The Lakes, day 1 – Loughrigg

Monday 15th July 2002

At Easter I will be returning to the Lake District again to spend a week walking around what is possibly the best area for walking in the country (maybe even the world). But before then I thought I’d look back at the very first time I went to the Lake District, before I discovered the appeal of this most delectable of places. It is astonishing to realise that it is almost ten years since I first visited the Lake District, and even in that short time there are places there that have changed a lot, and not for the better. If anything the Lake District is now more popular than ever and that is leaving a big scar on the landscape, which is not being helped by the efforts of the National Park and other organisations to ‘Fix the Fells’. The Lake District does need to be preserved for future generations, but not with paths such as you find in city parks. Some of the worst offenders are the path up Place Fell from Boredale Hause and the recently built abomination either side of Sail Pass. Thankfully there are still many places where the beauty of the Lake District is untarnished by the hand of man.

Below is the introduction that I wrote in 2002 to my report of the whole holiday:
“This was a strange holiday where some things went spectacularly badly. For example, on the first day I left my bank card at home, and then lost my glasses on Loughrigg, which rather put a dampener on things. And the persistent rain and hill fog didn't help. Even if it is possible to walk up the fells in any weather it's not much fun if you don't know where you're going. But of course it also helps if your cagoule is waterproof. The good things were some very enjoyable walks, mainly in the first week when the weather was better with the highlight most definitely being on the middle Sunday. I had perfect walking weather and managed to cover a lot of hills, thoroughly enjoying the whole day. I would love to go back (if only to have another look for my glasses!), it's just a pity the weather let me down, but I suppose it is the Lake District.”

The main thing that I have noticed about the above paragraph is that I still wasn’t used to walking in bad weather. Despite the day that I had spent at Easter crossing the Black Mountain in misty conditions I was not confident in my ability to walk in that sort of weather. And in the Lake District bad weather has to be expected, and any good weather encountered should be exploited with the most enjoyment gotten out of it. On my first day in the Lake District however the weather was being kind to me; unfortunately luck wasn’t with me. As already mentioned in the introduction, I lost my glasses and left my bank card at home, which caused me to describe my first day in the Lake District as an utter disaster. When I reached Ambleside, instead of revelling in the surroundings and the tall hills all around me, I was looking for a bank where I could persuade them to give me some money. Once I had some money I started looking at the sights and made my way up to Stockghyll Force.

After all my build-up to going to the Lake District I was actually unimpressed by the waterfall and dismissed it as being like any other. I returned in 2008 in failing light and then I described it as impressive, so maybe my head wasn’t in the right place ten years ago. On returning to the centre of Ambleside I passed the bizarre bridge house (built to avoid paying land tax – now a National Trust Information Centre and shop) and turned onto a track just after Scandale Bridge. On the day previously mentioned in 2008 I had walked to Ambleside along this track but it was now taking me to adventure and my first Wainwright, my first Lakeland Fell. At Rydal I crossed the road and began to climb Loughrigg, soon stopping off at Rydal Cave, which Wainwright claimed was big enough to shelter the whole population of Ambleside. I don’t think I have been back since but in recent years the entrance has been fenced off due to large blocks of stone that have fallen from the ceiling of the old quarry. This is just one more thing that has changed in the last ten years.

While climbing the bracken covered hillside behind the old Loughrigg Quarries the sun was shining and I was having my first glimpse of the pleasures that can be had while walking in the Lake District when I lost my glasses. I was being very silly hanging my glasses on the pocket of my trousers and was probably asking to lose them, but a frantic search and tears failed to locate them. This is also not the only time that I have lost a pair of glasses in the Lake District having also lost a pair New Year’s Eve 2008. I hope that doesn’t mean I’m due to lose another pair soon! After giving up on my search I dejectedly made my way up the short distance to the summit of Loughrigg, my first Wainwright. The great man himself wrote “Anyone spending a first holiday in Ambleside cannot do better than make an early visit to the top of Loughrigg Fell. They will see around them a land very rich in promise – and find it even richer in fulfilment.” Apart from two disasters, my first holiday in the Lake District had not started too badly, and I had so much more to look forward to.

Edale Horseshoe

Monday 6th May 2002

While continuing to plan for my first visit to the Lake District in the summer I had an idea to do a walk around Edale. Ten years before this walk I used to do walks around Edale with my father, a fact that he’d recently reminded me and which perhaps prompted me to return to my old stomping ground for a walk that was bigger than any I’d previously done in the area. I wanted to do a really long and strenuous walk to get me into training for the summer and this seemed a good candidate. With hindsight this walk maybe wasn’t as long as I’d hoped (possibly due to using the train), and I have walked much longer distances since. There is a popular fell race that goes all the way around Edale called ‘The Don Morrison Memorial Edale Skyline’ (the 2012 race is this weekend, Sunday 25th March). This gruelling fell race is a lot longer than I was capable of back in 2002, even if I just walked all the way round. Instead I walked the second half of the race and I had a wonderful time with just one problem.

I caught a train first thing in the morning to the railway station in the centre of Edale and from there I walked to Grindsbrook Booth, the start not only of the Edale Skyline Fell Race, but also of the Pennine Way. From this small, picturesque settlement I took a clear path heading north up the prominent hillside that zigzags towards the Nab and the rocks known as Ringing Roger. From there I proceeded along the excellent path that skirts around the broad Kinder Plateau past stunning rock formations that include the Wool Packs and Crowden Tower. Kinder Scout was a popular place that day due to excellent weather with the top of Grindsbrook Clough particularly thronged with people, more than I’d ever seen on Kinder (or since). It is astonishing how a hill that can be really nasty and dangerous in bad weather will have young children walking around it when the weather is good.

The weather was so good I needed to put a lot of sun cream on, but I’d forgotten to take any with me so while I was enjoying the stunning scenery and the hot weather my skin was slowly burning and turning red raw. I had also gotten sunburnt less than a year before while on holiday in Cornwall because I hadn’t put any sun cream on so it was particularly frustrating to be burnt again through my own stupidity. After this walk I vowed that I would always take sun cream with me while walking and that I would always use it. And since this walk while I have, probably on many occasions, put cream on needlessly, I have never become burnt because I didn’t put sun cream on.

Back to the walk and, after rounding Edale Head and crossing the Pennine Way, I headed across the broad grassy hill of Brown Knoll. Up to this point I had been wearing a pair of trail shoes that I’d recently bought. I’d never worn shoes like it before and this was the first time I’d done a proper walk in them, and I loved them. The lightness of the shoe compared with walking boots gave me a real spring in my step as I skipped over the rocks on the Kinder Edge, but when I got to Brown Knoll I was faced with a vast area of bog which my trail shoes would struggle to cope with. Fortunately I had my walking boots in my rucksack (partly because I didn’t trust my new shoes, and also in order for me to get used to carrying a heavy load). Once I changed into my boots I was able to traverse the morass with my boots making light work of the deep mud even though I sank into the mud on several occasions.

After passing an air shaft from the railway tunnel that goes under Brown Knoll I reached the Chapel Gate track where I turned left onto the broad track that traverses Rushup Edge. On reaching Mam Nick I abandoned the second half of the Edale Skyline and took a path through Harden Clough back to the railway station so I could catch a train home. This was a stunning walk in gloriously hot weather around a fantastic valley. I have a lot of memories of great walks around Edale and this walk was one of the best.

The Black Mountains

Thursday 4th April 2002

The day after my expedition across the misty terrain of the Black Mountain I went across to the other side of the Brecon Beacons to do a walk in the Black Mountains (not to be confused with the Black Mountain). Although I had previously already done quite a bit of walking in the Black Mountains, this had all been based around the Vale of Ewyas on the eastern edge. The Black Mountains don’t cover a huge area, but I’d still not ventured across to the western edge or been up to the highest point in the Black Mountains: Waun Fach. After poor weather on my previous day's walk it was great to have glorious weather for this one. Even so if you’d been with me that day you’d have seen the worst of me, as well as the best.

The previous year I had bought a Jarrold/Ordnance Survey pathfinder guide to the Brecon Beacons and Glamorgan. However, in practice the book wasn’t much use to me as the walks described were too short for the sort of walking that I like to do. This walk was not far off one of the walks described in the book, but it still varied widely. I parked near Castell Dinas, just off the A479, as in the book, and nipped up to the top of the hill that has been used as both an Iron Age hill fort and a Norman Castle. I don’t remember much about Castell Dinas so either the top wasn’t inspiring or later events in the day were more impressive. On dropping down the steep, western slopes I reached a lane where I turned left to follow it along the bottom of the valley and before too long took a path that led me up onto the open moorland climbing to a cairn at the bottom of a saddle. Turning left at this cairn I climbed up the steep, boggy hill hating every moment of the energy sapping slog under the unrelenting sun.

I wouldn’t have been a nice companion at this point as I moaned about the mud, the steep gradient and the sweat that was pouring off me. Eventually, and I’m sure to the relief of the fictitious person walking beside me who was having to endure my complaints, I reached the summit of Waun Fach, the highest point in the Black Mountains. What I found did not lighten my mood. At the top of Waun Fach is a large concrete lump in the middle of a huge expanse of mud, and at this time of year it was impossible to get to the lump without getting your feet covered in mud. Six months later I returned to Waun Fach to find that the summer had set the mud and I was then easily able to reach the concrete lump. On a subsequent visit I speculated on whether the actual highest point is a slight grassy rise a dozen metres away from the lump of concrete, but it makes little difference on such an uninspiring top.

The guidebook suggested going north at this point but I felt like I’d only just started (I believe it was barely noon) so I made a decision that radically changed my feelings about the walk. Instead of following the path north I dropped down the pathless hillside west of the summit and suddenly I was a completely different person. Skipping down the hill in glorious sunshine I was at my happiest and immensely enjoying the descent. Unfortunately my descent was soon over as I reached Grwyne Fawr Reservoir and after crossing the dam I climbed the grassy hillside opposite to the top of the ridge. Without knowing it I had stumbled on a secret about myself that I didn’t previously know: I love crossing pathless hills making up my own route as I go. The freedom and exhilaration is immense, especially when done in brilliant weather, as I am doing whatever I want without relying on paths that other people have already forged. I’m going my own way, and there is no better feeling. Those moments on walks are when I am at my most relaxed and happy.

Once at the top of the central ridge of the Black Mountains I headed towards Rhos Dirion but I didn’t reach the trig point at the top as I took a big shortcut around to the top of the Grwyne Fawr valley (looked at logically, climbing to the top of the ridge only to come back down again makes no sense, but that’s life, I was going where I felt like going!). On the other side of the broad col I left the path that leads back up to the top of Waun Fach and followed a path around the top of Cwm y Nant which enabled me to rejoin the route of my guidebook that was dropping down the hill from Waun Fach. This provided me with a great walk along the exhilarating and undulating ridge of Y Grib. I have a fond memory of sitting on this ridge and looking at the tremendous views that it affords, on both sides and ahead to Mynydd Troed, to the Usk valley and to the main Brecon Beacons range in the far distance. I have a favourite viewpoint in the Black Mountains on the ascent from Capel-y-ffin in the Vale of Ewyas. When on this ridge I thought: I have a new favourite viewpoint. Tragically I have not been along this ridge again in the ten years since. This ridge thrillingly led me all the way down to my car at the foot of Castell Dinas and ended a great walk in great weather that reaffirmed why I love hill walking so much.

The Black Mountain

Wednesday 3rd April 2002 

In 2002 most of my time was spent planning and preparing for a holiday that would change my life: my first visit to the Lake District. I spent most of the first half of the year pouring over maps and timetables, reading walking web sites and trying to come up with the best schedule. In amongst all that, at Easter, I went back to the Brecon Beacons. Due to foot and mouth disease I hadn’t been to the area since 2000 so I was keen to make a return trip to an area that I’d become quite familiar with following three previous visits. Unfortunately I didn’t write a report of the holiday at the time (unlike walks in other areas I never wrote reports of my walks in the Brecon Beacons), so all we have to go on is a couple of cryptic sentences in my diary. I said in my diary that I hadn’t planned anything before the holiday, although this might have been in comparison to the extensive preparation that was being done for my Lake District holiday. My diary doesn’t say what I did on my first day in the Brecon Beacons, on the Tuesday, which could have been a walk around Talybont Reservoir, just east of the Beacons. This is a walk that I remember doing at some point, but I can’t remember when. 

There is a record of the walk that was done on the Wednesday and that was a most memorable and significant walk. I wanted to improve my navigation skills in preparation for the Lake District so on a cold, misty and rainy day I drove to Usk Reservoir on the edge of the Black Mountain and parked just outside the forest that surrounds the reservoir. Heading south from the car park I followed the young River Usk across the boggy moor. I remember the weather being rather poor and I got my feet wet, but I also remember that I wasn’t following a clear path which made this a good practice for my navigation skills. Soon I reached the northern tip of the promontory that tops on Fan Foel where a steep ascent brought me up to the bitterly cold, wind-swept, north-western tip of the Black Mountain. By following the edge of the escarpment I managed to reach the trig point atop Fan Brycheiniog, the highest point on the Black Mountain. I remember it was so cold at this point that I took out my spare jumper from my rucksack and put it on straight over the top of my cagoule. Dropping down the western slopes of Fan Brycheiniog, still wearing my jumper over my coat, I came down to the saddle of Bwlch Blaen-Twrch where I followed the edge of the escarpment along the top of Bannau Sir Gaer around the top of the cirque that has Llyn y Fan Fach at the bottom. With improving views I dropped down the northern slopes towards the village of Llanddeusant but soon after reaching the road I climbed back onto the hillside to begin a pathless traverse of the bleak moor. 

This was the key moment of my walk: I set my compass in the direction for my car and followed it across the featureless moor back to the car park. At the time this felt like a scary thing to do as it was misty so I had no way of knowing which way to go except by using my compass. Nowadays this wouldn’t daunt me, but this was the first time that I’d ever relied solely on a compass to navigate across a featureless moor, and I safely made it back to my car. This walk was a really significant one in the development of my navigational skills and enabled me to confidently venture into places that before I wouldn’t have gone. I felt as if I had graduated from the Brecon Beacons School of Walking and was now ready to take on the Lake District.

Dovedale

Friday 22nd February 2002 

A walk that I did early in my walking career when I was still quite naïve and green as far as walking was concerned was ten years ago on a Friday while on a four-day week at work. I had planned to get up at the usual time for work, i.e. very early, and be ready to start walking by seven o’clock. I had thought that would be before sunrise, but as it turned out it the day had already broken by the time I arrived at the car park. This was a good walk, but it didn't really start very well. I spent ages getting myself ready once I had arrived at Thorpe, (this often happens when I drive to walks: I am itching to get started but I have so many things to do first such as changing into my walking boots and getting into my waterproofs that it seems to take forever. It doesn't feel like I have this problem when I start from Youth Hostels as I can make sure I’m ready to go before I ever leave the dormitory) and then when I was ready to go I realised that I was in the wrong car park! 

I had parked in the Narlows Road car park but soon I realised that a much better starting point would have been in the Station car park at the bottom of the road (in my defence the old map I was using at the time doesn’t have the station car park marked – unlike on newer maps). When I tried to move I found that my car was stuck in the mud. Like an idiot I had parked at the bottom of the slope and so I was unable to use gravity to get me out. Eventually I gave up trying to move the car and started to walk, dropping down to the old railway line before taking a footpath back up the hill into the delightful village of Thorpe. After walking through the village I descended along a muddy path through Lin Dale into the fabulous Dove Dale. It was simply wonderful to be in this narrow valley again for the first time since I was a child. Dovedale is usually, deservedly, packed with people but because of my early start (of the day and of the year!) I never saw anyone all the way up the valley despite this being such a popular area. I met one guy walking his dog at the bottom of the valley near the hill of Thorpe Cloud and that was it. [This picture of the Dove Dale stepping stones was not taken during this walk but on a later one] 

The weather for my walk below the towering sides of the valley was quite good: sunny and pleasant, and just a little windy at times. The narrow valley was providing me with a handy shelter from the full force of the weather that would attack me later in the day. The River Dove was really full and completely submerging the stepping stones at Thorpe Cloud (this was long before the stones were controversially raised by concreting over them), but the path was mostly clear. The only place the path wasn’t clear was on a short section near Ravens Tor where it was covered in water, but I was able to just wade around the flood. North of Milldale I walked along a narrow road for a short distance before rejoining the path at Coldeaton Bridge. At this point however I had more problems as the grass path was completely submerged and I had to climb up the hillside in order to get past. When the valley narrowed again I climbed up a short clough onto the old railway line of the Tissington Trail. There the wind, which had been merely a little blustery in the dale, was tremendous, so much so that I could hardly make any progress against the strong head wind. I had to cover myself in waterproofs as if it was chucking it down with rain in order to keep me warm and able to resist the wind. 

The walk back to the car by the Tissington Trail was actually quite easy except for the strong wind. The weather didn’t get much better as I trudged slowly along the old railway line going in a wide circle around the village of Tissington to return to the car park that I should have parked in. Finally, I wearily climbed back up the hill to the car park that I had actually parked in. Back at the car, despite my fatigue, I now had to try and rescue my car. After a lot of failed attempts to push or pull the car out I realised I could, with great effort, move the concrete dustbin that was blocking my escape. At first this didn’t seem to help but eventually I managed to drive out of the mud to great cries of relief. That was not an experience that I want to repeat. I had started this walk at about 7-30 (later than I had planned due to my long prep and messing about with moving the car) and I got back to my car between 11-30 and 11-45 so this wasn't a very long walk despite being probably about twelve miles but I suppose it was mostly flat, especially the return along the Tissington Trail, so I was able to cover the distance quickly. I had my lunch in the car before driving back home. 

I have been back to Dove Dale many times since this walk, exploring the surrounding countryside as well as the valley itself. But this walk will stay in my mind as the first time I had been there on my own. The valley has always held happy memories for me and this walk simply added to them. I loved the way I’d started the walk early in the morning so I was able to get a jump on everyone else which enabled me to enjoy the valley all to myself. It is so often the case that really popular areas such as Dove Dale are ruined by their sheer popularity. This walk showed how the crowds can be avoided.