Naunton and Bourton-on-the-Water

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 instead went 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 but I also headed off in the opposite direction (going anti-clockwise instead of clockwise) and towards somewhere that wasn’t even on the original route. Instead of 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, then 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 I was not where I thought I was. In fact I was so sure that I was right and the signpost was wrong that I tried to move the signpost back to the direction I thought it should have been pointing! I suppose I thought that someone else had tampered 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 and not try to force what is on the ground to match what is on the map. I followed the Windrush Way across fields littered with Foot & Mouth notices (but none actually baring access) and passed through the medieval village of Aylworth before joining 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 switched 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 sat 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 and 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 the news. 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 that 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 walking, so I dragged myself around a short walk starting from the village of Chedworth 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 Campden and Broadway

Monday 10th September 2001 

After my holiday in Devon and Cornwall during 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 for a week or two earlier but due to a clash of holidays at work I 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, such as to the Peak District, many times in the past, but I had never gone south, for example, to the Cotswolds, which is a range of rolling hills, farmer's fields and picturesque villages. It may be a popular place with tourists but frankly I found the scenery a little dull.

 

It has been very hard to reconstruct this walk from my 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 Campden and Broadway. I walked from Broadway Tower round Snowshill and Stanton. Nothing great.” From this I assume I started from Chipping Campden, and I 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 it 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 reconstruct. 

On the assumption that I started 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, which is 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 was 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 day would be much more memorable for completely different reasons.

St Ives to Land’s End

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, which is 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 I 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 agony. During this time my nose starting running freely and this further drained my energy. Ever since this time I have noticed that during strenuous walks, particularly in hot weather, my nose sometimes starts to run so now I make sure that I have packed some tissues with me. This was the first time I’d ever noticed the phenomena so I 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 walk. 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 remaining part of my carefully rationed water ran out and I limped down the hill into the Cot Valley. During the course of the day I had a pain in my shin 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 I 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, where I 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 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 I 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 the previous Monday despite tonnes of sun cream since. I couldn’t go any further so I walked into Porthcurno and 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

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, but the following spring I was unable to do any walks due to the Foot & Mouth outbreak so it wasn’t until the summer when 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 now brings 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 started to get interesting as I passed 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 Butler, 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 to reveal a wonderfully sunny day for this great walk. However I failed to put any sun cream on, so by the time I reached the lighthouse at Lizard Point I was red raw and I 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 I got to Lizard Point. I had anticipated being able to catch a mid-afternoon bus but after waiting ages for it I 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 so I had 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'd better get started on next year’s holidays!

Snowdon with a crowd

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, was taken by seven of the group, mostly 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 for 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 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 good weather during our drive to Snowdonia the previous evening it was disappointing to wake up to grey cloud-covered skies, and 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 and across the southern slopes Moel Berfedd. It is 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 as the muddy, old path is unable to cope with the added traffic. We soon passed the worst of the mud and climbed steeply up to the crowds at Pen-y-pass. After a breather beside the car park we set off along the Pyg Track 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. I sent my co-leader off to walk down the Llanberis Path to check on the other half while I took the rest of us up the final half a kilometre 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 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 Miners' Track diverges. After a tricky, steep descent to the shore of Glaslyn the remainder of 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 (and is no longer available). Consequently I was frequently looking at the map and, with hindsight, didn’t follow the prescribed route, and in the end we 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 out my compass and determined where we were and where we needed to go (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

Saturday 24th September 2011

Ickornshaw Moor and Pinhaw Beacon 

This was my final stage on the Pennine Way and it 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, though in the end, due to easy walking in the later stages, I 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 and 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. So, 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 and became rather boggy as I passed some people preparing to shoot grouse (I wish they wouldn’t). Eventually I descended into farmland and from then 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 a lovely little place just outside Cowling where there seemed to be a mini-farm or wildlife sanctuary that was full of ducks, geese and chickens around a small pond. Continuing on from there, after several ups and downs, I reached the edge of the village of Lothersdale on a steep hillside 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 bench beside it. With relief I collapsed onto the seat and had my lunch looking out over the farmland that I had just walked across. 

A short climb from there took me onto another moor, Elslack, topped by a trig point at 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 considered doing at one point in my planning. 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

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 brought me back onto the moor that I had left the previous evening before I made my way to the Stoodley Pike Monument. This pinnacle commemorates victory in the Napoleonic wars and 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 several 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 he had 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 to the bottom of the lovely Calder Valley where 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, so 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, which is a pleasant place 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 (probably balsam). 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 earlier 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 through Colden was necessary to bring me back onto the Pennine Way. No need to panic. Continuing to climb the hill I eventually reached Heptonstall Moor where a long, dull moorland crossing ensued. I was really disappointed during my walk this week on the Pennine Way that the heather on the moors was no longer in flower as 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 to see how little water was in the reservoirs, 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

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  and re-joined the Pennine Way not far from the Standedge Cutting with the A62 road at the bottom. After dropping to the western end of the cutting I crossed the road and leaving the Peak District behind I struck off across the moors of Standedge until I reached the trig point and rocks of Millstone Edge. These were great 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 prompted me to do a good deal of jumping about from rock to rock, and fortunately there were not too many people around to see me acting like a prat. 

Moving on from there I walked across wide open moors with no distinguishing features and nothing with which to remember the passing miles. The quiet A640 road 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 crouched behind the cairn. The cairn was just big enough to provide me with shelter from the wind, but it didn’t prevent the annoying drone of a motorway a mile away rumbling away in the background. Getting up after 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 it and 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 wider than Millstone Edge with more rocks, some of which were enormous and stretched for a much wider distance. Once again I had tremendous fun walking from one rock to another, even playing games with myself to see how far I could go without treading on the ground. Eventually the rocks petered out and my fun finally ended after I passed the medieval Aiggin Stone and reached Broad Head Drain, which was a sign of things to come. The easy path beside this concrete water channel took me to the White House pub on the A58, yet another Trans-Pennine road, and there now followed a long tedious section of the Pennine Way as 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 a 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 was too bad. At the point where the drain finally turned, sharp right, away from the trail, flag stones returned to remind me of the modern standard for the final part of the day's walk as I approached 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 reservoirs, and an unwanted intrusion of civilisation in the form of the M62.

Pennine Way, part two

Wednesday 21st September 2011

Black Hill and the Wessendon Reservoirs 

With much better weather than I had for my previous day's walk on the Pennine Way I set off from the Crowden Youth Hostel and climbed out of Longdendale. I was now walking on 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 slowly 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, but 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 far in the distance. Leaving the black peat and the cold winds behind I was now able to enjoy the descent passing through a dense area of heather until I reached the second Trans-Pennine road that I had encountered on the trail, 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 an 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, 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 I decided to stay on the Pennine Way by dropping steeply to the valley bottom after passing the second Wessenden Reservoir before climbing 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 shows a slightly different route, particularly 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 which was 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. I continued along the path beside Blakely Clough and climbed onto the windy moor of Black Moss passing between the wind-swept reservoirs of Black Moss and Swellands to cross Rocher Moss and head 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 that included 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 that add 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

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, and immeditately started the way across fields that I’ve walked over many times before on the lower slopes of Kinder Scout. The first time I walked on that path was in 1992 while 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. The road beyond Upper Booth took me 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. 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. I continued across the barren landscape along the path to a very large cairn in amongst the featureless expanse. The trig point of Kinder Low must have been somewhere around there but my maps indicate the Pennine Way doesn’t go to the trig point and actually passes just west of it. This was quite a disappointment for me as I’ve only once before been to Kinder Low, and I couldn’t find it on this occasion. After 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. Soon I moved on and 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 previously 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 this, walking along 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, and there, 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 that 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 and to have views for the first time since climbing Jacob’s Ladder. I skirted along the top of the of the western edge of the clough all the way down into the valley of Longdendale and Torside Reservoir. 

After crossing the dam I climbed up to a delightful tree-lined walk beside the reservoir that sadly ended all too soon at the A628 road. 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  the hills I encountered after Kinder Scout were too tedious. Fortunately Torside Clough and Longdendale were ample compensation.

Win Hill, Lose Hill and Mam Tor

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 that 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 my 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 inspiration for every walk that followed. On this occasion, I decided 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 week's walking that I had ahead of me and the sunny weather that greeted me seemed to wave me along.

Back in 1998 I deliberately followed the course of the White Peak Way, so that is what I did now as I walked 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 a fun walk. The only problem was the recent rains had left a slippery, slimy layer of mud 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 have followed 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 to the bottom of the Hope Valley and 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 up 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 to 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! Now, when I reached 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 thought of this as the south ridge and I had been keen on 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 them, 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 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 I 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 on 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 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 that failed to be dampened by a little rain and was an excellent dress rehearsal for the Pennine Way starting the next day.

Walna Scar

Saturday 6th August 2011 

After my disappointments in Scotland I was desperate to go up a mountain so I 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 already been to the top of all the Coniston Fells. I was still in two minds when 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’d 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 I climbed up to the old miners' tracks and investigated the remains, marvelling 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 walked 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, where 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 which made 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. Once the clouds had thankfully lifted I was able to enjoy myself by taking full advantage of every bit of rock I could find while descending the southern ridge of White Pike before dropping steeply down to the boggy saddle of Yauld Mire. I thoroughly enjoyed every moment as I picked my way across the complex terrain over the small top of Pikes and onto the top of Caw. Just as I approached the trig point however it started to rain and this 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 and the rain finally stopped as I crossed the road and climbed the bracken covered terrain to the deliciously prominent top of Stickle Pike. I was now mindful of the clock so 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 had to wade through the dense growth without 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 and 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. The sun came out during my dash so 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

Thursday 7th July 2011 

After the washout of the day before I woke to good weather again, but unlike the previous day the weather stayed good. I had a strong temptation to do the walk I’d tried to do 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 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. Eventually I climbed back over the dunes and 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 landscape 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 to start 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 mountains that the Outer Hebrides has been unable to satisfy.

Beinn Mhor

Monday 4th and 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 Stornoway I caught another bus to Callanish to visit the Callanish Standing Stones. These five thousand year old stones are 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 Stornoway 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 hoped for dryer weather the next day when I wanted to tackle the highest hill in Uist and 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. A short walk down the road from Howmore, where I was staying, brought me 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. As the terrain became rockier and the ridge narrowed I veered towards the main peak 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 taking full 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 the Uists, 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, since the rain had stopped, 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 goes to the beach. This track crosses 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 that offer a spectacular display and compensated for the disappointments of my walk up Beinn Mhor. Lewis had held little interest for me since has few hills and is mostly flat marshland that is 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 in the best of weather. From the map, 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

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 Reinigeadal, 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 was 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 I had an enjoyable walk along the narrow ridge that 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 the clouds dropped which obscured my 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, slowly descending 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 to Tarbert and was 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 I resumed my walk along the track down into Gleann Lacasdail, but my eyes were constant straying 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 all the way 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 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 where easier slopes led me along the ridge 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 lochs 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 way across this vast and complex area descending over Goromul while carefully picking my route down. This walk frequently saw me walking across pathless terrain and I actually liked it for that, it added to the fun, but the slow descent over Goromul and Torsacleit was tricky as the land sometimes led to sheer cliff-faces where there was 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 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 doesn't continue north. 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 Reinigeadal. But I didn’t stay on the path long as the OS map indicates alternative paths near the main one. These are eroded so are not very safe to follow now, which made them really fun to walk along. The longer diversion, after crossing the Abhainn Kerram, is quite brilliant, features some nice bits of scrambling and 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 Reinigeadal. 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

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 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 the boggy hillside before veering off into the bogs at the highest point. Having thoroughly soaked my feet and legs I then 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 until eventually I reached the summit of Clisham where I had my lunch in a shelter that completely surrounds the trig point. I had excellent views from the top of Clisham to the surrounding, 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 on 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 I followed a wonderful and enjoyably craggy ridge over Mulla bho Thuath to Mullach an Langa. There I dropped steeply down a boulder-strewn hillside to Loch Mhisteam and the boggy valley floor of Gleann Sgaladail. I followed the burn, Abhainn Sgaladail, trying to make my way to the road but eventually I gave up, crossed the river and tried to climb over the headland, struggling through the wet ground to reach my 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 followed. 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 else, 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 that turned 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 I was 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

Thursday 30th June 2011 

After my disappointment of the previous day I didn’t want to do a similar walk, like going up the Old Man of Storr, and it occurred to me that I would not be doing a Munro on this holiday since I’d not gone to Glen Brittle, as originally planned. So for my last day on Skye I decided that I would go up Bruach na Frithe, the easiest Munro in the Cuillin, and I 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 had given me so much trouble the previous Sunday and this time I 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 it had 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 when I reached the top of the pass 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 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 up 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 and 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 and reveal tremendous views into Harta Corrie and the top of the River Sligachan. I stopped in my tracks and sat on the stony ground while 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 and took 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 are far beyond my abilities and even walking to the foot of them gave me a tremble of fear and excitement. By 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 to descend 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 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 better 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.