The Walks of David Keates

High Street by Long Stile

2012-02-09T15:06:00.002Z

Saturday 10th December 2005

After three months away from mountains I couldn't keep myself away any longer. So using an old pair of boots despite the poor weather forecast I set off first thing in the morning and was at the Mardale Head car park at the end of Haweswater Reservoir by ten o'clock. My aim for the day was to walk up the narrow eastern ridge of High Street because I'd never been up High Street that way before and I thought it might be a good route. Unfortunately the weather really wasn't very good and treated me to low cloud and drizzle, sometimes heavy, almost all day. However, this failed to dampen my enthusiasm as I was just happy to be out on the hills again.

I started off walking around the shore of Haweswater towards The Rigg, the wooded terminus of the Long Stile ridge that butts out into Haweswater, before striking off up the steep hillside onto the top of the ridge. The first picture was taken from the start of the ridge. At this point it looked like the weather might improve; while looking out across Haweswater there appeared to be breaks in the clouds where one could glimpse blue sky, but this hope was soon shattered as I soon plunged into the clouds and was never to emerge from them again (or at least not until the end of the walk!). Climbing the ridge I passed over the rocky crags continually climbing until I arrived on the top of Rough Crag with its small cairn and 628m spot height. The wind at this point was very strong. You could hardly stand, and yet I wasn't alone.

The Lake District always amazes me; it doesn't matter how bad the weather is there are always loads of people out walking over the hills. This walk was no different; there were three other groups of people walking up the ridge at the same time as me. Instead of having the hills to myself I was continually saying "How do?" to people as I or they passed by. The advantage of having all these people around is that when (or if) you run into problems there will be someone along soon enough to help. Plus the large numbers of people have beat clear paths all over the Lake District making navigation relatively easy. The problem is not finding the path but following the right one! I don't begrudge all these people, as they are a part of what makes the Lake District what it is: a relatively safe area to walk. There are far more dangerous areas in the country.

After a short descent from the top of Rough Crag I began the much steeper, and more fun, ascent up Long Stile climbing up the slippery rocks with occasionally hands on rocks needed for support in the wet conditions. Eventually I reached the top of the ridge at the marker cairn and followed a path across the summit plateau to the partially collapsed stone wall that passes along the top of High Street. Turning left I followed this wall until I reached the Trig point and the two cairns that mark the summit. Sheltering behind the wall I had my lunch and pondered on where everyone else was as I had the summit all to myself. After I had eaten I set off again heading south beside the wall for a short time before I reached a cairn and a path veering off to the left. Following this path I proceeded across the exposed hilltop towards Mardale Ill Bell, and passing over this hillock dropped down to Nan Beld Pass.

After a short rest in the solidly constructed shelter in the pass I climbed up the rocky face of Harter Fell to the top and the summit cairn with its debris, probably leftovers from an old boundary fence with the new one visible behind. After taking some pictures I turned left and followed the fence along the top of Harter Fell passing more cairns with their own fence cast-offs before plunging down over Little Harter Fell to the Gatescarth Pass. Descending the byway from the pass I returned to Mardale Head where the clouds seemed lower than ever. This was a very enjoyable, if brief walk. I'm used to walks taking all day but in December anything more than six hours will be ending in the dark. My old boots performed surprisingly well after almost a year of disuse, with my wet feet failing to dampen my enjoyment of being back in the hills.

The Brecon Beacons in the clouds

2012-02-02T16:43:00.004Z

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

The walk that I did around the Brecon Beacons just before Christmas was similar to one that I did six years ago. The earlier walk started in a completely different place but there are close similarities with a route that was pretty much a reverse of the later walk. The climb onto the hilltop from the reservoir last Christmas is echoed in the totally unplanned diversion at the end of the walk six years ago. I had decided that I wanted to venture further afield for a walk at Christmastime than just Beacon Hill in Leicestershire and so went for a walk in Wales. The place I chose was the Brecon Beacons, an area that I had walked several times in the past, though not recently. Five years previously I walked over the Beacons for the first time and I walked over them again two years later, but I had not been over them since. Unfortunately I didn't actually see anything this time.

I parked at the top of the road from Talybont Reservoir at the Blaen-y-glyn car park (SO 0560 1755) and headed along the road following the Taff Trail through Taf Fechan Forest to Neuadd Reservoir. Both previous times I had been there the reservoir had been empty; indeed the map shows it as empty. I guess it was found to be too small for their purposes so it had been abandoned and the bigger Upper Neuadd Reservoir was built further up the valley. On this walk the abandoned reservoir was full as I suppose it usually is in winter (it was also full in 2011). I crossed the dam and headed straight up the side of the valley. The path was very muddy and badly eroded near the top as can be seen from this picture taken at the top. I was completely enveloped in clouds as I made my way along the top of the ridge above Graig Pen Ddu so as I slowly trudged along the ridge I had no way of knowing how much further I had to go. The walk seemed to be going on forever. When I reached the 824m top above Craig Gwaun Taf I thought I was at Corn Du, but that idea was soon dispelled as the path dropped down to Bwlch Duwynt and up to the top of Corn Du. I was so relieved when I eventually reached the top that I stopped and had my lunch.

Once rested and refreshed I headed off again for the short hop over to Pen y Fan, the highest hill in the Brecon Beacons and usually a magnet for walkers, but in these conditions there wasn't a single person at the summit. After taking a couple of pictures of the summit cairn I headed off along the path down Craig Cwm Sere and up to Cribyn. After this exertion another descent down Craig Cwm Cynwyn followed leading to Bwlch ar y Fan. One more ascent lay ahead of me up onto Fan y Big before a long walk along the top of Craig Cwmoergwm and Craig Cwarelli. All this ridge walking was rather dull in this weather; with no views I was forced to settle with plodding along the paths with nothing to look at but my own feet. There was little variation in the terrain and it all became rather monotonous. Eventually I arrived at Bwlch y Ddwyallt where I turned sharply right to head down the path above Graig Fan Las. From here it should have been a short walk over Craig y Fan Ddu back down to the car. That is not how it turned out.

After crossing the stream, Blaen Caerfanell, I veered off west away from the edge of the slope following a path that seemed quite clear, but actually wasn't as clear as the path I had been following. When I reached the pile of stones and Cairn marked on the map (at 047189) I realised I was heading in the wrong direction so turned south following another faint path. It was soon clear to me that something was still wrong because I wasn't losing height as quickly as I should have been but I still blindly followed the path as it veered back over to the west and picked up the Nant y Groesydd. Thinking this was the Nant Bwrefwr I happily followed it and when I arrived at the edge of Taf Fechan Forest I thought I was going in the right direction, thinking that this was the edge of the Talybont Forest. My belief was shattered when I crossed the track from Bwlch ar y Fan and arrived at the Filter House for the Neuadd Reservoir. At first I didn't know where I was, but eventually it sunk in to me just how stupid I had been, and so shaking my head in disbelief I slowly made my way back along the Taff Trail to my car.

I guess this incident shows how easy it is to get lost in cloudy weather, especially if you aren't careful. If only I had used my compass a little more and not blindly followed the path ignoring all the signs around me that showed I was going in the wrong direction. As soon as I headed away from Blaen Caerfanell on the wrong path I noticed I was moving away from the cliff edge but I did nothing about it. I just assumed I was going in the right direction without actually making sure. This time I got away with it, the path I was following wasn't dangerous and I was easily able to make my way back to the car. The worst result of my diversion was that it was almost dark by the time I got back to my car. It was not really a major disaster, but next time I may not be so lucky. This was certainly an incident that I learnt from.

The Wye Valley and Symonds Yat Rock

2012-01-26T16:30:00.001Z

Friday 23rd December 2011

After great weather for my walk around the Forest of Dean the day before I was disappointed to wake up the next day to rain for my last walk in the area. I’d planned a long walk beside the River Wye all the way into Highmeadow Woods, not far from the Forest of Dean, but in the end after walking all morning in the pouring rain I quickly returned to my car in time for lunch. I had spent the night at the isolated youth hostel of Welsh Bicknor beside the River Wye not far from the Welsh border (but despite the name not actually in Wales). Although my walk was in the area of the hostel I decided not to leave my car there but drove over the headland into the village of Goodrich. There is a (by all accounts spectacular) castle in Goodrich and I could have parked there, but instead I chose to park by the side of the road in the village.

From Goodrich I dropped down to Kerne Bridge and walked beside the river through Thomas Wood and around the wide meander eventually returning to Welsh Bicknor Youth Hostel. Soon after passing the hostel and the old church next door I reached a disused railway line which comes out of a tunnel at this point and crossed the River Wye. The bridge is still intact so I was able to use it as a footbridge. Standing in the middle of the bridge was an awe-inspiring feeling as the fast moving river swirled past the huge supports of the old girder bridge. I was in an eerie setting with mist-shrouded woodland upon the hillside on one side of the bridge and seemingly derelict factories on the other side, and all the while the river gushing rapidly under my feet.

Resuming my walk beside the river I soon rejoined the railway for a pleasant walk along the rutted track heading inexorably towards a great towering mass of rock and trees. I was approaching Symonds Yat Rock, a huge wedge of hill that forces the Wye into another sharp turn through a narrow gorge before turning once again to pass beside the western side of the rock. Despite the misty conditions the sight of the tall bastion of rock was still an awesome sight. Passing below the rock I eventually found a path that led steeply up the hillside onto the road that passes over the top. A further short climb took me up to the top of Symonds Yat Rock itself at the viewing station that the Forestry Commission has built for the benefit of tourists. The views from either side of the hill of the sharp meanders of the River Wye were amazing.

In better weather I’m sure this place is packed with tourists, and deservedly so. I was disappointed to be there is such poor weather when visibility was so poor, but at least I was able to enjoy what views there were without the noise and bustle of other people. Dropping down the steep western slopes of Symonds Yat Rock I emerged beside the hotels and public house of Symonds Yat East, strangely devoid of people. For this walk I was following Walk 9 of the July 2011 issue of TGO which directed me at this point to continue alongside the River Wye to the Biblins Bridge, but by now I had gotten fed up with the rain so decided to head back to Goodrich. By river this is more than ten miles away, but due to severe meanders of the river is only two miles away by road, so under heavy wind and rain I walked along the road all the way back to Goodrich. This was a very disappointing walk as the terrain promises so much with what I saw only wetting my appetite but ultimately it was just too wet.

The Forest of Dean

2012-01-19T16:09:00.002Z

Thursday 22nd December 2011

Leaving Brecon where I had been staying for the previous couple of days I headed back into England but just as I reached the border I nipped into the Forest of Dean. I'd never been to this large area of woodland before so when I realised that I actually drive past it whenever I go to Brecon I decided to stop and enjoy its delights. I was possibly not seeing the forest at its best, but nevertheless this was still a grand walk with a much wider variation in colour than I would get at other times of the year. Just like the day before I was following a walk that I’d found in the pages of TGO magazine. This time I was following the directions to walk 8 in the October 2011 issue.

Parking near the Speech House Hotel in the centre of the forest I struck out along the broad Spruce Ride soon reaching the picturesque Speech House Lake. The weather for this walk was fantastic and beside the lake the sun was shining along the length of the water lighting the northern end in a multitude of colours that you simply won’t get in the middle of the summer. Returning to the Spruce Ride I followed the straight-as-an-arrow lane until it deteriorated into an abominably muddy track. After the relaxing stroll along Spruce Ride the thick mud that I encountered after the lane veered off was a huge crash back down to Earth. Somehow I managed to get through the slippery mud and climbed up to the small hill-top settlement of Staple-edge where I turned right and slowly descended the ridge all the way down to Mallards Pike Lake which could be glimpsed through the trees.

Crossing a road I continued along forest tracks into an open area which afforded good views of the surrounding area. The main problem with walking in woodland is that views are poor unless a gap can be found in the trees. At this point I could see over bracken and scrub to the undulating landscape of trees arrayed in many colours, from the dark greens of the conifers to light browns of the bare deciduous trees. Passing the Rising Sun Inn I joined a cycle track that took me all the way down to the Cannop Ponds. Crossing the dam of the northern pond I climbed steeply through dark coniferous woodland to the edge of Broadwell, and turning north I took a weaving route along the western edge of the forest above the steep valley of Wimberry Slade until I got to Edge End. Turning back into the forest I wearily made my way back into the heart of the forest at Speech House.

Walking though woodland is always invigorating but after a while it starts to get a bit tedious. By the time I reached my car I was relieved to be back as towards the end the never-ending miles were beginning to drag. The lack of views is a real killer for woods but in small doses there is nothing better. If I was in the Forest of Dean in the spring maybe things would be have been different, as there have been more to look at than just bare trees. I do have one reservation though in that none of the trees looked particularly old, probably because this is a working forest where mature trees are felled in favour of new ones. Still a return at a better time of the year would not be a bad idea to fully appreciate the appeal of the Forest of Dean.

Mynydd Llangorse and Mynydd Troed

2012-01-12T16:53:00.002Z

Wednesday 21st December 2011

I got this walk from the Wild Walks section of the TGO magazine which I have been subscribed to for a year, but it’s taken me until now to actually do one of the walks in the magazine. This one is number ten from the Autumn 2011 issue. The walk starts in the village of Bwlch which as the name suggests lies on a pass. Starting from there I climbed onto the moorland north of the village soon plunging into clouds. Despite the miserable weather this was an enjoyable walk along a clear track beside a wall, with heather and bracken on the ground, and cairns and burial mounds dotted around the hillside adding interest to the walk. After a while I left the path and tried to look for the trig point instead of just staying on the track I was on and taking the path that would have led me all the way to the trig point. The path to the summit does leave the track I was on but it is a clear path that cannot be missed. In my impatience I took the first narrow sheep-trod that I could see and ended up way too far south. Eventually I found the right path and the trig point on Mynydd Llangorse.

Descending from the top I came down a terrific ridge dropping below the clouds to views left towards Llangorse Lake and right down Cwm Sorgwm, but also to very strong winds. At the bottom the wind wasn't so bad but from there I had to climb the steep unrelenting slopes of Mynydd Troed. Over the last ten or more years I have been all over the Black Mountains, except for these two hills on the western edge. My first mountain walks were in this area, but these two hills got left out, and there was no reason for it. Mynydd Troed is just like all the rest with steep sides and broad moorland ridges on top. One rarely meets another soul in the Black Mountains as one strides along the broad ridges and that is just the way I like it. After an age that never seemed to end I eventually reached the trig point at the top of Mynydd Troed and had my lunch. Setting off from the summit along the south-western ridge I followed a faint path to near the end and then I went it alone trying to find a way down the southern slopes.

The description of this walk in TGO magazine wasn’t clear on the route to take at this point but a closer look at the attached map reveals that I didn’t take exactly the route that I took. Mynydd Troed narrows quite markedly at its south-western tip and the route on the map follows this down until the ridge broadens again. If the weather had been better I would have probably taken this route but while still in the clouds I dropped down the steep southern slopes west of this terminating ridge. This was a tricky descent on a very steep slope that only led to more trouble in a very boggy gathering ground of waters. My map indicates a bridlepath starting at this point but aside from one dilapidated stile there was no sign of the bridlepath. The enclosed lane that the path once followed was completely overgrown so I ended up descending the water-logged field alongside. Eventually I reached the road at the bottom of Cwm Sorgwm and then had to find a way across the valley.

Once again the path seemed overgrown so I walked up a steep road, past Blaenau-draw farm, onto the hillside above where I climbed a well-graded path back onto the hilltop near Pen Tir. I didn't bother going to the top of Pen Tir but settled with a cairn near the col before venturing back towards Mynydd Llangorse until I picked up my outward path which I followed all the way back down to Bwlch. This was a pleasant descent with the clouds now having lifted slightly affording me with views that I hadn’t been able to see during my ascent as I followed the track back to Bwlch. Despite the grotty weather this was a nice walk in an area of the Black Mountains that I hadn't been in before. Mynydd Troed felt as if it had been tacked onto the middle of the walk, but the southern slopes of Mynydd Llangorse more than made up for any problems encountered elsewhere in the walk; it was a pleasure to walk those slopes in both ascent and descent.

The Brecon Beacons

2012-01-05T15:40:00.002Z

Tuesday 20th December 2011

With Christmas finally here I whisked myself off to Wales for the week before, but the weather didn't look good. After the satisfyingly big dollop of snow Sunday morning it all quickly melted away so that by Monday morning I was driving to Wales in heavy rain. Given the weather I decided to spend the day walking around the bookshops of Hay-on-Wye. Tuesday was forecast to be dry and sunny so I set off up to the Storey Arms at the top of the A470 between Brecon and Cardiff. This was the point where I’d started my first ever ascent of the Brecon Beacons, back in 2000, but it has been an astonishing five years since I’d last been up the Brecon Beacons that I was eager for a return climb. It had been too long since I’d last been up any mountain.

Climbing the heavily manufactured path was quite easy until half way up when I reached snow that had survived from the weekend. In most places the snow had gone but the path still had quite deep stretches of it. Walking through the snow proved to be very tiring so eventually I succumbed to walking on the edges of the path where there was no snow. Finally I reached the ridge at Bwlch Duwynt and turned south, away from the Beacons. I had come so close in such a short time, due to the 435m start at the Storey Arms, that I wouldn't have felt like I’d deserved the climb if I gone straight up to the highest of the Brecon Beacons from there. Instead I headed along the ridge above Craig Gwaun Taf initially battling against strong winds that soon died down leaving me with a pleasant walk and good views behind me of the snow-spattered Beacons. Unfortunately the sunny weather forecast failed to appear around the Beacons.

This walk was similar to the one that I did in 2000 on my first visit to the Beacons, but on that occasion I had gone in the opposite direction. The route that I took to get onto the ridge then was a steep gully around a stream that tops at a cairn marked on maps, but when I got there now I found a lot of snow packed into the gully making a descent at that point inadvisable. Instead I proceeded to the trig point on Twyn Mwyalchod, and across to the top of a badly eroded path near a pile of stones marked on maps. I have taken this path several times before and it has always been in a poor condition. Given the heavily constructed nature of the paths over the Beacons you'd have thought the National Trust would have turned their attention to this path. Carefully I made my way down the crumbly path into the horribly boggy ground below where careful route-picking took me safely to the dam of Lower Neuadd Reservoir.

On previous visits to this area this reservoir has always been empty, even the map shows it as being empty, but now its full and overflowing (unlike the reservoirs that I saw in the Pennines last September); it’s amazing how things change. On the other side of the dam I climbed up to the old track that goes up to Bwlch ar y Big. In 2000 I had taken this track but now I felt like extending the walk a little so climbed the hillside opposite beside the Nant y Gloesydd. After stopping for lunch half way up the hill I eventually reached a cairn and pile of stones that is marked on the map; at that point I turned left onto the Beacons Way. A bleak traverse of Gwaun Cerrig Llewydion took me to the northern edge of the Beacons looking out over Cwm Oergwm. Turning left onto the edge path I came round to the top of Fan y Big, overlooking Bwlch ar y Big.

Dropping steeply down to the pass I climbed the hill opposite, Cribyn. In 2000 I’d gone around Cribyn but I had no such luck this time as I climbed up to the wind swept summit. Another steep descent brought me to the start of the climb up the tallest of the Brecon Beacons, Pen y Fan. After what seemed like ages, and with snow becoming more plentiful the higher I climbed, I eventually reached the top. By taking this circuitous route I felt like I’d finally earned this summit having done a lot of climbing in order to get there. The last time I was on Pen y Fan, in 2006, the summit was packed with people, now due to the poor weather I had the top all to myself. The traverse to Pen y Fan's twin, Corn Du, is usually relatively easy but on this occasion there was a lot of snow lying between the two tops, more than I had encountered all day. Fortunately it was very soft so with the help of the two walking poles that I had been using all day I was able to safely traverse the col.

From the top of Corn Du I took the regular tourist path that leads all the way down to the Storey Arms. In descent the snow that once again filled only the path was no problem and I was able to waltz down the path as if walking on sand. In fading light I eventually reached the Storey Arms and returned to my car. This was a fabulous walk in weather that was at times cold, windy and wet, but I enjoyed the whole thing. I had finally been able to satisfy my mountain-lust.

Naunton and Bourton-on-the-Water

2011-12-31T11:20:00.003Z

Tuesday 11th September 2001

Following on from the previous day I was walking in the Cotswolds on quite an enjoyable walk, which was ruined by what I heard on the radio at lunchtime. I was following a walk described on the walkingbritain.co.uk website which starts from the picturesque, tourist-filled village of Bourton-on-the-Water, but when I saw the price of car parking I went instead to the tiny village of Naunton where I was easily able to park for free by the side of the road. Just like the day before I had taken the original route and adapted it for my own means making it rather different to how it was supposed to go. Not only was I now starting from half way round the route I headed off in the opposite direction (going anti-clockwise instead of clockwise) and towards somewhere that wasn’t even on the original route. Instead dropping south into the Windrush Valley I headed North-West to the Guiting Power Nature Reserve, which is a thin strip of wetland where a small tributary of the Windrush threads through unspoilt scenery. Using a guidebook is an excellent starting point for walks but you should never feel bound by their route. If there is something nearby that perks your interest, feel free to abandon your route to investigate, as I did ten years ago.

At the end of this 17 acre reserve I joined the Windrush Way as it climbs through Grazeley Wood to reach the A436 at Westfield House. I remember at this point not being sure of my route. I think I might have taken a wrong turning (and not actually have passed Westfield House) and so was not where I thought I was. In fact I was so sure that I was right and the signpost showing the direction I should go was wrong that I tried moving the signpost back to the direction it should have been pointing! I suppose I thought that someone else had been tampering with the sign because it didn’t agree with where I thought I was. The lesson I learnt from this was that I should match what I see on a map with what is on the ground, not try and force what is on the ground to match what is on the map. Following the Windrush Way across fields littered with Foot & Mouth notices (but none actually baring access) I passed through the medieval village of Aylworth and joined the originally described route coming out from Naunton beside the River Windrush. After a pleasant, at times muddy walk along the valley I eventually reached the tourist-packed village of Bourton-on-the-Water.

This photo of Bourton-on-the-Water is courtesy of TripAdvisor
With the time approaching two o’clock I settled down on the grass beside the river that runs right through the middle of the village and had my lunch. As I switch on the radio the news was on, which ended with: “And to repeat the opening news item…” You know something significant has happened when the news feels the need to repeat themselves and on this occasion it was indeed important. As I was sitting on the lawn in brilliant sunshine surrounded by dozens of blissfully unaware tourists I heard that an aeroplane had crashed into one of the towers of the World Trade Centre. You always remember where you were when you heard something ground-shattering like that. JFK being shot I’m sure must have had a similar reaction, more recently I remember that I was in my bedroom getting ready for Church when I heard about Diana, Princess of Wales. But I find it surreal when I remember the sunny, happy circumstances that I was in when I heard about the Twin Towers.

After the second plane crashed it was obvious that this was terrorist action and left me in a daze for the rest of the walk. I went out of Bourton-on-the-Water and followed the Warden’s Way up a hill to a road and then down into the tiny village of Lower Slaughter. I’ll never forget standing on that road being asked by an American tourist for directions to the Slaughters, while in my ears was the three o’clock news talking about the events that had just occurred in New York. It was all too surreal and I just mumbled that it was down the hill trying not to think what this tourists reaction would be when he heard. Numbly I walked through the picturesque little villages of Lower and Upper Slaughter as I slowly made my way back to my car in Naunton. My mind was no longer on the walk, but on the awful things what I was hearing on the radio. The Warden’s Way provided me with a sure guide alongside the River Eye before climbing over Brock Hill and down onto Naunton.

The following day I didn’t feel like doing much waking, so I dragged myself around a short walk starting from the village of Chedworth and incorporating the nearby Roman Villa. The walk ended before lunchtime in rain so with no motivation to do anymore walking I decided it was time to go home.

Chipping Cambden and Broadway

2011-12-15T17:13:00.002Z

Monday 10th September 2001

After my holiday in Devon and Cornwall in the summer of 2001 the next walking holiday that I took was in the middle of September. I remember that I had originally booked my holiday a week or two earlier but due to a clash of holidays was asked if I’d be move my holiday. Since I hadn’t booked any accommodation I agreed, which meant that I was on holiday the week commencing 10th September 2001. Events later in the week put me off doing much walking so this proved to be a rather short holiday. With Foot and Mouth still prevalent in my usual haunt of the Brecon Beacons I decided to go somewhere new, and somewhere that was not far away from where I live. I had travelled north, to the Peak District, many times in the past to go walking, but I had never gone south, to the Cotswolds. The Cotswolds is a range of rolling hills, farmers fields and picturesque villages. It may be a popular place with tourists but frankly I found the scenery a little dull.

(Picture from Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Broadway_tower_edit.jpg)
It has been very hard to reconstruct this walk from memory and from the small number of files on my computer that I’ve found archived away. None of the walks described seem to match my memory of the walk or the description of it in my diary. I remember that it was a walk in the northern part of the Cotswolds along the edge of the Cotswold Escarpment. My diary simply says “Monday I went to Chipping Cambden and Broadway. I walked from Broadway Tower round Snowshill and Stanton. Nothing great.” From this I assume I started from Chipping Cambden, and do recall parking beside an old brick wall (all the villages in this area have very old houses). My best guess is that I was following a guide book that I’d found at the library, but the contents of the website walkingbritain.co.uk seems rather promising, though not perfect. Walk 1308 seems to be close to my memory of the walk but doesn’t go through the villages of Snowshill and Stanton mentioned in my diary. It is entirely possible that I made up this walk from the map based on many sources and is now impossible to follow.

On the assumption that I started the walk in Chipping Campden my first destination would have been Dover’s Hill, which is owned by the National Trust. This hill lies on the edge of the Cotswold Escarpment and must have far-reaching views to the west. Joining the Cotswold Way I walked along the Mile Drive all the way to Broadway Tower and the top of Broadway Hill, one of the highest points in Cotswolds at a dizzying 313 metres. If I did indeed go through the villages of Snowshill and Stanton then I must have found a way through or around Broadway Tower Country Park to the village of Snowshill (where I believe I had lunch). The sight of Stanway House on the map sparked something in my head so it’s possible I continued south-west from Snowshill as far as the village of Stanway and then ploughed on north through Stanton, unless I just took a direct route over Shenberrow Hill to Stanton. As you can tell this walk didn’t leave much of an impression on me, but I do remember my reaction to the village of Broadway which I eventually reached mid-afternoon: I couldn’t get out of the tourist-laden trap fast enough.

The broad high street was striking enough but not really the sort of thing that interests me. These pretty villages in the Cotswolds are nice enough if you like that sort of thing but it wasn’t really my sort of thing, and after half a dozen of villages all with the same coloured stone buildings it starts to get a bit dull. From Broadway I still needed to get back to Chipping Campden returning by way of Dover’s Hill, which I either visited twice or missed out at the beginning of the walk. This was not a great walk but the next days would be much more memorable for completely different reasons.

St Ives to Land’s End

2011-12-08T16:59:00.008Z

Tuesday 24th July 2001

Continuing the account of my holiday of 2001 in Cornwall I come now to a really tough day that really pushed me to my limits. I was walking from the railway station in the picturesque resort of St Ives to the Land’s End Youth Hostel in the Cot Valley along the South West Coast Path. I had been dreading this walk for weeks as it was the longest walk that I had planned, but checking the distance I don’t think I would find it that hard now. The distance between St Ives and the Cot Valley according to the distance calculator on the official website of the South West Coast Path is 18.7 miles, not an impossible distance even taking into account the hilly terrain, but I had other problems as well that made this walk one of the toughest I have ever done.

I started just before 10 am after travelling to St Ives by train from Penzance, where I had been staying. The first couple of miles were okay as I walked through the artist’s resort of St Ives onto the South West Coast Path on a fabulously rough path above dramatic cliffs and under hot, cloudless skies. It wasn’t long however before I realised that I had lost my compass and had to go back for it, eventually finding it some distance back lying on the path, but in my desperate rush to run back I got very hot. I remember stopping for lunch near the village of Zennor and draping a towel over my head as the heat poured off me. Beyond Zennor the terrain is very rough with many steep gradients which were just pure torture in the sweltering temperatures. I hated the heat and every rise and fall of the land was an agony.

My nose starting running freely and this further drained my energy. Ever since this walk I have noticed that during strenuous walks, particularly in hot weather, my nose sometimes starts running so have made sure that I always pack tissues with me. This was the first time I’d ever noticed the phenomena so had no tissues with me. I’m not sure what causes it (I didn’t have a cold), but it may have been related to not drinking enough water. I had taken just one litre of water on this walk which proved to be nowhere near enough. On a strenuous walk in hot weather one needs to take a lot of water or basically as much as you can carry and ever since I have tried to make sure I take plenty of water with me.

Once I got to Pendeen Watch the terrain eased, the weather cooled and I was able to buy a drink from an ice cream van. It was now 4pm and I had come to the most interesting part of the. Beyond Pendeen Watch is a large collection of old tin mines, most notably Levant Mine. I remember walking through the ruins of our mining past with awe at the high chimneys and the huge area that these mines covered. At Cape Cornwall the last of my carefully rationed water ran out and I limped down the hill into the Cot Valley. During the course of the day I a pain in my shin had got gradually worse but for now that wasn’t so much of a concern as the pain from the sunburn that I had acquired the day before which no amount of sun cream seemed to stop. Eventually I arrived near the hostel but could not find a way across the river to the hostel. In my dehydrated, exhausted state this was the last thing I needed. Eventually I found someone to ask directions but I’m afraid I rather snapped at them. I was not in a good state of mind.

Wearily I dragged myself to the youth hostel thanks to the directions that I had been given and was able to get a drink from the friendly staff. Despite aching legs I was able to get a long night’s sleep and regain my energy, but this mammoth walk had taken everything out of me.

Land’s End to Porthcurno

Wednesday 25th July 2001

The shin splinter that had been getting gradually worse and worse during the course of the previous day was just as bad in the morning as it had been when I went to bed. My original plan for this day had been to walk all the way back to Penzance along the South West Coast Path but my limping progress the first couple of miles soon put a stop to that idea. Slowly I walked past the popular seaside resort of Sennen Cove to Land’s End and its tacky theme park. At Land’s End I ate a lunch bought at exorbitant prices from the theme park and after writing a postcard home continued along the coast as fast as my leg would allow. After Land’s End the Atlantic becomes the English Channel and the terrain eases so by walking very slowly and taking every shortcut that I could find along the way I was finally able to reach Porthcurno. It was almost 4pm when I eventually descended to the packed beach having limped my way along ten weary miles (maybe a little less with the route I took), and my forearms were still in agony as a result of my short-sightedness of Monday despite tonnes of sun cream since. I couldn’t go any further so walked into Porthcurno where I visited the excellent Museum of Submarine Telegraphy (the Trans-Atlantic telecommunication cables come into Britain at Porthcurno), before catching a bus to Penzance.

Any idea of further walking this holiday had been removed thanks to my aching leg. With hindsight I shouldn’t have done such a strenuous walk on the Tuesday when I already had a shin splinter (or whatever it was that was wrong with my leg). Thankfully this is the worst that I have injured myself while walking and it was nothing serious, my leg eventually healed itself with plenty of rest once I got home. I feel like I seemed to have turned a corner with the walks that I did during this holiday. They were my first really serious, strenuous walks and they really put me to the test. Although I didn’t come out of them in perfect health I learnt a lot during this holiday that I continue to put into practice during my walks.

Porthleven to Lizard Point

2011-11-24T17:08:00.002Z

Monday 23rd July 2001

With no new walks until Christmas I am going to look back at some of my older walks. The last time I did this I went back to September 2000. The following spring I was unable to do any walks due to the Foot & Mouth outbreak so it wasn’t until the summer that I was finally able to get some walking done. However since vast stretches of the countryside were still off-bounds I picked an area that was open: South Devon and Cornwall. Looking back at this holiday my one abiding memory is that it was badly planned, mainly through leaving booking the hostels until it was too late. The first week of the two week holiday was spent in South Devon but even though I did a fair bit of walking around the stunning coastal scenery I didn’t do a full day’s walk at any point during the week. It wasn’t until I moved to Cornwall the following week that I did my first all-day walk and, as I wrote in my diary, I was “looking forward to finally getting some solid walking in. I’m disappointed that it’s taken until now.”

The walk was along the South West Coast Path between Porthleven and Lizard Point, the most southerly point in Britain. My memory of this walk is unfortunately poor and I didn’t say much about it in my diary, which might be interpreted as saying that it wasn’t a particularly great walk, but I did say it was “a good day, a nice walk.” I caught a bus from the town of Penzance to the small, quiet port of Porthleven. At this point in the day it was overcast with no sign of the sun coming out so I didn’t bother putting on any sun cream. This would have disastrous consequences. Looking at a map of the walk brings bring back some memories as it began with a stroll along Porthleven Sands for several miles all the way to Gunwalloe Fishing Cove. From this point the walk starts getting interesting with some spectacular coves including Poldhu Cove above which Marconi sent the first radio transmissions across the Atlantic.

It is a pity that it would be many years before I started taking pictures of my walks. The one above is from the excellent website of the tragically departed John Bulter, and judging by his other pictures this was a fabulous walk. The scenery gets better and better with stunning cliffs combined with gorgeous beaches. I am gutted that my memory of this walk is not any better as it must have been a stunner. Maybe it was the later events that spoilt my memory. After the cloudy start to the day the clouds cleared leaving a wonderfully sunny day for this great walk. However I failed to put any sun cream on. By the time I reached the lighthouse at Lizard Point I was red raw and suffered for the rest of the week as a result. Ever since I have been particularly careful to not only pack plenty of sun cream but to also apply it, at least once during the day.

My problems on this walk continued after getting to Lizard Point. I had anticipated being able to catch a bus mid-afternoon but after waiting ages for it realised that unlike the rest of the country the schools in this area were still open so the bus was not running at that time and I had to wait an hour for another one. This ruined all my other connections resulting in an hour’s wait for another bus in the town of Helston and half an hour in Redruth for a train back to Penzance. I said at the start of this post that I felt this holiday was badly planned, but I think a large component of that was a poorly kept public transport network. Looking back through my diary of this holiday it is littered with missed connections for various reasons. In today’s world of extensive websites of timetables it is easy to ensure you have the right timetable for your holiday but ten years ago Councils and bus companies were too slow to put their public transport information on the internet. This holiday proves to me the value of spending countless hours poring over maps and timetables planning holidays. So I better get started on next year’s holidays!

Snowdon with a crowd

2011-11-17T17:11:00.004Z

Saturday 11th June 2011

Last June I helped organise a walk up Snowdon for a group of guys from my church. There were twenty of us but we had decided to offer two different routes up the mountain. The easier route, up the Llanberis Path following the railway all the way up, was taken by seven of the group, mostly comprising of men in their fifties. The rest of us went up what is probably the best route up Snowdon, the Pyg Track. I led this group and had chosen to start at the Pen-y-Gwryd Hotel, (possibly where the Pyg Track gets its name). This is not the usual start of the Pyg Track but I knew that Pen-y-pass fills up very quickly and charges £10 a day to park. The parking near the hotel used to be an informal side-of-the-road affair but last year the Park Authority formalised it with proper surfacing and started charging (£4 a day, however when we got there we found that the pay machines had been removed). For me the main attraction of starting at the hotel was a new path that had just been built linking the hotel with Pen-y-pass.

After we had good weather during the drive to Snowdonia the previous evening it was disappointing to wake up to grey cloud-covered skies, even more so when it rained heavily on the short drive to our starting points. As the Llanberis group left to head over Pen-y-pass to their starting point the three cars in my group parked beside the road just after the hotel. Once we were ready to set off my co-leader asked if I had my map. I replied affirmatively, quickly whipping out my map from behind my back. The map then went back into my rucksack and never came out again throughout the rest of the day, such is my familiarity with the surroundings after thirteen previous walks up Snowdon. With the weather clearing up we started the walk along that new section of path from the road near the Pen-y-Gwryd Hotel across the southern slopes Moel Berfedd. It was a good little path, and I particularly enjoyed a small zigzag near a point that is marked on OS maps as Bwlch y Gwyddel. This involved a short scramble that was a foretaste of what was to come.

From there the path drops slightly to join the old path from Nant Gwynant. Beyond the junction the path deteriorates with the muddy, old path unable to cope with the added traffic along it. Soon we were passed the worst of the mud and climbing steeply up to the crowds at Pen-y-pass. After a breather beside the car park we set off along the Pyg Track, climbing across the rocky terrain with excellent views north into Nant Peris. This is a particularly tricky section of the path but my thirteen keen explorers coped admirably even when the heavens opened briefly once more. Despite climbing up the damp rocks we all safely made it to Bwlch y Moch (the pass of the pigs – another possible reason for the name of the Pyg Track). The path levels off after the pass with stunning views across Llyn Llydaw towards Snowdon giving an added boost to the easier walking.

The pace of the group throughout was much slower than I’m used to, but I had to put in some much quicker walking on the occasions when I had try and catch up with the leading group who were leaving the others behind. I have hardly done any walking group leading and I found that the hardest thing to do is keeping the whole group together. After passing a second lake, Glaslyn, we climbed steeply up the hillside to the top of Bwlch Glas, the pass between Snowdon and its neighbour, Garnedd Ugain. It is at that point that the Llanberis Path joins the Pyg Track, and as if on cue the rest of our party appeared along the path, except it was only half the Llanberis group as unlike my group, they had split in two. Sending my co-leader off to walk down the Llanberis Path to check on the other half the rest of us took the final half a kilometre up to the crowded summit of Snowdon. The rest of our party turned out to be not far behind so after we had all been to the ridiculously crowded summit and café we descended partly down to the ridge to a suitably quiet point where we could have lunch.

Despite the cold weather at the summit everyone was thrilled to have made it to the top of the highest point in either England or Wales, but of course now we had to get back down again. After the Llanberis group headed back down the Llanberis Path I led my group down the Pyg Track to the point where the Miner’s Track diverges. After a tricky, steep descent to the shore of Glaslyn the remainder our walk was relatively easy as we dropped gradually besides the lakes to Pen-y-pass, and ended with the short walk along the new path to the Pen-y-Gwryd Hotel. After the rain at the start of the walk we were blessed with good, warm, sunny weather except on the cold and windy summit. Everyone had a great time and I thoroughly enjoyed the challenge of leading a group up a mountain.

The next day it rained all morning, but despite this we did the short walk around Capel Curig that had been planned. I had never done this walk before but had not brought the instructions with me from the website where we’d found it (http://www.visitcapel.fsnet.co.uk/heritagewalk.htm). Consequently I was frequently looked at the map and, with hindsight, didn’t follow the prescribed route, and in the end actually got lost. At one point we had reached a junction of paths and I had no idea where we were or which way we were supposed to be going. With a couple of the other walking leaders crowding around me in the pouring rain, I got my compass out and determined where we were and where we needed to go (actually along a very boggy path!). After all we had achieved the previous day I can’t believe I got us all lost; please don’t tell anyone, I don’t think I’d ever live it down!

Pennine Way, part five

2011-11-10T16:49:00.003Z

Saturday 24th September 2011

Ickornshaw Moor and Pinhaw Beacon
This final stage was the most tedious as well as being the longest. I left Haworth first thing in the morning in order to get to Gargrave in time to catch a train. In the end due to easy walking in the later stages I had arrived in Gargrave with an hour to spare. I started by climbing back through Haworth past the Brontë Parsonage Museum, across the dam of Lower Laithe Reservoir, through the village of Stanbury all in order to return to the Pennine Way near Buckley Farm. The Pennine Way from there goes around Ponden Reservoir before climbing the steep hillside opposite. At this point the sun was out and it looked like I was going to have the best weather of my walk so far, however as I climbed up to Crag Bottom in the narrow Dean Clough ravine it started to rain. Donning waterproofs I climbed onto the bleak Ickenshaw Moor, which although it didn’t feel like it at the time was probably the best bit of the walk.

After passing near the trig point of Wolf Stones the rain eased and the path started to slowly lose height becoming rather boggy as it passed some people preparing to shoot grouse (I wish they wouldn’t). Eventually I descended into farmland and from now on the walk was rather dull but tiring, with tricky route-finding across the many fields. There was little of any interest to the proceedings except at one point just outside Cowling where there seemed to be a mini-farm or wildlife sanctuary full of ducks, geese and chickens around a small pond. It was a lovely little place. Continuing on from there, after several ups and downs I reached the edge of the village of Lothersdale on a steep hill looking down almost straight into an old mill chimney with a really steep descent on an overgrown path down into the charming little village. With nowhere in the village to sit and have lunch I climbed up the hillside beyond the village to a road that had a park bench beside it. With relief I collapsed onto the seat and had my lunch looking out across the farmland I had just walked across.

A short climb from there took me up onto another moor, Elslack, topped by a trig point, Pinhaw Beacon. A long descent through brown heather-coloured moor and grassy livestock fields took me to the village of Thornton (one-time home of the Brontë’s). During the descent I passed a sign saying “To YH”. If I had been doing the whole of the Pennine Way I would have left the route at this point and dropped down to Earby Youth Hostel, which I had at one point in my planning considered doing. In the event I had decided to cover the additional 6½ miles to the railway station at Gargrave. From this point the walking was actually very easy and I was able to make up such a lot of time that I slowed to a stroll over hills that were low and rolling, much like home, with terrain that was all grass covered livestock fields, which is not so much like home where there are many arable fields. The only highlight was a section beside the Leeds & Liverpool Canal, but that section was sadly short lived. Eventually I reached Gargrave where I had plenty of time to get something to eat before catching a train back home. This was an enjoyable week spent walking along the Pennine Way but it did nothing to satisfy my mountain craving. That will unfortunately have to wait until next spring unless I can find somewhere to go at Christmas.

Pennine Way, part four

2011-11-03T17:31:00.004Z

Friday 23rd September 2011

Stoodley Pike Monument and Wuthering Heights
Another day spent walking along the Pennine Way saw me doing a rather tedious section before reaching the literary filled area around the town of Haworth. Climbing steeply out of Mankinholes back onto the moor that I had left the evening before I made my way to the Stoodley Pike Monument. This pinnacle commemorating victory in the Napoleonic wars has a viewing platform up a short, dark staircase. Unfortunately the views around the Calder Valley were not great as the day had started rather grey and misty (fortunately the weather gradually got better). Descending from there I crossed fields and met up with a bloke who was also doing the Pennine Way, but it had not been going well for him. He had started a day before me but through poor navigation frequently got lost and was generally finding the Pennine Way a lot harder than he’d anticipated. After he’d marvelled at my ability to instantly point at our location on his map I directed him towards Hebdon Bridge railway station. It is a good idea for anyone to do the Pennine Way, but you do need to prepare in advance, and that includes making sure you know how to read a map.

Continuing down a wooded track I dropped all the way down into the bottom of the lovely Calder Valley. At the bottom of the valley a canal, a railway and a main road is crammed into the narrow valley. A steep walk past quaint little houses perched on the side of the hill along simply divine footpaths took me back out of the valley and onto farmers’ tracks. Part of the way up, beside the ruins and graveyard of Mount Olivet Baptist Chapel, I saw a sign that said ‘Pennine Way Official Route’ that way, ‘Wainwright Route’ this way. Without a moment’s hesitation I climbed the steep path of the Wainwright route onto a farmers’ track. Was it better than the new route? Probably not, I’ll have to try the official route next time I do the Pennine Way. The onward route over the farmland on Pry Hill was rather dull with the only respite being the delectable wooded dell of Colden Water, a pleasant spot to relax. This narrow, shallow valley has a little bit of a pasture in the middle but is surrounded by trees and was full of scent-filled flowers (maybe sweet pea). It was simply divine.

Shortly after climbing out of the small valley I actually got lost. After all my comments about my fellow Pennine Way walker who was constantly getting lost, I went the wrong way myself! Just before reaching the small development of Colden I turned right instead of left. The route I took through an orchard was very nice, but it wasn’t the Pennine Way so a short walk along the road past Colden was necessary to bring me back onto the Pennine Way. No need to panic. Continuing to climb up the hill I eventually reached Heptonstall Moor where a long, dull moorland crossing ensued. I was really disappointed during my walk this week that the heather on the moors was no longer in flower; it would have made the moorland walks much more interesting. Last year at this time I walked across the North York Moors when the moors were covered in the purple flowered heather. At the far end of the moor I passed by Gorple Lower Reservoir climbing into and out of the narrow valley that issues from the reservoir up to a series of more reservoirs. These were the Walshaw Reservoirs and frankly this bit was a bit dull except it was interesting looking at how much water was in the reservoirs, which was hardly any at all, except for the top one.

Eventually leaving these reservoirs behind I climbed out on the wiley, windy moors to the ruins of Top Withins, the setting of which was the inspiration for Wuthering Heights. Leaving the Pennine Way at this point I took a path beside the South Dean Beck to the Brontë waterfall, the significance of which escapes me but I don’t think I saw it at its best as there wasn’t much water in it and the hillside was choked with bracken. Further progress along the track took me over Penistone Hill and eventually brought me into the tourist filled village of Haworth. A quick look around the various Railway Children film-locations in the area, from Oakworth Railway Station to the Three Chimneys house, brought an interesting end to the day. With steadily improving weather this was not a bad literary-filled day, even though the scenery was variable.

Pennine Way, part three

2011-10-27T16:48:00.003+01:00

Thursday 22nd September 2011

Millstone and Blackstone Edges
With good weather dawning I left Manchester where I had been staying and caught a train back to Marsden where I had left the Pennine Way the day before. When I reached the industrial town I set off back up the hillside onto Marsden Moor. Climbing across the moor I re-joined the Pennine Way and reached the edge of the Standedge Cutting with the A62 at the bottom of the cutting. Dropping to the western end of the cutting I crossed the road and leaving the Peak District behind struck off across the moors of Standedge until I reached the trig point and rocks of Millstone Edge. These were fabulous fun and the views towards the urban sprawl of Manchester were amazing, despite a strong, cold wind. The edge was reminiscent of Curbar Edge in the Peak District, maybe not as steep, but still afforded a good deal of jumping about from rock to rock, and fortunately not too many people around to see me acting like a prat.

Moving on from there I had just wide open moors with no distinguishing features and nothing with which to remember the passing miles. The quiet A640 was crossed and the trig point on White Hill was passed before I reached a cairn on the nearby Green Hole Hill where I stopped for lunch crouching behind the cairn. The cairn was just big enough to provide shelter from the wind, but it didn’t prevent the annoying drone of the motorway a mile away rumbling away in the background. Getting up from lunch I passed a radio mast and crossed the busy M62 motorway on a wind-swept bridge. The M62 has the highest point on the motorway network right at the point where the Pennine Way crosses the motorway. The wind funnelling through the cutting was severe, but the noise from the heavy traffic was just as bad so I was glad when I finally reached the other side of the bridge.

Another short walk beyond took me to another wonderful area of rocks, Blackstone edge. This edge is bigger than Millstone Edge with more rocks, some enormous, stretching for a much longer distance. Once again I had tremendous fun walking from one rock to another, even playing games to see how long I could go without treading on the ground. Eventually the rocks petered out and my fun finally ended after passing the medieval Aiggin Stone and reaching Broad Head Drain, which was a sign of things to come. The easy path beside the concrete water channel took me to the White House pub on the A58, yet another Trans-Pennine road. There now followed a long tedious section of the Pennine Way where I walked along easy reservoir access roads alongside drains, and beside the reservoirs of Blackstone Edge, Light Hazzles and Warland. Although the walking was tedious the weather was good despite the strong wind so I was able to relax and just enjoy the passing easy miles in the sunshine. It was just a pity the moorland scenery wasn’t more appealing.

Finally the track came to an end in a boggy path that was worse than anything I had yet encountered. This was possibly a reminder of what most of the Pennine Way was like twenty years ago, but there was still a drain alongside the path so I was able to walk along the edge of that when the path got too bad. At the point where the drain turned away sharply right, flag stones returned to remind us of the modern standard for the final part of the days walk approaching the Stoodley Pike monument. At Withins Gate, just before I reached the pinnacle, I dropped down the slopes to the left on an excellent path that took me steeply down into the village of Mankinholes and the small youth hostel. This was quite an enjoyable walk with some nicely appreciated sunshine after the rain of the previous couple of days. There were some fun moments on this walk along the rocky edges but also some tedious sections beside the reservoirs, and an unwanted intrusion of civilisation in the form of the M62.

Pennine Way, part two

2011-10-22T12:24:00.005+01:00

Wednesday 21st September 2011

Black Hill and the Wessendon Reservoirs
With much better weather than I had for my previous days walk on the Pennine Way I set off from the Crowden Youth Hostel and climbed out of Longdendale. I was walking up an excellent path in Crowden Great Clough through stunning scenery with a good mix of vegetation and with warm, sunny weather until eventually I reached the edge of the clough above Laddow Rocks. From this great vantage point I dropped down to the Crowden Great Brook where the terrain and the weather deteriorated as I crossed the bleak dreary moor heading towards Black Hill. While walking beside the brook the path had been a little boggy, but at least that had added a little interest to the walk, once I left the brook behind flag stones became the path surface of choice which just added to the tedium. Flag stones may make the walking easier but they also make it less challenging. With the wind getting stronger and colder I climbed up to the flat, boggy,wind-swept summit of Black Hill. At the top I sheltered behind the Soldier’s Lump (the pile of stones that the trig point sits on) and had something to eat, but I didn’t stay long. Despite the sunny weather it was cold and windy and the dark peaty terrain on top of Black Hill is totally unappealing.

Leaving the top I dropped down the northern slopes where views could now be seen extending far to the north including a noticeably tall mill chimney. With the black peat and the cold winds left behind I was able to enjoy the descent passing through a dense area of heather until I reached another Trans-Pennine road, the A635. Crossing the road I found some shelter from the strong wind in a disused quarry while I had my lunch. Emerging from my shelter I started walking down a track past the Wessenden Reservoirs. After a short spell of rain this was a enjoyable, sunny walk down the valley, but with winds that were still very strong. At this point I had a choice to make. My destination for the day was the town of Marsden at the bottom of the valley I was walking down so an easy option would have been to continue down the wide track in this delightful valley all the way into Marsden. However it was only two o’clock so after passing the second Wessenden Reservoir I dropped steeply down into the valley bottom and climbed even more steeply up the other side.

The Pennine Way has undergone many subtle changes of route over the years and I have found that every guidebook and map I have consulted has shown a slightly different route, including at this point. My OS map shows the Pennine Way crossing the dam of the second reservoir and following a level path around the steep-sided valley to the top of the steep path mentioned at the end of the previous paragraph. This strikes me as a much easier and more interesting route than the one I took directed by my Harvey map and the signs on the ground. I don’t know the reason for the changes made to the Pennine Way but anything is better than that climb up from the river. Continuing along the path beside Blakely Clough I climbed onto the windy moor of Black Moss. Passing between the wind-swept reservoirs of Black Moss and Swellands I crossed Rocher Moss heading towards Standedge Cutting.

Before reaching yet another Trans-Pennine road I turned right off the Pennine Way onto an excellent track, a former packhorse road, which led me all the way down into the industrial town of Marsden. With no youth hostel in the area I caught a train from the railway station in Marsden to Manchester and stayed in the youth hostel there. This was a really varied walk with some great highlights including Crowden Great Clough and the Wessenden Valley, but Black Hill doesn’t deserve any praise. As the third of the great peat hills of the Dark Peak Black Hill fails in every comparison to Bleaklow and Kinder Scout, which I went over the previous day. The other two have gritstone outcrops adding interest to the surroundings, and Black Hill doesn’t even top two thousand feet, unlike the other two. Even though this was the first time I’d ever been up Black Hill I don’t feel like ever going up again.

Pennine Way, part one

2011-10-13T16:28:00.012+01:00

Tuesday 20th September 2011

Kinder Scout and Bleaklow
My first day on the Pennine Way was a wet one with rain for most of the day and low cloud over some of the most challenging and bleak terrain in the Peak District. Setting off from the youth hostel I walked across the fields of Edale to Grindsbrook Booth, the official start of the Pennine Way. Starting the way I crossed fields that I’ve walked many times before across the lower slopes of Kinder Scout. The first time I walked on that path was in 1992 when walking around Edale with my Father; it was chucking it down with rain and we were slipping and sliding all over the place until we eventually reached the small hamlet of Upper Booth. I’ve never had any problems since and despite the rain on this occasion I still had no problems. Taking the road beyond Upper Booth I walked past Lee House and up the valley to Jacob’s Ladder. I had been on this steep path only once before and that was in descent back in 1998, I’ve never taken this route since. There are two routes up Jacob’s Ladder: a walled lane and a steep stony path. My Harvey Map claimed the Pennine Way takes the lane, but common sense (and OS Maps) directed me onto the steep steps of the ladder and so eventually I came onto the misty moor.

Turning right I climbed up onto the Kinder plateau and past the eerie looking Edale Rocks, with the whole area in the low clouds having a spooky feel to it. I remember being told many years ago not to go onto the Kinder plateau in bad weather as it can be a dangerous place. Although I am experienced enough now in navigation to not be worried by such weather it still left me in awe of the bleak, challenging surroundings. Continuing across the barren land I followed the path to a very large cairn in a featureless expanse. The trig point of Kinder Low must have been somewhere around there but my maps indicate that the Pennine Way doesn’t go to the trig point, passing just west of it. This was quite a disappointment for me as I’ve only once been to Kinder Low, and I couldn’t find it. Passing the area of Kinder Low I walked alongside the western edge of Kinder Scout to the Kinder Downfall. This waterfall is one of the highlights of the Pennine Way, and of the Peak District, where the River Kinder falls off the edge of the plateau. Previous times I’ve been at the Downfall there hasn’t been much water in the river and such is the funnelling effect of the landscape the water has gone up the waterfall. Not so on this occasion.

There was loads of brown water pouring over the falls, but such is the shape of the Downfall, and the wet rocks, I was unable to get a good look at it. Moving on I continued along the western edge to the north-western corner of the plateau and down slippery steps to the top of William Clough. Beyond the pass I was now on virgin ground, the first section of the Pennine Way that I hadn’t been on before, as I climbed up Mill Hill and turned right onto a long dreary traipse across the peat bog of Glead Hill. I tried to imagine what it must have been like to walk along the Pennine Way before the flag stones were laid on the boggiest sections. No wonder Wainwright said “I’ve had enough of it” after writing his Pennine Way Companion. On a day like I was walking in the old path would have been an awful quagmire, thank God for the flag stones!. After several miles of walking I eventually reached the top of the Snake Pass road. With my back to the traffic I quickly had my lunch in the wind and rain.

Starting off again I walked towards Bleaklow, which is a very different hill to Kinder Scout. Without the rock tors that dominate the edges of Kinder Scout Bleaklow is left with a huge mass of peat bog and no redeemable features, especially in the poor weather conditions that I was walking in. For most of the distance to Bleaklow Head I was walking at the bottom of deep channels in the peat called groughs which provided no view of where I was going even if the weather was good, and made navigation a guessing game. I followed the Devil’s Dike drain at first before walking along the boggy floor of Hern Clough until eventually I reached the barren summit of Bleaklow where onward progress was more of the same until I ended up in Wildboar Grain which develops into the spectacular Torside Clough. After the boggy crossing of the depressing Bleaklow it was a joy to be on the edge of this striking valley with views for the first time since Jacob’s Ladder. Walking along the top of the clough edge I skirted the western side all the way down into the valley of Longdendale and Torside Reservoir.

Crossing the dam I climbed up to a delightful tree-lined walk beside the reservoir that sadly ended all too soon on the main A628. Crossing this busy road was not as difficult as I feared as a fleeting gap soon opened up and I was able to dash across. A short walk along a farmer’s road brought me to Crowden Youth Hostel (a soulless place some distance from the old youth hostel marked on my maps) and the end of my first day on the Pennine Way. Despite the poor weather this was an exhilarating walk, but after Kinder Scout the hills I encountered were too tedious. Fortunately Torside Clough and Longdendale were ample compensation.

Win Hill, Lose Hill and Mam Tor

2011-10-06T16:47:00.001+01:00

Monday 19th September 2011

The plan for this holiday went through many different permutations. Several years ago I planned a four-day walk across the Peak District starting from the market town of Ashbourne to the industrial town of Marsden. After much indecision on what I would do during this week I eventually decided that I would do the Peak District traverse followed by a continuation along the Pennine Way as far as the railway station at Gargrave (where I’d started two and a half years ago). A couple of weeks before starting family concerns scuppered the start of the walk intended for Saturday. With the actual Peak District traverse now abandoned I settled for a completely different walk to act as a prelude to the start of the Pennine Way the following day. The walk that resulted was tremendous and more than made up for the disappointments of the rearranged weekend.

This walk was from Hathersage in the Hope Valley to Edale and the start of the Pennine Way. Coincidentally this was the start and finish points of a rather significant walk that I did in 1998. This was my first ever backpacking walk; the first time I walked from one point to another carrying all my gear on my back (admittedly just clothes and toiletries since I was staying in hostels). I remember this walk with great fondness as I enjoyed the feeling of backpacking so much that it was the starting point for every walk that followed. In the end I decided that I would follow the course of that momentous walk, though eventually I deviated from the original route. Setting off from Hathersage I felt curiously enthusiastic about the week ahead of me. I was thoroughly looking forward to the weeks walking that I had ahead of me and the sunny weather that greeted me was just waving me along.

Back in 1998 I had deliberately followed the course of the White Peak Way, so that is what I did now walking alongside the River Derwent for a couple of pleasantly enjoyable miles until I reached the village of Shatton. Crossing the road and the railway line I climbed up through the tiny village of Thornhill on an interesting path that didn’t seem at all familiar. My path took a route over steep ground above a small disused quarry in a small wood. I may not have remembered it but it was fun to walk. The only problem was the recent rains had left a slippery, slimy layer of mud on the ground on top of the still hard ground underneath. Gradually climbing I passed through an area of heather moorland (that was sadly just past their flowering stage), and turned left in woodland to reach the top of Win Hill. At the rock-strewn and windy summit I had great fun jumping about on the rocks and enjoying the views of Edale to my left and Ladybower Reservoir to my right. I have done quite a few walks around Edale over the last ten years, but none of them following the route I’d just taken (not since 1998). However my onward route was now frustratingly familiar.

Taking a well-known route I dropped down the knee-shatteringly steep south-western slopes of Win Hill down to the bottom of the Hope Valley. On the other side I climbed the tedious slopes of Lose Hill. The sheep populated fields of Lose Hill were a marked contrast to the part wooded and part moorland climb of Win Hill. I know which hill would win in my book! Lose Hill is actually the more popular of the two hills as it lies at the eastern end of the Great Ridge that marks the boundary between the White Peak and Dark Peak areas of the Peak District. At the summit of Lose Hill I had my lunch beside a dedication plaque that I don’t remember seeing before. It lies below the summit on the eastern side, and you probably wouldn’t find it unless you were looking for it. It’s amazing how nondescript it is; most people probably haven’t seen it. I only saw it because I was looking for a shelter from the wind! Shows what happens when you don’t look around you as you are walking.

Setting off along the Great Ridge I buttoned up against the cold wind. This ridge is a very familiar place for me and walking along it again reminded me of my first visit. It was 1992 and I was in my first year at University in the nearby city of Sheffield, when I walked up to Hollins Cross on the Great Ridge. That feels like a long time ago! At Hollins Cross I dropped down below Man Tor along a narrow steep-edged path past Mam Farm and onto the Mam Tor road. At the far end of the inspirational landslides that obliterated the road in 1976 I climbed the very steep southern slopes of Mam Tor. I had thought on this as the south ridge and been keen for several years trying it as an alternative route to the top, despite the National Trust wisely trying to put people off using the route by planting trees beside the road. Going around I climbed the ridiculously steep slopes of the south ridge and found that despite appearances it’s far too steep to be a considered a ridge (and besides its more eastern than southern!). At the wind-swept summit of Mam Tor I descended the regular path down to the road and across to the Lord’s Seat ridge.

Up to Hollins Cross I had been following the 1998 route precisely, but the diversion onto the southern slopes of Mam Tor was only the start of a much wider diversion. Because of my early start, and quicker pace than in 1998, I still had several hours of walking left so continued along the widening ridge over Lord’s Seat. After a while it started to rain, and kept raining for a long time. After the ridge broadened along Rushup Edge I turned right back towards Edale and dropped down into the valley on the Chapel Gate track. At the bottom of the valley I passed through Barber Booth and over the railway walking through several fields to Edale village where I stopped off at the Moorland Centre (National Park Information Centre). When I emerged it had stopped raining and I was able to continue walking through the valley with views of Mam Tor and Lose Hill on my right as I came to the youth hostel. This was a great little walk which failed to be dampened by a little rain and was an excellent dress rehearsal for the Pennine Way starting the next day.

Walna Scar

2011-09-30T17:34:00.001+01:00

Saturday 6th August 2011

After my disappointments in Scotland I was desperate to go up a mountain so quickly planned a day trip to the Lake District. The mountains I had in mind were the Coniston Fells but while planning my walk I noticed the Dunnerdale Fells to the south. I had never been south of the Walna Scar Road before whereas I've been to the top of all the Coniston Fells. Still in two minds I caught a train to the south Cumbrian town of Ulverston (birthplace of Stan Laurel) where I caught a bus to Coniston. Now it was decision time: do I walk up the Coniston Fells and satisfy my mountain craving, or do I walk over the lower hills south of the Walna Scar Road that I’ve never been over before? In the end the weather decided it for me. It was overcast with rain threatened when I arrived in Coniston so I set off along the excellent Walna Scar Road.

At Boo Tarn I was very tempted to go up a mountain after all by turning to the right and climbing up the Old Man of Coniston following in the footsteps of Sean McMahon of StridingEdge.Net, but eventually I came to my senses. As later events proved if I had gone up the Old Man I would never have been able to complete the walk. At the foot of the zigzags that lead up to the top of the Walna Scar Pass I actually did leave the path. To the north of the Walna Scar Pass is Brown Pike, a relatively small fell that even Wainwright didn't honour with its own chapter in his guide books. But it is a fell and it is bigger than any of the hills south of the Walna Scar Road. As an added interest there are some disused mine workings on the eastern side of Brown Pike so climbing up to the old miner’s tracks I investigated the remains and marvelled at the well-made tracks (which are mostly all that's left). At the end of one track I came on an awesome view of the seldom seen Blind Tarn. Hidden away behind Brown Pike this small lake would only be seen by people looking down from the ridge above, from where it would appear small and insignificant. From where I was standing it looked delectable.

Climbing further up the steep fell I eventually reached the summit of Brown Pike where I had my lunch. While eating I gazed out over the nearby fells all the way to the Scafell Pikes. Even in the low cloud it was an awesome sight. There were many people passing me as they made their way along the ridge towards Dow Crag and the other Coniston Fells and I couldn't help thinking how old and tired this route was. I have been along all the main ridges in the Lake District, so they no longer hold any appeal for me. It is the more unusual ascents or off-path routes that interest me now. So after eating I dropped down to the Walna Scar Road and crossed over to the barely trodden ground beyond. South of the Walna Scar Road there are no Wainwrights and the highest point barely touches two thousand feet. But as with the rest of the Lake District what they lack in height they make up for in complexity.

The first and highest top beyond the Walna Scar Road is Walna Scar itself but before reaching the summit the clouds descended making the navigation trickier than it should have been. With only faint paths to follow I made my way to the summit and across to the neighbouring tops of White Maiden and White Pike. With the clouds thankfully lifting I was able to enjoy myself as I took full advantage of every bit of rock I could find by descending the southern ridge of White Pike before dropping steeply down to the boggy saddle of Yauld Mire. Thoroughly enjoying every moment I picked my way across the complex terrain over the small top of Pikes onto the top of Caw. Just as I approached the trig point however it started to rain and continued as I took a challenging and very steep descent to the ground below. Spurning the insignificant hills around Fox Haw I followed a bridlepath past them onto a road. As the rain stopped I crossed the road and climbed the bracken covered terrain to the deliciously prominent top of Stickle Pike. Mindful of the clock I quickly made my way over the insignificant Tarn Hills to Great Stickle, the last top of my walk where the sea now dominated the views ahead of me.

Dropping down once more I entered a dense area of bracken that was really tricky to traverse. Every path seemed to be crossing the ridge rather than traversing it so eventually I waded through the dense growth never knowing where I was putting my feet. When I finally reached the edge of the bracken field I sprinted along a path over the low hill of Raven’s Crag steeply down to the road. My gps was telling me that I still had many miles to walk before I reached a railway station but with only one hour left until the train was due. There ensued a mad dash down the road and an even madder dash walking beside the busy A595 because it was quicker than following footpaths. With the sun coming out during my dash by the time I reached the station with minutes to spare I was roasting in my waterproofs. This was a very different walk to the ones I usually do in the Lake District, and all the better for it. After crossing the Walna Scar Road I hardly saw another person, which just goes to show there's a lot more to the Lake District than the popular routes. It can be difficult to find off-the-beaten-track routes in the Lake District but once I was there I found that they were worth the effort.

The Machair of Uist

2011-09-15T16:48:00.001+01:00

Thursday 7th July 2011

After the washout of the day before I woke to good weather again, and unlike the previous day the weather stayed good. I had a strong temptation to do the walk I’d done the previous day again, going up Beinn Mhor (which wouldn’t have been a bad idea), but in the end I did a pleasant, but long walk down the west coast of Uist between the beach and the grassy, fertile plain of the machair. Some of this grassland is farmed, but a lot of it has been left fallow and at this time of the year it was filled with a dense covering of wild flowers mainly white clover, buttercups and a few daisies. I walked from the hostel to the beach at Bun na Feathlach and then along the dunes between the beach and the wide plains of the machair.

This went on all day with me trying to pick out my route along farm tracks, roads or through the pathless grasslands. Sometimes a path was easy to find, and at other times it was quite tricky trying to make progress through the dense growth. On occasions I descended onto the beach and walked beside the sea for a while before climbing back onto the dunes. The weather was generally good all day with varying cloud cover and only occasional light showers, but the eastern hills never lost their clouds and there was even a thunderstorm over the hills later in the day. As I journeyed south I passed the cemetery on the headland of Rubh’ Àird-mhicheil, past the ruin of Caisteal Ormacleit and onto the headland of Rubha Àird a’ Mhuile. This rocky promontory is very occasionally used for weapons testing but not on this day as the herd of Hebridean cattle testified. Going around the cattle I visited the deserted, ancient settlement of Dùn Dùlan before dropping back down onto the beach. There was an abundance of wildlife throughout this walk from the many varieties of wild flowers in the machair to the birds that swarmed around the coastland.

After some hours I ventured off the path and through an area of the machair abundant in rabbit holes came back onto the main road where I visited the South Uist Museum (called the Kildonan Museum). After lunch I spent some time looking around the museum getting a taste for what island life was like a hundred years ago. Back across the machair I walked further south negotiating a route through a golf course until eventually I stopped off for one last visit to the sea. Climbing back over the dunes I walked across the machair to the village of Daliburgh where I caught a bus back to the hostel. At the end of the walk I saw a sign for the Machair Way, but I never saw any other trace of this waymarked route and a look around the internet has failed to find much of a sign of it, which is a pity as it would be a lovely route. This was a pleasant walk through the peaceful and secluded surroundings of the Isle of Uist and I especially enjoyed looking at all the flowers that were growing in the machair.

The day after this walk I caught a ferry back across to the mainland starting my journey home. This was a good holiday where I saw some really different scenery, but it also didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. My week on the Isle of Skye went completely different to how I’d planned and with hindsight I wish I’d been able to go up more mountains than I did. As fabulous as the Outer Hebrides are they can’t really compete in the mountain stakes but instead they have other charms. The hills of Harris are unique and the atmosphere of Uist is eerily special, but they don’t compare with a good Munro. Next year I’ll have to quench my insatiable desire to be at the top of mountain that the Outer Hebrides has been unable to satisfy.

Beinn Mhor

2011-09-08T16:12:00.003+01:00

Wednesday 6th July 2011

After a fabulous weekend spent in the awesome hills of Harris I walked back to the main road and caught a bus north to the Isle of Lewis. Despite the sunny weather I didn’t have much of a walk planned; instead once I reached Stornaway I caught another bus to Callanish to visit the Callanish Standing Stones. These five thousand year old stones were an impressive sight particularly in their location on the western coast of the largely deserted and flat, boggy terrain of the Isle of Lewis. After spending several hours exploring the various standing stones in the area I returned to Stornaway where I spent the night. I had considered doing a walk the next day up to the Butt of Lewis, the northernmost point of the island, but the hostel I was staying in was unable to accommodate me for another night. So after spending the morning looking at the famous Lewis Chessmen in the Lewis Museum I caught a bus south through Harris to the port of Leverburgh. After a short ferry crossing I arrived on the small island of Berneray where several buses took me south through North Uist and Benbecula to South Uist.

After a wet arrival in South Uist I had been hoping for dryer weather for the day of this walk when I wanted to tackle the highest hill in Uist. When I got up the weather looked good as the tops were clear and it wasn't raining, so despite a poor weather forecast I set off. I walked down the road from Howmore, where I was staying, to just after the bridge over the Abhainn Roag where I took a landrover track across the moor. This soon ended and I ventured across the grass and heather moor towards the grassy dome of Maola Breac. The terrain became rockier towards the top as I veered towards the main peak with the ridge narrowing as I climbed until eventually I reached the northwest top of Beinn Mhor.

By now I was completely engulfed in clouds and the rain that had been promised was pouring down. Carefully I made my way along the ridge as it narrowed interestingly, however the wet and windy conditions prevented me from full taking advantage of the terrain. Instead I kept on a lower path that keeps below the summit ridge all the way to the trig point at the summit. There I had my lunch crouched in the wind shelter that encircles the trig point. In good weather I’m sure the top of Beinn Mhor is an amazing place with awesome views all over Uist, north and south along the length of the isles, and across the western machair plains to the rugged eastern slopes. It is the eastern view that I most missed as without it I didn’t really get a good appreciation of the attraction of the hills of Uist. I had originally planned on following Ralph Storer’s guidebook over the lower hills of Ben Corrodale and Hecla but in view of the weather I turned around and descended the way I had come.

Back on the road I decided to walk several miles north along the road until I reached the community of Stilligarry where I turned left onto a side road that went to the beach. This track crossed the machair, the flat expanse of semi-fertile grassland that dominates the western side of Uist. At this time of the year the machair, where not farmed, is full of wild flowers offering a spectacular display that compensated for the disappointments of the walk up Beinn Mhor. Lewis had held little interest for me having few hills and being mostly flat marshland in stark contrast to its neighbour, the isle of Harris. I was quick to put Uist in the same category as Lewis but I have a feeling that would be a gross injustice. In the few days that I spent in Uist I wasn’t able to take in even a small part of the islands, and that which I saw was not at its best. From my perspective the best part of Uist must be the uninhabited eastern slopes of Beinn Mhor which I never saw because of the clouds. I’m sure better conditions would have allowed the wonders of Uist to have been better displayed.

Tòdun and Sgaoth Àird

2011-09-01T16:56:00.006+01:00

Sunday 3rd July 2011

For this walk I set off along the fabulous Tarbert path that I’d taken previously to get to the picturesque village of Reinigeadail where I was staying. Until twenty years ago this path was the only way to get there, and it’s a great walk to have to take, weaving around the headland on a brilliantly engineered path. Soon after passing the abandoned village of Gerraidh Lotaigear I veered off the path to climb the steep hillside to my right away from the sea and slowly up to the summit ridge of Tòdun. This is a tough pathless climb through heather and up steep rock faces, but after a lot of effort I eventually reached the summit ridge and there an enjoyable walk along the narrow ridge took me up to the trig point at the summit. Wide views of the tremendous hills of Harris could be seen during the ascent but just as I neared the top clouds dropped obscuring the view from the summit.

On the other side of Tòdun I descended the wide northern slopes all the way down to the road. This was an enjoyable descent as I soon emerged from the clouds and I was able to pick my route across the pathless terrain with great views along Loch Seaforth before me. After a short walk along the road I came off onto a track that used to be the old road that ran from Tarbert. This is an excellent track to walk on, part of the Harris Walkway, and I had a great time walking along this track in the sunshine with An Cliseam behind me and Sgaoth Àird before me. Near the summit of the pass, Bràigh an Ruisg, I had my lunch, and after eating resumed walking along the track down into Gleann Lacasdail, but my eyes constant strayed onto the hills to the right that top on Sgaoth Àird.

I couldn't decide whether to go up the hills to my right or continue down to Loch Lacasdail, but eventually just before I reached the shore of the loch I veered off the track without a moment’s thought and started steeply climbing up the hill of Sròn an Toistear. This was a really steep climb that looked suicidal from the top, but somehow I managed to weave my way up the terraced hillside. With hindsight an easier route would have been to follow the Abhainn Dhìobadail into the shallow corrie of Glen Dibidale where shallower slopes would have led onto the hilltop. However the route I took was exhilarating until the gradient finally eased at the end of the ridge with easier slopes along the ridge leading me all the way to the cairn at the summit of Sgaoth Àird. The view from the wind-swept summit was just awesome, not just across Bealach na Ciste to An Cliseam, but also south across the wide hills of Tarbert.

From the top I descended the wide grassy slopes to Bealach Garbh and crossed into the vast rock strewn landscape of Beinn na Teanga that lies just to the north of the ferry port of Tarbert. Slowly I made my own way across this vast and complex area descending over Goromul carefully picking my route down. This walk frequently saw me walking across pathless terrain and I actually liked it for that, it adds to the fun, but the slow descent over Goromul and Torsacleit was tricky as the land could lead to sheer cliff-faces with no easy way down. Eventually I veered to the left into Gleann Lacasdail down a handy ramp to the Harris Walkway track that I’d taken earlier, and this led me on to the road from Tarbert. Now all I had to do was walk along the path that I’d previously taken a couple of days before, but that would have been too simple.

After a tiring climb to the top of the pass (imagine having to do that every day!) I veered off the path and walked along a well maintained path down to the deserted village of Moilingeanais which my guide book claims is being used as a summer home. Since the secluded bay had the air of trespass about it I returned to the path only to find that the excellent path that I had previously been on had vanished. Although the OS map and my Cicerone guide book confidently indicates a path all I found was a narrow, very muddy trail across steep bracken covered slopes high above the sea. This was a really tricky path, quite dangerous and I was relieved to finally reach the footbridge over the Abhainn Ceann na Locha where I rejoined the path to Reinigeadail. But I didn’t stay on the path long as the OS map indicates alternative paths near the main one. These are eroded paths that are now not really safe to follow, which made them really fun to walk along. The longer diversion, after crossing the Abhainn Kerram, is quite brilliant, and features some nice bits of scrambling. After the path becomes indistinct the route is marked by a series of cairns across the bare rocks. This was a fun variation that eventually took me back onto the regular path to Reinigeadail. This was a long but really satisfying walk in the fantastic hills of the Isle of Harris along some good tracks and across some excitingly wild and pathless terrain.

An Cliseam

2011-08-24T16:33:00.002+01:00

Saturday 2nd July 2011

After a day spent travelling to the ferry port of Uig on the Isle of Skye and then across the Little Minch to Tarbert I was now on the Isle of Harris. A fantastic, but tiring walk brought me over the headland to the tiny hostel in the delightful little coastal village of Reinigeadal. For this walk up Clisham, the highest hill in the western isles, I had to walk the four and a half miles to the main road before I could even start the walk. After eventually reaching the road I took a track opposite across boggy hillside veering off into the bogs at the highest point. Having thoroughly soaked my feet and legs I climbed up onto the eastern flanks of Tomnabhal, and boulder-hopped across the rocky terrain, skirting to the south of the top as I had a bigger target in mind. From the col I started to climb the steep rock-strewn terrain of the eastern slopes of Clisham. This was tiring work especially near the top where the slope becomes really steep. Eventually I reached the summit of Clisham where I had my lunch in a shelter that completely surrounds the trig point.

There were excellent views from the top of Clisham of the awesome North Harris Hills, down to the sea at Loch a’ Siar and east to Loch Seaforth. After eating I descended the western slopes and climbed the ridge to Mulla bho Dheas along an exposed path that skirts the northern edge of the eastern ridge. With hindsight I wish I’d tried to scramble up the ridge. Ralph Storer, in his book “100 Best Routes up Scottish Mountains” which I use for much of my Scotland walking, says the climb is an easy scramble so I could well have missed a treat there. Before too long I reached the summit of Mulla bho Dheas, and from there followed a wonderful and enjoyably craggy ridge over Mulla bho Thuath to Mullach an Langa. There I dropped steeply down a blouder-strewn hillside to Loch Mhisteam and the boggy valley floor of Gleann Sgaladail. Following the burn, Abhainn Sgaladail, I tried to make my way to the road but eventually gave up, crossed the river and tried climbing over the headland struggling through the wet ground onto the outward path. After more wet feet I joined the boggy path.

Eventually I returned to the main road and the long walk back to Reinigeadal. The prolonged walk at least gave my feet a chance to dry off after the boggy crossing. I really wanted to like this walk. There were many features of note about it: the fantastic weather, the stunning scenery, great rocky hills and more than anything that fabulous ridge walk. But there were too many problems for this walk to be considered great. First off there was that long walk at the start and end to the main road turning a six and a half hour walk into a nine and a half hour walk. And it was very boggy low down so most of this walk was not very good, but once on the hills it was fantastic. The hills of Harris are fantastic and incredibly craggy, if only it hadn’t rained there all spring until the day I went for a walk.

Bruach na Frithe

2011-08-18T16:48:00.002+01:00

Thursday 30th June 2011

After the disappointment of the previous day I didn’t want to do a similar walk like going up the Old Man of Storr, and it had occurred to me that I would not be doing a Munro on this holiday since I’d not gone to Glen Brittle. So for my last day on Skye I decided that I would go up Bruach na Frithe, the easiest Munro in the Cuillin, and got a walk that was just what I needed to lift my spirits. Starting from the Sligachan Hotel again I walked up the path that gave me so much trouble the previous Sunday, this time easily managing to get all the way up to the top of the pass. It was astonishing to see the change in the path since the previous time I had been there (like where’s all the water gone!), although it did rain whilst I was on that path, just to remind me of what that felt like! Fortunately that was the only rain I encountered all day and I was easily able to cross the fords that would have barred my passage on Sunday and reached the top of the pass where I branched left into Fionn Choire.

Slowly I walked up into the heart of the fair corrie (for the Cuillin) following a faint path through this most grassy of Cuillin corries into the fantastic rock scenery. Delving into clouds I climbed onto the awesome Cuillin ridge where I had to be careful with slippery wet rocks and sheer drops (even on the easiest route on the Cuillin it can be treacherous). Gradually I walked along the ridge the short distance to the summit of Bruach na Frithe, the most welcoming of Cuillin Munros. Unlike almost all other Cuillin Munros this one can be walked all the way to the summit with no scrambling required. It is therefore the most popular Cuillin Munro. Fortunately I had the summit to myself due to my early start so I relaxed beside the trig point and had an early lunch. Walking back down from the summit I was astonished to see the clouds open to my right revealing tremendous views down into Harta Corrie and the top of the River Sligachan.

I stopped in my tracks and sat on the stony ground gazing out across the clearing vista all the way to Loch Scavaig and the sea. I could even see the hills that I’d crossed the previous Tuesday, though Loch Coruisk itself was hidden behind the ridge of Druim nan ramh. Most of the Cuillin Ridge was still covered in cloud as was Fionn Choire, but everything south and below where I was sitting was clear. I was loving every moment of the raw, rugged beauty taking loads of pictures of the landscape. Eventually I tore myself away and moved down to Bealach nan Lice and the top of the corrie path, but instead of going down the path I started exploring the rock pinnacles in this area including Sgurr a’ Fionn Choire (which I went to the top of in 2007), the jagged (and unclimbable) Bhasteir Tooth, and the Munro of Am Basteir (the executioner). The last two were far beyond my abilities and even walking to the foot of them gave me a tremble of fear and excitement. Walking along the narrow ridge towards Sgurr a’ Bhasteir I was able to get better views of these fearsome looking mountains. It was not difficult to see how Am Basteir got its name.

Eventually I tore myself away from the awe-inspiring surroundings and started descending back into the corrie on the route that I had taken for ascent. I had a thoroughly enjoyable and relaxing walk back down to Sligachan taking my time and simply enjoying every moment of the tremendous mountains that I’d just been up. The weather hadn’t been great for this walk but the awesome splendour of the mountains I’d just been walking amongst made up for what the weather lacked. After the disappointments of my week on the Isle of Skye this was a great way to finish, with a reminder of the glorious mountains that can be found on the misty isle. Coming down I was literally thanking myself for choosing to go up Bruach na Frithe; the walker’s Cuillin is a fabulous mountain. I wish I could go up there in good weather when I would get a view of the whole Cuillin ridge, but even in not so good weather it’s still a great walk.

The Quiraing

2011-08-11T17:09:00.003+01:00

Wednesday 29th June 2011

Right up until the bus journey to the Quiraing I was going to visit the Old Man of Storr, a dramatic column of rock just north of Portree, doing a walk that I should have done in 2007. Instead I decided to stay on the bus to visit the Quiraing, equally stunning rock formations farther north along the Trotternish range. I eventually got off the bus just before the village of Flodigarry and started to climb towards the vast ancient landslides that make up the Quiraing. Gradually climbing past Loch Langaig and Loch Hasco I reached the first major landslip, that of Leac nan Fionn. Slipping around the back I climbed up the steep embankment to the precipitous top. After gazing at the views across the bizarre landscape of tall, narrow ridges under a dark overcast sky I headed across to the neighbouring ridges exploring each of them.

Reaching the foot of the main escarpment I re-joined the footpath walking below the steep cliff face past further shattered landslips. Rounding a corner I came to the Prison, a ridge of pyramidal rock. However my eyes were directed the other side of the path towards the Needle, a sharp pinnacle set against further landslips and the escarpment. Resolutely I climbed the ridiculously steep, slippery, loose gravelly slope up to the foot of the Needle where I slipped around the back for a stunning sight looking past the Needle to the countryside beyond. Behind the Needle is the Table, which is a flat, grassy area, but as I tried to get up to the Table it started to rain making the already slippery terrain treacherous. Eventually I gave up and slowly made my way back down to the footpath.

With the rain pouring I continued past the Prison and along the wonderfully contoured footpath that clings to a narrow ledge below the towering escarpment. Eventually the rain stopped and I reached the vast grassland that lies behind the Quiraing and turning around climbed up to the top of Meall na Suiramach, the hill that the Quiraing has fallen away from. After gazing in awe at land that had slipped away from the edge of the hill I crossed over to the summit trig point. At this point I looked at the time and realised that I had only forty-five minutes to get down to the road in order to catch the bus. So in a mad rush I dashed down the grassland to the northern edge of the Quiraing where I was able to drop down onto the footpath that runs below the escarpment. Further hurried walking brought me to the top of the outward path which I ran down all the way back to the road which I reached with enough time to eat the sandwiches of my lunch before the bus arrived.

This was a rather lightweight walk, but I think the main problem with the walk was the necessity to get back down to the road for the bus at 2.15. This was ridiculously early but necessary due to the lack of a bus from Portree after 5.15. Despite this I really enjoyed exploring the various tops, which I was doing partly because I knew I wasn’t doing a particularly challenging walk. I was trying to make up for the lack of a proper walk by going up every top I saw, at least at first, but eventually rain and the time got the better of that. During the bus journey back I passed lots of high mountains and wished I’d gone up there instead of the lower hills north of Portree. As fascinating as the Quiraing, or the Old Man of Storr, are they don’t really compete with mountains like the Cuillin, which is where my heart lies. After the rain of earlier in the day the afternoon proved to be gloriously sunny making my yearning even greater to be walking atop the mountains that I could see rather sitting in a bus going past them.

Loch Coruisk

2011-08-04T16:43:00.002+01:00

Tuesday 28th June 2011

Returning to the scene of my Sunday washout, Sligachan, I walked to a loch where those who know say is the greatest view in Britain. Sadly Loch Coruisk is not as well loved as the view of Wasdale Head in the Lake District because it is difficult to get to Loch Coruisk as I found out on this walk. You can either take a boat from Elgol or do a long walk from Sligachan as I did. I set off south from the hotel through Glen Sligachan on an excellent path past Marsco and the stunningly dramatic Sgurr nan Gillean. Wainwright (in his only book on Scotland rather than on his beloved Lake District) describes a walk down Glen Sligachan as being a worthwhile expedition, with average walkers going no further than Lochan Dubha. At this point I was surrounded by mountains of the most awesome proportions with the jagged spikes of Sgurr nan Gillean dominating my view throughout the walk south. East the steep slopes of Marsco and Ruadh Stac hemmed me in.

Just after Lochan Dudha I veered right and climbed the low ridge of Druim Hain to the top of near Sgurr Hain. Wainwright said that strong walkers would reach a well-built obelisk that ‘commanded a sensational view of Loch Coruisk in a surround of wild mountains’. My Harvey Map describes this obelisk as Capt Maryon’s Monument but I had another target in mind: Loch Coruisk itself. Wainwright recommended continuing beyond the obelisk to the minor peak of Sgurr na Stri saying super walkers would gain a wonderful view of most of the Cuillin skyline. I remember standing at the top of the ridge trying to decide whether to drop down to the lake, or continuing south to Sgurr na Stri where the view would have been improved by the higher vantage point. The lure of the lake itself proved too much and I descended the rock covered landscape all the way down to Loch Coruisk, where I beheld possibly the best view in the country, in the heart of the Cuillin Mountains.

Boat trips take tourists to Loch Coruisk to take in the view but I was careful to pick a part of the shore some distance from the tourists where I could gaze on the stunning scenery in silence. Unfortunately despite having possibly the best weather that I would have on the Isle of Skye the tops of the Cuillin were obstinately covered in cloud giving the scene a grey, dull overtone. Nevertheless the views that I saw were inspiring and only improved the longer I stayed by the loch with the clouds constantly lifting. As I left the loch-side clouds lifted briefly from every top on the Cuillin including the slender Inaccessible Pinnacle balancing precariously atop the Cuillin ridge. After lunch I climbed back over the hill and down into Glen Sligachan.

Crossing the valley I rejoined my outward path but rather than returning to Sligachan I continued south past Loch an Athain and through Strath na Crèitheach below the towering dark cliffs of Bla Bheinn towards the sea at Camasunary. Beside Loch Crèitheach I left the path and with dark clouds ruining the earlier sunshine I climbed steeply to the low col between Bla Bheinn and An t-Sròn. Descending a short shallow gully I crossed the southern tip of Bla Bheinn and climbed over Am Màm joining the landrover track from Camasunary. I followed this all the way to the Elgol road where I had a half hour wait in warm sunshine for a bus that would take me back to Broadford. This was a fantastic walk in incredible surroundings. Once again the radical change in my plans caused by the rain on Sunday had worked in my favour. Originally I would have walked over the pass from Glen Brittle to Sligachan before commencing the walk described. If that had been the case I’m sure I would not have had the time to walk over the ridge and down to the shore of Loch Coruisk. I would have missed a highlight of my week in the Isle of Skye.

Beinn na Caillich

2011-07-28T16:08:00.002+01:00

Monday 27th June 2011

I’d originally planned to do this walk day before but hadn’t done so because of the bad weather. That plan would have entailed me doing this walk with a heavy rucksack and then catching a bus to Sligachan where I would then have had to walk over the pass into Glenbrittle. I was expecting a long day but that sort of a schedule would have been torture! Instead I was able to take my time while carrying a light rucksack and enjoy the walk, which I most certainly did. I am beginning to come to the conclusion that it isn’t a good idea to plan to do a mountain walk while carrying a rucksack full of not only all my clothes but also all my food for several days. A heavy rucksack can be carried when backpacking along valley paths, but it’s not a good idea if your route involves going up to the top of a mountain. It is much better to leave your food and clothes at a base (either a tent or a hostel) before going on a hill-bagging walk.

I started early, as I often do, and walked alongside the main road out of the small town of Broadford for a short distance (with a delightful display of wild flowers beside the road) before turning off along a side road to the scattered houses of Coire-chat-achan. From there I crossed boggy heather covered slopes to the foot of Beinn na Caillich and slowly climbed the steep, never ending heather and boulder strewn eastern slopes to the top. Although long and tiring this was an enjoyable climb enlivened by the occasional wild flower, including an orchid. Great views greeted me at the top from all directions: east across the Inner Sound to mainland Scotland, north across the Isle of Raasay and Scalpay, north-west towards the Red Cuillin and west past my onward route towards the rugged Bla Bheinn and the Black Cuillin.

From the top of Beinn na Caillich, the highest point of the day, a lovely walk ensued around the top of Coire Gorm. Crossing a wind-blown col I climbed up to the top of Beinn Dearg Mhor where I had lunch with clear views of the cloud-topped Black Cuillin before me. Despite being covered in clouds I think the Cuillin possibly looked even more appealing, the clouds giving them a brooding, somber look. I also found it amazing to be able to look in most directions and see the sea, either that of the Inner Sound east, or the sea lochs of Loch Slapin and Loch Eishort southwards, and Loch Sligachan and Loch Ainort northwards. Only the Cuillin Hills to the west prevented a view of the sea.

A ridiculously steep shingly descent brought me to the start of a delightfully enjoyable ascent of Beinn Dearg Bheag on a gloriously rocky ridge. With stunning views across the relatively flat lands of southern Skye from the summit I reluctantly left the hills and slowly dropped down the eastern ridge back onto the heather covered land below. Another wet crossing took me back to Coire-chat-achan where I joined a tourist path known as the Marble Line Path. This former railway line took me all the way back to Broadford and made for a gentle and relaxing end to a good days walk. After the heavy rain of the day before forced a radical rethink to my schedule I was glad to have a thoroughly enjoyable walk in the mountains of Skye.

Swimming at Sligachan

2011-07-21T16:17:00.002+01:00

Sunday 26th June 2011

I have taken my main holiday in Scotland every year since 2004 so once again with summer here I once again started packing my rucksack and boarded a train for north of the border. I arrived in the Isle of Skye town of Broadford thirteen hours later after a journey on several trains, a ferry and a bus. On the first full day however things began to go against plan. I had originally planned on going up Beinn Dearg Mhór and Beinn na Caillich, which overlook Broadford, before walking to Glenbrittle, however persistent rain forced a rethink, and after a walk around the town I caught a bus to Sligachan. Sligachan is a hotel with strong links to mountaineering due to its proximity to the Cuillin Mountains. I had no intention of going up these most challenging of mountains in this weather; all I wanted to do was walk over the low pass of Bealach a’ Mhaim into Glenbrittle.

Ultimately this was asking too much as the rain was pouring into and out of every orifice as I trudged up the water-laden footpath. The adjacent river, the Allt Dearg Mór had become a raging torrent with fast moving white rapids. Part way up I met someone coming the other way who said that they were turning back because the path further on was impassable due to the rain. I believe the point he was referring to was where the path crosses the Allt Coire na Circe, where this person said that you would require a raft to get any further. Nevertheless I progressed further on so that I could see for myself, but before I got there the path was fast becoming more like a stream and I decided that the walk was no longer fun. It just wasn't worth the effort so I turned around and headed back down the increasingly water-filled path. Even in such a short time the water appeared to have got even deeper in the path. I think I turned around just in time.

Back at Sligachan I had an hour to wait for the next bus to take me back to Broadford where I had to ask if they had a bed available for the next three nights. Sometimes it’s prudent to just turn around and stop fighting the current. I spend months before a holiday planning it out meticulously, not to stick rigidly to my plan but so that I always know what I’m going to do. I hate sitting around on holiday looking through brochures trying to find something to do, somewhere to go. I like to do all that work beforehand and if I’ve spent a long time thinking about it I will often eventually think of a better thing to do or way to do it than I’d originally thought. But I am always willing to change my plans. Just because I’ve been planning this holiday for months doesn't mean I can't change my plans instantly when I get there because of, as in this case, the weather. At least I had a plan, which is better than not knowing what I was going to do. On this occasion not going to Glenbrittle was a major change in my plans but I think my holiday was better for it. The hastily devised new plan was I believe better than the original plan. "All things work together for good..."

Robinson

2011-07-14T15:43:00.002+01:00

Saturday 30th April 2011

To finish off describing my holiday at Easter in the Lake District I just need to detail the short walk that I took from Buttermere to Keswick where I could take a bus to the railway station in Penrith. In my quest to find paths in the Lake District that I’d never taken before, the day before this walk I thought about the path up Hassnesshow Beck. To get to the foot of this path I took the fabulous lake-side path beside Buttermere that runs by Pike Rigg. This is such a delightful path with much variation even with a short tunnel section that it could be described as the best low-level path in the Lake District. At the road a short walk took me to Kirk Close wood where the path appears between the wood and a stream, Hassnesshow Beck. This is a very steep but exhilarating climb up the wooded hillside up onto the relatively dull grassy hilltop.

Once the gradient eased a steady climb up grassy slopes lead to the rock strewn summit of Robinson. From there an entertaining descent took me north-east down to the Blea Crags and onto High Snab Bank. I had originally thought that I’d never been down this ridge before but during the walk I remembered that I’d actually been down there on my very first visit to the Lake District in 2002 while walking to Keswick. Due to bad weather I had abandoned the walk I’d planned and immediately left the fells down the north-east ridge. This time however the weather was stunning with superb views of the Newlands valley and beyond to St John’s in the Vale. A clear line of escarpments can be seen from the steep ridge I was descending past High Crags on Hindscarth, High Crags on Maiden Moor and the northern crags of Catbells. It was quite a striking sight and really capped off the fabulous descent.

Leaving the top of High Snab Bank I dropped steeply down the grassy hillside to the farmers track in the valley floor which I followed through Low High Snab and along the road all the way to the tiny village of Little Town (great name!). While walking across the Newlands Valley I was astonished to see footpaths still closed following the floods of November 2009. New Year 2010 I had tried to cross the Newlands Valley only to find every single road and footpath closed due to the floods washing nearly every bridge away forcing a wide diversion. Fortunately Chapel Bridge is still standing so on this occasion I was able to cross the now sedate Newlands Beck into Little Town.

Following a footpath along the windswept western foot of Catbells past Skelwith I took the excellent path that runs from the northern tip of Catbells through Fawe Park to Keswick. This is another great low-level path and one that I’d taken many times in the past and where I have many fond memories. Soon I was in Keswick and catching the bus to Penrith. The Lake District is a fabulous place to walk but it wasn’t until this week’s walking that I realised how much I’d been missing it. Although I’ve been to the Lake District many times in recent years I’d mainly been sticking to outlying fells and therefore missing out on the great fells in the centre of the Lake District. After spending a week in the Lake District all I could think was when I was going to do the same sort of walking again in the Lake District.

Grasmoor

2011-06-23T16:31:00.002+01:00

Friday 29th April 2011

For this first time during this week I had very changeable weather conditions with strong winds thwarting my original plans for the walk. I had planned to walk up the west face of Grasmoor, a climb that Wainwright described as being “probably less difficult than the North Wall of the Eiger”. Such a climb seemed over-optimistic in the windy conditions so I settled for a more straight-forward ascent of Grasmoor. Painfully, I set off along the road through Buttermere and up the path to Rannerdale Knotts. I had been up there once before but in descent so now I would have a chance to do it properly, in ascent. Now that I’ve gone up all the Wainwrights I thought that it would be a good idea for me to go back through the list and ask myself how many of these have I properly climbed from the valley to the top. It can be argued that you can’t claim that you’ve done a Wainwright until you’ve climbed to the top without passing over another fell on the way. Ridge routes don’t count. So I’ve still got a reason to go to the Lake District. Yes!

Rannerdale Knotts is a nice little fell with a fun, short, steep climb to the top and a nice assortment of outcrops, however when I got to the top I found that it was very windy, almost knock-you-over type wind. I made my mind up not to do the north face of Grasmoor as I battled against the strong winds while walking along the undulating ridge of Low Bank. At the top of Rannerdale I turned down into this delightful little valley walking all the way to the gorgeous, and historic, bluebells of Rannerdale. The start of the May Day weekend is the perfect time to see bluebells and I was overjoyed that I was in Rannerdale at the right time to see this most wonderful display. I’d been in Rannerdale several times before but had disappointingly never been there at the right time to see the bluebells so to see them now was a delight. I love bluebells, there is something just so quintessentially British in the way they cover old woodland floors. I always make a point of visiting a bluebell wood around May Day so given the significance of the bluebells of Rannerdale this was an extra special May Day weekend.

Passing through the bluebells I started to climb through heather and dead bracken onto the Lad Hows ridge. This is a pretty straight forward ascent but was just right for such a windy day while listening to the Royal Wedding on the radio. The weather was really poor at this point with dark clouds overhead, strong winds and a definite look of rain in the area. Eventually I reached the summit of Grasmoor where I had my lunch in the shelter of the western slopes. As is not as unusual as you’d expect, the summit was not as windy as I’d experienced during the ascent, in fact the strongest winds I encountered all day were at the top of Rannerdale Knotts. Passing back over the summit I explored the top of Dove Crags, Grasmoor’s most striking feature, certainly its steepest crags, before descending the wide, grassy, eastern slopes of Grasmoor. After the poor weather of the ascent the sun now finally made an appearance turning the day into another great one for walking. This made me pause and rethink my plans; I had originally planned on going up to Hopegill Head and walk along the narrow ridge to Whiteside. But I wasn’t keen on the long walk back into Buttermere alongside Crummock Water and since it was still quite windy the exposed ridge didn’t appeal. But the weather was so good I had to go for a walk somewhere.

Eventually I climbed up the wide grassy slopes of Crag Hill opposite Grasmoor to the summit of the fell that Wainwright called Eel Crag. Passing over I crossed the fabulously narrow and rugged ridge to Sail, stopping off at the summit cairn just in case I never actually did that last time I was there since the path doesn’t go to the actual top. Last time I was on Sail, which was quite a few years ago, there was a steep straight path down the grassy eastern slopes to Sail Pass. Now however someone has put an enormous set of zigzags on a raised path that cuts across the old path making a scar that is far worse than the path was there before. This is easily the worst manufactured path I have ever seen, and is totally unnecessary. I’ve not been coming to the Lake District for very long, it’s been less than ten years, but even I feel like the Lake District has changed a lot, and not for the better. It makes me afraid about what’s going to happen in the future. If paths like this are going to be the norm then the Lake District will be a lot less enjoyable to walk.

Descending from Sail Pass I slowly dropped down to Sail Beck (on a nice steep path that I’d never actually taken before) and began a gloriously relaxing walk in the sunshine all the way back into Buttermere. This is a nice little path and handy route between Newlands and Buttermere. I walked through this valley on a Bank Holiday Monday some years ago in equally windy conditions and just as now enjoyed every moment of the secluded surroundings. This was a nice walk in changing weather, even if it was completely different to the one I had intended.

Starling Dodd and the High Stile ridge

2011-06-16T16:23:00.003+01:00

Thursday 28th April 2011

With another cloudless sky in prospect for the day I set off along the forest track that runs through Ennerdale. After a long, and painful, walk along the track I passed a car park and climbed up beside Rake Beck and the edge of a wood. Some way up I crossed a broken stile and attempted to go to the top of the viewpoint Bowness Knott, but all I found was a mess of discarded tree stumps, trunks and branches. There is a plan to stop using Ennerdale as a timber factory and just let it go wild, allowing the trees to get on with whatever they want. At the moment I don’t think it’s working. The day before I found that the path from the Pillar Rock was overgrown and boggy (and difficult to find if going up), while on this walk the path up to Bowness Knott was similarly impossible. The Wild Ennerdale project might be in its early stages with some areas, like Bowness Knott, still needing some work (indeed the top of Bowness Knott may be in the progress of being cleared to allow access). Until then Ennerdale is still not a pretty place to visit.

Coming back to the fell-side I climbed the ridiculously steep heather-clad fell-side all the way to the top of the fell on an entertaining but tricky path that was badly eroded in places. A short walk across the boulder covered top brought me to the summit of Great Borne, which leaves me with just one Wainwright left to do. This day was the culmination of years of determined bagging as I completed the all 214 Wainwrights. Over the previous couple of days I had been slowly ticking off my last remaining fells leaving me with just two more to visit. Across a grassy saddle lay my final Wainwright, Starling Dodd, the very same fell that Wainwright himself completed his series with on 10th September 1966. I finished on 28th April 2011 at 12.40pm after almost nine years of walking in the Lake District. My first thought upon completion was that I now didn't need to go to the Lake District. Can you imagine a worse punishment? It would be torture to be prevented from going to the Lake District.

Unfortunately my last Wainwright wasn’t a great fell being a grassy dome in an area of broad open fells typical of the far western fells. I had chosen Starling Dodd as my last fell because Wainwright had finished there, but it didn’t turn out to deserve the honour so I soon left the summit of Starling Dodd and set off across the grassy saddle that leads up to Red Pike. With the sun continuing to shine and a cooling breeze keeping things agreeable I climbed up to the summit of Red Pike where I had lunch, for the second day running (although the previous day’s Red Pike was a different fell). Now the terrain changed once again from the heather and grass of Great Borne and Starling Dodd I was back into the rock of the Borrowdale Volcanics. Red Pike is at the western end of the High Stile ridge; I had enormous fun crossing the rocky terrain to the summit of High Stile and then crossing the top of the Comb Crags to High Crag. The High Stile ridge is a fabulous, but popular walk, justifiably so, I wasn’t alone but that didn’t matter.

Eventually I got to end of the ridge at High Crag, where from the northern slopes I looked across Burtness Comb to the north-eastern slopes of High Stile and saw an incredible looking path that descended the steep ridge. I had originally thought of taking the path that crosses the Sheepbone Buttress but Wainwright doesn’t recommend it and I didn’t fancy the look of it (it might be possible in ascent but since I couldn’t see a path I’ll wait for that ascent). The walk across the tops of the Comb Crags was so great I wasn’t bothered when I decided to return back up to High Stile from where I descended the north-eastern ridge all the way off the fell. It wasn’t as great a descent as I’d hoped but it was infinitely better than following the crowds down to Scarth Gap. Instead of dropping down to the shore of Buttermere I followed the right-of-way marked on the map, which Wainwright calls the rock-climbers route, above Burtness Wood, on a narrow path just below craggy ground. It is a good, little-used path that leads to a stile in the woodland-edge fence, and thence down to the lake-shore path.

This walk saw some quite striking contrasts starting with two grassy fells typical of outlying fells and within a short distance of some of the best ridge walking in the Lake District. High Stile ridge is an excellent walk, and I got to do it in not only in excellent weather, but some of it twice! What more can you ask?

Yewbarrow, Red Pike and Pillar

2011-06-09T16:32:00.002+01:00

Wednesday 27th April 2011

The weather for this walk was once again brilliant, with a hot sun shining in a cloudless sky as I set off along the road beside Wastwater. After pausing several times to take pictures of the awesome scene at Wasdale Head, voted Britain's favourite view, I eventually turned off the road at Overbeck Bridge. Climbing the steep grass-covered slope I slowly made my way up Yewbarrow. After the initial tedious, steep climb the path started getting very interesting as it skirts around the enormous buttress of Great Door and scrambles up a gully. After a lot of fun scrambling I eventually reached the top of the summit ridge where I couldn’t resist turning right onto the top of Bell Rib, above the Great Door, to survey the surroundings. Turning back around an enjoyable walk along the summit ridge in the bright sunshine brought me to the summit of Yewbarrow. I was unsure which top was the summit as the map gives a height for the north top but not for the central top, suggesting that the north top is the summit. Once I was there it was clear that the central top is the summit, and Wainwright confirms it. (My old OS map says that the central top is 2058 feet and the north top is 2009 feet.)

Passing over the central top I arrived at the north top where I had to take another scramble, this time down Stirrup Crag, in order to get off the fell. Yewbarrow is a fabulous fell despite not being much more than two thousand feet and looked down upon by its much bigger neighbours; the great scrambling required to get both on and off it more than makes up for its small height. I had only once been over it before, in the opposite direction, but that must have been six years ago. Why has it taken me so long to return to such a brilliant little fell? At Dore Head I started climbing the long rock-filled terrain of Red Pike. This was an interesting walk but it very tiring under the hot sun. Red Pike is another fabulous fell in this area of fantastic fells (and I haven’t been over Red Pike in six years). Great mountains such as these are rare and yet in this part of the Lake District they crowd in on each other. Other parts of the country, even Scotland, don’t have mountains of such quality and quantity as these, which is one of the things that make the Lake District such a great place to walk.

Red Pike is supposed to have something on it called The Chair, described as being the most distinguishing feature of the summit of Red Pike, but I couldn’t find it! Wainwright does say that it “often escapes attention nowadays” which does a least offer me some consolation, but I was actually looking for it! It is possible I did find the collection rocks shaped into a chair but dismissed it as simply being a cairn. If so I’ll just have to return to Red Pike again soon to discover it. At the summit I had my lunch during which a cloud came over turning everything rather cold until mid-afternoon. So now with a cagoule on I set off across the col with Scoat Fell and rounded the top of Black Comb bypassing Scoat Fell. At the top of the fabulous southern Ennerdale ridge I passed over Black Crag and across the Wind Gap up to Pillar.

From the rather dull summit of Pillar I headed towards the Pillar Rock on the northern slopes of the fell where I gingerly I made my way down to the Pillar Rock, which looked impregnable enough to force me to stay well away from it. Instead I headed across the fabulous Shamrock Traverse. With an abundance of loose rock this was a tricky path but worth every thrilling moment until I eventually reached the Robinson Cairn. I hadn’t been able to decide in advance what I was going to do at this point. I had wanted to do the High Level Traverse but that would have involved walking to the Black Sail Pass, and from there down into Ennerdale and thence a four mile walk all the way along the valley floor to the youth hostel. Despite my desire to do the High Level Traverse (having only done it successfully once) my fatigue forced me to take a more direct route into the valley. From the Robinson Cairn I dropped down into Pillar Cove and walking beside the stream, Pillarcove Beck, steeply descended the steep fell.

This was an interesting descent, but so steep that it was over a little too quickly to enjoy. I took this route in ascent back in 2006 and remember it as being a lot more pathless than I found it now, plus it was a lot harder. But of course on that occasion I was climbing the steep fell in warm sunshine, now I was descending into a cooling breeze, and I always find descents easier than ascents. In Ennerdale I wearily walked along the valley bottom all the way to the youth hostel. This had been a tiring walk over rugged terrain; I don’t know why but I don’t seem to have the energy that I used to have. It can’t be because I’m getting old! It did occur to me that over the winter I did a lot of walks without a rucksack so that now that I found myself heavily laden I was finding it very difficult. I guess I’m just not used to carrying a heavy load (I’m not even used to wearing my walking boots!). Despite the heap that I collapsed into at the end of this walk it was a good walk over some truly great mountains. I have been saying that a lot this week, but that’s because it's true!

Stanley Force and Buckbarrow

2011-06-02T16:36:00.002+01:00

Tuesday 26th April 2011

After my exertions of the previous couple of days I was looking forward to an easier walk for this day but even though I didn't climb very high I still walk had to a long way in boots that were still giving me blisters. Leaving the Eskdale Youth Hostel I had a pleasant walk beside the lovely River Esk before climbing through Stanley Ghyll. This was an enthralling part of the walk as I climbed through a narrow ravine before reaching Stanley Force waterfall. The waterfall was nothing special but the path through the wooded ravine more than justified the diversion. This waterfall is a noted attraction of Eskdale but I had never previously seen visited it. Wainwright described the Stanley Force, which he called Dalegarth Force, Lakeland’s loveliest waterfall, exquisitely charming. He was certainly right about the sylvan beauty of the surroundings but the waterfall failed to move me.

Returning to the River Esk I crossed over and passed on into the small village of Boot where I stopped for a rest in the tranquil surroundings beside the bridge over Whillan Beck before starting a traverse of the moorland between Eskdale and Wasdale. After an early section beside a wall the path passes onto the open moor and lost its appeal for me. The dreary crossing was only enlivened by the presence of Burnmoor Tarn beside which I had lunch. Coming to the top of the pass I suddenly beheld the view of the great mountains that surround Wasdale Head, though unfortunately the sun had been obscured by cloud throughout my moorland crossing giving a very grey appearance to the scene as I reached Wasdale. Passing the National Trust camp site I started a long and monotonous walk along the road beside the entire length of Wastwater.

I had done this same walk Easter last year and for some reason actually enjoyed the crossing from Boot over the moor to Wasdale Head. Last time I was excited at the prospect of coming to the Lake District, but now I’d already been to places that showed put Burnmoor Tarn in the shade just as the weather was doing. Compared with Scafell Crag Burnmoor Tarn hasn’t got a hope. Since this was not my first visit to these scenes I was also not as excited by the descent into Wasdale Head, though the dreary weather undoubtedly contributed to my lack of enthusiasm. I well-remembered the tiring walk along the road beside Wastwater, but this time even though I was just as tired as I had been last year I turned right onto a road that took me away from Wastwater and under the tall crags of Buckbarrow. I had considered and rejected doing this Wainwright last year, now I had set it as my goal for the day, so after struggling all that way along the road I struggled up the steep sides of the fell all the way to the top of the Wainwright leaving me with just two more to do before I’ve completed the whole list.

On the map Buckbarrow doesn't look like it deserves to be treated as a separate fell by Wainwright but when I got up there I found a complex terrain of rocky outcrops that are very much unlike its bigger parent, the dreary, grass covered Seatallan. Unfortunately I wasn't in a mood to explore the fell so after visiting a cairn high above the cliff top and another higher cairn further back, the actual Wainwright summit, I started descending steep grassy slopes into Greendale. Back on the road I took a footpath through the thoroughly delightful wildflower-filled Roan Wood that is sadly all too small. Crossing a field and walking along a forest track took me to the youth hostel. Overall this was another tiring walk not helped by the problems I’ve been having with my feet, but there were a couple of highlights, both relating to stream-side woodlands.

Hard Knott and Esk Pike

2011-05-26T16:10:00.004+01:00

Monday 25th April 2011

The weather for this walk was a little cooler than the previous days, but not by much. It was still a warm day affording me with clear views all around Upper Eskdale. I set off from the youth hostel walking up the valley trying to avoid the road by crossing Doctor Bridge and following the footpaths to the south of the river, but still hit the road at Jubilee Bridge at the start of the steep pull over Hardknott Pass. This is a difficult climb for cars but on this day cyclists were slowly making their way up the winding road. Rather them than me! I was slowly walking up the hill past the Roman Fort of Hardknott (there isn’t much to see so I didn’t linger) and on to the top of the pass. With views down the other side of the pass into Dunnerdale I climbed up the fell that lends its name to the pass: Hard Knott.

After all the agony of the climb to the top of the pass I was now able to enjoy myself as I explored the various tops around Hard Knott starting with Border End which overlooks the pass. With views of the Eskdale Needle below and the great fells that surround Eskdale on the horizon I crossed the complex terrain to the summit of Hard Knott. With this Wainwright bagged I now had only three left until I had completed all the Wainwrights. Continuing my exploration of Hard Knott I eventually stopped at a cairn on the last outcrop on the northern slopes. Kicking my boots off my aching feet I relaxed in the shelter of the outcrop and had my lunch while gazing out across the gorgeous scenery of Eskdale. Now that my goal for the day had been accomplished I was unsure what I was going to do next. Originally I'd planned to climb up the unending grassy slopes of Crinkle Crags, but I was now too tired and weary to try it.

As I neared Lingcove Beck I decided that I would follow the stream all the way up the valley little knowing that it was going to be a very long and tiring way. I had never been along the path to Ore Gap before so thought it would be a good idea; I now know how far it is. After frequent stops to catch my breath I eventually reached the top of the pass at Ore Gap, where I turned left and climbed the gloriously stony terrain to the summit of Esk Pike. This is a fabulous fell, tragically overlooked by its bigger neighbours but deserving of far greater recognition due to its complex rocky terrain and stunning views. After a rest I headed straight down the awesome, pathless south ridge of Esk Pike. This was a great descent as I picked my own route down the long crag-filled ridge. Despite coming to a dead-end at a cliff top and having to climb back up I thoroughly enjoyed this ridge. I'd climbed this way some years ago and enjoyed it then; now was no different as I relished in the freedom and ease of the descent.

Eventually I reached the River Esk near Scar Lathing where I easily crossed the river due to the recent lack of rain. Now I wanted to walk through the Esk Ravine on the steep, western side, but this is a very tricky path that even Wainwright warned against saying that it enters a gorge below Green Crag from which escape is difficult (well that was what attracted me!). It was indeed difficult to get through the ravine, but it could have been tougher. At one point I was given a choice of routes and I took the upper path. I can’t help thinking that the lower path would have been more exciting but I think I was wary of the possibility of the lower path having subsided into the river. A return trip to investigate is called for I think. Continuing beside the river I walked all the way along the bottom of Eskdale to the youth hostel. This was a fabulous walk in a great area of the Lake District. I just love Upper Eskdale as one can walk all day through it on a Bank Holiday Monday and hardly see anyone, and this walk showed off the valley at its best. There is nowhere better in the whole of the Lake District.

Scafell Pike by Piers Gill

2011-05-19T16:44:00.001+01:00

Sunday 24th April 2011

The evening before this walk someone in the youth hostel I was staying in said that the weather forecast for the next day was best that he'd ever seen for the Lake District. It was perfect. There were clear blue skies all day, with an occasional cold breeze to cool the heat of the day. To accompany these amazing conditions I did a very challenging and tiring walk across the highest hills in England. To take the easier routes would have been too simple so I took the hardest routes I could find just to more successfully wear me out. And it worked!

Setting off from Seatoller I walked along the Seathwaite road as far as the Seathwaite Bridge and then followed the river past Seathwaite and around the foot of Base Brown up to Taylorgill Force. I absolutely love this wonderful path; in fact it may be my favourite path in the Lake District. It is a bit of a scramble, perched on the side of a steep cliff face, and affords close up views of Taylorgill Force. It is the perfect path. I first walked this path on my first ever visit to the Lake District, and I have loved it ever since, but it must be five years since I last walked up it. That is just too long. Soon however I was past the waterfall and climbing beside the stream up to the top of Sty Head Pass.

Passing over the top I descended on the little used valley-route path. This is a lovely little path that cleverly snakes up the steep hillside from the stream below. All too soon though I left the path and crossed the steep hillside to Piers Gill, joining the path near the confluence of Greta Gill with Piers Gill. The path steeply climbs the rock-strewn terrain and affords vertiginous views into the deep ravine of Piers Gill to my right. I had never been up the Piers Gill path before and I found it very challenging, but also with some stunning views. This was a tough, tiring climb that required a bit of a scramble, but eventually I reached the Corridor Route and finally crossed Piers Gill.

I didn't stay on the Corridor Route for long but branched off to cross Lingmell Col and climb up to the top of Lingmell, where I had my lunch. I had been up Lingmell only once before this which is a great tragedy considering the number of times I’ve been up the neighbouring Scafell Pike. The views from the top of Lingmell were quite stunning with an all-round panorama only supplemented by the views of Scafell Pike dominating the scene to the south across the col. One could argue that the views from the top of Lingmell are better than those from Scafell Pike and with a wider summit area has plenty of scope for exploration. I wish I’d spent more time on Lingmell but I still had a long way to go so after lunch I crossed Lingmell Col and joined the crowds climbing up Scafell Pike. Having come so far it would have been a shame to leave the highest mountain in England out.

I went up Scafell Pike Easter Sunday last year but the conditions at the summit then were completely different to Easter Sunday this year. Last year there was still quite a lot of snow at the summit, now there was no snow at all and instead I found warm, bright sunshine. It’s amazing how conditions at the top of a mountain can vary each Easter. I’ve been walking at Eastertime for more than ten years and I have encountered snow and cold, hard rain as well as warm, clear skies. It’s an interesting time to go walking and there is no better time. The summit of Scafell Pike was as ridiculously busy as usual so I didn't stay long and immediately headed towards Mickledore, the gateway to Sca Fell, the second highest mountain in England.

There are only two routes from Scafell Pike to Sca Fell, and the direct one up Broad Stand is not one of them. Both required me to circumvent the huge crag that was blocking my way. The easier way is via Foxes Tarn (still not particularly easy), the harder way is up Lord’s Rake, so that's the route I took. At the end of the narrow connecting ridge of Mickledore I dropped steeply down treacherous loose stones to a path that crosses the foot of the enormous Scafell Crag to Lord's Rake. I have been up Lord's Rake twice but this time it seemed much harder. The rocks in the area are disintegrating and nowhere more so than in Lord's Rake itself. I found it a really difficult climb up the steep loose stones and dirt that comprised the rake, and I was greatly relieved when I eventually reached the top. I suspect that Lord’s Rake will eventually become impassable to anything other than superhuman effort, and that prospect fills me with great sadness.

I had originally intended on taking the West Wall Traverse from Lord's Rake but I didn't like the crumbly state of it so stayed on the straight route from the top of Lord’s Rake across a couple more steep, though easier rakes, eventually emerging on the side of Scafell. Now I had to climb the steep, rock strewn terrain all the way up to the summit of Sca Fell. By the time I reached the top I was really tired so just collapsed in a heap beside the summit cairn and took in the stunning surroundings. After a rest and a bit of Kendal Mint Cake I started off down the long southern slopes of Sca Fell all the way down to Eskdale.

I came up this path on my first visit to the Lake District and found it a far too lengthy climb. On a later visit I descended by this route and found it a delightfully relaxing descent, known as the Terrace Route, but on this occasion I was possibly too tired to be able to enjoy the faint path. Eventually I came down into Eskdale and a short walk along the valley road took me to the youth hostel. This was a really tiring walk, but in stunning weather and over some truly amazing and challenging terrain, and through some absolutely stunning surroundings. This is the Lake District at its best.

Blencathra by Sharp Edge

2011-05-12T16:40:00.001+01:00

Saturday 23rd April 2011

Last Easter I returned to the Lake District and for the first time in five years I had a whole week in front of me to enjoy in this most delightful of places. On this holiday I got to revisit places that I not been to in a long time and even got to go to places in the Lake District that I’d never been to before. My first stop was at Blencathra, one of the greatest fells in the Lake District, and the walk that I did must be one of the greatest in the whole of the Lake District. Getting off the bus at Scales I climbed around the steep side of Scales Fell climbing to the top of Mousthwaite Comb and up to Scales Tarn where my target for the day was basking in awesome splendour: Sharp Edge

I have only once been up Sharp Edge before and that was in December 2006, in damp, cold weather. Ever since then I have wanted to go across this knife-edged ridge in good weather and now finally I had my chance. The weather still wasn't brilliant, it was overcast with a cold breeze, but it was dry and Sharp Edge was clear of clouds. After having my lunch near Scales Tarn I set off up to the start of the fabulous rocky traverse. This is an excellent climb especially if the side paths are spurned in favour of sticking to the very top of the jagged edge. When things started getting serious I took a challenging line scrambling up the rock face, and enjoyed every terrifying moment.

Eventually I reached the summit of Atkinson Pike from where I traversed the saddle to the summit of Blencathra. I had been fascinated by a path that I had seen during my ascent: at Scales Tarn a clear path moves up the hillside opposite Sharp Edge straight towards the summit. This path is not marked on OS maps but it is marked on Harvey maps and in the second edition of Wainwright’s Pictorial Guides (I don’t know if it was in the first edition – I don’t have a copy, but it would be interesting to find out). I didn't linger at the crowded summit but immediately took the excellent path down Hall’s Fell Ridge. This is a fabulous way to come down off a mountain; descending on rocks almost all the way once again I tried to stick to the most interesting lines enjoying every moment of the prolonged descent. The rocks were really dry ensuring a good grip that enabled me to confidently walk down the steep ridge. When I finally reached the bottom I crossed farmland to reach the village of Threlkeld.

From Threlkeld I joined the enjoyable Keswick Railway Path, which is a wonderful path that follows the course of an old railway that used to run through Keswick. I have used it many times in the past but like many other places in the Lake District I haven't been on it in recent years. Despite the rain that fell while I was on this path I had an enjoyable stroll into Keswick relishing the eight bridges that span the River Greta between Threlkeld and Keswick. This was a fabulous end to a great, if short walk up a great mountain. I was so thankful I'd been able to go up Blencathra in dry weather as the rocks on the two ridges would have been treacherous in the wet. Fortunately my luck held as in the dry Sharp Edge is a fabulous way up a mountain, and Hall’s Fell Ridge is a fantastic way to go down a mountain.

More early adventures in the Brecon Beacons

2011-05-05T17:25:00.002+01:00

Continuing my adventures in 2000 when I did some of my earliest hill walking in the Brecon Beacons National Park.

The Black Mountains continued

Wednesday 6^th September 2000

I remember before this walk telling the warden at the hostel that I was going for a walk in the area (ie the Black Mountains), and because of the wet start to the day she described me as a dedicated walker. I replied that I was more like a crazy walker, but as it turned out the weather for this walk was much better than the previous day. After the wet start it was clear, warm and sunny, though still very windy on the hills. I did the walk that I should have done the day before but this time starting from Capel y Ffin rather than the Gospel Pass. Once again I climbed that path out of the Vale of Ewyas onto the Offa’s Dyke Path that has enchanted me so many times. After coming down this path the day before I now knew the correct route to take and so for the first time was able to reach the Pile of Stones on the Offa’s Dyke Path that marks the top of the path. Unlike on previous occasions I now proceeded over the other side of the broad ridge down into the valley opposite.

Descending into the Olchon Valley I crossed the farmland and climbed the narrow ridge to the top of Black Hill. This is a fabulous ridge as I was reminded a couple of years ago when I revisited it. Passing the Offa’s Dyke Path again I climbed up to Hay Bluff before crossing the Gospel Pass to Twmpa. From the wide sweeping views of the Wye Valley at the summit of Twmpa I descended into the side valley of Nant Bwch that took me all the way back into the Vale of Ewyas and Capel y Ffin. I have long memories of this fabulous walk, describing it as ‘very enjoyable’ in my diary. It was a great walk in surprisingly good weather.

The Waterfalls Walk

Thursday 7^th September 2000

The following day I drove across the Brecon Beacon moors (long favoured by Top Gear car reviews) and parked in the village of Pontneddfechan. Walking alongside the Nedd Fechan I visited the spectacular Waterfall of Our Lady (Sgwd Gwladus). This area of the Brecon Beacons National Park is packed with waterfalls with this great waterfall being merely a foretaste of the delights to come. Continuing along the Nedd Fechan I passed the Horseshoe Falls (Scŵd Ddwli) eventually reaching the Pont Melin-fach picnic site. Rather than continue along the river I immediately climbed out of the valley at this point and passing over the top of a low hill and descended into another valley, this time that of the Afon Mellte.

This valley also has waterfalls in abundance but some are difficult to get to. The first one has no such problem: Sgŵd Clun-gwyn is another stunning waterfall that one can easily stand right in front of. I remember for some reason standing right in the line of spray coming from the waterfall. Due to the rather wet weather conditions that had been plaguing me most of the day I was wearing waterproofs but I must have still got rather wet. Crossing the river I followed a path that frustratingly climbed the hillside robbing me of views of the other waterfalls further downstream. I know now that it is difficult to be able to see these waterfalls but I didn’t know that at the time. However there was still one waterfall left and this is the greatest of them all. At the end of the path is Sgwd yr Elra, a waterfall that one can walk behind (I have heard that at times this path has been closed due to safety concerns – I don’t know what the current state of the path is). From Sgwd yr Elra there is a delightful woodland and moorland walk that took me all the way back to Pontneddfechan and my car. Heavy rain during this final walk failed to dampen my enthusiasm for this fabulous walk, in fact I quite enjoyed walking through the rain! When I rains a waterfall walk is the best walk that you can do.

Early mountain walking in the Brecon Beacons

2011-04-21T15:44:00.013+01:00

Before I go to the Lake District this Easter I have time to go back to the year 2000 and describe some of my earliest mountain walks. At this stage I was still quite naïve of hill walking so on this occasion I suffered my first bad weather walk where I was forced to abandon my planned walk. Nevertheless I also enjoyed a fabulous walk to the top of a mountain that was considerably higher than anything I’d previously encountered.

The Brecon Beacons

Monday 4^th September 2000

Before this holiday I had no clear idea where I would be walking except for a few vague ideas. The day before I went I wrote in my diary: “I am still unsure on a schedule. I have a number of activities planned, but no definite order in which to do them.” One of the goals for the week was Pen y Fan, the highest point in the Brecon Beacons, but it soon became apparent that the best weather of the holiday was going to be on the first day so after a prolonged drive I eventually arrived at the car park by the Storey Arms (an Outdoor Pursuits Centre). With a starting height of 425m this is an ideal place to start since almost half the height of the climb has already been achieved when you start. Following the crowds I walked up the wide track that climbs the broad slopes of Y Gryn past a memorial obelisk to the summit of Corn Du. From the top a short walk took me across to the top of Pen y Fan, the highest mountain in either England or Wales south of Snowdonia, and the highest hill I’d ever been up at that point.

From the summit of Pen y Fan I descended the steep slope above Craig Cwm Sere and as far as I recall bypassed the adjacent top of Cribyn. At the bottom of the saddle, known as Bwlch ar y Fan, on the far side of Cribyn, I turned right onto a wide track that I followed to the dam for the disused Lower Neuadd Reservoir. I remember the weather was good for this walk and it was really pleasant walking down this gentle slope enjoying the views behind me of the tops of the Brecon Beacons. After crossing the dam I climbed the slope opposite all the way up to the top of the steep edged ridge of Graig Fan Ddu. Turning back towards the Brecon Beacons I walked along the ridge towards the tops, but just before reaching Corn Du turned left down a path that quickly drops down the grassy hillside back to the road. This must have been a fabulous walk but I don’t remember it leaving much of an impression on me. My diary entry once I got home at the end of the week described this as being a “nice walk.” The only thing that I could have against it was that it was rather short with the climb to the top being altogether too easy.

The Black Mountains

Tuesday 5^th September 2000

The next day I was back in the familiar territory of the Black Mountains, but it was now wet and misty. This was actually the first time that I can remember walking through low-lying clouds when visibility is very short, and I would quickly get a thorough lesson in the perils of walking in such conditions. Setting off already rather late (I’ve no idea why) I soon lost the path I’d wanted. I believe I had started at the top of the Gospel Pass and after passing over Hay Bluff wanted to go over Black Hill but instead kept to the more prominent Offa’s Dyke Path. It wasn’t long however before I lost even that path in a stony area where the way is not clear across the stones. Eventually I found the path again and proceeded along it but I was going in the wrong direction! I don’t know if I’d failed to look at my compass or whether it wasn’t working properly but it wasn’t until I reached the turning towards Hay Bluff that I realised that I’d just come this way. By this time it was far too late to go over Black Hill as originally intended so returned along the Offa’s Dyke Path.

Eventually I reached the Pile of Stones that marks the top of the wonderful path down into the valley that has drawn me to this area ever since my first visit there in 1999. This was to be my first descent of the path after twice ascending the path and making a mistake both times. It was only now in descent that I found where I should have been going. One thing I distinctly remember on this descent is being amazed at the trousers I was wearing (!). Previous walks had been done wearing jeans which are not the best thing to wear as when it rains they get very heavy and cling to your legs. I was now wearing tracksuit bottoms and was amazed at how easy it was to bend my legs even when the trousers were saturated. From this point on I would never wear jeans on a walk again.

Eventually I reached the tranquil hamlet of Capel y Ffin where, according to my diary, it would appear that I walked along the road all the way up the valley back to my car at the top of the Gospel Pass. I do remember walking along the road on one occasion so I guess this must have been it. As it turned out this walk was similar to the one that I’d done the year before as my first ever walk up a mountain (that is up a hill that is more than two thousand feet high). On paper this may have been a very short walk where I made some quite bad mistakes but I learnt so much from this walk that it was another step in helping me gain confidence in mountain walking in any weather.

Brandon Mountain

2011-04-15T19:49:00.005+01:00

Friday 16^th September 2005

This was my last walk in Ireland, and I ended on a corker. The weather, once again, had played into my hands providing me with clear views across the mountains all day. Despite a cold, stiff breeze the weather was perfect; it was in fact excellent walking weather. I had been really lucky with the weather throughout the week; I suppose it was the luck of the Irish! Driving across the Dingle Peninsula I parked in Cloghane and set off along a side road climbing up the side of the hill to Faha, where there is a car park. Climbing across the hillside I followed the clearly marked Pilgrim’s Path where white metal posts guided me all the way. Climbing across the grassy southern slopes of the ridge the path skirts around a hill and into a rocky cove with Locha Chom an Chnoic topping a long chain of small lakes.

With considerable glee, I clambered among the rocks at the head of the cirque and, passing the small loch, began a steep climb up the cliff face ahead of me. The excellent path zigzags up onto the top of the main Brandon ridge where I was awarded for my effort with superb views across the Dingle Peninsula. Climbing the ridge southwards brought me quickly to the summit of Brandon Mountain where the views were even more impressive. Nothing can describe the breathtaking views across the whole Dingle Peninsula that could be seen all around me. I was really going to miss this, I didn’t want to leave Ireland!

After lunch I headed off south along the ridge keeping as close to the edge as I dared (which at times was not very close!). Continuing along the ridge I came to the foot of, and began climbing, Brandon Peak. Once I had assailed the top I continued along the narrowing ridge to Gearhane, after which the only way was steeply down hill. As I descended I reflected sadly that I was now leaving the last hill of the last walk of my week in Ireland. I always feel a little sad when I start descending after a good days walk in the hills, but on my last day in Ireland this was doubly sad. I love hill walking and I love a good days walk on rocky hills. I always hate having to leave them behind.

Crossing an often boggy, grassy plane I descended further to the col with Ballysitteragh (which I climbed the day before, though in considerably worse weather). Turning left I joined the track that zigzags into the valley and then walked along the road for three or four miles all the way back into Cloghane. This was a slow end to a great walk, but it failed to dampen my feelings at the end of a great walk. I'd had some good walks in Ireland during this week, and I hope it won't be too long before I return.

Ballysitteragh

2011-04-07T16:02:00.004+01:00

Thursday 15th September 2005

This walk was a total wash out. I drove over to the Dingle Peninsula in the morning with varying degrees of rain all the way. In Dingle I decided to head up to the Connor Pass and see what the weather was like. It was raining and cloudy, but because I can't resist doing a walk I headed westwards over Beenabrack along a grassy, boggy ridge up to Ballysitteragh. And then after lunch I walked all the way back. Or at least I tried, striding out confidently across the hillside and down the hill. Eventually I thought that I wasn’t recognizing the landscape that I was passing (such as there was) even though I supposed to returning by the way that I had come. When I got my compass out I realised that I had been heading down the long southern slopes instead of east back along the ridge. Frustrated with myself I climbed back up the hill almost all the way back to the summit of Ballysitteragh before I could turn right and proceed, now correctly, through the low cloud, wind and rain along the ridge back to the car.

The most I saw throughout the whole walk was the northern edge of the ridge which falls steeply to the loch filled Cloghane valley. There were no views to be seen except murkily at the car park and the ground underfoot was very wet and boggy. It rained heavily and the wind blew strongly almost all the way so I got soaked! Two hours of walking in this was enough to put me off for the rest of the day! I drove back to Dingle and wandered the streets for an hour before driving around the picturesque Slea Head to the Dunquin Youth Hostel hoping that I would have better weather for my last days walk in Ireland over Brandon Mountain.

The Coumloughra Horseshoe

2011-03-31T15:30:00.007+01:00

Wednesday 14th September 2005

What started out as pretty awful weather for this walk turned out to be an absolute scorcher of a day in absolutely stunning weather. The day had started overcast with very low cloud giving a fine mist everywhere. After parking at Breanlee I headed up a concrete track steeply up the hillside and was soon into the clouds. Turning right the track levelled off and moved across the hillside over varying surfaces and around to cross a stream and follow it to a dam. With the weather warming as the sun tried to break through the clouds I crossed the dam and started climbing steeply up the hillside through heather and over rocks. Halfway up to the western top of Skregmore I got a shock as I looked to my right and saw a mountain top poking through the clouds. Within minutes more mountains had revealed themselves to me as the clouds continued to break with blue sky soon appearing above me.

Eagerly I continued climbing the steep slope, wearing myself out as I rushed up onto the hilltop. The view before me was a Thermal Inversion with dense clouds filling the valleys and clear blue skies overhead. With great enthusiasm I made my way along the ridge towards the central top of Skregmore gazing out over the clouds and marvelling at the Brocken Spectres that could be seen on the clouds far below. I had always heard about these rainbow-like optical illusions but had never seen one for myself. I felt very privileged. After passing over Skregmore I passed Beenkeragh on its north edge and headed across to the minor top of Knockbrinnea. I was following the walk is detailed in Paddy Dillon’s “The Mountains of Ireland” which attempts to visit every mountain and top above two thousand feet in Ireland. The consequence of this was that insignificant tops like Knockbrinnea were being bagged, however this one afforded stunning views across Hags Glen of the MacGillycuddy’s Reeks emerging behind the lifting clouds. Most stunning of all was the sight of the cross atop the highest mountain in Ireland, Carrauntoohil, surrounded by a sea of clouds.

After Knockbrinnea had been bagged I headed back across to Beenkeragh, the second highest mountain in Ireland, climbing steeply over the rocks up to the summit. While eating my lunch the clouds continued to lift from the valleys with the views changing with each passing moment. After eating I climbed down from the top and headed across the narrow, exposed ridge to Carrauntoohil. This was an exciting and thrilling crossing, especially with the route I took where I was keeping to the top of the ridge as much as possible. The ridge starts quite easily but later gets quite technical with some rather tough scrambling necessary around a small top on the ridge. This ridge was great fun to climb over and I really enjoyed every moment of it. With the views getting better and better with the lifting clouds, and exciting ridge walks this was quickly becoming a very good mountain walk.

Once the ridge was crossed I headed up on to the top of Carrauntoohil, the highest hill in Ireland, where the views were quite simply amazing. Once I had had enough of the views I headed towards the southern ridge of the Coumoughra Horseshoe, across to Caher. While enjoying the narrow, if simplistic ridge I was frustrated by a mist that drifted in from the sea. The mist fortunately didn't last very long, but it had done its worst in obstructing my views while I was on Caher. With no more tops left I resignedly began the long descent down to the bottom of the valley. The mist cleared while I was descending and by the time I was at the valley floor the sun had come back out revealing more impressive views of the whole horseshoe ridge. The last section of the walk involved a boggy crossing back to the dam before I could follow the track back to the road. This was a truly great walk, in great weather.

The MacGillycuddy's Reeks

2011-03-17T16:15:00.002Z

Monday 12th September 2005

This was a much longer walk than the previous days over challenging terrain and in changing weather conditions. I was starting from Kate Kearney's Cottage, which is a tourist-haven cum pub/restaurant at the foot of the Gap of Dunloe. Walking up the road towards the Gap I veered off to the right up a very good path that zigzaggs up the hillside revealing more of the spectacular scenery of the pass with every turn. When I reached the top of the ridge the view across the MacGillycuddy's Reeks could be plainly seen ahead of me with Carrauntoohil standing proud at the end of the high ridge, unfortunately it didn't take long for the clouds to obliterate Carrauntoohil with the rest of the ridge quickly following suit; it was going to be one of those days!

With all trace of a path gone I made my way across the boggy plane to the foot of Cnoc an Bhráca, jumping across the wide bogs as I went. Just as I began the ascent I realised that I had lost my sunglasses, which had been in my pocket (the sun had already disappeared behind the clouds!). Despondently I made my way back to the bogs remembering my first day in the Lake District three years before when I lost my glasses on Loughrigg. When my search failed to locate them I dejectedly made my way back to Cnoc an Bhráca until I suddenly came across them lying in the grass. I was unbelievable that I hadn't seen them when going back to the bog! With great relief I made my way back towards Cnoc an Bhráca just as the clouds was lifting in front of me. Everyone was happy!

Instead of going straight up to the top of Cnoc an Bhráca I followed the route recommended by Paddy Dillon in his book “The Mountains of Ireland” contouring the eastern slopes to make for the top behind, Cnoc na dTarbh. With hindsight I wish I'd missed this out as it's not a very big hill but I had to put a considerable amount of effort into getting to it before returning to Cnoc an Bháca. Paddy Dillon’s routes are designed in order to visit every mountain above two thousand feet in Ireland, even insignificant tops like Cnoc na dTarbh. Once I reached the top of Cnoc an Bhráca I was really weary from my exertion, probably due to not eating enough beforehand for such a strenuous walk. I felt much better after eating a small snickers bar so headed off along the main ridge past a dip and up the steep rocky ridge to my first three thousand footer of Ireland, Cruach Mhór.

The views from this vantage point were awesome in the bright sunshine so I had my lunch as I prepared myself for the most difficult part of the ridge. Traversing the rocky ridge I made my way across to The Big Gun scrambling around and over large rocky obstacles on the way. Keeping as near to the top of the ridge as I dared I reached the summit and prepared for the next section. Descending to a col I began to ascend along a narrow rocky ridge all the way up to Cnoc na Péiste, plunging into the clouds that had been coming up from the south. I tried to stay on the top or at least visit it frequently but eventually I had to abandon it in favour of the easier path that follows to the left. It was still an exciting ridge, almost an edge, and I was disappointed when the summit of Cnoc na Péiste finally emerged through the clouds.

The difficult section of the ridge was now over and I was at the highest point of the walk with a relatively easy grassy ridge ahead of me. Since that would have been too easy, even with the clouds obstructing any views, the wind picked up necessitating the donning of my cagoule for the remainder of the walk. Walking along the ridge I passed over Maolán Buí and Cnoc an Chuillinn before descending steeply to a col with a rather non-descript grassy mound ahead of me (Cnoc na Toinne). Following a path that rose along the southern flanks I reached what I assumed was the summit, but since there was nothing to be seen, being in the clouds, I have no way of knowing whether I was right! With the last hill of the day behind me I descended the narrow grassy ridge down to the foot of Carrauntoohil and the top of the Devil's Ladder.

Leaving Carrauntoohil for another day I began the arduous descent down the Devil's Ladder to Hag's Glen through the badly eroded dirt at the top and down the scree slope lower down all the way to the valley floor. After all I'd heard I was expecting worse, but except for the initial bit at the top, which is very bad, the scree was pretty much standard fare and once off the movable stuff I was skipping and jumping down with carefree abandon. Following the clear track beside the Gaddagh River I made my way to the road-end on the eastern side of the river. There now lay ahead of me a couple of hours of road walking as I made my way back to Kate Kearney's Cottage. A lift by a fellow walker after I had already walked ¾ of the way alleviated some of the tedium and hastened the end of what was becoming a very long walk. Despite the lengthy end and the later clouds this was a fabulous walk over some truly great mountains.

Mangerton Mountain

2011-03-10T15:46:00.002Z

Sunday 11th September 2005

I was in Ireland for a week walking in County Kerry over the highest mountains in Ireland including the fabulously named MacGillycuddy’s Reeks. After flying to Shannon Airport the previous afternoon the following morning I drove (in a hired car) over to Kerry and through Killarney. I parked at a viewpoint near Tooreencormick (a battle field site) on a minor road off the N71 with my target for the day, Mangerton Mountain, clearly in sight across the moorland in the sunny weather. Walking to the end of the road I headed off along a track that followed the Finoulagh River up the hill side; although boggy at first it improved as the views across the Killarney National Park and the MacGillycuddy's Reeks revealed themselves.

Eventually coming across an old broken wall, I followed it's boggy course straight up the hill onto the ridge that overlooks the Devil's Punch Bowl, ie a lake. With most of my hard climbing over I was now able to enjoy myself as I walked up to the north top of Mangerton before returning to the ridge straight up onto the broad plateau of Mangerton Mountain. After the dramatic northern cliff that overlooks a couple of lochs the flat boggy summit was a bit of a let down. Although the awesome-looking hills of the MacGillycuddy’s Reeks could be seen, hazy in the distance, the plateau rather spoilt the view. Returning to the relatively bog-free northern edge I proceeded east around the top of Horses Glen towards Stoompa. After a somewhat arduous moorland crossing I reached the rock-strewn summit, where I satisfyingly found a splendid cairn on top of a hill. It was much better than the radio mast on Mangerton!

Any trace of a path now evaporated as with quite a bit of difficulty I descended the steep, heathery and stony slopes of Stoompa. At one point I completely missed my footing and literally went head over heels! Thankfully I survived to tell the tale. All that remained for me now was a tiring and frustrating moorland crossing below Lough Garagarry to the outward path. This was a very challenging section of the walk because I had to get through pathless tracts of heather, bracken and gorse, and I also had a river to cross: the Owgarriff River, which had just enough stones in it to prevent me getting my feet wet. Then when I was almost on the path I came across a fence that was blocking my way; the only way around it was to follow the fence back up the hill and across the Finoulagh River. With considerable relief I finally arrived at the path and returned to the road and back to my car. Alright, not MY car, but the one I was using during this holiday. The effect on me was the same whomever the car belongs to. I was thankful to be back at the car after a very tiring walk in very warm weather.

Moel Siabod

2011-03-04T09:54:00.002Z

Monday 29th August 2005

This walk started with really bad weather, heavy rain was pouring down all around, but astonishingly, it didn't last. I had decided that I would walk up Moel Siabod, a hill that I'd been up before, but not by the way that I had intended so now I wanted to correct this. Parking at Pont Cyfyng I headed off on a path to the disused quarry below Moel Siabod. Passing a dammed lake I headed uphill to the now flooded quarry passing spectacular waterfalls cascading into the quarry lake in this no doubt once busy area. Continuing below the southern cliffs of Moel Siabod I passed Llyn y Foel, where I had taken a different route the previous year. I had followed a clear path that clung to the foot of the cliffs before climbing steeply up a scree slope onto the summit. This treacherous route was not what I had intended as I'd wanted to walk up the ridge of Daear Ddu, so this time I headed across the mud beside llyn y Foel towards the foot of the ridge, which was when I got a bit stuck. I could see no path onto the top of the ridge, and in the rain I couldn't climb up on it (believe me, I tried!). Eventually I followed a path that ran westwards beside the ridge and gradually moved away from it to gain the top some distance west of the summit. This was not the ridge-top scramble that I had been looking for, so it looks like I’m going to have to go up this hill again! (I eventually succeeded in 2007.)

As I was nearing the top of Moel Siabod the views southwards were opening up as the rain was finally stopping, and once at the summit I discovered that the clouds were lifting everywhere. The rain had stopped, the clouds were breaking and the sun was coming out. By the time I had finished my lunch at the summit I had glorious views all around Snowdonia including across Dyffryn Mymbyr towards Snowdon and up Nant y Benglog towards Tryfan and the Carneddau. In bright sunshine I began my descent along the north-eastern ridge of Moel Siabod scrambling over the rocks all the way. I had great fun on that descent, enjoying myself immensely as I jumped from rock to rock, basking in the sun. The rain of the morning was forgotten as I took my time slowly descending the fabulous ridge, knowing that this would end my weekend in Wales. I had work early the next morning, so with regret I headed off from Wales early, mid-afternoon. I knew it wouldn't be long before I returned.

Mynydd Mawr & the Nantlle Ridge

2011-02-24T18:42:00.000Z

Sunday 28th August 2005

On this walk the weather was much worse than the day before with strong winds that often knocked you over and clouds that descended lower and lower as the day progressed, but I still enjoyed myself much more than I done the day before; I guess I was in a better frame of mind. This walk was split into two sections, both starting from the small village of Rhyd-Ddu. For the first one I set off through the village and onto a forest track until I picked up the footpath to Bwlch y Moch on the edge of the wood. Crossing the stile and turning right I followed the fence to the start of the steep, but short pull onto Foel Rudd. From there on I had a relatively easy, highly enjoyable walk along the ridge above Craig y Bera and up into the clouds onto the summit of Mynydd Mawr. The walk to the top was great fun, where I enjoyed a lightness of spirit that I hadn't felt the day before; I felt that I had just walked up a good mountain. Turning around I descended the way I had come, enjoying the awe-inspiring, vertiginous views from the top of Craig y Bera.

Back in Rhyd-Ddu I began the second and much longer walk of the day, this time on hills I've walked before, exactly one year previously. Heading out westwards I followed a footpath to the foot of Y Garn and began the steep, seemingly never ending climb. The year before this climb was plagued with appalling weather but this time the clear (below 2000 feet!), dry conditions of the morning persisted. After lunch in the shelter at the summit I headed south along the ridge attempting to stay on the top of the ridge all the way even while scrambling on rocks up to Mynydd Drws-y-coed. It was funny seeing people gingerly making their way down the ridge some metres down the slope while I was standing on the top. I was totally ignoring the clouds and wind as I breezed along the ridge, having enormous fun as passed over Trum y Ddysgl and Mynydd Tal-y-mignedd.

It was during the descent to Bwlch Dros-bern that the fun stopped. It was very steep, wet from the mist and seemed even windier. The descent was treacherously slippery and all I could think was that I was going to have to come back this way! Once safely down, but still being heavily buffeted I approached Craig Pennant and attacked it head on scrambling up the steep cliff face as if the weather was perfect (which it was when I got there the year before!). Despite the bad weather I succeeded in getting to the top of the cliffs and began to walk along the top up to the summit of the unnamed hill above Cwm Silya, which is the highest point on the Nantlle Ridge. By now I was getting fed up with the strong wind blowing me over every couple of minutes so turned around and started on my way back. Unfortunately the only way down eastwards is a ridge running south from Trum y Ddysgl (half way back along the ridge) so I returned to Bwlch Dros-bern (this time following the footpath) and climbed up to Mynydd Tal-y-mignedd, once again taking my life in my hands (often literally!) on the slippery rocks. Safely up I passed below the obelisk-topped hill and crossed the narrow col to the ridge below Trum y Ddysgl and began the descent. Relieved I was now off the tricky sections of the ridge I was able to enjoy myself as I descended to Bwlch-y-Ddwy-elor where I joined a bridlepath passing through Beddgelert Forest and on below Y Garn to join the ascent path back to Rhyd-Ddu.

Tryfan & Glyder Fach via Bristly Ridge

2011-02-17T15:03:00.002Z

Going back to 2005 I'm going to post reports of walks done in North Wales over the August Bank Holiday:

Saturday 27th August 2005

I was back into Snowdonia for the Bank Holiday weekend and wanted to practice my scrambling skills in preparation for a trip to Ireland in a couple of weeks, so what better places than the north face of Tryfan and the Bristly Ridge. I set off early but due to my incompetence and the traffic on the A55 (I don't think I'll use that road again) I didn't reach the foot of Tryfan until almost noon. So I was not a happy bunny even before I started my walk, and finding that I'd left the inner soles for my boots at home also failed to lighten my mood. Setting off through Gwern Gof Uchaf campsite I headed up to the start of the north face of Tryfan. I had been up this fabulous route only a couple of months before and I had just as much fun scrambling up as I had before, especially towards the end as the scrambling became more technical and I was able to sail past other people who were climbing up.

The summit was packed with people, many of them attempting the leap between the two summit rocks, Adam and Eve. I joined them and found it ridiculously easy, much easier than it had been a couple of months before in high winds. After lunch I descended to Bwlch Tryfan, curiously finding the descent just as fun as the ascent had been. Once at the col I began the sole reason for doing this walk: the Bristly Ridge. Ascending steeply I slowly made my way straight towards Glyder Fach over the high, narrow, razor edged ridge with scrambling that wasn't too difficult so long as I picked my route correctly, which was often my problem. Several times I would begin a climb and think better of it, or I would achieve a very difficult climb only to find a much easier ascent on the other side. The biggest problems I encountered were large dips in the course of the ridge that require a tricky descent before a steep climb. This was a tricky, challenging ascent, but thoroughly satisfying as a result. It was with a great sense of achievement that I gained the summit of Glyder Fach.

Once at the top I was a little deflated; maybe it was the anti-climax after all that effort, but I'd been up there quite recently, admittedly not in as good weather, but the summit held no interest for me. So I began the descent to Bwlch y Ddwy-Glyder where last time I made a big navigational error in the mist. In good weather I could see just how easy that it was to do, indeed the couple ahead of me made the same error but due to the clear conditions they quickly realised their mistake and corrected themselves. I ascended to the top of the Y Gribin ridge and began the descent of this ridge that I'd never walked along before. Eschewing the footpath over the screes I kept to the top of the ridge scrambling over the rocks before joining the footpath down to Llyn Bochlwyd. I don't think I was really able to enjoy the descent or the stunning views of Nant Ffrancon as much as I would normally because of the strange mood I was in after the mornings madness (it also didn't help that I was desperate to use a toilet!). It is amazing how such little things can cloud your enjoyment of what should have been a fantastically enjoyable walk. I had originally planned on climbing Pen yr Ole Wen when I reached Idwal Cottage, but with the advancing clock (and the fact that I couldn't be bothered) I decided to drop down to the A5 and walk back to the car. This had been a good, challenging walk, albeit short, but I wish I had been in a better mood for it.

High Rigg

2011-02-10T15:20:00.003Z

Friday 24th December 2010

For the last day of my holiday in the Lake District just before Christmas I parked in the snow covered car park at Legburthwaite near the northern end of Thirlmere Reservoir. This is right in the heart of the Lake District and so had a deeper covering of snow than was to be found in the out-lying areas that I’d been walking in for the previous couple of days. The weather was fabulous but bitterly cold as I set off across St John’s Beck and steeply up the southern end of the wonderfully rugged and undulating fell of High Rigg. My previous visit to this fell was four years ago at a similar time of the year but late in the afternoon with the light fading as I progressed. By the time I’d reached the summit at the northern end of the fell the sun had long since set and my long descent to the bus at Threlkeld was in the dark. When I started this walk the sun was still low in the sky to the south hiding behind the western slopes of the Helvellyn range and didn’t make its appearance till I was part way along the spine of the fell.

Passing over the southern top, Wren Crag, I proceeded along Long Band keeping to the highest point on the fell exploring every top in my path. I wasn’t in a hurry so enjoyed exploring the complex terrain hopping from top to top as I went, climbing over the central wall of the fell to get from a top on the eastern side of the fell over to the centrally-located 343m top. From there I headed straight to the summit of the fell visiting the small top to the left of the summit first. By now the sun was bathing the whole fell with clear blue skies all around showing off the bigger fells that surround this low fell. Instead of taking the usual path north off the fell down to the youth centre I visited a couple more tops in the north-western corner of the fell before dropping into the ravine of William’s Beck. This was a very steep descent and is quite tricky in places particularly near the bottom of the stream where there was extensive stretches of ice. I wouldn’t advise this as a route of descent.

Once in Naddledale I crossed the valley to the bottom of Castlerigg Fell where I took a path along the foot of the fell that leads to the delectable and secluded valley of Shoulthwaite Gill. Sadly I didn’t have time to visit this picturesque valley as I wanted to get home early. Soon after joining the stream and passing a number of delightful cascades I crossed the stream and entered the wood that dominates the slopes to the west of Thirlmere. I had only once visited Shoulthwaite Gill before, the same day I’d visited High Rigg four years ago, and on that occasion I had taken the same route as now to get to the southern end of High Rigg. I followed a track that skirts the edge of Shoulthwaite Moss and then passed the farms of Smaithwaite and Bridge End crossing St John’s Beck between them returning to my car in time for lunch, driving home afterwards. This was a great little walk in bright, sunny, but cold weather over a great little fell. But with hindsight this walk would have been greatly improved by returning back over the fell as the return route that I took was mostly tedious.

Crag Fell and Lank Rigg

2011-01-27T15:40:00.002Z

Thursday 23rd December 2010

On this walk I was returning to the spot where I undertook my walk last Christmas Eve, near Ennerdale Water, and visited the lake before starting the walk. Last year was first time that I’d actually been to the water’s edge of Ennerdale Water and was glad to make the acquaintance again of this beautiful lake. Rather than taking the route, over Anglers Crag, which I took last year and was fraught with difficulty, I climbed beside the stream, Ben Gill, on a faint but fun, little path that climbs up the steep hillside. This is a wonderful, brilliantly made path that made the climb a sheer delight for me as it ingeniously wound its way up the hillside. Onto the main path I crossed the gill and climbed the steep hillside onto the top of Crag Fell. This fell has awesome views up the valley of Ennerdale but sadly on this day the higher fells were shrouded in hill fog, though fortunately the mist kept mostly away from me. Leaving the summit of Crag Fell I descended the grassy slopes and passed through a wood before climbing back onto the open fell. After passing over the uninteresting hill of Whoap I climbed steeply up to the wind-swept, bleak and isolated fell of Lank Rigg.

Ever since Wainwright left a two shilling coin at the summit of Lank Rigg later visitors to this remote fell have left similar coins for others to find. I however didn’t find any buried treasure (though I didn’t look very hard), nor did I leave anything there myself. Stopping for lunch in the shelter of a cairn southwest of the summit I gazed out over the West Cumbrian landscape, over Sellafield nuclear power station and out to sea. Returning to the summit of Lank Rigg I found that a bitterly cold breeze was blowing. For most of this holiday there has been little or no wind, so this was an unwelcome addition. Putting my cagoule on as protection against the wind I descended the steep slopes of Lank Rigg before climbing over Whoap again. Passing through the wood once more I climbed back up to the top of Crag Fell where the wind was just as cold as it had been on Lank Rigg. Slowly I descended the long western slopes of Crag Fell back over Ben Gill and into a wood where an excellent path dropped me gradually down to the valley floor.

This was a nice, relaxing walk in excellent, but cold, weather. The fells however were not at the standard that would have made this a great walk. Crag Fell has a great, craggy, northern side but the rest of it is a dull as the entirety of Lank Rigg. My previous days walk, over Fellbarrow and Low Fell, suffered from this as well. They were good as a short, relaxing, walk, but they’re not very satisfying as an all-day walk in the Lakes. My only real reason for going up these fells was because they were Wainwright Fells. Five years ago I started setting myself the target of going up every fell that Wainwright had written about in his Pictorial Guides. After going up Lank Rigg I had just four Wainwrights left to complete the list of 214 fells. These small, outlying fells may not have the stature of the bigger fells but as Wainwrights they have equal standing with the Helvellyn and Bow Fell and all the rest of the Lakeland Fells. Next Easter I aim to return to the Lake District and complete the Wainwrights

Fellbarrow and Low Fell

2011-01-20T17:23:00.001Z

Wednesday 22nd December 2010

I tried to go up these outlying fells in a quiet corner of the Lake District last year only to be thwarted by a washed away bridge (which still doesn't appear to have been replaced). This year, with less snow on the ground, and taking a different route, I was finally able to accomplish what I’d failed to do last year. I parked at the Lanthwaite Wood National Trust car park and set off along a side road to the small hamlet of Thackthwaite where a charming, tree-lined track took me steeply up the hillside onto the open fell. At a bend in the track I veered off and headed towards the most northerly point of this complex system of fells. Eventually, and with much effort wading through the bracken and snow, I reached the top of Hatteringill Head where I turned around and beheld the bigger fells of Fellbarrow behind me.

Striding forth from Hatteringill Head I passed along the top of the fells in glorious sunshine to the trig point at the top of Fellbarrow and on over other tops in the range, Smithy Fell and Sourfoot Fell. Eventually, after stopping at Watching Crag for the awesome views it affords of the Lorton Valley, I climbed up to the top of Low Fell, actually the highest point in the range of fells. The Wainwright top is further south, but even Wainwright himself didn’t think it was the highest point suspecting that the north top was even higher than Fellbarrow, as the Ordnance Survey have now confirmed. Onward I walked to the cairn that marks Wainwright's top, and what a view it affords across Crummock Water with the fells of Buttermere as a backdrop. It was sheer perfection spoilt only by the sun directly in my eyes. All that remained for me now was to descend steep slopes to Crabtree Beck and contour Darling Fell down to the road. A long walk past Loweswater (lake and village) took me back to my car.

This was a fabulous little walk spoilt only by its shortness. With much of the afternoon left I considered doing my next days planned walk but eventually abandoned it just after starting. In the end, with the sun quickly setting, I went up Binsey, a small hill that I walked up a couple of years ago in the dark. This time I still returned to my car in the dark.

Steel Fell and Ullscarf

2011-01-13T16:09:00.002Z

Tuesday 21st December 2010

My main priority on this walk was Steel Fell, a Wainwright that I'd never done before. What I did after that remained undecided until I was on my way to my next fell, and the direction that I ultimately took was one that I'd never even considered beforehand. I parked at the Wythburn car park and walked along the road to West Head Farm (formerly Steel End) where I passed beside the farm houses and began my ascent of Steel Fell. This was not the first time that I'd started to walk up Steel Fell as I’d tried to climb the south ridge three years ago and turned back due to strong winds, but on this occasion the weather was fabulous with blue skies and no wind. The climb up the north ridge of Steel Fell was nothing special except for the stunning views behind me across the length of Thirlmere. Eventually the gradient levelled and I was able to enjoy walking across the snow bound terrain in bright sunshine and stunning surroundings.

On reaching the summit cairn I turned right to follow a fence across the tremendous undulating terrain that links Steel Fell with Calf Crag. I really enjoyed myself during this stroll as I had already achieved my goal for the day and felt free to take my time and do whatever I wanted. My original plan was to go to Grasmere via a number of possible routes around Easedale, but as I was crossing the felltop at the head of the Greenburn valley my eyes strayed across the Wythburn valley, to my right, onto the craggy fellside of Castle Crag and the Nab Crags. My immediate thought was that I wanted walk down that ridge sometime, but not today, however it wasn’t long before I was changing my plans. Bypassing the top of Calf Crag I reached the top of Far Easdale and turned right onto the Coast to Coast route that crosses the top of the Wythburn valley before climbing up to Greenup Edge. I had tremendous fun at this point as I rediscovered the proper route of this path as the footprint-marked route of my predecessors clearly veered away from it. The original route must have been abandoned in favour of easier grassy slopes due to the snow and, most particularly, to the ice that was wide spread on parts of the path. I felt like I was discovering something that had lain undisturbed for centuries, even if it was really only weeks, or possibly just days.

Near the top of the path I turned right bypassing Greenup Edge to head straight for Ullscarf. The first prominent crag that I saw had an old fence post on top of it with an old boot that had been impaled through its sole. There I stopped for lunch and to gaze across the awesome scenery, towards Grasmere and particularly around Borrowdale. Resuming the walk I visited a cairned crag (marked on maps) before returning to the path which I followed all the way to Ullscarf. I had previously been to this most centrally-located of Lakeland fells in 2006 when what I found was a dull summit plateau surrounded by extensive bogs. On this occasion the bogs were all frozen but the summit was still as dull as ever. Turning around I headed back to the edge of the Wythburn valley which I followed all the way down to Thirlmere reservoir. This was a fantastic descent which I found a joy with every step as I established new routes across the vast, crag-filled terrain, hopping from crag to crag as I slowly descended.

Turning around occasionally to look at how far I’d come filled me with awe that I’d managed to come down that way as it looked virtually impassable from below. In descent however it was quite easy, and in the places where I was unsure of my route down the sheep tracks showed a sure route, after all the sheep know these fells very well; it’s their home! Eventually I ended up on the small top called Birk Crag which I visited last Easter on a wet weather walk from Borrowdale. Now I paid it a quick visit before taking the same steep path as before that plunges down a wonderful, gorse lined path onto the road. This was a great walk in awesome surroundings across brilliant terrain in very cold weather.

Harter Fell and Branstree

2011-01-06T15:58:00.002Z

Monday 20th December 2010

After more than three months without a mountain walk I finally got my walking boots out of the cupboard and came to the Lake District for Christmas. This is now the fifth year running that I have been to the Lake District at Christmas and the second year that there has been a lot of snow on the ground. There was nowhere near as much snow as there had been the year before, but it seemed a lot colder as I drove to Mardale Head at the western end of Haweswater Reservoir. I had been concerned that I would be unable to drive along the Mardale road, but in the end it proved passable with care. I started off walking on a great little path that I’d never taken before that passes the lovely Small Water, and the path was made even more enjoyable by the snow underfoot. After rounding Small Water I climbed up to Nan Bield Pass and turned left onto the rocky ridge that connects Mardale Ill Bell with Harter Fell. This was a tricky climb where crampons might have helped, but by careful manoeuvring I eventually managed to reach the summit of Harter Fell. When there is snow on the ground I usually try to abide by a two thousand feet rule, but this breaks it by more than five hundred feet. I may have got away with it on this occasion but I shouldn’t really be doing ridges like that up to Harter Fell in these sorts of conditions.

Passing the summit I stopped by the viewpoint of Haweswater that Wainwright famously drew a picture of himself viewing. There I stopped for lunch looking out on the same awe-inspiring views as Wainwright saw more than fifty years ago. The snow, which wasn’t there when Wainwright was there (he wasn’t that stupid), and the clear blue skies just made the scene even more idyllic. Moving on I descended the slope to the Gatescarth Pass and continued up Branstree opposite. This was an excruciating climb up a big grassy mound of a fell that made me feel all four months of my mountain famine. Eventually I reached the summit and explored a couple of brilliantly built cairns on the nearby Artlecrag Pike. A third stone structure, a survey post leftover from the building of the reservoir, is over a fence near an insignificant, unnamed top. Rightfully avoiding this worthless top I left the cairns and followed a path beside the fence all the way to Selside Pike, my second new Wainwright of the day.

Most of the snow that I was encountering on this walk was dry and powdery (due to the cold temperatures), but occasionally I came across a mass of hard snow. At first this puzzled me until I remembered that there had been a heavy fall of snow in November which had subsequently melted except on the higher fells. These patches of hard snow were clearly the remains of the November snow and had to be treated with care as they could easily be very slippery. If I stayed below two thousand feet I would avoid all traces of this sort of snow. From the summit cairn of Selside Pike I followed a faint path down a vague ridge to an old corpse road which I turned left along all the way down to the Mardale road. This had been a fantastic, but cold and tiring, walk. The weather had been wonderful with little wind and clear, blue skies that would remain for the rest of the week.

Loch Avon

2010-12-30T09:58:00.004Z

As we close on the old year I'll conclude the series on the walking that I did in Scotland in the summer of 2005.

Thursday 28th July 2005

The weather was probably even worse for this walk than it was for the walk the previous day up Breariach with rain for most of the morning and through until about three o'clock, but I still managed to have a long walk in the mountains. Setting off before nine again I headed off through the Ryvoan Gap just as I had two days before, veering off from my former route at the site of the Bynack Stable and headed up Strath Nethy. This is a long narrow path that seems to take forever as it slowly meanders its way up the valley, with rain pouring down all the way and through clouds to reach the end eventually my perseverance paid off and I reached the Saddle. Passing through I descended down to the spectacular Loch Avon, made perhaps even more special by the low cloud with the huge, ominous-looking crags at the head of the loch peering through the gaps in the clouds. Slowly I made my way along the shore towards the western end, constantly gazing at the impressive rock forms that overlook this end of the loch. I had my lunch in the shelter of a huge stone (the appropriately named Shelter Stone), and while the rain poured down the midges had their way with me.

After lunch I decided that an ascent of Beinn Mheadhoin would have been a waste of energy - there wasn't the time and I just couldn't be bothered. I was too tired to make the effort after all the walking that I'd been doing during the previous ten days, so instead I started heading back to Glenmore. The most direct route is to go up and over the Cairngorm plateau so I headed off along a footpath up the side of the cliffs beside the smallest of the three streams that flows down to feed Loch Avon. After a lot of careful climbing in the wet conditions I reached Coire Domhain on the Cairngorm plateau and crossing the marshy ground reached the northern edge near Cairn Lochan looking out over Coire na t-Sneachda. The rain had just stopped with the clouds lifting sufficiently to afford a tremendous view across to Glenmore and Loch Morlich, and my route was clear. Any thought of going around or over Cairn Lochan and down my route of two days before disappeared; I descended the steep walls into the corrie and across the boulder field to join a manufactured path that took me all the way to the Coire Cas car park. This was an enjoyable end to the day with a relaxing stroll to the ski centre and along the Allt Mhor trail back to Glenmore. I may not have climbed a Munro but this was still a long walk in the mountains in bad weather; after all, the Cairngorm plateau is higher than any mountain in England or Wales, and most of the mountains in Scotland as well. I should not be ashamed to have this walk end my holiday in Scotland.

Braeriach

2010-12-27T09:52:00.003Z

The Scottish walking holiday of 2005 continues:

Wednesday 27th July 2005

The weather was not as good for this walk as I had been enjoying during my previous walks: it was overcast and drizzly, but that didn’t stop me going out for a potentially very long walk over the third highest mountain in Britain. I set off walking alongside the Allt Mòr burn and took the path that crosses the heather moorland in front of the Cairgorm corries through the Chalamain Gap, and into the Lairig Ghru. That sentence may have been easy to write, but it took me ages to complete due to a lack of energy that was preventing me from walking very quickly (and besides, the heavily, over-engineered footpaths were depressing me). After crossing the Allt Druidh, at the foot of the awe-inspiring wedge through the mountains that is the Lairig Ghru, I started my slow ascent up the ridge opposite. With a drizzly rain continuing off and on all day, the cloud base crept closer and closer with my every step. Eventually I arrived at a wide grassy plane, which my map declared, despite my optimism, was not the Munro, but merely a top, Sròn na Lairige. With the aid of my compass I passed over the plateau and resumed my climb in the clouds, and increasingly heavy rain, up to a cliff edge and along it to the summit of Braeriach, the third highest mountain in Britain.

[Picture taken in 2009 from the summit of Braeriach of the scene across Allt Garbh Choire towards Cairn Toul]

There I had my lunch and contemplated the situation: it was cloudy and it was chucking it down with rain. Eventually I decided that a walk over the plateau around the huge corries of An Garbh Coire to Cairn Toul in this weather would be crazy, and besides, it had taken me five hours just to get to this point; I could just imagine how long it was going to take me to get to Cairn Toul before I had to turn around and come all the way back. With my decision made I set off back down the hill secure in the knowledge that I had climbed at least one Munro on this walk. Returning down the ridge over Sròn na Lairige I arrived back down at the northern end of the Lairig Ghru where I decided that I would take a different route back to the youth hostel. Following the path beside the Allt Druidh all the way into the Rothiemurchus woods I had a very pleasant woodland walk making my way towards Loch Morlich, circling round the loch to return to Glenmore. For a walk in such poor weather this was fabulous, and gave me a great sense of achievement on reaching the summit. The fact that I went no further did nothing to ruin this walk for me.

Cairn Gorm and Ben MacDui

2010-12-16T16:36:00.003Z

Tuesday 26th July 2005

After a days rest during which I travelled from Glen Nevis, near Fort William, to Glenmore, near Aviemore (and luckily it was in poor weather) I set off bright and early in the morning for a full days walk in the Cairngorm Mountains. After a couple of days on the dramatic rocky ridges of the Mamore, the sight from the youth hostel of rolling heather-clad hills filled me with dismay, fortunately they were merely the foothills. Following Ralph Storer's route number 84, I set off through the woods around Glenmore along easy, heavily constructed paths, walking through the Pass of Ryvoan and past the secluded lake of An Lochan Uaine into the bleak heather-clad moorland of Strath Nethy. Crossing the River Nethy I climbed onto the ridge beyond and left the path to climb over Bynack More, my first Munro of the day and it wasn't even midday yet! The cloudy start to the day was slowly dispersing to reveal a glorious summers day with every peak on the Cairngorm Plateau free of clouds.

Heading across a grassy plane I walked over A'Choinneach, which I was surprised to learn used to be a Munro, which is astonishing for a mere grassy hillock. I believe if you look at the list of mountains that have been stripped of Munro status an inordinate number will be from the Cairngorm area. After passing over the top I began descending the wonderfully rocky terrain down to The Saddle where amazing views could be seen of Loch Avon where huge crags could be seen overlooking the head of the loch. This was such an awe-inspiring sight that I made a point of having a closer look later in the week. From the Saddle I slowly made my way up the steep, almost pathless, eastern slopes of Cairn Gorm, and after an age reached the rocky summit. The sight when I reached the summit was just amazing of rock-topped mountains aplenty and confirmed that my despair of the start of the day was unjustified.
[Picture taken by me in 2009 in less than perfect weather]
While eating my lunch sitting by the weather station at the summit of Cairn Gorm I looked out over the breath-taking scenery, including the cliffs that overlook Loch Avon and across to Ben Macdui, the second highest mountain in Britain, which was clear of clouds. Since it was still early I decided to head out over towards Ben Macdui in case later in the week, when I had planned on going up Ben MacDui, it would prove too cloudy. So setting off from Cairn Gorm I walked around the top of Coire an t-Sneachda and up to the top of Cairn Lochan before heading south to join the path across a bleak, rocky mars-scape to the top of Ben Macdui. I was on the second highest mountain in Britain in brilliant weather with clear views all around and there was just a middle-aged couple at the summit with me. This is a stark contrast to Ben Nevis, which I'm sure at the same time would have had dozens of people at its summit. I always find it ridiculous how so many people go up Ben Nevis, Scafell Pike and Snowdon when there are many more mountains all around them, many of which are much more interesting than those three.

Turning around I headed back towards Cairn Lochan, and passing to the west of it headed down the ridge, Fiacaill an Leth-Choin. When I’d reached the heather-clad moorland at the foot of the Cairgorm corries I veered off the path towards the young Allt Mór and followed the stream as it became a river all the way into Glen More and back to the hostel. With hindsight I shouldn’t have left the path to the Ski Centre but I had an overpowering desire to avoid the ruinous debris of the ski slopes at all costs, including wading through knee deep boggy heather. Despite this wet end to the walk this was a fabulous walk over some of the greatest mountains in Scotland in fabulous weather that was sadly not to last.

The Central Mamores

2010-12-09T15:33:00.004Z

More from my holiday of 2005 walking in Scotland

Sunday 24th July 2005

This was another brilliant days walk in excellent weather among the Mamores of Glen Nevis. The cloudy start to the day had looked ominous, but thankfully the clouds soon rose above the summits and by early evening it had become another bright sunny day. As it was a Sunday there were no buses to take me down Glen Nevis so I had to walk all the way there, this time using the tracks in Nevis Forest to avoid the traffic on the road. The Ralph Storer walk that was the inspiration for this walk was route number 22 but I altered his plan significantly. Storer started the walk by going up Sgurr a'Mhaim, but since I did that the day before I decided to a change of plan was in order. On leaving the wood I took a path near to the lower falls and followed the river keeping to the southern bank even when the going became rough and I had to clamber over cliffs on the southern side of the narrow gorge, Eas an Tuill. It would, of course, have been infinitely more sensible to use the excellent path on the northern bank, but that was far too sensible and boring! This may have been nerve-wracking at times but it was tremendous fun, especially when I was standing on the cliff face looking down into the gorge at the people on the footpath who were looking up at me. It made me feel so daring!

[Picture taken from http://www.ga-highland-walks.co.uk/blog/]

Once through the gorge I passed the spectacular waterfall, An Steall, in its picturesque alpine meadow setting and followed a footpath that zigzaggs up Coire Chadha Chaoruinn and up to the top of An Gearanach, my first Munro of the day. There now followed a deliciously narrow ridge over An Garbhanach, which was every bit as fun as I expected. A sharp drop and a climb led to a very proper looking hill called Stob Coire a'Chàirn, which apparently is a Munro despite it not appearing to me to have enough re-ascent, which just shows what I know! A short ridge walk led me to a stiff climb up the steep rocky northern face of An Bodach. After a look around the summit I reflected that this was my third Munro of the day and sadly my last in the Mamores. As I descended the western ridge I looked around me at the fantastic rocky scenery and wished I didn’t have to leave. The Mamores had provided me with some very enjoyable walking over the two days and I now had just one hill, a Munro top, Sgurr an Iubhair, to go. There had been some great walking in the area and I was sorry to leave it. I resolved that I would have to return so that I could finish off the eastern Mamores that I had to left out during this weekend; it'll feel like coming to see a friend.

Descending the last hill, Sgurr an Iubhair, I took the path that Storer would have had me taken the day before, down Coire a'Mhusgain. The time was now much later than it had been the day before when I was at this point so it was clear that I needed to leave these lovely hills. I followed the interesting path as it weaves down the narrow valley back to the bus stop, but once again I was unable to catch a bus so an hour's walk back to the youth hostel in the hot, early evening sun was necessary. The next day I travelled to Aviemore, spending some time in my favourite city of them all, Inverness, on the way before walking to the Cairngorm Youth Hostel.

The Western Mamores

2010-12-09T14:39:00.001Z

Saturday 23rd July 2005

The weather for this walk was brilliant once again, but I could tell it wasn’t going to last as it was already beginning to cloud up, although was that just serving to cool the temperature just at the hottest part of the day. The weather combined with the tremendous terrain provided me with a thoroughly enjoyable and memorable days walk. This was one of those days in the hills that you remember with fondness for years and make me say to myself, "This is why I do this." I still have fond memories of the Mamores five years later and have returned several times over the years in order to recapture the magic of this weekend I spent on the Mamores in 2005.

On the morning of this walk I caught a bus from the youth hostel to its terminus at the lower falls in Glen Nevis, where I immediately started following a signposted 'Forest Walk'. I was actually following Ralph Storer's route number 21 on this walk, which should have taken me onto a ridge via a 'hilltop seat'. However, no such path to a seat could be found and I ended up following the stream, Allt a'Choire Dheirg, on a clear, though occasionally muddy, path to a boundary fence. I was now faced with a very steep climb up the hill beside the fence in the blazing sun; the clear path was my only assurance that I was following a path that many before had followed. In fact there were a few people further up the hill on my path, but a quick look on the internet has revealed what is probably an easier route beside the Allt a'Choire Riabhach gaining the ridge much lower down. Ralph Storer's actually path is probably non-existent and has been for years.

[Picture taken from http://notquitetouchingthevoid.blogspot.com/2010/05/north-ridge-of-stob-ban-3rd-may-2010.html]
When I was finally on top of the ridge I squeezed through the gap in the fence and headed up the ridge on an increasingly rocky path to my first Munro of the day: Mullach nan Coirean. A short diversion took me to the top, Meall a'Chaorainn, and back; this was a pleasant, little-effort-required trip. Bypassing the summit of Mullach nan Coirean on my return I headed off along the eastern ridge towards Stob Bàn passing over various minor tops and admiring the stunning scenery on the way. Climbing up the white stony path I reached my second Munro and had my lunch (and also provided the midges with theirs!). Storer's route was now almost downhill all the way despite it being only lunch time so I decided to abandon Storer once I had got down the steep rocky descent of Stob Bàn (a great path, but very tricky in descent, it would have been quite difficult in ascent. I'm glad I didn't go up that way!).

Passing the lake, Lochan Coire nam Miseach, below Sgorr an Iubhair, I headed up a steep grassy slope to the bealach between the aforementioned and Stob a' Choire Mhail. Passing over the latter I began to cross the narrow 'Devil's Ridge', which although very high, in this weather (almost no wind) I had no problems walking along the top except for one small crevice in the rocks that seemed too high for me to dare jumping over. A path exists that bypasses this bit but instead I clambered down on one side of the gap and then climbed up on the other side. My nerve may have failed to allow me to jump the gap, but I'll be blowed if I was going to miss any part of the top of the ridge out altogether! With a short scramble down at the end I completed the narrow ridge that had been worrying me for ages but which had turned out to be alot easier than Crib Goch, and so began the climb up to my third Munro of the day: Sgurr a'Mhàim.

After a short rest at the top to admire the views down Glen Nevis, and across to Ben Nevis, I began a most enjoyable descent over the white quartzite stones on its western slopes often sliding several feet down the hill with every step. It reminded me of how Wainwright used to describe Dorehead Screes before it lost all its stones (!); this wasn't as steep, but it was still a very enjoyable way to descend several hundred feet. All that now remained for me was a long zigzagging descent down the steep grassy slope back to the bus stop. Unfortunately when I eventually I got to the bus stop I found that I had missed the bus by less than ten minutes, but the three mile walk back to the youth hostel failed to dampen what had been a very enjoyable day over some thoroughly exciting terrain. The walk and terrain reminded me of the best sort of walking imaginable in the Lake District; it was a ridge walk, par excellence.

Beinn Dorain & Beinn an Dothaidh

2010-12-02T16:01:00.004Z

More from my holiday in 2005 spent walking in Scotland.

Friday 22nd July 2005

The weather for this holiday was stunning by now and it was set to stay like that for several days which suited me! On this day I left Crianlarich, with I must admit more than a little regret as I had enjoyed my time there, it is a good, quiet hostel without too many people, and some great walking in the area. By the end of the day I was in the Glen Nevis Hostel, at the foot of Ben Nevis, which is anything but quiet! Before getting there I took a train to Bridge of Orchy and began to climb the steep and sometimes muddy path through the awesome surrounds of Coire an Dothaidh onto the bealach between the two mountains, following Ralph Storer's route number 9. Turning right I headed towards Beinn Dorain, rejecting a path that veers to the right half way up the gentle slope, instead staying on top of the ridge passing over a false summit until I reached the true summit where extensive, impressive views could be seen all around the area.

After lunch, both for me and the midges (they always find the bit that I miss with the insect repellent – in this case my forehead, under my hat!), I headed south off the peak seemingly into a very quick descent (the sort that ends with a splat at the bottom!), but the path quickly turns 180° to cling to the cliff edge below the summit on the western slopes of the mountain. The narrow precipitous, and thoroughly enjoyable, path commanded breath-taking views of the valley below including a train that was conveniently passing. This turned out to be the path that I had earlier rejected thinking that it couldn’t have been going to the summit. Now in descent I was less weary than I been during the ascent so was able to enjoy the path and appreciate the extensive views on this alternative return route.

Returning to the bealach I began the ascent of my second Munro of the day across the wide pathless plane on top. Beinn an Dothaidh is a triple-topped mountain, all of which are on its northern edge; the southern side slopes down to the bealach with Beinn Dorain. I decided to head for the western top first, aiming for a small ridge that juts out from this summit. Once this was gained I had a pleasurable stroll along the short ridge to the cairn on the north-western corner of the mountain. The views across Rannoch Moor were awe-inspiring and continued as I strolled along the top of the mountain to the central peak, which is also the highest. When I got to the cairn on the eastern top I paused to take in the view, feeling supreme satisfaction and a great reluctance to the leave the mountain. The weather was hot, the skies were clear and from my vantage point I could look out across both mountains. It was a glorious sight and reminded me why it was that I walk up mountains.

[Picture taken from http://www.thelances.co.uk/scotland2005.html]
But unfortunately I couldn't stay up there. I had already missed the train, but I'd planned on catching a bus, so with the clock ticking I headed down the grassy (and on its eastern side somewhat boggy) plane to the bealach. I then descended the path back to Bridge of Orchy where I had ten minutes to spare before the bus was due (long enough for a quick drink at the hotel!). Catching the bus I went through Glen Coe for the first time and I was absolutely gobsmacked, with the scenery around The Three Sisters simply taking my breath away. I just fell in love with the area instantly and was heart-broken when the bus moved on. From then on I knew where I would be going the following year!

The Glen Falloch Group

2010-11-29T16:20:00.006Z

Here follows the report on my third walk in Scotland during my holiday of 2005.

Thursday 21st July 2005

I had a much better walk on this day than I had on Ben More the day before. I had clearer weather, a weaker wind and a rising cloud level, but it was still a very long and challenging day. I walked south of Crianlarich down the A82 for just over a mile to a car park on the edge of the Crianlarich forest and headed up a track beside the River Falloch. I was supposed to be following Ralph Storer's route number 5 up Srón Gharbh but the good track at the bottom of the valley seemed far more appealing than the steep pathless climb up the hill so I decided to stay beside the river. But of course the track soon came to an end and was replaced by a boggy and indistinct path that ran up to Coire Earb, at the head of the valley. Soldiering on I made my way to the end of the valley and began climbing a ridge up to the eastern peak of Beinn a'Chroin. At one point I had a bit of difficulty, not with the terrain, but with me: I was exhausted and totally worn out. I don't know if I'd not been eating enough but I felt a pain in my stomach and an inability to go any further. I rested a while and had something to eat before trying to continue climbing up the hill.

Gradually the pain and weariness left me and I reached the summit of Beinn a'Chroin, which has many tops, while the eastern one that I had reached first was, according to Ralph Storer's book, the true summit. He would have had me walk all the way up to Beinn a'Chroin from Bealach Buidhe and then all the way back along the whole ridge and down to the bealach. My route, although very muddy, removed this necessity and let me walk the whole ridge in one go. A point should be made about the various tops on Beinn a'Chroin: although most sources that I had looked at before doing this walk gave the eastern peak as being the highest, the Harvey Map that I was using marked the middle peak of five as being the highest. When I looked this up after the walk I discovered that Harvey had been right, the eastern peak has been demoted and the new summit is indeed the one on the western ridge (at 388 186). There had been a re-survey of the tops which moved the actual summit away from its previous location, but as far as I could tell the actual Munro on Beinn a'Chroin does not have a cairn, despite the fact that all the others do! (However reports suggest that it does have a cairn, so maybe I was mistaken there.)

[Picture taken from http://stigvista.co.uk/pa/walks/scotland/ancasteal/ancasteal.htm] I walked over each of the peaks just to make sure that I'd bagged the lot then began my descent to Bealach Buidhe weaving around the crags and crisscrossing down the steep rocky slope. Crossing the grassy col I made my ascent of An Caisteal up a fun and interesting path climbing up the steep rocky ridge. Unfortunately I was now well into the clouds that still lingered at the top of this almost one thousand metre mountain. I walked along the rocky ridge, past the summit cairn(s) and beyond to the cairn at the northern top, at the actual Castle-like part of the ridge that gives the Munro its name, before returning back along the ridge. After passing the summit, and before descending very far back down to Bealach Buidhe, I veered off to the right down the steep grassy slopes to the bealach with Beinn Chabhair. The ascent of this third Munro of the day required a little thought as there is no path and I had to pick my own way up the complex terrain of the eastern slopes. Eventually, and with more than a little relief, I reached the top and bagged my third Munro of the day, my seventh in three days.

From the summit I headed north veering west along a clear path on the narrow summit ridge that was a joy to travel along. Call me lazy but I do like a good path to walk along; if there is no path to follow I have to spend all my time picking out a route instead of just enjoying the walk and the views. A path that weaves around complex, rocky terrain is just my sort of path; I always enjoy walking along such a path. The top of Beinn Chabhair contains such a path, as does the southern approach to An Caisteal. The path I was following descended to reveal an astonishingly complex terrain that reminded me of the early part of my walk the day before. Thankfully this time I was descending instead of ascending so was able to zoom over the grassy knolls, now well into my second wind. I followed a faint path around the northern slopes of Meall nan Tarmachan and crossed Garbh Bhealach veering to the south of Stob Creag an Fhithach heading for Lochain a'Caisteal. This is a picturesque mountain lake with a high cliff overlooking the lake and stunning views along Glen Falloch below.

After passing around the lake I began descending the steep hillside making my own way down the hill through the long grass. Coming down off that hill was actually quite fun, as I started off in the hills and just walked straight down to the bottom of the valley; from one world to another. At the bottom of Glen Falloch is the West Highland Way, which provided me with an ideal route back to Crianlarich. This proved to be a very nostalgic walk for me as I was reliving my walk of a year previously along the West Highland Way, but now in much better weather. The year before it was wet, but by the time I was walking along the way now it was early evening and the weather had cleared to provide a wonderfully sunny and warm end to the day. Under a hot, evening sun I returned to the youth hostel at 7.15 pm after another long, tiring day, but after a much more enjoyable one than the day before.

Ben More and Stob Binnein

2010-11-25T16:12:00.002Z

More from my holiday of 2005 in Scotland:

Wednesday 20th July 2005

This was a gruelling walk, and was a real test of my powers of endurance with a start to finish time of ten hours, over some very demanding terrain, but also with prolonged sections of road walking. I was following Ralph Storer's route number 7, which starts from a car park on the A85 five miles from Crianlarich. So first thing in the morning I was walking along a busy A road for five miles to the Coire Chaorach car park. It was with considerable relief that I finally reached a service road just before the car park where I headed off up the track into a forest. I had forgotten to read Storer's book before doing this walk and hadn't even taken it with me that day, so as I made my way through the forest I was relying solely on my map. Instead of staying on the western side of the burn I tried to cross the river and promptly got my feet wet, but that was just the beginning. I then tried to follow a route through a clearing beside the river that was very muddy and rough under foot, and my reward for all this perseverance was a fence. With resignation I followed the fence steeply up the hillside, sometimes even using the fence itself to help me over the boggy sections. Eventually I reached the corner of the forest and I still had a fence in my way, but one quick climb and I was onto the hills. Now my problems really started.
[Picture from http://www.morenishmews.com/photos.php]
Climbing onto the top of the wide ridge I started making my way around the corrie passing over Caisteal Corrach and heading towards Leacann Riabhach, but due to a strong wind and complex terrain my progress was frustratingly slow and very tiring. The hills always looked a long way off and I never seemed to be getting any closer to them but eventually I arrived on Stob Creagach and, after crossing Bealach na Frithe, onto Meall na Dige. By now I was well into the clouds and the bright, sunny morning was a distant memory as I headed across the wind-swept col towards Stob Coire Lochain. Quickly losing the main path I started following a path, in desperation, that took me round the side of the hill without gaining any height. Realising my mistake I started climbing straight up the steep south-eastern side of the hill; I have an abiding memory of clinging to the side of the cliff-like slope while furious winds battered me. Slowly I crawled up the cliff face and onto the top, Stob Coire Lochain, where I was hit by the strongest winds I have ever encountered on a mountain top; it was so strong I couldn't even stand up. Crouching to the floor I made my way along the clear path on the top of the ridge the short distance to the summit cairn, collapsing behind it when I got there.

After recovering from my exertions I made my way relatively easily along the path to the Munro, Stob Binnein, with the wind quickly dying down as I progressed. For most of my walk I had had little or no path to follow, but now I was blessed with a clear and easy path; this was finally becoming an enjoyable walk. After Stob Binnein I began the long descent to Bealach-eadar-dha Bheinn and then the equally long ascent to the top of Ben More, the highest hill in the area. Because of my slow progress during the day I didn't reach the top of Ben More until almost 5 pm from where a long, steep descent down grassy slopes would take me back down to the road. Following a clear path I steeply descended the zigzagging path down the hill until the path petered out and I had to find my own way down to a Land Rover track that leads to Benmore Farm and the three quarters of an hour road walking that took me all the way back to Crianlarich. This was a very exhausting and demanding day in very tough weather conditions, but I did eventually manage to complete it.

Cruach Ardrain & Beinn Tulaichean

2010-11-18T17:10:00.001Z

With no new walks available I thought I’d post my account of a wonderful holiday I had in Scotland originally written in 2005. I start with a walk in the Crianlarich Hills where I experienced, perhaps for the first time, the glories of Highland Walking with ferocious weather (probably the worst I’d experienced up to that point), difficulties in navigation, and some truly spectacular mountain locations.

Tuesday 19th July 2005

I am now in Scotland doing some walking in the Southern Highlands. Apart from the West Highland Way which I did last year I had not really done any walking in Scotland before and I have found it very different to walking elsewhere in the country. It's a lot bigger and a lot less crowded; I didn't see anyone all day, but that could have been because of the weather. I was in an indecisive mood about where to walk on this day; the bad weather was putting me off walking up a big mountain, so in the end I decided to head off into the hills directly behind the hostel that I was staying in thinking that they would be easier. I was staying at the Crianlarich Youth Hostel, which is almost next door to the railway station on the West Highland Line from Glasgow to Fort William. The location is very handy for me and was much better than I would get later in the holiday. Crianlarich is a small community on the junction of the A85 and A82 trunk roads served by a small general store, which I used for all my culinary needs despite its slightly higher than town-centre superstore prices.
[Picture from http://www.morenishmews.com/photos.php]
Right behind the youth hostel is a Community Woodland and I started the walk by climbing through that and into the forest beyond. I was following the instructions given by Ralph Storer in his book "100 Best routes on Scottish Mountains", specifically route number six. Storer's instructions took me along forest roads until I came to an old path beside metal and wooden posts, which Storer describes as "execrable" and suggested that you avoid it as much as possible. I must have forgotten his advice because I walked up the whole boggy, water-logged length of it, even though the Harvey map marks this route as marshy ground. It was with considerable relief that I eventually reached the tree line and climbed onto the open hillside, my first goal having the very un-Scottish sounding name of Grey Height. This was merely the start of the ridge around the head of a valley (or corrie as they say in Scotland), Coire Ardrain, so I continued to climb up the ridge to Meall Dhamh before beginning the ascent of the Munro, Cruach Ardrain (a Munro is a Scottish mountain above three thousand feet high). The path I was following took me across the steep western slopes of the mountain and deposited me at the southern end.

This suited me fine as I headed away from Cruach Ardrain down the hill towards another smaller Munro called Beinn Tulaichean. As I was approached the summit the weather threw everything it had at me: there was biting rain and extremely strong winds that made it difficult to walk. In desperation I sought some shelter against a rocky outcrop and despaired of the conditions, and anything else I could think of; eventually I poked my head up and gingerly made my way to the summit cairn, which turned out to be surprisingly close to where I had been sheltering. Returning to my shelter I had lunch while gazing upon the glorious views that were miraculously revealing themselves to me as the weather cleared in the lee of the hill affording tremendous views across to Loch Voil. Setting off again I headed back up to the top of Cruach Ardrain, once again battling against the wind that tried to stop me as I crossed the col between the two Munros, this time to little effect. Climbing up Cruach Ardrain from the south I followed a path to the south-westerly summit cairn. In the wind, rain and low cloud I could easily have though that I was at the top of the Munro but having been warned by Ralph Storer I descended the dip beyond and found a rise that took me up to another summit cairn, this time the true summit of the Munro.

The continuation of the walk was to descend steeply down the path beyond the summit down to what Storer calls a bealach (the Scottish name for a col or saddle) and then up to Stob Garbh. At this point I lost the path and had to find my own way around the rock faces onto the top. My compass was heavily used at this point as I found my own way along the top of the ridge to the summit cairn at the northern end. Stob Garbh apparently used to be a Munro but was subsequently demoted for having too small a re-ascent (or possibly due to its proximity to Cruach Ardrain) making my tally for the day just two Munros and a Munro top. Heading off in the right direction I discovered a path and continued along the ridge over Stob Coire Buidhe towards Crianlarich until my progress was halted by a fence. Storer makes no mention of it, even though it is marked on the map. Turning to my left I tried to find a stile over it, but could be find none so when I came to a t-junction of fences I decided that the only way I would be able to get down was to climb over the fence. Descending the steep grass slopes beyond I now had no path and no idea where the path I had been following had gone. When I approached the crag, Creag na h-Iolaine, I discovered a steep and bracken-covered slope with no means of getting down, and so I started thinking that perhaps crossing the fence had not been such a good idea! With considerable difficulty I descended the steep slope through the bracken without knowing where I was putting my feet until I reached the tree-line.

Ralph Storer's instructions hadn't said that the descent would be this difficult! He had said that there was a "clear" firebreak, but I could see none even when I made my way to where I thought the map indicated there was a firebreak, but there was none. Instead I had to try and descend the hillside under the trees, weaving around the trunks; luckily the undergrowth was relatively clear beneath the dense conifers. Following a stream down I made my way to a forest road, and ironically saw a firebreak appear on my left just before I reached the road. After an energetic hour spent trying to get past fence, cliff, bracken and trees I slowly made my way along the forest road back to where I had started. Passing once more through the Community Woodland I returned to the youth hostel. All in all this was a good, enjoyable walk, even if the weather had been a little rough at times. But I coped, which is another victory for me over bad weather. The problems at the end of the walk are best forgotten as being beyond my control, unless they are the norm for Scotland...

Pickering to Scarborough

2010-11-11T16:52:00.002Z

Saturday 4th September 2010

After my exhaustion following the previous days walk I was not sure what I would do on the last day of my holiday, and in the end I don’t think I made the right decision. I had considered going back along the Cleveland Way to visit Rievaulx Abbey, and I wish I had as I’m sure it’s a wonderful abbey to visit. I also considered catching a bus to Pickering and spending the day on the North Yorkshire Moors Railway, which I’m sure I would have really enjoyed if I had done that. I even considered going all the way to Scarborough on the bus and spending the day in the seaside resort that had so depressed me when I had arrived in the area at the beginning of the week. In the end I did the walk that I’d originally planned to do on this day, but that turned out to be over-ambitious. I was going to walk all the way into Scarborough, but first I caught a bus from the charming market town of Helmsley where I had been staying to the bustling town of Pickering. Instead of riding on the steam train I set off up the valley of Newton Dale and onto the upland plane, and boring farmland, of Blansby Park. Eventually crossing the fields I entered a delightful wood and descended steeply back into the quiet, tranquil Newton Dale.

After crossing the railway line I climbed back out of the valley and crossing a road entered Dalby Forest. Upon entering the wood I followed an endless succession of paths and forest tracks slowly making my way across the large wood. At the other end I passed through Givendale Head Farm and joined the Tabular Hills Walk. This walk forms a link between Helmsley and Scarborough but at forty-eight miles is far too long for a single days walk, though as it turned out even my shortened version wasn't short enough. While having lunch between Dalby Forest and Wykeham Forest I realised that I wasn't go to reach Scarborough in time for the train if I carried on as I was going. So near Cockmoor Hall I abandoned my route and walked along the first road I got to all the way to the village of Snainton where I caught a bus to Scarborough.

The weather may have been brilliant, but this was not a good walk making for a disappointing end to a good week in the North York Moors. I enjoyed the earlier walks beside the coast and across the moors, but since leaving the moors behind I had found little of interest for me. I prefer walking in areas of wilderness where there is little obvious sign of human interference. Farmland depresses me just as much as a city centre while Dalby Forest was not much better. The woodland around Newton Dale was much more interesting as it’s not a wood managed for its timber. Ultimately I think I need to rethink my current obsession with long distance paths as I still really prefer to be at the top of mountains instead walking along the valleys with these paths. The walk on this day was badly planned as I would never have been able to complete it in time, but the scenery along the southern edge of the North York Moors is, shall we say, not as interesting as other areas of the park. I had planned to do a circular walk around the park but ultimately that didn’t work out.

Osmotherly to Helmsley

2010-11-04T19:32:00.002Z

Friday 3rd September 2010

After my epic thirty mile walk of the day before I thought twenty-two miles to Helmsley would be easy but this turned out not to the case. A combination of the heat, the dreariness of the surroundings, and the consequences of the previous days hard walking had all taken their toll on me. By the time I reached Helmsley I was exhausted and unable to think clearly. Even though I did reach Helmsley I have no idea how I got there! The day started with a lot mist and very poor views across the moors but most of this cleared leaving another warm, tiring day, with the distant views remaining misty all day. To start the walk I climbed out of Osmotherly along the Cleveland Way and headed up onto the open moor where I joined the Hambleton Track, an old drover’s road (cattle way),which is a straight track that goes on for mile across the heather covered moors of the hambleton hills. I'd seen so much of the purple flowered heather during the previous couple of days that I was beginning to get so fed up with it that I was desperate for a change of scene.

This eventually happened when I left the track and dropped down through a wood past High Paradise Farm. Beyond the Sneck Yate Road I climbed onto the edge of an escarpment that has precipitous drops down to a lush tree filled environment. This is Boltby Scar while the wood below is Town’s Pasture Wood, and was the highlight of the walk. As the path clings to the edge of the escarpment there was a wonderfully wild feel to the surroundings with an abundant variety of plants that are a far cry from the heather filled moors. I continued along the path under a hot sun in a wide arc at the top of a steep hillside above extensive woodland. On rounding a corner I passed the sparkly Gormire Lake, nestled in its woodland setting, and came upon Sutton Bank, where a main road, the A170, climbs up the steep hillside on its way to Helmsley. Crossing this busy road I stopped at a vantage point where the extensive views across the wide Vale of York were hazy in the hot sunshine.

After lunch I set off along the edge of the escarpment around the perimeter of a gliding club. Around a corner of the escarpment I came upon a large white horse made out in stones on the side of the steep hillside. After looking at the white horse and the extensive views southwards I returned around the corner to a signpost that marks the continuation of the Cleveland Way. This was where things began to blur for me as the Cleveland Way leaves the edge of the escarpment and heads out across dreary farmland to the village of Cold Kirby. I do remember not liking the farmland that I was walking through as I thought it was a little too much like that found in Leicestershire. According to the map I must have passed through the village of Cold Kirby and continued down into the valley of Nettle Dale. This valley left little of an impression on me as I walked along a wide track before joining a road. I remember the long, dreary walk along that road and passing a particularly fine looking ruin of an abbey (this would have been Rievaulx Abbey, considered by many to be one of the most beautiful abbeys in England. I wish I’d visited it).

With aching legs I eventually reached the small town of Helmsley where I collapsed into the youth hostel. This was not a great walk but it at least it had one or two memorable moments. The final stage of the walk contained all that I consider bad about long distance paths. For years I have shunned long distance paths and been content to just go up individual hills, but in the last year or so I have seen the interest in stringing along a series of great walks across great countryside. Unfortunately some of this walk was just too tedious, and I was too tired to be interested. However, since this is actually supposed to be the start rather than end (as in my case) of the Cleveland Way maybe the gentle couple of miles to the escarpment are a deliberately easy start. Whatever the case, it wasn't to my taste.

Glaisdale to Osmotherly

2010-10-29T18:24:00.003+01:00

Thursday 2nd September 2010

This an epic walk as I crossed the main bulk of the North York Moors before traversing the undulating hills on my way to Osmotherly on the western edge of the North York Moors. After a couple of nights spent in the fabulous youth hostel in Whitby I set off to the railway station where I caught a train back to Glaisdale in order to resume my walk along the Coast to Coast path that I’d left two days previously. I climbed up to the village of Glaisdale from the railway station and on to the open moor where the miles quickly vanished beneath my feet as I walked for mile after mile across the vast moor. The track through the moor led to a road, which led to a path round the head of Great Fryupdale (fantastic name!). At this point in the walk I was passed by a long line of landrovers all full of rich idiots who think it’s fun to drive onto the moor and shoot at the poor, defenceless grouse. I left them behind trying not to think evil thoughts about them and instead tried to be thankful that at least these days walkers and toffs can share the moor together. Another section of road walking led to a white-washed stone figure, known as Fat Betty, wonderful name. Opposite this strange object I took a narrow path across Rosedale Head.

Across the road at the end of the path I took a track opposite that isn't on the official coast to coast route but seemed like a good short cut as I didn't need to take the wide diversion to the Lion Inn. But as Tolkien told us, short cuts make long delays, and I took the wrong path which after passing a line of grouse butts ends at the edge of Westerdale. I had to cross the top of the dale through dense reeds and heather in order to get onto the narrow path that I should have taken. This took me back onto the Coast to Coast route, on the track of a disused railway that is a fabulously fast path across the moor. Now the miles really disappeared as I sped along the wide flat track across the vast open moor. Eventually I reached Bloworth Crossing where I said hello to the Cleveland Way again and, sadly, goodbye to the easy walking along the railway. I now had a gentle climb ahead of me on to Urra Moor and the highest point in the North York Moors, Round Hill.

Stopping for lunch beside the summit I was in awe of the views that I could see around about me, particularly of the vast distances across the Cleveland Plain and the Vale of Mowbray. Roseberry Topping and the Captain Cook Memorial could be clearly seen on the western edge of the moors. After lounging beside the trig point for a while in the gorgeous sunshine I set off again along the wide track over Carr Ridge and steeply down to a road on Clay Bank. Now the whole nature of the walk changed dramatically as I had to climb steeply up to the top of White Hill and then drop steeply down past the delightful Wainstones. This collection of large rocks gave me an excuse to have a bit of a scramble that was sadly short lived especially as I was passing them in descent. If I’d been doing the Coast to Coast in the usual direction the Wainstones would have been tackled in the more satisfying manner.

Crossing Garfit Gap I climbed once again up to the top of Broughton Bank, only to repeat the pattern again as I dropped down to the next saddle before climbing over Cringle Moor, and then again up to the trig point atop Carlton Moor. I went up and down the hills many times, each time wearing myself out as I climbed in the hot sun, but it was all fabulous walking, even though I’d already walked over twenty miles. The moorland tops and descents more than compensated for the tiring climbs. The highlight of this undulating traverse was the great collection of rocks known as the Wainstones, but the ever changing landscape and the vast views across the Cleveland Plain were added bonus. Beyond the trig point at Carlton Moor I passed the deserted remains of a gliding club and finally descended off the moor into Scugdale.

The farmland in Scugdale was the first sign of civilization I had seen since leaving Glaisdale, but it was short lived as I climbed back out of the valley and into Clain Wood. This was a welcome change after the endless moorland of earlier in the day but by this time I was past caring. I had walked twenty five miles and still had another five miles to go before I got to the youth hostel. I trudged on through the wood, up a steep, straight path and across Scarth Nick onto Scarth Wood Moor. After a final ascent up to Beacon Hill I left the Coast to Coast path behind and took a bridlepath goes straight into the village of Osmotherly. In all I had walked about thirty miles in less than ten hours which is quite an achievement, but I was able to put on a good rate of knots while walking across the moor. Once I’d left the open moor the variety afforded by the undulating hills was a welcome change despite the colourful heather never being far away. This was a great walk on a great long distance path, the coast to coast.

Roseberry Topping

2010-10-21T18:34:00.002+01:00

Wednesday 1st September 2010

After a morning spent exploring the connections between Whitby and Bram Stoker's Dracula, particularly in the Abbey, I took a train down the Esk Valley line to the tiny station of Kildale. I was going to walk up a popular hill in this area but I was going to be taking an unorthodox route to the bizarrely named Roseberry Topping. Once in Kildale I re-joined the Cleveland Way (but this time actually going in the right direction) as it climbed steeply up the hillside opposite on a minor road. At the top of the hill I left the road and walked along a lovely path through woodland eventually emerging onto the wonderfully purple-flowered heather-clad moorland of Easby Moor. At the top of the prominent hill ahead is a tall monument to Captain Cook and extensive views across the wide Vale of Mowbray westwards.

From the monolith I headed north into a wood and dropped steeply to a car park. Across the road I climbed steeply once again onto the vast heather-clad Newton Moor. A wonderful walk along the edge of the escarpment took me to the corner of the moor where striking views could be seen of a distinctively shaped hill. Roseberry Topping sits at the north-eastern corner of the North York Moors and is a prominent hill that can be seen for miles around. It accordingly attracts many visitors, it’s probably the most popular hill in the North York Moors and so has many paved footpaths up its steep sides, but to me it just sounds like a trifle! I dropped down to the saddle and climbed the zigzagging path that climbs to the summit of this popular hill. Despite the misty distant views the panorama was quite extensive with far reaching sights.

After appreciating the views I took a path down the southern slopes of the hill and walked round to a small folly on the south-western side of the hill. From there I crossed the western slopes of Roseberry Topping until I reached the path that climbs the north western slopes. Climbing this paved path, before I knew it I found myself back at the summit (I must have had bountiful amounts of energy!). After re-acquainting myself with summit I returned to the saddle and climbed back up to the moor. Even stuck in Leicester I had heard of Roseberry Topping as I have friends who have been up it and seem to be always mentioning it. This is a very popular hill because it satisfies all the necessary requirements: it is a relatively easy hill to climb that is so prominent that it attracts the eye, and it has a main road at its foot. Roseberry Topping is a very popular hill, and rightly so as it is a great family hill.

My return route involved another fabulous moorland crossing eventually leaving the Cleveland Way and following a track across the moor. At a tarmac road I immediately took a heavily eroded track that descends through trees to the small valley of Lonsdale where I picked up a road, which was the one that I’d taken on my outward route and so brought me eventually back down into Kildale. This was a good walk up a distinctive, if small, hill in great, sunny, weather.

Robin Hood’s Bay to Glaisdale

2010-10-14T17:45:00.001+01:00

Tuesday 31st August 2010

Last Easter I walked the Coast to Coast Path from the Lake District through the Yorkshire Dales to the castle town of Richmond. Now I had the opportunity to walk along the final section of the Coast to Coast Path as far as the western edge of the North York Moors. To start the walk I climbed out of Boggle Hole and crossed the short cliff top to the village of Robin Hood’s Bay, which is a tightly packed collection of delightfully small cottages and narrow streets. After dipping my toes in the sea (actually simply wetting my boots) at the actual end of the Coast to Coast Path I set off up the steep narrow, streets on Wainwright’s epic walk.

Once on the cliff top path I resumed my walk along the Cleveland Way (which coincides with the coast to coast for a couple of miles) high above the sea cliffs around Ness Point. This first section (actually the last) of the coast to coast features some fabulous cliff top walking with steep descents and ascents in and out of inlets accompanied by stunning views of the cliffs and sea under clear, sunny skies. Eventually, at Maw Wyke Hole, I said goodbye to the sea and climbed up the hillside through a caravan park and into the village of Hawsker. Continued road walked took me over the busy A171 and on to a track that climbed up to my first moor of the holiday. This was a fabulous walk through purple flowered heather as I crossed Low Moor to the B1416 road. A short walk along the road took me to a moorland crossing over Sneaton Low Moor.

A minor road at the far end of the moor took me down into the delightful valley of May Beck. This was a wonderful walk along a great woodland path at the bottom of an exquisite narrow valley. Passing Falling Foss waterfall I stopped at a hollowed-out rock known as The Hermitage where I had my lunch. This is marked on my map as being a viewpoint but the trees have overgrown blocking out most of the view across the valley, which was a pity as I didn’t have much to look at as I ate. The continued walk along the bottom of the delightful valley of Little Dale took me to the picturesque village of Little Beck where another road took me steeply out of the valley and onto more gorgeous moorland. The ascent continued across a main road, the A169, as I climbed up to the top of the moor, Flat Howe, but at a lowly 289m. At this point I disagreed with the map and tried to forge me own route across the moor, but with hindsight I think I should have gone even further away from the prescribed route.

The route at this point has seen some variations over the years. Wainwright’s original guide recommended crossing the moor through pathless heather to the tumulus atop Flat Howe before continuing to the main road (remember I’m doing this walk the wrong way round). The partial revision of 1994 has a side note advocating a strict adherence to rights-of-way by staying on the road almost all the way around the moor, and my map follows this route. Chris Jesty’s recently published second edition of Wainwright’s guide reverts to Wainwright’s original route by recommending a traverse of the heather thanks to new Right to Roam legislation. Going in the opposite direction I headed straight onto the moor from the main road but found trying to wade through the deep heather both tiring and frustrating. Without visiting the actual summit of Flat Howe I gave up and headed straight towards the road which I followed downhill. Two guys who were walking behind me took a different route. They walked along a bridlepath that crosses the northern slopes of Flat Howe before reaching the road at the edge of the moor. This seems to me to be the easiest route so I don’t know why it has never been recommended before, however, given good weather and low heather, Wainwrights route would be the best.

On reaching the road I walked steeply down to the bottom of the Esk Valley, all the way to the village of Grosmont. The northern terminus of the North York Moors Railway is at Grosmont, which is enough enticement for me to spend an hour or so looking at the trains in the engine shed and the ones, including a majestic 9F, that were pulling the services. I’d been strongly tempted to have a ride on the trains but that was not what I was there for. Resuming the coast to coast, a short walk along the road took me to a track which follows the River Esk to Egton Bridge where I had to walk along the road again until I reached the southern end of East Arnclife Wood. The undulating track weaves its way through the wood eventually descending to the riverside for a final delightful, weary stroll to Glaisdale station where I caught a train to the harbour town of Whitby. One thing I’d noticed on this walk was that there is a lot of road walking on the Coast to Coast Path, but there are also lots of other terrain to walk through such as vast moorland and narrow tree-decked valleys. This was a really varied walk and typical of the Coast to Coast Path at its best.

Scarborough to Robin Hood's Bay

2010-10-07T16:46:00.002+01:00

Monday 30th August 2010

In all my travels around Britain I had never done any walking in the North York Moors, partly because there are no mountains in the area. The highest point in the North York Moors is a mere one and a half thousand feet high, but there are vast heather-clad moorlands and dramatic sea cliffs that do something to compensate for the lack of hills. It was the sea cliffs that I explored on the first day of my circular tour around the North York Moors as I walked up the coast to Robin Hood’s Bay. I caught a train to Scarborough and set off through the packed streets of the seaside resort, or as I thought of it, the tourist hellhole. I find it amazing that as a child I always went to the seaside for my holidays, and loved it, but now I can’t stand the places. The countless amusement arcades and souvenir shops were more than I could stand. Descending to the old harbour at the sea front I quickly walked along the promenade below the mighty cliffs that rise to the remains of the castle. At the end of the promenade I thankfully said goodbye to Scarborough and crossed Scalby Beck climbing to the top of the small cliffs where I began a lovely stroll up the coast on the edge of these sea cliffs.

The weather during my walk up the coast was rather ‘bracing’ with a stiff cold wind coming off the sea, but the sun came out later on to warm things up a bit. The plant life beside the path was predominately knapweed and hemlock at the start of the walk and later, on entering the national park, this was replaced by more willowherb. The scenery up and down the coast was spectacular while the walking was easy until I reached Cloughton Wyke where I had to descend steeply to the inlet and then climb steeply out. This was repeated several times culminating in the really deep Hayburn Wyke which has a delightful nature reserve at the bottom. Despite the strenuous climb it was a wonderful walk through gorgeous plant life. It always amazes me how tiring walking beside the sea can be. One would imagine it would be very easy, but there can often be some really steep climbs involved. Some years ago I walked along the Cornish coast and that is even worse than this coastline with deep inlets every couple of hundred metres. It does however make up for the lack of hills.

This pattern was repeated as I walked up the coast until I reached 'the town that never was', Ravenscar. Passing the deserted streets I slowly descended to the southern end of Robin Hood’s Bay where another deep inlet, Stoupe Beck, had to be crossed before I reached the inlet of Boggle Hole, which is a bare mile short of the village of Robin Hood’s Bay. Rather than continuing to the village I stopped in Boggle Hole as there is a youth hostel nestled in the dark inlet. Despite the lack of any mountains on this walk I still had a tiring start my holiday. The scenery from the top of the cliffs was always dramatic with some great, steep cliffs to enjoy as I walked safely above them. This was an enjoyable walk and served as a good introduction to the delights of the North York Moors and coast.

Snowdon by the western tops

2010-09-23T18:38:00.002+01:00

Saturday 14th August 2010

I always go up Snowdon at least once a year, so since I had not been up this year I was desperate for a chance to climb that great mountain. The weather forecast for the weekend looked good on the Wednesday before so I quickly arranged to go but once Saturday came along the good weather wouldn’t materialise until the following day leaving me with a wet, windy and cloudy day to walk in. Despite this I drove to North Wales Friday evening and stayed at the wonderful Bryn Gwynant hostel overnight before going over Pen y Pass to Llanberis. Starting from this tourist-filled village I walked up a steep, narrow road over Bwlch-y-groes and branched off at the highest point onto the heather-clad moor. Slowly I walked up the path to the top of Moel Eilio over the shoulder of Bryn Mawr, plunging into clouds half way up. Since the weather was poor I had decided that it would be a good idea to retrace the route that I had taken on my first walk up Snowdon back in 2003. Instead of taking one of the six rights-of-way up Snowdon I had approached via the little visited western tops, of which Moel Eilio is the highest. My reason for taking this route at that time was that I had then wanted to go up every hill above two thousand feet in Wales, including these satellites of Snowdon. Fortunately I have since abandoned such bagging nonsense.

From the summit of Moel Eilio I walked against a strong side wind along the undulating ridge, which had wonderfully steep cliffs to my left, until I reached Foel Goch. On the other side of this hill is Moel Cynghorion, which I went up last time despite the great effort required because I thought every hill had to be bagged; fortunately on this occasion I didn’t bother. Instead I crossed the southern slopes of Moel Cynghorion until I reached the Snowdon Ranger Path. From there I followed this great path all the way up to the summit of Snowdon. I was last on this path eighteen months ago in descent and I was struck then, as now, by how thrilling the zigzags are that take the path from the shore of Llyn Ffynnon-y-gwas onto the ridge of Clogwyn Du’r Arddu. They are a really great, rugged, rocky climb, even if it’s exhausting. At the point where I reached the top of the ridge I stopped to have my lunch so I could admire the views before plunging into clouds that were billowing through the gap of Bwlch Cwm Brwynog.

Restarting the walk after eating I felt very tired as if stopping had allowed my body to go to sleep and now it was complaining at having to start climbing up the ridge again. Slowly I struggled up the mountain until I reached railway tracks and a great mass of people at the top of the Pyg Track. There had been a few people on the Snowdon Ranger Path, but this was a mere handful compared with the crowds that were coming up the Pyg Track onto the Llanberis Path. Suddenly I was surrounded by an enormous number of people that grew as I climbed nearer the summit. Despite the zero visibility, spotty rain and wind the top of Snowdon was teaming with people. I go up mountains to get away from people but the summit of Snowdon that day was worse than High Cross Shopping Centre on a Saturday afternoon. I usually consider the summit of Snowdon an old friend, even saying hello to it when I get there (!), but on this occasion I couldn’t get away from it quick enough.

Before I left the summit there was somewhere I wanted to visit first. Ever since the new summit building was completed a year or two ago I have been itching to see inside but every time I’d been up Snowdon the weather has been bad, and the centre was annoyingly shut. This time however the trains were running and centre was open. Unfortunately the bad weather had driven everyone into the building and the place was packed, and really hot and stifling. It may be nice in there but I could barely move let alone see anything. Eventually I managed to manoeuvre my way through the building and out of the back entrance, and having had enough of the crowds at the summit circled back round the building and returned down the busy path to the top of the Pyg Track.

In 2003, on my first visit to Snowdon, I had returned to Llanberis on the eponymous path. This time I headed down the Pyg Track on the steeply zigzagging heavily manufactured path, skipping past the much slower tourists who were carefully making their way across the damp rocks. There was something curiously satisfying about being much more confident of my footing than the people around me as I casually walked down the mountain. It’s probably childish of me but I enjoyed it. When the Miner’s Track turned off I continued along the wonderful Pyg Track, relishing every step of what is easily the best path up Snowdon, despite the poor state of the manufactured path. When I reached Bwlch y Moch I turned off the Pyg Track and climbed the Horns which I’d visited last August. I had thoroughly enjoyed these last year in bad weather and they were just as good this year now that I had a view from the top of this chain of small hills. At the end of the Horns I strolled down the grassy hill to the small car park at Pen-y-pass where a bus took me back to Llanberis. Any walk up Snowdon is a great walk and this time I had taken an interesting, little-travelled route, but it’s disappointing that I had bad weather again.

The Angle Tarn Pikes

2010-09-16T17:56:00.004+01:00

Saturday 12th June 2010

We have reached the final walk of my epic holiday to Scotland last June. I had travelled all the way up the west coast of Scotland visiting Ben Lomond, my first Munro, the awesome mountains of Glen Shiel, and the majesty of the Torridon Giants on the way. The Northwest Highlands is an amazing place unlike anywhere else in Scotland. The mountains are not as densely packed as further south, but there is literally nothing in between. It is a wide expanse with few settlements and a scattering of sheer sided mountains. The mountains in that area are stunning to look at, but scary to actually climb. Several times during this holiday I chickened out of going up a top due to what I would consider a very healthy fear of falling thousands of feet to my death that keeps me from doing anything too dangerous. That fear was not being exercised now as I was back in my beloved Lake District for the day before returning home.

I had stayed in Patterdale overnight before parking at the Cow Bridge car park near Brothers Water for this short, easy walk before I finally headed home. With another sunny day ahead of me I set off through the unspoilt village of Hartsop and along the bridlepath that climbs beside Hayeswater Gill. I walked up to Hayeswater last summer for the first time in equally good weather, but as I started the climb this time I couldn’t remember which side of the stream is the better to climb. I remembered taking the bridlepath the previous year but couldn’t remember if that was better. Once on the wider bridlepath I decided that this was not after all the better path. The one on the other side is less travelled, narrower and stays closer to the stream affording better views of the cascades in the stream. After a while a filter house is reached beyond which a footbridge leads over the stream and up to the bridlepath.

Once at the mouth of Hayeswater Reservoir I crossed the stream and climbed up the steep grassy slope to the wind-swept col between The Knott and Rest Dodd. I had considered going up The Knott but dismissed it as being pointless as The Knott is an insignificant blip on the side of Rampsgill Head whereas my objective was Angle Tarn which is in the opposite direction. Instead I crossed the saddle and began to climb up to the top of Rest Dodd which I had previously visited in 2006 on my way down from Rampsgill Head. On that occasion I had rejected The Nab as a worthless northern extension of Rest Dodd, but now I descended to a fence with the objective of bagging this Wainwright. The Nab lies in the middle of the Martindale Deer Forest so access is restricted and the only acceptable route is to cross from Rest Dodd as I was doing.

The Nab is not a particularly appealing fell as the col is usually rather boggy (though it was not too bad when I was there) and the top is a simple grassy dome. The only compensation is the great view down Howe Grain towards Martindale. Returning to the fence below Rest Dodd I followed it across the northern flank to a small north western ridge of Rest Dodd which I crossed before descending the western slopes to the scattered outcrops of Satura Crag. The main footpath, which the coast to coast follows, passes over these crags on its way over the High Street. I spurned the path in order to climb up to the top of Buck Crag. My goal on this walk was to go up all the crags that surround the gorgeous Angle Tarn that nestles in a slight hollow on top of the fells; Buck Crags was not only the start, but is also the highest top. From there I crossed the path and headed to the top of Brock Crags which sports good views of the area, over Brothers Water towards the Kirkstone Pass and along Patterdale. Four years ago for some reason I didn’t go up this Wainwright but now I was able to correct my mistake.

From Brock Crags I headed towards Angle Tarn itself passing over Cat Crag which lies just next to the picturesque lake. From there I continued to the best peaks in the area: Angletarn Pikes. There are two main tops with the northern one being slightly higher. After visiting the southern top I crossed over to the northern top where I sat on the steep northern slopes and had my lunch. From this vantage point I could see over the wide Boredale Hause to Ullswater and beyond to the Helvellyn range of fells. A desire to get home as soon as possible prompted to me to end the walk at this point so I dropped down off the fell onto the coast to coast path travelling as far as boredale Hause where I took a wide stony track back to Hartsop. This was a great, if short walk, up the tops around the beautiful Angle Tarn. This may not be the best part of the Lake District but there are some gorgeous crags around Angle Tarn and they compensate for the bare, grassy terrain elsewhere.

Schiehallion

2010-09-09T17:35:00.001+01:00

Friday 11th June 2010

The day before this walk I said a tearful goodbye to the north coast of Scotland and drove across the tragically barren wastelands of North Scotland to the east coast near the town of Tain where I visited the Glenmorangie Whisky Distillery. From there I headed south past the city of Inverness to the Culloden Moor battle site on the advice of a couple I met at the distillery. Having acted as a tourist then I drove to the Aviemore Youth Hostel where I stayed the night. My long drive home back had begun which I was stretching out over three days with the longest drive on the second day as I drove from Aviemore all the way into England. Soon after the Drumochter Pass I turned off the main road and headed towards Loch Rannoch where I parked at the foot of the magnificent and rather isolated mountain of Schiehallion. I had never been up this distinctive mountain before because I could never seem to incorporate it into a schedule due to it being so remote, and yet it’s one of the most popular mountains in Scotland. One reason for this is its ease of access from the main road to the Highlands which made it favourable for me on this holiday. Without my car I would find this mountain difficult to climb.

Starting from the Braes of Foss car park I walked up the well-manufactured path to the start of the summit ridge where the path stops. From there I had to cross the huge stony top, which would be murder trying to navigate across in mist, but fortunately I had good weather even if the top was rather windy. Eventually I managed to reach the summit of the awe-inspiring mountain where I had my lunch. The view was extensive at the top of what is actually the highest mountain I walked up on this holiday, despite the relatively short walk up it. I came back down the same path I’d ascended as there is no other way off the mountain. This makes it difficult to create a long walk involving this mountain, but makes it ideal for my purposes on this day and for the less experienced hillwalkers who visit this mountain in their droves.

Schiehallion is an excellent mountain to walk up when you don’t have much time (or don’t want to take all day) as the path is beautifully graded and straight-forward, while the mountain has a simple whale-backed structure. Back at the bottom I drove back onto the A9 trunk road and south all the way back into England stopping off once again in my beloved Lake District overnight. The following day I would be able to enjoy this fabulous place before going home, but the great views of Ullswater that I saw as I drove down Park Brow took my breath away and made me wish I was staying for longer.

Ben Loyal

2010-08-25T18:52:00.001+01:00

Wednesday 9th June 2010

After going up Ben Hope the day before this walk I drove to the village of Tongue, which was a stark contrast to the tourist-laden splendour of Durness. Tongue is a quiet, secluded village beside the picturesque sea loch of Kyle of Tongue. I asked in the local shop what there was to see in the area and I got the reply that there wasn’t much. I took a walk up to a nearby tower called Caisteal Bharraich, which has dramatic views across the loch, as well as views inland to the multiple topped mountain of Ben Loyal, which is affectionately referred to as the Queen of the Scottish Highlands. The next day I had another cold and cloudy walk ahead of me as I set off through Ribigill Farm and across the vast moorland of Bad Salach to a ford. Once across the river I climbed up a boggy path beside the imposing mass of Ben Loyal. Slowly the first top of Ben Loyal passed by me and I began to be concerned that the path I was on was going through the pass of Bealach Clais nan Ceap and not up the mountain. Quickly I turned around and began to slowly climb the steep hillside to my right. This was a really tough climb, but it surely would have been a lot steeper if I had taken Ralph Storer’s route straight up the face of the mountain.

Eventually after a lot of effort I managed to reach the rocks at the top of Sgòr Chaonasaid. It was very windy up there, but nevertheless I clambered onto the top of the end crag from where I had great views along the length of the Kyle of Tongue and behind to the summit of Ben Loyal across a grassy plain. Climbing back down I bypassed all the other rocky tops, the most notable being the second top, Sgòr a’ Bhatain, and headed straight for the summit of Ben Loyal, An Caisteal (The Castle). The summit is well named as it is a huge circle of rock impregnable except at one point, surrounded by the towers of the other tops of Ben Loyal. After climbing onto the huge rock that is the summit I found the trig point that marks the summit of the Corbett (Ben Loyal is not a Munro as it is less than three thousand feet high, in fact it almost isn’t a Corbett as it is only just above two and a half thousand feet). Climbing back down and circling round to the south I found shelter from the wind and had my lunch.

After eating I set off across the vast grassy saddle to the next top, Beinn Bheag. I was rather euphoric during that crossing, sheltered from the wind, wrapped up against the cold, and striding out through the clouds across the top of a mountain that stands far from any others. A western ridge branches off from the top of Beinn Bheag, and this was my descent route, which I immediately took rather than visiting the fifth and final top of Ben Loyal, the grassy dome of Carn an Tionail. I climbed down the steep grass slope onto the ridge and passed over the multiple tops of Sgòr a Chleirch before reaching the end of the ridge. There I dropped steeply off the end, clambering carefully down to the mouth of Calbhach Coire. Following the stream I dropped down through a delightful birch wood descending steeply to the moorland floor.

I now had a couple of miles of walking across the vast moorland until I crossed the ford again and returned to Ribigill Farm. Once again there is a long walk in and out of a mountain in Scotland. It amazes me how often that happens. I couldn’t help thinking what I would have done if I hadn’t had the car. Although there is a Youth Hostel near Tongue I would have had to walk a couple of miles into the village and then another mile the other side of the village to Ribigill before I’d even started the walk I did on this day. And then of course I would have had to repeat it at the end of the day, which is an all too familiar story. Despite the poor weather this was an enjoyable walk over an interesting mountain, I just wish I could have found an easier way up.

Ben Hope

2010-08-19T16:24:00.002+01:00

Tuesday 8th June 2010

After my previous walk I drove up a narrow twisting road up to the north coast of Scotland leaving the delights of Assynt behind. The area around Lochinver is an absolute wonder and I was really disappointed to be leaving. I had originally planned on spending four nights in the area giving me a chance to walk up Quinag and Foinaven, but in bad weather I left these behind in favour of the north-western-most village in mainland Britain: Durness. The next day I spent as a tourist sampling the delights of Durness including Cape Wrath (the north-western point), enjoying sunshine beside the coast while the mountains inland were covered in rain and low cloud. The area around Durness is a treasure trove with a wide variety of wonders including vast caves, flower-covered moors and fabulous beaches. I had a great day in Durness but the day after I was back in my walking boots for a walk up the most northerly Munro in Scotland: Ben Hope.

I parked alongside other cars at the foot of the main path up Ben Hope and followed others up the path beside a stream. When I started it looked like the good weather was back so I was slapping on sun cream and stripping down, but unfortunately it didn’t last. When the other walkers left the steam behind I stayed beside it and climbed a shelf below the high western cliffs of Ben Hope. Unfortunately I carried on climbing when I should have stayed beside the stream so that by the time the stream reached Dubh-loch na Beinne I was high above the lake on a steep hillside. The difficulty in continuing to walk along that steep gradient eventually prompted me to try and climb onto the top of the ridge. After a lot of very steep climbing I eventually reached the top of the ridge where I collapsed and had lunch, while rain started to fall. The point where I’d joined the ridge was at about the 700m contour so I was already a good way up the ridge having missed out on the delights lower down.

Resuming the walk I climbed up the ridge through clouds to the foot of a bad step where I suddenly had stunning views below the clouds of a small loch in a corrie and Loch na Seilg beyond. The bad step is a serious scramble and far beyond my capabilities so I simply side-stepped it by climbing up a nearby gully, which was rather difficult itself in the wet, though not unenjoyable. Ultimately I reached the top of the crag face where a short walk took me to the summit. Ben Hope should have stunning views as there are no other Munros for miles around but the top was covered in clouds spoiling the view. Once I was below the clouds I was still sufficiently high enough to have some quite good views up the deserted Strath More. My descent was straightforward walk along the regular, tourist route down a steep, wide, stony hillside and a muddy path back down to the road.

Once I got myself onto the ridge I enjoyed this walk, but before then I was cursing Ralph Storer, and especially, myself. This walk would have been a lot more enjoyable if I’d followed Ralph Storer’s instructions to “continue northwards beside the main stream onto the shelf holding Dubh-loch na Beinne, and keep going until a way can be made up onto the north ridge near Loch Seilg at its far end.” How easier could it have been explained? So why did I try to get as high as possible as early as possible? It is amazing how often I don’t follow the plain instructions I’ve been given, probably because at the time I think there is a better way. There are many times I’ve got myself into trouble and cursed Ralph Storer (or whoever) and most of the time it’s not been their fault. You’d think I’d learn. The north ridge of Ben Hope is fabulous even if the best bit is the area around the bad step. As the most northerly Munro it’s a good easy climb, so long as you take the right route.

Ben More Assynt

2010-08-12T18:00:00.001+01:00

Sunday 6th June 2010

My luck with the weather ended with this walk as it turned bad subjecting me to rain and low cloud throughout much of the walk. I was walking up Ben More Assynt, the highest mountain in the Assynt area, which was a welcome change from the sandstone mountains that I had been walking up almost all the previous week. I parked near the Inchnadamph Hotel and walked up Gleann Dubh where before long it started to rain. After contemplating giving up on the walk due to the terrible weather conditions I carried on since I was walking along an excellent path at the bottom of a pretty that has a delightful stream flowing through it. As I was walking along the valley I began thinking about how every mountain in Scotland seems to have a long walk-in, usually across moorland or into a high corrie, making the distances walked much greater than in England or Wales. In the Lake District every mountain has a road at the bottom of it enabling you to park at the foot of the mountain and walk straight up to the summit. Fortunately this walk was reasonably interesting as a passed caves the river disappeared briefly into and lots of colourful flowers beside the path.

Following the River Traligill upstream I climbed a hillside into the clouds and up to the top of a ridge where I turned right to climb along the stony ridge eventually reaching the cloud-covered summit of Conival where I had my lunch. With the rain finally stopping I climbed across an interesting stony saddle with steep drops on either side up to the top of Ben More Assynt, the highest mountain in the area. In the mist it was difficult to identify which pile of rocks was the summit, with a group of guys ahead of me claiming that the south top was the summit. Eventually we decided that the summit of the Munro was opposite the saddle, which has a cairn, but it really could have been anywhere. I had entered the map co-ordinates for the summit into my gps but didn’t find it very reliable, or useful, for either Conival or Ben More Assynt. It’s strange how different gps receivers can give differing co-ordinates for the same place.

Ralph Storer recommends traversing the south ridge of Ben More Assynt, but this is an exposed, hard scramble that I didn't want to do it in this weather (or indeed any weather!), so I turned around and retraced my steps. If Ben More Assynt had been a sandstone mountain then that difficult, narrow south ridge would have had an easier, bypassing route around the side. The Lewissian Gneiss of that ridge is some of the oldest rock in the world, so it isn’t easily eroded into paths and would be tricky to traverse, even in good weather. As I descended from Ben More Assynt the clouds unexpectedly started to part revealing views of Dubh Loch Mór to my right and the wide waterlogged valley of Garbh Allt to my left. With a clear view of the ridge in front of me I bounced across and joyously climbed back up to the top of Conival, the third Munro that I had climbed up that day (which had also been my first Munro of the day), and was still in clouds.

From the top of Conival I descended the stony ridge back down to the col at the top of the path into the valley. Soon after starting to drop back down into Gleann Dubh I was enveloped by thick clouds again and soon after that it started to rain. The brief good spell that I had enjoyed on top of the two Munros proved to be short-lived as it continued to rain as I walked all the way back down the valley to my car. It was bizarre that the worst weather that I had experienced during this walk was not at the top of the mountains but while walking along the valley below. I thoroughly enjoyed this walk, despite the rain, as these were honest, straight-forward mountains. They were not Torridonian sandstone monoliths like the hills I’d been climbing recently, but simple heaps of shattered quartzite stones. It was a refreshing change to walk up a proper mountain again.

Suilven

2010-08-05T17:03:00.002+01:00

Saturday 5th June 2010

Once again I had stunning weather for this holiday, and a stunning mountain to climb in such warm weather, Suilven. This huge monolith of a mountain dominates the scene for miles around, and is distinctively seen from the village of Lochinver. It may not be up to Munro status but in this area of few mountains it stands out and is in fact considered to be one of the best mountains in Scotland. Passing through Lochinver I parked at the end of the public road into Glencanisp. From there I walked along a fabulous track past the Glencanisp Lodge and through a gorgeous valley with gorse and bluebells lining the way with heather taking over higher up. When I started walking I couldn’t see Suilven as it was hidden in the morning mist, but it wasn’t long before a huge scary looking shape started appearing through the clouds. As I drew alongside the enormous whale-back mountain the mist cleared sufficiently to reveal the awe-inspiring spectacle that I was going to be walking up.

After crossing the river just before Loch na Gainimh I took a path that climbs across the moor past several small lochs to the foot of Suilven where I began to climb the steep slope. Eventually, after a lot of effort, I reached Bealach Mór, the lowest point on the ridge of Suilven. From there I climbed along the top of the ridge to the summit, Caisteal Liath, which is a surprisingly wide grassy plane. A little distance from the summit cairn is a flat slab of rock sticking up into the air making a great backrest for the best seat in the world. From this vantage point I enjoyed extensive views across the whole area looking out to sea and down on the wisps of cloud in the valley. I had my lunch while sitting on this throne-like seat and gazing across the amazing terrain of Sutherland where the mountains are few but the lochs are many.

Returning to the saddle I climbed along the eastern ridge as far as I could, though I only actually reached the first col. I could have gone further but I just didn't want to. Suilven is another Torridonian Sandstone mountain with ridiculously steep sides and rock pinnacles on top. The eastern end of the mountain requires some rock climbing that I wasn’t in favour of trying. These Torridon-esque mountains may be stunning to look at, but they terrified me. I never thought I had vertigo until this holiday. Fortunately, unlike Stac Pollaidh the previous day, the summit of this mountain is attainable by mere humans such as me. I can’t help comparing Suilven with Stac Polly, but it is easily the superior. In some ways it is like a bigger brother to Stac Polly, it’s certainly higher, but the rocks are not as shattered and it has only several tops rather than the innumerable tops of its lesser brother. Like all the Torridonian Sandstones there is a steep climb to the ridge but once there it isn’t too difficult to reach the summit so that even cowards like me can get there.

Returning to Bealach Mor I reluctantly started to descend the steep hillside back down to the loch-scattered moor at the bottom. All I had left to do now was to slowly walk all the way back down the valley in the warm weather past inviting lakes and moorland flowers in a plenty, with the might of Suilven itself behind me basking in the sunlight, like the prow of a battleship. This was a wonderful walk not just because of the fantastic mountain in the middle of the walk but for the relaxing stroll through the picturesque valley where the view of Suilven dominated the scene all day. For any other walk the necessity of having a long walk in to the mountain would detract from the experience but on this occasion it adds to it. The path is a well-made stalkers track that is always dry and passes through a valley that was a delightful place to walk through, always with the view of Suilven enticing me forward with every step. Back at Achmelvich Beach Youth Hostel the weather was great and the views of the bay idyllic. This is such a wonderful area I was so gutted to be only staying there for two nights rather than my originally intended four nights. I spent that evening on the rocks overlooking the bay reading a book and taking pictures of the stunning surroundings. My holiday wouldn’t get any better than this.

Stac Pollaidh

2010-07-29T17:08:00.002+01:00

Friday 4th June 2010

Continuing the negative frame of mind following my ascent of An Teallach, the next day I wasn’t in the mood for going up a mountain so was unsure where I would go for a walk. I had seen a leaflet in the youth hostel in Ullapool on the local nature reserve of Knockan Crag so decided that I would visit that before deciding where I would go. Knockan Crag is a site of great importance to geologists where Moine Schists are to be found on top of the younger rocks of Durness Limestone. It was research done at this site that led to the development of the theory of tectonic shift. After a relaxing and informative walk around the site I returned to my car and drove a short distance onto a side road where I started to walk towards Ben Mór Coigach. After just a short walk along the road I turned back, put off by the prospect of walking along an indistinct, boggy path to an inconsequential mountain. I’m sure Ben Mór Coigach is a great mountain but I was not in the mood for a difficult walk across seldom visited terrain. Instead I drove to the foot of the nearby Stac Pollaidh and walked up the manufactured path that circles round the back of the castellated hill and climbs to the lowest point on the summit ridge.

Stac Polly is an astonishing little mountain of shattered rock and soaring sandstone pinnacles. I started my exploration of the hill on the seldom visited, lower, eastern tops, where I enjoyed lunch on my own on the eastern most top, while gazing across the lochan scattered terrain north towards the awesome Suilven. Returning to the col I tried scrambling up the many western tops, but they were so difficult to get to the top, and there are so many, that I eventually got fed up of the futile effort. I'd reached the 610m cairn by this point but I had not got to the final, highest peak, which requires a rock climb. Allowing another Torridonian Sandstone mountain to get the better of me I descended the steep gully that is just before the highest peak, and returned onto the perimeter path, dropping back down to the road and my car. This is a fine mountain even if it’s not much more two thousand feet high, but I would appreciate it if it was a little easier to reach the top! Incidentally since Stac Polly requires a rock climb to reach the summit it is a member of a small, select group of mountains in Britain that can’t be walked up. Tryfan in Wales, Helm Crag in the Lake District, and the Coullin on the Isle of Skye are the only other peaks in Britain that are impregnable to mere walkers.

Leaving Stac Pollaidh behind I drove towards the small fishing town of Lochinver along the road that is described by Wainwright as the mad little road of Sutherland. In describing it he said that it is “a tortuous journey of ups and downs and ins and outs through a tangled landscape of low hillocks, gneiss outcrops, peat bogs and small lochans that lap the roadside verges, furnished with occasional clumps of trees and bordered by heather and gorse: an undisciplined maze yet endowed with infinite beauty.” He was so right, the road was an utterly exciting drive, particularly near Loch an Eig-bachaidh where the road hugs the edge of the bay with high cliffs on one side and the sea on the other side of the car-width road. Eventually I arrived in the lovely town of Lochinver where I stopped to explore and buy my dinner. It wasn't long before it started raining and thundering, prompting me to be feel that I was lucky not to be walking in that weather. From Lochinver I drove to the nearby Achmelvich Bay Youth Hostel, which is set in wonderfully tranquil surroundings. The bay was so picturesque that I couldn’t help going out and taking pictures despite the risk of more rain. This area was the perfect antidote to the melancholy that had recently taken hold of me.

An Teallach

2010-07-22T21:35:00.002+01:00

Thursday 3rd June 2010

After my wind-swept walk of the day before I drove further up the west coast of Scotland as far as the ferry town of Ullapool, however I didn’t catch the ferry to Stornaway. Instead after spending the night in Ullapool I drove to An Teallach, which is considered by some to be the greatest mountain in Scotland. The usual starting point for a walk up An Teallach is Corriehallie, and indeed when I passed the parking spot there were already a relatively large number of cars, despite the early hour. I was following Ralph Storer’s instructions and parking near the Garbh Allt walked beside the burn through a dense rhododendron thicket. If you ever wanted a demonstration of the problems that rhododendrons cause you just have to look at that path. Underneath the rhododendrons it was totally lifeless as all that had been able to grow was rhododendron. My only compensation was that most of the rhododendrons were not in flower yet after our harsh winter.

Emerging from the rhododendrons into perfect weather I crossed the vast terrain under a warm sun. After my poor weather of the last two days I was being rewarded with fantastic weather at just the right moment as nothing less than perfect weather will do on a mountain like An Teallach. On this walk the wind would not put a stop to my adventures, only my fear of heights. After following the Coire a’ Ghlas Thuill burn along a muddy path I left stream and path behind in order to make a direct ascent up the massive bulk of Glas Mheall Mòr. Slowly I climbed up to the top of this northern most top of An Teallach picking my own way up the interminably steep stone-covered hill. Eventually, after what seemed like forever, I reached the summit of Glas Mheall Mòr where I was greeted with stunning views of the coast and of the steep rock faces of An Teallach. After the tiresome climb I joyfully crossed over the gap and climbed the steep stony hillside opposite to the top of the northern Munro of An Teallach, Bidein a’ Ghlas Thuill, where I had my lunch.

It was really enjoyable sitting at the summit on my own in such fantastic weather while gazing out at the awesome scenery around me, except for the terrifying sight of the pinnacles of An Teallach on the other side of the corrie. From the summit I descended once again on a delightful rocky path to the deep col and climbed, while keeping as close to the top of the ridge as I dared, up to the other Munro, Sgùrr Fiòna, where the pinnacles could now be seen clearly in all their terror. I probably should have a least tried to go up the first pinnacle, Lord Berkeley’s Seat, which Ralph Storer claims is an easy scramble, but for some reason once I got to the foot of the pinnacles I really didn’t want to go up any of them. The masses of people who had gone the other way round the mountain were quite happily climbing the pinnacles and making moves that I could never dare to make as I don't have a head for heights, so I quite happily missed out all of the pinnacles. Instead I walked along one of the many bypassing paths on the right while staying as high as possible so that I could peek through the gaps between the pinnacles. I like paths that cling to the side of a steep mountain along a narrow ledge as they test my nerves while still being safe so I quite enjoyed exploring the many paths that have been made to bypass these most challenging of peaks.

Descending steeply after the last pinnacle there remained a pleasant stroll along the ridge climbing over Stob Cadha Gobhlach to the top of a gully just before the last top of An Teallach, Sàil Liath, where I took the steep rocky path down the gully. For some reason I had lost interest in the walk so wanted to do was to get off the mountain as quickly as posible but I still had a long way to go. At the bottom of the gully is Loch Toll an Loachain which affords a stunning view of the pinnacles mirrored in the murky waters of the loch. From there I had a long walk along a faint path that followed the Allt Coir’ a’ Ghiubhsachain in surroundings that seemed almost Jurassic. This path eventually took me all the way back to the Garbh Allt and my starting point beyond the rhododendrons.

An Teallach may be a favorite of many people but as I walked back to my car I was not so keen. Is An Teallach the greatest mountain in Scotland? I don’t think so, I think the giants of Torridon, Liathach and Beinn Eighe, which An Teallach shares many characteristics with, must hold a greater claim to that title. Maybe this walk was not as enjoyable as it should have been because I allowed myself to become too nervous due to the vertiginous nature of the mountain. The weather for this walk was perfect, An Teallach really is a truly awe-inspiring mountain, but I still wasn’t overjoyed by the walk. The fact that I didn’t go to the top of pinnacles shouldn’t made made a difference, they are a really difficult scramble after all. I went to the top of the Munro’s and I had a fabulous walk; that should be enough.

Beinn Eighe

2010-07-15T19:48:00.004+01:00

Wednesday 2nd June 2010

Last year I spent four nights in Torridon during which I went up Liathach and Beinn Alligin, two of the Torridon giants. I didn't go up the third giant, Beinn Eighe, because of the weather and because it is seven miles from the Torridon Youth Hostel. This year distance wasn’t a problem as I had my car, the weather however was still a challenge. I got up nice and early for this walk and was on my way by eight o'clock; it was overcast but I took hope in the forecast that said it would improve. I parked at the foot of the Coire Mhic Fhearchair path and set off along the road to the start of the Coire an Laoigh path. This is an excellently graded path that climbs thousands of feet up the hillside into the high corrie with a minimum of effort. The path may have been great but the weather was not as it had started to rain with no sign of better weather to come.

Hoping for better things I carried on up the path into Coire an Laoigh, and indeed by the time I reached the corrie the rain had stopped, and as I climbed the wall of the corrie the clouds gradually lifted from the summits. Happy that my day seemed to have been saved I carried on up to the top of the ridge that surrounds the corrie, but as I neared the top I heard the howling of the wind and I had a grim foreboding. Buttoning up I climbed onto the top of the corrie wall and started to battle my way against the wind up a stony path to the summit while on my hands and knees. The wind was so ferocious that it was making me wish I'd never bothered, but there was worse to come.

On reaching the main ridge I was struck by the absolutely stunning views along the whole length of the awe-inspiring ridge, and full might of the wind. I had come onto the ridge at a trig point, which was annoyingly not the summit of the Munro, Spidean Coire nan Clach, this was a short distance away along the ridge. Carefully I tried to make my way towards the summit of Spidean Coire nan Clach but the ridge was so narrow and exposed that I could hardly dare to make any progress. After scrambling up a small rock face I found myself stuck to the rocks unwilling to go any further towards the tantalisingly close summit. Accepting defeat, I slowly made my way down the rock face and tried to return to the trig point along the exposed ridge. With less than half the distance to go I was hit by the full force of the wind. Since I was already practically on my hands and knees I collapsed onto the stony ridge with my face pressed onto the rocks trying to present as little surface-area to the wind as possible. Eventually the wind subsided and I felt able to crawl the remaining distance to the trig point. There I took a number of pictures of the awesome sight that surrounded me, but which I would be unable to explore any further.

Quickly, I made my way back down the stony path to the top of the corrie, still battling the wind, until I was able to drop back down into the corrie. In the corrie floor I had my lunch and reflected that I had been really lucky with the weather last year when I went up Liathach. I had perfect walking weather on that occasion, most notably that there was hardly any wind. Rain and clouds can easily be compensated for but there is nothing one can do about the wind when it is this strong. Before I set off again the weather proved itself utterly unpredictable as the clouds descended once again and the wind seemed to move around so that it could get at me in my sheltered corrie. The descent was a breeze as I made my way down the well-made path but the weather was a lot more than a breeze! As I walked back along the road to my car I was constantly blown by a gale that I didn't recall being there earlier in the day. By the time I reached my car it had started raining once again.

The weather forecast on this day seems to have been far off the mark, or maybe Torridon is in a climate all of its own. The rain stopped the instant I drove over a pass out of the valley, where sunshine greeted me on the other side. Sometimes the weather proves too much and you have to just turn around and go back the way you came with your tail between your legs. Beinn Eighe is a great mountain so it is really disappointing not to have been able to do a traverse of its high ridges. I don't know when, but I know I will be back to fully explore the awesome majesty that is Beinn Eighe.

Slioch

2010-07-08T19:14:00.001+01:00

Tuesday 1st June 2010

After the great weather of the day before I woke to rain, low clouds and midges by the million as I packed up my car for yet another long drive to my next walk. I was returning to Torridon, the climax of my holiday last year, but I wasn't looking forward to a walk up one of the Torridon Giants in such poor weather. However as I drove downhill towards the village of Kinlochewe with the magnificent sight of Loch Maree ahead and Slioch to the right I suddenly thought that Slioch would make a good alternative. This mountain is not in Glen Torridon but still possesses the Torridonian Sandstone typical of the giants. Incidentally the evening before this walk I had realised that I didn't know what my schedule was! I knew which hostels I was staying in, even if not the duration, and I knew which mountains I wanted to go up. But I think the availabilities of the various youth hostels had screwed up my schedule without me actually realising it. For the remainder of the holiday I had to make up an improvised schedule that was rather different from my original plan. I had once included Slioch in my itinerary but had dropped it in order to get to the far north quicker, now at the last minute Slioch had been given a reprieve, which as it turned out was well deserved.

Leaving the car park in Incheril, on the outskirts of Kinlochewe, I walked for three miles to the Kinlochewe River and Loch Maree, until I reached a bridge over the stream, Abhainn an Ehasaigh. Turning right at this point I ventured across rough, often boggy, terrain climbing up to the mouth of Coire na Sleghaich. Maybe I was a little unfit or at least not yet up to my full mountain walking fitness, but I found this quite an exhausting climb, lightened only by the sight of Beinn Egihe behind me, and hearing my first cuckoo of the holiday. This cuckoo, or possibly others, followed me on every subsequent walk that I took in the far north of Scotland and became a welcome companion as I travelled. On reaching the mouth of the corrie I crossed the corrie floor and climbed the hill opposite. This was a long, tiring, dreary climb that was enlivened only by the views north across Lochan Fada to the awe-inspiring Great Wilderness. Eventually after a lot of effort I reached the summit of Sgurr an Tuill Bhain where I stopped to have my lunch.

Buttoning up against the cold weather I set off from the top towards the Munro across a fabulously narrow ridge. The sides of this ridge were ridiculously steep inducing a bit of delicious exposure. I couldn't help comparing this ridge with Striding Edge in the Lake District, which although is possibly slightly narrower is really shallow, and not as high, in comparison to this ridge that is so insignificant in Scotland it doesn't even have a name. I am often reminded at times like this of the enormous differences between the mountains in Scotland and those of Lakeland. In comparison to Scotland the mountains of the Lake District are tame and easy, for the mountains of Scotland are in a class of their own. All too soon the terrain widened and I climbed up to the summit of the Munro, Slioch. I'm sure the view from the summit is fantastic, taking in Loch Maree and the Great Wilderness, but in the conditions I had I couldn't see anything.

Turning south with the aid of my compass I visited the trig point, no longer considered the summit of the Munro, before taking another compass bearing towards the downward path. Passing a small lake I decided to visit the south top of Slioch before taking the steep path down. Once below cloud level I could once more see the eastern end of mighty Beinn Eighe. On Ralph Storer's advice I didn't follow the path down into the corrie but visited the final small tops on the corrie rim that culminates in Sgurr Dubh, thereby completing my circuit of the corrie. A ridiculously steep descent took me down to my outward route which I took all the way back to my car accompanied for the first time in the day by sunshine. Considering this mountain was unplanned and the weather was poor I had a good, enjoyable walk over it. It was just a pity that I didn't have a view from the top.