike-hire shops exist in Waterhouses to take advantage of this, so when I walked through the valley in 2003 I was passed by many people on bicycles. However, I was now walking on a crisp, cold October morning and all the cycle shops were closed leaving me with the cycle path all to myself. I was wrapped up warm with my gloves on and was having a relaxing and enjoyable stroll along the tarmacked track that passes through the valley along the line of a disused light railway. The Manifold Way passes over the River Hamps many times through a heavily wooded valley and when I was there the leaves on the trees were beginning to turn an autumnal golden colour. The delightful, sylvan scenery compensated for the flat, tarmacked surface underfoot. After passing the limestone crag of Beeston Tor the valley opened out slightly until eventually the thing that I had been looking forward to with a certain amount of trepidation loomed into view.

I first visited this valley in the mid-eighties and had quite an adventure in Thor’s Cave, a wide opening high above the valley. Ever since, this cave has had ominous overtones for me, but I didn’t let that deter me from climbing up the steep, heavily wooded slopes of the valley until I reached the cave opening. I had a little exploration of the interior of the cave that is well-lit due to various openings including the one that I went through all those years ago. Wisely I now returned to the mouth of the cave and made my way back down to the bottom of the valley and along the Manifold Way until I reached Wetton Mill. There I was finally able to buy a new Ordnance Survey Map of the Peak District and left the Manifold Valley behind to climb out of the valley passing by Wetton Hill and Narrowdale Hill to reach the River Dove at the northern end of Wolfscote Dale.

While having something to eat beside the river I was passed by many people who were walking through this popular valley. The weather had warmed gradually throughout the morning so that by this time it was a pleasant day and I was able to have an enjoyable walk south along the valley in sunny weather. The Manifold Valley was shamed in comparison with the valleys of the River Dove and is justifiably considerably more popular, if not the most popular place in the Peak District. These northern valleys are not as narrow or spectacular as Dovedale, further south, but I was already passing stunning limestone crags that could clearly be seen at this point due to a lack of trees in the valley. Eventually I reached Coldeaton Bridge and had to walk beside a road until I reached the picturesque hamlet of Milldale at the northern end of Dovedale, and now the delights came thick and fast in the most stunning place in the Peak District.

I have passed through this valley many times, at many different times of the year and through lots of different weather conditions. The last time I was in Dovedale was on a blind date with a lovely young woman, but unfortunately that didn’t go very well; it was raining. Now I was able to wipe away those memories with a fabulous walk through the stunning valley of Dovedale firstly stopping off to explore the caves of Dove Holes. Further south I passed Ilam Rock and Pickering Tor before I got to Reynard’s Cave, which is reached after climbing through a natural arch in the rocks. I’m sure I must have been to Reynard’s Cave before, but I couldn’t remember doing so, and so I eagerly climbed the steep hillside passing through the natural arch and into the short cave. I had tremendous fun scrambling up the steep, rocky hillside and it astonished me that something so fabulous could be just an hour and a quarter’s drive from boring old Leicestershire. Even Snowdonia and the Lake District would be proud of landscape like this.

Eventually I returned to the bottom of Dovedale and continued along the increasingly popular path through the increasingly stunning and narrowing valley past the limestone pinnacles of the Tissington Spires until the path climbs to the top of Lover’s Leap. With the crowds increasing exponentially I walked to the end of the valley at the famous stepping stones that lie at the foot of Thorpe Cloud. I briefly contemplated not going up Thorpe Cloud, but I was never going to miss out this hill so I quickly made my way directly up the hillside spurning the path in favour of keeping to the edge of the steep northern ridge. This involved some scrambling and was very tiring but it was also very satisfying route to climb up to the windblown summit. From there I had to come all the way back down and this time I kept to the edge of the steep western ridge. This was a fun little diversion but I still had a long way to go in order to get back to Waterhouses.

I passed through the village of Ilam and followed a road round to Rusley Bridge where I took a path that passes through Musden Wood at the bottom of a dry valley. This is a dark and dingy wood and I was walking along a footpath that is simply mud. I remember coming through this wood many years ago and it was even worse on that occasion forcing me to climb the steep sides of the valley. I was also becoming quite tired by this point and was regretting my excursion up Thorpe Cloud as the duration of the walk approached eight hours. Eventually, and with great relief, I emerged from the wood and entered the village of Calton from where a short walk along the road finally brought me back to Waterhouses. If I had done the walk in the other direction, as originally planned, I wouldn’t have had the tiring climb through Musden Wood up to Calton at the end of the walk, but that failed to ruin what had been a fabulous day. I had passed through some stunning limestone scenery that is without doubt the finest in the Peak District.

The Roaches and Lud’s Church

Saturday 26th September 2015

With good weather forecast at the end of September I decided to head off to the Peak District and do a walk over some crags that are very popular with rock climbers, but where I’d not been in well over ten years. On that occasion I had come from the north, from Gradbach, but now I parked at the foot of Hen Cloud and immediately encountered a problem. I started the walk by blindly following a large group of people who were going through a field below the hill until I realised there wasn’t a footpath that goes from that field onto Hen Cloud. When I realised this I returned to the road, unlike the crowds ahead of me who seemed determined to find a way out of the field and through the dense wood at the top. I walked along the road until I reached a track that contains the proper footpath and followed this up the western slopes of the hill coming off this track onto a narrow path that climbs gloriously steeply up heather slopes and was reminiscent of paths that I have been on in the Lake District and in Scotland. The only difference was that this path was much shorter and therefore it wasn’t long before I had climbed up to the top of Hen Cloud.

This satisfying, albeit brief, climb brought me past steep cliff faces that rock climbers would have salivated over while I simply continued onto the rocky hilltop of Hen Cloud. I was disappointed with the cloud cover above the Roaches that was dulling the good views that I had been promised while the sun was shining a short distance away outside of the Peak District. In the opposite direction to the sunshine the crags of the Roaches could be seen to the north and that was my next destination. After a hop or two over the gritstone crags at the top of Hen Cloud I started off along the clear path down to the connecting saddle, but rather than head straight toward the Roaches immediately ahead of me I turned to my left, and walked past the Don Whillans Memorial Hut, known as Rockhall Cottage, to the foot of the crags. Rock Climbers were scattered across the cliffs attempting to ascend them by the shortest way possible. I don’t have the head for heights required for rock climbing, but I did want to take the climber’s path that passes along the foot of these tall cliff faces so I could take in these immense structures.

Eventually the path climbs up to the top of the ridge where I joined the many other people walking above these popular crags. I had a thoroughly enjoyable walk along the top of the ridge as I tried to make my own way, not on the wide path, but as close to the edge as possible so I could take in the glories of these crags. The lack of sunshine did little to ruin my fun as I danced about from rock to rock along the edge while the crowds stuck to the path that keeps a safe distance away from the edge passing through the heather-filled moorland. Most of the heather was now going to seed but there were still some purple flowers in bloom to remind me of the warmth of the summer, even if I wasn’t feeling it. After passing the trig point at the highest point on the ridge I descended to the narrow road that crosses the Roaches ridge and at this point came off the ridge to take a path to my right that descends into the wooded valley of Black Brook, which soon flows into the River Dane.

A pleasant walk through Gradbach Wood along an at times muddy path took me to the awesome fissure or chasm known as Lud’s Church. I last visited this astonishing place more than ten years ago and now I wish I’d been back sooner as I feel that I have been unjustly forsaking it for far too long. Lush vegetation covers the walls of one side of this deep ravine while bare rock covers the sheltered sides of this spell-binding place. Many legends have been created about Lud’s Church and it is no surprise to see why as it is such an amazing place so I spent a long time exploring it and didn’t want to leave. When I was there more than ten years ago it was in the middle of winter and mud covered the floor of the chasm deterring my exploration, but I had no such problem now so I was able to walk along the many side branches and along the main chamber of the chasm in awe of the tall, sheer rock faces. I could imagine Lud, whoever he was, holding his secret services in this immense space away from prying eyes and have a surprisingly large congregation able to hear his sermons.

Eventually I made my way out of the chasm and down to the bottom of the valley beside the River Dane where I took a path through delightful woodland that I’m sure must be an amazing place to walk through when the spring flowers are in bloom. I followed the river until just before reaching Danebridge where I turned left onto a well-constructed concessionary footpath that climbs steeply through spectacularly gloomy woodland eventually emerging after such a great climb in disappointingly dull farmland. A short walk through the farm brought me to the Hanging Stone, at the start of the ridge that becomes the Roaches. By now the sun had finally come out and I was able to have an enjoyable stroll along this ridge through heather moorland past occasional outcrops that are a hint of the glorious crags that were to come. I had a pleasant walk along this ridge as I took my time walking through the heather and bilberry until eventually I reached the Roaches once again.

This time I stayed on the main footpath as I retraced my steps along the top of the ridge enjoying the sunshine and the views south along the whole length of the Roaches. At the southern end of the crags, above Rockhall, I found a scrambling route down the rocks that added a lovely little treat to my wonderful walk along the ridge. A path is marked on the map passing below Hen Cloud but I couldn’t find it on the ground so in the end I passed once more over the top of Hen Cloud and followed the slender path that cunningly descends the steep southern slopes plunging into woodland and finally emerging beside Roaches Hall. The track coming from this old hunting lodge brought me back onto the road. This was a fabulous walk past some awesome crags that are justifiably popular with climbers and walkers alike and must be one of the best places to walk in the Peak District.

The Long Mynd

Saturday 25th July 2015

Last summer I wanted to do a walk outside of the county but I didn't feel like driving anywhere to get there. In the past I have driven to the Lake District or Snowdon for a day's walk and then driven all the way back home the same day, but I didn't want to do that now. After much deliberation I decided that I would visit an area of the country that I'd never been walking in before: the Shropshire Hills. I have driven past these hills many times when driving to Snowdonia, but now I was able to catch a train to the small town of Church Stretton at the foot of the Long Mynd. An early start to the day had enabled me to get to Church Stretton soon after nine o'clock leaving me with the whole day for the ambitious walk that I had planned.

Once I got off the train I walked through the quiet town onto a narrow road that climbs steeply out of town and onto the heather-covered hills above. At this point I came off the road onto a bridlepath that skirts the side of the hill gradually descending into Carding Mill Valley. The weather was fantastic so that I had warm sunshine and stunning views up this gorgeous steep sided valley. After passing the National Trust visitor centre the landscape became even more desirable prompting me to do some exploring instead of just staying at the bottom of the valley. I took a path that climbs a steep, craggy ridge that is later named on maps as Cow Ridge until at a temporary levelling of the gradient I took a path that veers to the right onto a tremendous terrace route back down to the valley bottom.

At the point where I rejoined the main path there was a junction of valleys and the side valley to my left looked fun so I headed up this deliciously narrow valley along a slender footpath all the way to a blockage of rock. This is Lightspout Hollow and a waterfall called Lightspout pours over the blockage. Although the rock step wasn't big I had a little fun trying to scramble up to the top where the path continued in less dramatic surroundings up onto the top of the moor. Rather than making my way across the moor to the hilltop path I turned right to cross the top of the Carding Mill Valley where I rejoined the Mott’s Road, which is the  main path coming out of the valley and followed this up to the the main path that crosses the top of the Long Mynd.

This had been a fabulous start to the walk, but unfortunately from then on the walk was a series of disasters so I would later look upon the Carding Mill Valley with affection and longing. For now I just headed along the wide path through the heather moor observing that although the heather was not generally in bloom there were some early flowers. The broad path continued across the moor until eventually I reached the trig point at the top of the highest point on the Long Mynd: Pole Bank. A short distance from the summit brought me to an unfenced road, the same one that I had left at the beginning of the walk to descend into Carding Mill Valley. There now followed a lengthy walk along the road with little change in the views around me until eventually I reached the edge of the Midland Gliding Club.

A permissive path goes around the airfield, and on the other side I resumed my walk along the top of the ridge until my way was blocked by a barbed wire fence. Just as I was contemplating my options I saw two men approaching me and when I'd joined them one of them asked “Are you lost?” He then informed me that I was walking on private property that was actually an active airfield. After they had escorted me off the airfield I rejoined the path that I should have stayed on that keeps to the edge of the escarpment. I shouldn't gone back up to the top of the ridge. I was very embarrassed by my mistake and practically ran along the path over Black Knoll and down the hill at the southern end of the Long Mynd. I was desperate to remove the memory of my trespass by getting off the hill as quickly as possible.

After crossing a main road and the River Onny I followed the route of the Shropshire Way, which I thought was going to be straightforward and quick route, but was anything but. After going the wrong way in Plowden Woods I eventually managed to find my way to the village of Edgton by taking a permissive path from edge of the woods up to a road not far from the village. The path out of Edgton was rather special as it involved climbing steeply through woodland to the top of a hill that afforded memorable views of the undulating landscape of Shropshire. On the other side of the hill I crossed a road and continued to follow the path through many fields until I eventually realised that I had once again gone wrong, as not only was I not following the Shropshire Way, but I was not on a footpath. I was trespassing again!

Retracing my steps I managed to find the narrow gap in the hedge that I should have passed through earlier and resignedly continued on this footpath that I had mistakenly taken rather than trying to retrace my steps all the way back to the Shropshire Way that I should been on. I was still having difficulty keeping to the footpath and reflected that the signage in Shropshire is very poor. I was longing for the clear yellow-topped posts that mark footpaths in Leicestershire and make following a footpath so much easier. I was now descending towards the village of Hopesay, but just before reaching the village I passed through a steep-sided wood where I spotted a badger before it scurried off into the undergrowth. I had never seen these shy, nocturnal animals in the wild before so felt privileged for my albeit brief view.

On the edge of Hopesay I joined a branch of the Shropshire Way to climb the bracken-covered slopes of Hopesay Hill upon whose top I finally rejoined the Shropshire Way that I should have been on earlier. By now I was really fed up with the difficulties that I was having with the navigation, and in the time that it was taking me to cross this undulating terrain. I had planned to continue the walk to Wenlock Edge, but by the time I reached the town of Craven Arms it was too late in the afternoon to keep going so I caught a train from there to begin my journey home. This walk had started with so much promise in Carding Mill Valley that I wish I'd spent the day in that area exploring the gorgeous valleys that lie on the eastern slopes of the Long Mynd. If so I would have avoided the navigational problems that plagued me later in the day.

Padarn Country Park and Snowdon

Tuesday 1st September 2015

Following the fantastic weather at the end of my previous day's walk, it was to very different weather that I started the next day, and on this occasion it never really improved throughout the day, but I was still able to have an enjoyable walk. My initial plan for this holiday was for me to take new routes up the familiar mountains of Snowdonia, but later I had the idea to also visit the tops of all fifteen mountains in Snowdonia that are over three thousand feet high. Sometime after that I realised that this would mean I would have to go up Crib Goch, the knife-edge ridge beside Snowdon, which terrifies me. Every time I have been over Crib Goch I have not enjoyed it as I’m not great with heights so the thought of going up again just so I could complete a list was not pleasant. I’d already devised a new route up Snowdon and it didn’t involve going over Crib Goch. For many years I have been frustrated by the lack of walker’s paths in Nant Peris, which is an area of awesome rock scenery abounding in climber’s routes, so I had hoped to try and forge a route up, but in the end it was the weather that had the final say.

Near Nant Peris, and Llanberis, is the Padarn Country Park, which is a predominantly wooded area on the slopes above Llyn Padarn in an area of disused quarries. The weather didn’t prevent me from exploring this fascinating area of old quarries so first thing in the very damp morning I passed through Llanberis and past the National Slate Museum into the country park. The first notable feature that I saw was the remains of Vivian Quarry; a huge scar in the hillside like some enormous digger has scraped away the earth in the side of the hill, and is a feature that cannot be missed from Llanberis. This is now a diving centre, but I was happy to walk around it so I took a path that steeply climbs the hillside beside the old quarry past many fascinating, old mining buildings until I reached a barrier that proclaimed that due to a collapsed retaining wall the path beyond was closed. The diversion took me along an excellent old miner’s path along the side of the hill through the woodland until I eventually climbed above the trees and doubled back on myself towards Vivian Quarry.

This was a delightful little walk despite the rain that fell briefly while I was walking through the wood, but had stopped by the time I was passing above the top of Vivian Quarry. Near Padarn Country Park is a vast area of old slate quarries with a public footpath that passes through the old workings and I had long wanted to walk along it. I had an awesome experience walking through the shattered landscape that, despite patches of heather and gorse, nature seemed to be unable to reclaim. For safety reasons the wide track of my route was carefully restricted with high wire fences that proscribed a winding route past the gouged rock faces and piles of slag. Underneath these old slate quarries is now an enormous pumped storage power station generating hydroelectric energy from the reservoir two thousand feet up on the side of Elidir Fawr. I had been at the top of this mountain the previous day and seen the reservoir that feeds the power station, and now I was walking across the mountain's lower slopes past the high-pressure shafts that carry the water down to the turbines.

The sun made an attempt to peep out from behind Snowdon as I made my way down the winding track providing me with a stunning view up Nant Peris, but by the time I reached the bottom of the valley it had started to rain again and this time it would be hours before it stopped. I abandoned my original plan of trying to find a route up the steep sides of Nant Peris and just walked back into Llanberis. On the outskirts of Llanberis I diverted left to the start of the popular Llanberis Path up Snowdon. This is the easiest route up Snowdon, but I can’t remember the last time I went up it. I think I went down the Llanberis Path in bad weather in 2009, but I think you may have to go all the way back to early 2004 when I climbed Snowdon with a group. The rain didn’t stop during the whole duration of my walk up Snowdon, but I actually quite enjoyed the climb. There were many other people climbing Snowdon despite the poor weather and I had to wonder how cold they were going to be when they got to the top as many of them seemed to be totally unprepared for the conditions.

I was able to enjoy my slow amble up the Llanberis Path with almost no wind for most of the climb until I reached Bwlch Glas, not far from the summit, where a bitingly cold wind appeared that prompted me to put my gloves on and wrap up warm for the final stretch up to the top. I used to go up Snowdon at least once a year but after 2012 I had stopped coming so I was happy to be able to finally renew my acquaintance with an old friend as I reached the summit of Snowdon for the seventeenth time. I didn’t stay at the top for very long but soon started to make my way back down coming off the Llanberis Path at Bwlch Glas turning left onto the Snowdon Ranger Path. I have been on the Snowdon Ranger Path many times before, and quite liked it, but I’ve never been all the way down to the Snowdon Ranger Hut at the bottom, and I didn’t on this occasion either. For many years I had wanted to use this particular route as a means for going to or from Llanberis so in the vein of doing new routes up familiar mountains I set off down the north-western ridge of Snowdon.

On reaching the edge of the open access land I turned right uphill to Bwlch Maesgwm onto a good, clear bridlepath that leads into the valley of Maesgwm. The weather on this walk was very different to the one the day before, although as I emerged below the clouds I could see that there was some astonishingly good weather on the surrounding hills. Despite this I felt like I’d made the most of the weather with an enjoyable walk through the quarries and I felt like I had met an old friend again in going up Snowdon. The weather was clearing towards the end of the day, even on Snowdon, with views across the valley to the Llanberis Path and the Snowdon Mountain Railway that gave me a pleasurable walk back down to the Llanberis Youth Hostel. The following morning I drove to the foot of Tryfan, but when I got there it was pouring it down with rain. After sitting in my car for several minutes I decided that I didn’t want to climb Tryfan in that weather, so I started the engine and drove all the way back home. Despite the wet end to this holiday and failing to climb all fifteen tops, I think I had an enjoyable holiday.

Elidir Fawr, Y Garn and the Glyderau

Monday 31st August 2015

On this holiday I had set myself the goal of visiting the top of all fifteen of the Welsh mountains above three thousand feet, and over the previous two days I had done the seven peaks around the Carneddau. Now I turned my attention across the A5 road to the Glyderau range of hills that stretches from Elidir Fawr in the west to Tryfan in the east. Many years ago I had thought of an innovative route up the western hills but until now I had not had the chance to try my route to see if it was as good as I’d hoped. I had not been on these hills since 2009 when the weather had been poor, so I was eager to return to this area and explore these fabulous mountains. Under grey skies and with damp ground underfoot I set off from the car park beside Llyn Ogwen and up the constructed footpath that climbs steeply up the north-west ridge of Y Garn. Not far up the path I came off the clear way and headed across pathless grassy slopes below Pinnacle Crag and into the mouth of Cwm Cywion, which is a fabulously quiet valley with hardly any sign that anyone else had been there before.

It is astonishing that only because the maps don’t mark a path in this area few people venture there, but Cwm Cywion is a magical place with awesome crags and many options for safe exploration. On the steep grassy slope, after crossing the stream that comes out of Cwm Cywion, the sun began trying to come out and afforded me with some great views back over Llyn Ogwen and towards the distinctive skyline of Tryfan. When I eventually reached the top of the ridge, Y Llymwyd, I plunged into patchy clouds that gave me fleeting views across the valley and into the steep sided Cwm-coch on the other side of the ridge. The cold, northerly wind that I suffered with on Saturday, and was pleasantly absent on Sunday, was now back forcing me to wrap up as the clouds billowed through the gaps in the ridge. A clear path had now emerged on the top of the ridge reassuring me that I wasn’t the first to walk here as I made my way along the short ridge and up the scree to the grassy top of Foel-goch.

The appeals of this new route were actually short lived with the main advantage being that I’d never done it before and that it’s rarely walked by anyone. The top of Foel-goch was in thick clouds and the poor weather continued as I headed along the path down the scree on the other side of the hill and around the top of Cwm Dudodyn. Still in thick cloud I came off the path and climbed a steep, grassy slope up to the top of Mynydd Perfedd. Turning left I followed the narrowing ridge until it steepened to a rock step above the excitingly narrow Bwlch y Marchlyn. This is a delicious ridge that was a delight to walk over despite the strong winds that were forcing me to wrap up tight, but I was enjoying this ridge too much to be concerned about the wind. As I started climbing the gloriously rocky slopes beyond the saddle towards Elidir Fawr I was reminded of great mountains in Scotland and thought that it is a tragedy that what in Scotland would be a proud Munro is here a neglected hill overshadowed by its vastly more popular neighbours.

The craggy climb took me all the way up to the top of this great mountain where I stopped near the summit, sheltered from the cold winds, and had my lunch. As I began to leave the summit I was thinking that Elidir Fawr must be one of the best mountains in Wales, which is praise indeed. In response, as I passed back along that fabulous ridge again the weather began to clear so that by the time I was passing across the slopes below Mynydd Perfedd the sun had come out and the weather continued to improve throughout the afternoon. The cold wind seemed to have changed direction during my lunch and had eased by the time I reached the summit of Y Garn with the clouds lifting to enable me to enjoy fabulous views back towards Elidir Fawr. I had originally planned on descending back to the road from Y Garn but with the weather getting better I knew that it would be madness to stop now, so after coming down the long slopes of Y Garn to Llyn y Cŵn I kept going and started climbing the horrendous scree slopes of Glyder Fawr.

I knew from experience that this route up Glyder Fawr is a dull trudge up loose stones in surroundings that are totally devoid of vegetation in a landscape that has been described as a moonscape. Piles of stones mark the route up a scree-filled rake and across a featureless scree-field eventually reaching the summit on one of the many rock stacks that litters the top of the mountain. I was relieved to finally reach the top of Glyder Fawr, but the sunshine and the stunning views behind me across the gap of Llyn y Cŵn towards Y Garn were awesome and made the climb seem less frustrating than it could have been. By the time I reached the top the clouds had lifted even from here but were not far above the tops as I made my across the shattered summit rocks of Glyder Fawr towards Glyder Fach. I had thought of descending Y Gribin between these two mountains but the good weather made me change my plans once again.

The sight of Glyder Fach ahead of me as I descended towards Bwlch y Ddwy-Glyder proved irresistible and so invigorating that I leaped up the rocks to the top of this mountain seemingly with the vigour of youth. I have no idea where I got this from but I was abounding with energy as I leapt from boulder to boulder past Castell y Gwynt and over the vast collection of enormous rocks that make up the summit of Glyder Fach. I have always thought that this fabulous mountain is considerably more fun to walk over than its slightly higher neighbour and I’ve always thought it a tragedy that the elemental forces that shaped these mountains should have made the greater mountain slightly smaller than its tedious companion. I jumped and leapt over the summit rocks until I eventually reached and straddled the boulder that is the very highest point of Glyder Fach. Feeling ten years younger I was reluctant to leave the summit but eventually I made my way back to the col and to top of Y Gridin.

I had only once before descended this ridge, in 2005, and now I was definitely feeling ten years older as I had a little problem finding a route scrambling down the steep rock face. I was relieved when I finally reached the bottom of the scramble where the ridge levels and I was able to relax while passing a few mountain goats before the ridge narrowed for the final descent to Llyn Bochwyd. There I found a path around Bochlwyd Buttress and down the boggy slopes back to my car at the end of this awesome walk. In changeable weather I had been over some great mountains, and others that were in the way, on a walk that seemingly had everything. Cold winds in the morning were replaced with stunning sunshine that had me leaping about like a teenager. I really enjoyed this walk amongst stunning rock scenery in this fabulous area.

Yr Elen and the Carneddau

Sunday 30th August 2015

On my walk the day before this one I had seen across the valley a promising route up the north-eastern ridge of Yr Elen. I had never climbed Yr Elen by that route before, or in fact by any route before. On this holiday I was trying to find new routes up the familiar mountains of Snowdonia, and Yr Elen is a mountain that I have been to the summit several times, but always from the higher peak of its neighbour, Carnedd Llewelyn. Yr Elen is really just an off-shoot or side-ridge of Carnedd Llewelyn so most of the time I have simply nipped across the connecting ridge to ‘bag’ the summit and then nipped back. The last time I was on Yr Elen was in 2007 and on that occasion I had come down the long north-western ridge. The idea of doing this new ascent of Yr Elen was so appealing to me that I abandoned my planned walk for this day in order to do it. There is a long walk-in to get to Yr Elen so I’d parked in a narrow street in the tightly-packed community of Gerlan above the town of Bethesda.

I have parked at that point several times before so I felt fortunate to find an empty parking place before setting off up a footpath that led to the farm of Tan-y-garth on the edge of the Snowdonia National Park. It was very hazy at this point in the day with the sun spending most of the morning trying to pierce through thin cloud, but it was ultimately never really successful with the cloud eventually thickening up and descending in the afternoon. However, there was one benefit with the weather as there was hardly any wind, even at the top of the mountains. The day before this walk there had been a strong, cold, northerly wind blowing at the tops, but this was happily absent for this walk. Beyond Tan-y-garth I crossed the open hillside onto a track that headed into the valley of the Afon Caseg past the ruins of ancient settlements and with the mountains of the Carneddau brooding under the clouds before me and Yr Elen taking centre stage.

Soon the track ended and I was left to find whatever trace that I could find of a footpath up the valley below the towering rocks of Carreg y Gath and into Cwm Caseg. The steep-sided, crag-filled cirque was a stunning sight with tremendous scenery all around me that was simply breath-taking, but the lack of a clear footpath indicated that this area is rarely visited. This is tragic and marks a significant difference between Snowdonia and the Lake District where footpaths abound and every valley has clear routes through it and every fell has many clear paths up to the tops. In Snowdonia there are few clear paths apart from the top of the ridges where the footpaths are well-defined. This does mean that it is easy to get away from the crowds who stay on these well-defined routes. With the clouds already beginning to descend onto the mountain tops I reached the foot of the steep north-eastern ridge of Yr Elen and began my ascent.

After an initial steep climb up a grassy slope the gradient eased and the ridge narrowed to give me a glorious ascent with jagged rock to my right and smoother grass and scree slopes to my left. Near the top of the ridge there is a mass of rocks that block the route up, but a path materialises just before and follows a cunning route through the blockage to scramble satisfyingly up to the top of the ridge not far from the summit of Yr Elen. This was a fabulous end to what had been a relatively easy, but satisfying climb and deposited me at the top of Yr Elen with thin cloud swirling around undecided on whether to cover the summit or not. While I had my lunch at the summit the clouds played with the top of the mountains, sometimes covering them and sometimes lifting to reveal tremendous views of the surrounding mountains, and all the time with hardly a breath of wind.

With the views across to Carnedd Llewelyn briefly clear I crossed the fabulous narrow ridge that connects Yr Elen with its bigger neighbour while towards the mountains that I’d visited the day before the clouds lifted to afford me with sensational views to match the quality of the ridge. The sun was not to be seen again as the cloud descended once more and I climbed the well-defined path up the scree to the summit of Carnedd Llewelyn. I had hardly seen anyone all morning, but as I made my way along the well-defined path at the top of the ridge that connects Carnedd Llewelyn and Carnedd Dafydd, I passed many, many people. This is a glorious ridge and fully deserves its popularity. Cloud filled the northern crags of Ysgolion Duon above Cwmglas Mawr just as it had when I crossed this ridge in 2007, but now it was mesmerizingly windless.

Being at the top of this ridge with no wind added to my enjoyment and prompted me to literally skip along the path and hop across the rocks as I made the most of this magical experience. I entered the clouds once again as I neared Carnedd Dafydd and with the cloud now lingering I traversed the ridge over Carnedd Fach to Pen Yr Ole Wen at the western end of the glorious Carneddau ridge. My original plan for this day had been to climb the south ridge of Pen Yr Ole Wen but with my change of plans I was now looking to descend so I took a compass reading and turned north to head down the long, grassy slopes of Braich Ty Du to eventually return to my car. Even though the weather had deteriorated during the course of the day the lack of wind had made being at the top of the mountains a memorable experience. These are great mountains and the ridge between Carnedd Llewelyn and Carnedd Dafydd is amazing to walk along in any weather. When I was last there in 2009 the weather had been atrocious and yet I had still enjoyed the traverse. I hope I don’t leave it as long to do it again.

A Circuit above Aber Falls

Saturday 29th August 2015

The August Bank Holiday weekend saw me heading back to an area that at one time was my usual haunt at that time of the year, however, that had all ended in 2009 and apart from a couple of trips up Snowdon I had not been back to Snowdonia at any time of the year since. I felt like I was due a return not only to this once familiar ground, but also to see if I could find new routes up these well-known mountains. The first place I went was somewhere that I had not been back to since my very first walking holiday in Snowdonia, back in 2003, when on the last day of that holiday I climbed up the northern mountains of the Carneddau starting from Aber Falls. Despite ever since wanting to take the footpath that climbs to the top of the waterfall I had never been back, until now. In 2003 I had taken a route that went around the falls, and on this walk I would return to the same mountains as then, but the route that I now took was via the top of Aber Falls on that path that I had wanted to walk for a long time.

Once I had arrived at the car park for the Coedydd Aber National Nature Reserve I headed along the track through the delightfully wooded valley until I eventually reached the foot of the tall Aber Falls. This was a splendid sight and it was such a long time since I had last been there I had forgotten just how good is this waterfall. After taking many pictures to keep as a reminder of this waterfall for many years to come, I retraced my steps and diverted onto a path that climbs scree slopes onto the path that climbs to the top of the waterfall. At one point the path crosses some steep crags on a glorious, narrow terrace high above the falls with some precarious scrambling that made the traverse even more exciting, especially after the recent rainfall. Eventually I emerged beside the stream above Aber Falls with the sound of the waterfall roaring steeply below.

I had to head upstream for quite some distance before I was able to safely cross and from there ascend the steep heather and bilberry covered slopes for a frustratingly long and tedious climb. I had no footpath to follow and bands of rain and sunshine passed over me as I slowly approached the rocks of Bera Mawr. With full waterproofs on I completed the climb up the scattered rocks under the mixed weather conditions with strong, cold winds that encouraged me to keep my waterproofs on throughout the day despite later spells of sunshine. After climbing around the rocks of Bera Mawr I eventually reached the highest point, which was actually near the far side of the widely scattered rocks. After I’d had enough of climbing over the wet, slippery rocks I made my way across the grassy slopes that separate Bera Mawr from its twin, Bera Bach, where I sheltered from the strong winds and had my lunch.

Striking off along the top of the ridge I headed towards what had been known as Garnedd Uchaf when I was last in the area, back in 2006, but now appears to be called Carnedd Gwenllian. According to Wikipedia the summit was officially renamed on 26th September 2009 after a campaign by the Princess Gwenllian Society. Gwenllian of Wales was the only child of Llywelyn ap Gruffudd who has long been immortalised in the name of the nearby mountain of Carnedd Llywelyn, however walkers do not like change in old favourites, and so for me Carnedd Gwenllian will stubbornly remain Carnedd Uchaf. Despite cold winds it was sunny at the top of the mountain and the views of Gwenllian’s father with Yr Elen beside him were fabulous. When I was on these mountains in 2003 the weather was very poor and I had no view to enjoy, but now the weather was treating me a lot better.

From the top of Carnedd Uchaf I headed towards Foel Grach with Carnedd Llywelyn brooding under dark clouds behind. It had started raining when I reached Foel Grach in 2003 and the dark clouds of Carnedd Llywelyn once again deposited their bounty upon me when I reached Foel Grach. I didn’t stay long at the top, or go further along the ridge, as once I’d touched the summit cairn I turned around and headed back towards Carnedd Uchaf where the weather was better and the sun was shining. I hadn’t enjoyed the long climb up the dreary slopes to Bera Mawr, but as I walked past Carnedd Uchaf and towards Foel-fras with the sun shining once again I was relishing being at the top of a mountain again with far-reaching views all around me. I never enjoy long climbs, but walking along the top of a ridge with the sun shining revealing stunning views I am reminded of why I made the effort to climb the long slope.

When I reached Foel-fras I had summited my third Welsh three-thousand-footer of the day, which left me with another twelve that I hoped to summit before the end of my holiday. This is the northern-most three-thousand-footer so from there I began descending, not on the long ridge over Drum that I had taken in 2003, but turning left I headed steeply down towards Llwytmor. It was very windy at this point on the walk and there was little trace of a path for me to follow as I passed over Llwytmor until I reached Llwytmor Bach where I turned left again and descended into the valley of the Afon Goch. When I finally reached the bottom of the valley I picked up a faint path that took me back to the top of Aber Falls. I was now sheltered from the strong, cold winds that had been assailing me while on the tops so I was now finally able to take my waterproofs off and enjoy the sunny weather as I made the rocky traverse above Aber Falls once again. The weather was fabulous back in the nature reserve as I basked in the sunshine slowly descending into the wooded valley.

This was a curious walk with changeable weather and some frustrating or tedious moments, but also with some very enjoyable occasions. I really enjoyed the traverse across the rocks above Aber Falls so will be looking to do that path again and that gives me an excuse to see the falls themselves again. It was also great to be at the top of mountains again for the first time since Easter and reminded me that despite how much I may enjoy long distance paths there’s no beating being at the top of a mountain in good weather. It was interesting to note that the least enjoyable moments of this walk were on the ascent and descent when I was not following a footpath, which does teach you something about me. Despite the changeable weather this was a good start to my long-awaited return to the Welsh three-thousand-footers.

The Butt of Lewis

Thursday 18th June 2015

On the dawn of the last day on my epic trek along the whole length of the Outer Hebrides I was camped in the dunes behind the beach of Tràigh Shanndaigh near the township of Eoropie. Despite the strong winds that were coming off the North Atlantic Ocean my small tent had survived the night unmoved and I was full of praise for the tough, little thing often enduring such windy conditions during my holiday in the Western Isles. Throughout this holiday my ultimate destination has been the Butt of Lewis, the northern-most tip of the Isle of Lewis, which is the northern-most inhabited island in the long chain of islands that make up the Outer Hebrides, also known as the Western Isles. Two weeks previously I had started my trek on the island of Vatersay, the southern-most inhabited island, and now after walking the entire length of the islands I was not much more than a mile as the crow flies from my destination. Once I had packed my tent away I set off through the dunes and onto the beach where the strong wind was whipping up the waves into a tumultuous frenzy.

The sea was crashing onto the beach in a spectacular display of power and awe with the water churned up into a white froth that was simply spellbinding to behold, and completely unlike any of the other beaches that I had seen on my travels during the previous two weeks. The weather may have been poor with dark clouds lingering low overhead and a storm looking imminent, but nothing would keep me away from my goal as I made my way off the beach and onto the cliff-top grasslands. Sea pinks, also known as thrifts, carpeted the grasslands and complemented the spectacular craggy cliffs that sat above the churning seas. The weather was making the finale to my epic trek especially grand with a spectacularly dramatic climax to my two-week expedition. Blue-topped marker posts showed the route around the headland, but I needed little help as the lighthouse of the Butt of Lewis soon came into sight.

These cliffs reminded me of the Pembrokeshire Coast Path that I had walked last year, but there was a marked difference in that near the Butt of Lewis there were considerably more sea birds that I’d seen in Pembrokeshire. The coastal cliffs were covered with these birds, possibly simply because of the time of year, but they really added to this walk along the top of spectacular cliffs. Slowly I made my way around the coast and finally approached the Butt of Lewis lighthouse, the most northerly point in the Outer Hebrides. It was a relief to finally reach this place that I had spent the previous two weeks walking towards and now I was there and my epic trek was successful. It had not been an easy trek and I had considered abandoning it on several occasions, and towards the end I had just wanted to get to the Butt of Lewis as quickly as possible. Although the weather was poor during the last couple of days, earlier in the trek I had enjoyed some good, calm weather that had even been sunny when I was on the Isle of Harris, even though it had never been particularly warm.

Despite my setbacks and confusion with the route I had reached the Butt of Lewis and could now focus on the remainder of my holiday. Finally turning south I continued along the top of the cliffs taking in the spectacular coastal scenery until eventually I reached Dùn Eistean, a sea stack that at one time was a stronghold of the Clan Morrison. A metal bridge has been constructed to enable access to the small island and so I made the crossing despite the waves crashing far below my feet through the mesh of the bridge. Far greater terrors, however, lay in wait for me from the arctic terns that were nesting on the island. These birds are notoriously protective of their young and will dive-bomb any person who gets too close. As I made my way across the island to its highest point, originally the site of a rectangular tower, several terns swooped low over my head while screeching loudly. After taking a couple of pictures I quickly headed back across to the bridge while more arctic terns passed close by while one actually hit me on the head.

I had seen this happen before on nature programmes where the presenter is constantly ducking their head while being dive-bombed by birds, but it was bizarre and exciting to have it actually happen to me. I obviously didn’t want to disturb the arctic terns any more than was necessary so I quickly got back off the island and continued my walk beside the sea all the way to the Port of Ness. This may have been a short walk, but the stunning scenery more than compensated for its brevity. The past fortnight had been really tiring and very challenging for me, but one that I’ll never forget. I have a few regrets and disappointments, and I have made a few wrong turns and bad decisions, but there were many great moments that will stay with me forever. The Western Isles are a spectacular chain of islands that will inevitably draw me back before too long. The hills of Harris were difficult for me to leave and I long to be able to spend more time exploring these fabulous, rugged mountains.

The Road to Nowhere

Wednesday 17th June 2015

After a wet day spent walking along the road to Tolsta I was hoping for a better day as I continue my journey north along the length of the Outer Hebrides, but instead I had a really difficult day on the road to nowhere. I had camped at Tràigh Mhòr, just north of Tolsta, and set off along the road from Tolsta north towards nowhere. Just before I reached the bridge over the Abhainn Ghearadha the tarmac road ended with the gravel track beyond the bridge ending soon after. Although this bridge should rightfully be called the Garry Bridge, after the river, it is more commonly known as the Bridge to Nowhere, and is all that remains of an aborted plan to build a road from Tolsta to Skigersta. The Bridge to Nowhere is a solidly built concrete structure that has withstood the last century very well, aided of course by the lack of traffic over it as it really does go nowhere. After less than a mile of pleasurable walking along the track that continues beyond the bridge, it suddenly ended leaving me with no trace of a road or a path.

I enjoy walking along well-constructed tracks or paths and later in the day I would look back on that brief section at the beginning of the day from the bridge with fondness, when I had views behind me of Garry Beach and Tràigh Mhòr and the jagged coastline ahead of me. After fording the Abhain na Cloich there was no path for me to follow across the moor even though O.S. maps indicate a Heritage Trail. Yellow topped posts mark the route of the trail across the moor, but these are often hard to follow, and it soon began to rain again. The posts were difficult to see unless they popped above the horizon, especially in the misty, rainy weather that I had the pleasure of experiencing while crossing this moor. Underfoot, however, was a wonderful display of wild flowers of many colours and of all sorts, more than I had never seen before. I wish I had lingered at this point to examine the many delightful flowers, but since it was raining I pushed on desperately trying to find the non-existent path.

Heavy rain, strong winds and boggy terrain along with a paucity of marker posts made this moorland crossing very unpleasant. At one point I thought I could have been spending my holiday on a beach in the Mediterranean, but instead I was walking across this boggy moor in the pouring rain. Later I could see posts on two widely separated hilltops on the horizon and no way of knowing which one to head for, until I eventually remembered that I had a GPS trace that someone else had made across this route, so I got out my GPS and headed towards the western post down to the upper end of Dibadale. Climbing out of the valley I passed the ruined houses of Lower Dibadale and followed a semblance of a path on flatter and drier ground to what I had endured south of Dibadale. The ground was now mainly grass rather than the heather tussocks of the boggiest sections of the trail.

I continued to follow the marker posts past two lochs even though my GPS was showing that I ought to be half a kilometre west. I don’t know what this post was marking near Loch Bacabhat Àrd, but I headed north from this post passing to the right of Loch Bacaphat Iorach until I realised that the inlet of Leum Langa meant that I was quickly running out of land. I had get back onto the GPS trace so I crossed the northern shore of the loch heading west across the moorland before dropping into a shallow valley where I found a surprisingly clear path near the remains of Maoim. From there I was able to follow the path out of the valley and up to the coast near a ruined chapel above stunning, jagged sea cliffs. I sheltered from the wind behind this chapel and while eating my lunch the rain finally stopped and the sun came out affording me with stunning views of the coastline including the natural arch near Dùn Filiscleitir.

After all the tears, heartache and many hours of moorland crossing it was a relief to have finally reached this point and to find improving weather. With a renewed spring in my step I resumed my walk along the path past the ruins of Filiscleitir where the path improved into a clear track that led to Cuidhsiadar where a number of mobile summer homes (the modern equivalent of Shielings) were to be found. As I made my way into the area of Ness the weather continued to improve with prolonged spells of sunshine only occasional interspersed with showers while only the strong winds remained. I had hoped that I would reach the Butt of Lewis, my ultimate destination on this holiday, during the course of the afternoon, but it soon became obvious that that was not going to be the case and I would have to make plans to complete my Hebridean trek the following morning.

Instead of rushing towards the Butt of Lewis I descended to the Port of Ness and spent some time exploring the beach trying to enjoy myself unwinding from my travails on the moor. This is a good, little place and I’m glad that I was able to spend some time there instead of rushing to get anywhere, and was able to lark about on the rocks and stroll along the beach. After spending some time exploring the coastline around and to the north of the Port of Ness I eventually walked along the road into the township of Eoropie and camped in the dunes behind Tràigh Shanndaigh. This was a very tiring day even though the worst of it was all in the morning on the crossing of Lewis Moor. I had always known that that was not going to be easy, which is one reason why I had put it off until the end of my Hebridean trek. It was very exhausting and was not helped by the poor weather or the navigation posts, which at times were worse than useless.