Penguin Hill

Today I dropped Sue (exhausted from 5 days’ skiing) and Helen (exhausted from 2 days at work) at the Spa in Chelsea, then parked up at P8, a few metres down the road at the other end of Chelsea.

This put me in a great position to try out part of the 51 km Gatineau Loppet route.  Don’t worry, I only went 32 km today, but I did check out the steepest of the hills on the Loppet route, the 200 metre ascent of Penguin Hill, pictured above near the point at which it is joined by Trail 30.  As you can see, the sun beat down yet again and the temperature rose to a positively balmy 2C.

You might wonder, like I did - ‘Penguin’ – seems an unusual name for a geographic feature lying about eleven thousand kilometres from the nearest penguin habitat.

Apparently it used to be called Excelsior Hill, excelsior being the Latin for ‘higher’.  But it seems that the road currently known as Gatineau Parkway (a ski trail in winter) follows the route of something called the Penguin Trail, and that name has devolved to the steep hill that comprises the start of the trail currently known as trail 1, leading steeply up to Ridge Road.

Skiers in the 1920s were looking for a way to avoid bushwhacking from where the bus dropped them off, to a lodge at Camp Fortune that was used as a base for cross country skiing.

To fill this evident need, in stepped Joe Morin, the Ottawa Ski Club’s Director of Trails.

Continuing with one of Charles Hodgson’s well researched pieces:

“The Penguin Trail was short, spanning considerably less than a kilometre, but it was memorable. This is because Joe Morin claimed to have found a penguin in the snow just as they were finishing the trail. He caught it, put it in his backpack and skied it in to Camp Fortune where he and his Night Riders nursed it back to health. They made a sort of mascot of it and claimed that it must have walked from the southern hemisphere and that’s why it was so tired. Other people were sceptical and arranged for a visit by — as the 1943 Ottawa Ski Club Guide puts it — “learned and bespectacled ornithologists” to disprove the unlikely claim. The bird however, having regained its strength, flew out the window before the bespectacled doubters could inspect it and Joe maintained his claim that it had indeed been a penguin.”

He goes on to observe that:

“Modern day Park users may be aware that a penguin is a flightless bird. This undercuts Joe’s authority in the event of the bird leaving on the wing, though it may give a small degree of support to the “walking-thus-tired”  theory.”

Charles provides further fascinating historical background here, which can be summarised along the lines that a ‘pingouin’ was perhaps found – that’s the French name (and the location is in French speaking Quebec) for a Razor billed auk, a bird that can fly but which looks much like a penguin and inhabits the north east Canadian coast, sometimes getting lost and finding its way quite far inland — albeit perhaps not walking.

The ‘Razor billed auk’s trail’ or ‘Razor billed auk Hill’ would sound a bit odd wouldn’t it?

Lac Philippe

With Ken and Helen both at work today, Sue and I headed out on a cold, clear morning to P17 (Wakefield) and a 24 km circuit.

First of all we followed the groomer (which remained out of sight) up trail 52.  It’s about 8 km to the junction with trail 50.  Pristine conditions, but the abrasive icy snow soon removed our violet wax and saw us herring-boning up the slightest of inclines.  Here, Sue tries (and nearly fails) to demonstrate the technique.

By the time the junction with trail 50 was reached more wax was needed to see us on our way to Lac Philippe (pictured at the head of this posting) without too much of the ‘one slide forward, two slides back’ routine that seems to feature at times of thawing, re-freezing, and no new precipitation.

We aren’t complaining though, it’s lovely to be under pure blue skies in weather that’s not too cold (just two layers of clothing needed).

When we reached Renaud Cabin (below) it was deserted apart from a roaring fire, which meant that our sandwiches were quickly toasted on the cast iron of the fireplace.

Bluejays monopolised the feeder, with black squirrels and woodpeckers nipping in from time to time.  Red squirrels and the smaller birds appeared after everyone else had gorged themselves on the fresh seeds, probably left by whoever had lit the fire.

A couple arrived, and a chat and an hour later we were back off to P17, via trails 54, 50, 51 and 53 – all very pleasant after we had rewaxed our skis for a second time.

Shilly-Shallying at Shilly-Shally

OK Gibson, put your hands up, you are to blame for this entry, for most of the content of which I have to thank Charles Hodgson and the Guide Gatineau website.

As Charles says, “anyone who walks, bikes or skis the Ridge Road in Gatineau Park knows the intimate little cabin named Shilly-Shally.

It’s located less than half a kilometre north-west of where Ridge Road crosses the Fortune Parkway, a spot known to us as ‘Gossips’ Corner’.  Keogan shelter is nearby on the south-east side of the Parkway.

Shilly-Shally is a phrase meaning “unsure” and is thought to have arisen more than 300 years ago from people saying “Shall I? Shall I?” That’s according to The Oxford English Dictionary at least.

But apparently the Gatineau Park cabin wasn’t exactly named for that reason.

Before skiers took to the Gatineau Hills, farmers tried to eke out a living along Ridge Road and one of their old buildings eventually became a snug retreat for lucky skiers. At first though as a ski cabin, Shilly-Shally was not open to the public but rented out each year for what is reported to have been the princely fee of $15 per season.

There are a few theories as to why the cabin is called Shilly-Shally.

One is that it represents a halfway point along the trail and might be a place where skiers decided whether it was worth going the whole way or turning back.

This would tie into a meaning of indecision but begs the question of “half way to where?”

Shilly-shally occupies a place on the periphery of where Ottawa Ski Club skiers ventured. It seems unlikely that it was considered a significant halfway point along the Ridge Road since skiers would have to ski the entire way back along Ridge Road; plus, in the early years, Ridge Road was still a road—in use by sleighs, rutted and not always the first choice of skiers.

Another theory also relates to a meaning of “unsure” and I like this one better. The NCC only stopped leasing Shilly-Shally for private use two or three decades ago and so there are people still alive who leased it and one of these—Sheila Thomson—has her own tale about why the cabin is called Shilly-Shally.

She and several other teenage girls were some of the earlier skiers using the cabin and what they were unsure about was how to get the wood stove going.

Here’s what she says:

“In the 1940s my father repaired this old ramshackled building that was where Shilly-Shally is now for some of our friends to stay and it was a group of teenaged girls who didn’t know how to take care of themselves; the stove smoked and they didn’t know how to cut the wood. So he called the place Shilly-Shally and the name stuck. It was a kind of pun of “chilly chalet” because it didn’t keep warm.”

The image below was found in the 1958/59 Ottawa Ski Club Year Book and entitled “Shilly-Shally cabin, near Mud Lake.””

So the present cabin is probably quite modern…

Now then, that’s enough Shilly-Shallying around for one day!

The Khyber Pass

Today’s (Tuesday’s) exertions took Sue, Tim and me (Ken and Helen having both gone to work) to P7, Kingsmere, for a sunny 22 km ski, mainly along Ridge Road.

Here, two popular cabins, Shilly-Shally and Huron, are linked by a steepish hill, pictured above, that is known as the Khyber Pass.  It was quite difficult to climb in today’s icy conditions, but a joy to descend later in the day.

Shilly-Shally was host this morning to this lone red squirrel, and to nuthatches, woodpeckers and chickadees (like great tits) on the feeder.

It always seems strange to me that red, black and grey squirrels appear to live happily side by side over here, whereas in the UK the red squirrels are perceived to be an oppressed minority.  Perhaps it’s all to do with habitat.

It was about minus 6C in the Park today, with wind chill taking the temperature to around minus 15C.  However, in the calm of the trees under a warm sun it was very pleasant.  Here, Sue luxuriates in the sunshine shortly before an arduous passage along icy trail 1B, on which we worked up an appetite for lunch at Huron Cabin.

It was really noticeable today how friendly everyone was compared with the weekend ambience amongst visitors to Gatineau Park.  It’s much nicer here mid week, though at weekends you are much more likely to bump into someone you know…

Monday 6 February 2012 – A Short Ski from P3

Just 15 minutes from home, Parking Lot P3, on the eastern edge of Gatineau Park, is just about our closest trail head.  It’s not generally a preferred venue despite the good trails, as there are no convenient cabins for lunch stops.  But today we just wanted a brief bit of exercise to punctuate what is essentially our annual ‘beach’ holiday.  So Helen joined Sue and me for a 12 km saunter from P3, along #5 for a while, then back along Gatineau Parkway.

You can see from the above picture how close these cross-country ski trails are to the centre of Ottawa.  The image below is just five minutes further along the trail, after diving off onto #5, still very close to the centre of town.

So, we enjoyed another sunny day on the trail.  It was however unseasonably warm, rising to around 6C in Ottawa, a record for this time of year.  At least it didn’t rain, though!

Back at home, it’s probably colder, but the season of unhappy news continues.  Dot (my mother) has made a habit of falling over kerbs and is back in hospital recovering from her second hip replacement within twelve months.  We wish her a speedy recovery.  Meanwhile our condolences go to Pam, whose husband Len has died after a long illness.

We are pleased however to hear that John, who I visited on my way to Tyndrum a couple of weeks ago, has been putting ‘Poor Michael’ through his paces, and we also hope that Sue’s aunt and uncle, Rachael and Frank, have enjoyed their own cross-country skiing trip to northern Italy.  They are possibly, in their own understated sort of way, the fittest of the lot of us.  Keep it up, R+F!

Ski Weekend

It has been a lovely weekend in Gatineau Park.  I’ve written more than enough about our recent trips to this area – here – so this year it’ll just be a few pictures and some brief notes.

After our 18 hour journey on Friday, including a two hour delay at Newark and subsequent immaculate views of New York after dusk, Sue and I were pleased to don skis for enjoyable trips with Helen into the Park.  Conditions were gentle – minus 7C on Saturday, minus 5C (but cloudier) on Sunday.  Care with feet meant that last year’s severe blisters weren’t repeated; ‘kill or cure’ cured my knee injury; and Sue’s neck problem didn’t prevent her from enjoying being back on her planks.

Bohemian Waxwings were out in force in view of the header picture, taken on the escarpment above Ottawa, at Champlain Lookout, but the only deer we saw was a carcass.

Ski conditions are excellent, but may not stay that way, so there were lots of folk out this weekend.  On Saturday we parked at P9 and enjoyed a 17 km trip around the Burma Road to the Lookout, and on to Huron Cabin, which was quite busy, as you can surmise from the ski rack shown below.  Conditions for our return to P9 down Fortune Parkway were fast, reaching a steady 30kph in the groomed tracks.  Which is quite exciting!

Sunday saw us squeezing into P16 and taking a 15 km there and back (with 19 km knobs on for me) route down trail 50 to the junction with trail 52, before returning via Herridge Cabin, where Sue and Helen are pictured below, on a somewhat greyer day than Sunny Saturday.  Ken and Michael joined us there for lunch, having set off earlier on a final short (30 km) training outing for next week’s Canadian Ski Marathon, which the rest of us are giving a miss this year.

Friday 3 February 2012 – British Mountains

We passed over here yesterday.  A fine view.  But where is it?

Anyway, it looks like a fantastic weekend for strapping on the crampons, grabbing the ice axes, and having fun.

Enjoy!

Jacob – 9 Months, and reports of a New Arrival

The old Vaude papoose has been lent to a friend, and last Saturday Jake graduated to a new transportation system, in which he sits in a backpack, facing forwards.  We’ve known children object to this, but he was inserted without complaint, looked around for a while, then went to sleep, like his mum (Kate) used to do in a more rudimentary version of this kit.

He’s just been woken in order to be transferred to a car seat, and Sue managed to capture this ‘not too grumpy’ image.

Meanwhile, on 1 February (yesterday) Kate’s cousin Ellie managed to ‘cough up’ her own little boy after a couple of hours hard work in her living room, making me a Great Uncle (for the second time, actually).  Congratulations, Ellie.

Friday 27 January 2012 – A Long Preston Amble

I pottered up to Long Preston for a morning stroll with Heather, of TGO Challenge fame.  It had snowed overnight above around 250 metres, but everything was rather soggy and sunshine was intermittent at best.  I’ve been looking enviously at all the wonderful photos from people who managed to get out on the following day (Saturday), but hey – we had a nice walk, and my knee survived.

Only a few pictures were taken, and those worth retaining were all taken from about the same spot – a small col to the east of Sugar Loaf Hill, from where the rugged outline of Attermire Scar provides a stunning backdrop, and there are also good views back down towards Ribblesdale.

Our brief glimpse of the sun at this, our far point of the walk, was soon eclipsed by the blackness of a rain laden sky which thankfully kept its counsel (just about) until we were able to take cover in Heather’s house, where tasty Welsh rarebit and salad was comfortably washed down with a welcome mug of tea.

On the way back to Long Preston we passed The Hawes, a 100 acre site where native broadleaf woodland was planted in 2003.  The site, which Heather thinks has recently changed owners, is intended to attract a wide variety of wildlife, and welcomes visitors.

Further along the track, Bookilber Barn, wrecked for many years after a fire, has been converted into luxury holiday accommodation for up to 12 people.  Strangely, I’m unable to get any idea of prices from its website!

Here’s the route we took – a very amenable little excursion from Long Preston - 14km, 270 metres ascent, taking a leisurely 3 hours.

Thanks for your company, Heather, I enjoyed this short outing.

The rest of the pictures are here.

Thursday 26 January 2012 – Audlem to Nantwich – A Stroll along the Shropshire Union Canal

Dave and I had planned this little excursion over some Christmas jollities, and our plans actually came to fruition, with Andrew joining us for a short stroll alongside a canal.

The 12.05pm 'number 73' from Nantwich bus station took about 25 minutes to deliver us to St James' Church in Audlem. Outside the Gothic church, which dates from around 1278, is a pillared buttermarket, built in 1733, next to which is a 'bear stone', to which a bear was chained whilst men paid fees for their dogs to bait it.

There are plenty of pubs in Audlem.  Today we chose the Shroppie Fly, a former granary warehouse that has only relatively recently been converted into a pub.  The bar is made out of the original Shroppie Fly – a grain carrying barge that used to work the canal.  A log fire roared in the middle of the lounge.  Good ale, and bacon and egg butties, prepared us for the cool but bright weather outside, but we were still reluctant to venture from the cosy warmth…

The large crane outside the pub is a relic from the past – it was used for loading and unloading, involving the canal and a now defunct railway.  In days past a cheese boat sailed to Manchester; every Saturday morning local farmers would cart their cheeses down here for loading.

Lock 13, just outside the pub, is the lowest of a flight of locks that descends into Audlem from the south, ensuring good business for Audlem's hostelries, and especially this one.

Today’s stroll was basically just along the towpath, in a northerly direction to Nantwich.  The sun was on our backs, casting long shadows.  Beyond Moss Hall – a timber-framed manor house dating from C17 - clear views to the north east on this cool January day drew the eye as far as the western edges of the Peak District.

A Thomas Telford aqueduct sees the canal over the River Weaver, far below, with an information board disclosing a few of the birds you can expect to spot hereabouts.  Today there were large groups of Canada Geese, mallards, moorhens, kestrel, sparrowhawk, mute swans, rooks, crows, wood pigeons, starlings, numerous hedgerow birds, and back in Nantwich the brief sighting of an unmistakable Little Grebe or ‘Dabchick’.

A new marina has opened on the west bank of the canal.  Lots of boats are clearly stored there for the winter, and some were being lovingly maintained/restored as we passed by.  Further on, this lone tree, home to a few rooks or carrion crows, caught my eye.

Milestones are judiciously placed to nudge travellers along their way…

At the height of the canal era, fast ‘fly-boats’ would speed along here, between Birmingham and Ellesmere Port, carrying up to 25 tons of goods such as butter, cheese, ham and grain from the farming communities, and coal, timber and limestone from industrial centres.  To make the journey as fast as possible they travelled through the night, with the aid of huge oil lamps.

The Shropshire Union Canal Society has provided frequent facilities for 'cruisers' – on this stretch there’s a whole series of picnic benches with frames for disposable BBQs - making no doubt for a leisurely and convivial summer's evening scene.

Half way along our walk we encountered a top secret diversion. It was a difficult job, but after some debate we cracked the code and successfully worked out the secret hieroglyphic that pointed us towards the ‘bunker’.

Sadly, the location (see map below) is so secret that people only seem to be able to find the place at weekends during the winter months.  It was locked up and we were unable to spy on any secret goings on.  The Secret Bunker would however provide an interesting diversion should this walk be attempted at a weekend or in the summer.  The website is quite fun in itself!

Soon we were back beside the canal, heading towards Nantwich again and passing under the railway before taking a right turn away from the canal.

Arriving at a pedestrian crossing, in the absence of a lollipop man a decision was made not to attempt to cross in front of the traffic.

A pleasant stroll through the market town of Nantwich, where St Mary's Church is known by some as the 'Cathedral of South Cheshire' returned us to our cars, judiciously placed in a leafy suburb next to a welcoming tea shop (aka chez Dave and Maggi).

Here’s our route – 14 km in about 3 hours:

Very enjoyable too – here’s a slideshow with some of the same text and a few more images.

A Weekend in Tyndrum – 21/22 January 2012

Oops, I’ve got a week behind!  Sorry!

Annual trips to Canada and a variety of other factors have resulted in the winter bunkhouse weekends that I was in the habit of organising being missed for the last few years.  That’s a shame, as they were enjoyable affairs.  But this year our visit to Canada is later than usual, so I was delighted to be able to tag along on this XXL Hillwalkers Club weekend based at the By The Way Hostel in Tyndrum.

A leisurely journey up north in constant rain (perhaps the reason for the lack of traffic) on Friday afternoon was punctuated for me by afternoon tea and Shirley’s excellent carrot cake, with John in Kilmarnock.  Well worth the effort.  We were classmates at Guisborough Grammar School and hadn’t crossed paths for nearly 13 years.  John’s garage is a motor cycle museum – the WW1 bike he is currently working on looked magnificent.

Anyway, I was soon enjoying a giant burger and chips in the Real Food Cafe, in the excellent company of a number of XXLers.

By Saturday morning it was still raining and clearly blustery high up.  Twenty or so of us set off in different directions, mainly with modest objectives, all carefully letting others know where we were going.  I joined a small group whose plan was to venture to the summits of two nearby 2000 foot hills, Meall Odhar and Fiarach, having decided that my original aim to get to the loftier 3053 ft summit of Beinn Chabhair was perhaps a little optimistic.

Those who hadn't started in waterproofs soon rectified their omissions as our group of seven took the forest track towards Cononish, the site of a proposed gold mine, then up over easy rough ground to an obvious fire break. Meall Odhar lurked easy looking above.

Through the firebreak, we ascended for a distance of about 200 metres, keeping to the left of the stream, before taking a right and a left and rising to a long rake left onto an open hillside with fine views towards Beinn Dubhchraig, Ben Oss and Ben Lui.

"Grim up there!" muttered Alastair, who with Margriet not feeling too well, strained to keep the group together.

After a while, six of us reached Meall Odhar summit - 656 metres – pictured above.  Margriet assures us that she also made it to the top, a bit late, but she did join us later for lunch.

That's Beinn Ghuirn (880 metres) in the background - I think Jerry made it to that summit before the wind strengthened (it was merely breezy at this point).

We soon turned tail – looking ahead to our next objective, Fiarach, whose 652 metre summit presented itself as an easy looking little bobble on the near horizon.

Lunch was taken in a sheltered spot at the foot of the firebreak.

The convex slopes of Fiarach soon beckoned for all apart from Margriet - “I’ve already been up there” she announced “I’m going to have a relaxing afternoon”.  The rest of us safely negotiated a nail biting river crossing (see map below) before meandering up the easy convex slopes of Fiarach.

By now it was rather windy; we tried to stay in the lee of the wind, heading past a small waterfall towards a high point in the distance.

We reached that high point. The wind pinned us down. It was still about 500 metres across the plateau to the true summit, with very little more ascent.  Alastair and I waited for the others to arrive.  He crawled over to them.  I tried to stand – a mistake - and twisted my knee with the sickening tweak that indicates real damage, as I was blown across the hillside. Luckily, we had deliberately chosen this easy hill with no significant crags.

I watched as Simon retreated on hands and knees in search of less extreme conditions.  Meanwhile, Alison’s rucksack had been opened by the wind.  Its contents floated around the top of the hill for a while before mainly being recovered by a manically crawling rescue party.

It was a challenge to move anywhere - Alastair reckoned the wind was around 70 mph.

Trying to escape from being pinned down, we mainly crawled/bumslid to a slightly calmer area before descending on easier ground.

I struggled with my sprained knee, and was glad to (eventually) reach the relative calm of the valley and the easy West Highland Way path, from which there were good views back to Meall Odhar and Beinn Ghuirn.

In 1306 the Battle of Dalrigh took place near here.  Clan MacDougall’s warriors defeated Robert the Bruce and in the process gained a royal jewel called the Brooch of Lorn.  Robert the Bruce had recently killed the Red Comyn, a rival to the Scottish Throne.  After losing the battle of Methven in June 1306 he fled into the Highlands, eventually making his way into MacDougall territory. Unfortunately for Robert the chief of the MacDougalls was a relative of Red Comyn. A simple stone bench beside the West Highland Way marks what is believed to be the site of the battle.

Nearby is the ‘Loch of the Legend of the Lost Sword'. It is said that Robert the Bruce ordered his men to fling their weapons into the loch to lighten their load. Amongst the weapons were his massive sword, which was reputed to have been between five and nine feet in length.

We soon passed a vegetation-free scar that marks the site of a lead crushing plant; minerals that leached into the ground have prevented vegetation from growing for many years in this area that is rich with minerals.  The proposed gold mine at Cononish is indeed just ‘up the road’.

It was something of a relief to return to the sanctity of the hostel by 4pm, leaving plenty of time to prepare for a most enjoyable ‘Burns Supper’.  We discovered that only those with modest aspirations for the day had succeeded in their objectives, and others had like us failed to reach summits that barely exceed 2000 feet.  Our aspirant Munroists had all been driven back at around 700 to 800 metres.

Here’s our route: 18km, approx 1000 metres ascent, 6hrs 45mins.

Stuart's Burns Night Speech made for a perfect grace, before we were tucking into an excellent Burns Supper and the camera took cover for the night.  This was the camera that was recently ‘drowned’ following its dunking in a sink for a few minutes after a mountain bike ride.  Total immersion in a bowl of rice seems to have revived it.  Today was too wet for me to risk a more pricey possession!

Sunday 22 January – saw me leaving for home after breakfast.  The sprained knee needed rest, not exercise.

It also benefited from frequent stops, this one just about catching sunrise over the Crianlarich Hills.

The David Stirling Memorial - unveiled in September 2011- celebrates the 70th Anniversary of the formation of the SAS (Special Air Services) Regiment, with new plaques in remembrance of the Regiment’s casualties.

The Memorial enjoys a fine panoramic view to the west, which for a short period will grace the head of these pages.

Readers will be pleased to hear that my sprained knee is slowly improving.  I hope it recovers as well as the Ixus 105 camera that was used for Saturday’s photos.  There’s an album covering the whole weekend that can be viewed as a Picasa slideshow (39 images) here.

This will, I’m sure, be remembered for some time as a trip when numerous folk who had climbed all the Munros, many of them in winter conditions, failed to summit the small hillock known as Fiarach.  Few can boast of such a dramatic failure!

Wednesday 18 January 2012 – The Lancashire Trail (Part 4) – Rivington to Abbey Village

The East Lancs LDWA’s Lancashire Trail series of walks is gaining in momentum.  An excellent turnout of 12 walkers on a dreich day stretched the skills of our car parking attendant as he strove to avoid conflict with neighbours and blocked drives.

Eventually Allan arrived and we started off from Reg’s house to narrowly miss the 125 bus to Rivington. Standing outside a shop that was selling hot pies and creamy cakes didn’t appeal to Reg, so we passed the time before the next bus by strolling along to another stop.

We started off where we finished on 13 December, past Norman's friend, the wet wallaby of Dryfield Lane.  It was a slow start.  Waterproof clothing was needed.  The paths were muddy.  Toilets at Rivington Lower Barn were … convenient.

A pleasant stroll alongside Rivington Reservoirs brought us out near Alance Bridge, where the picture above was taken.  Then Anglezarke Reservoir was our companion until a splinter movement, led by R Norman (60, and looking every day of it) saw Norman sloshing through a field and four others strolling along a dryish path, leaving Reg and his disciples to trudge through the deep mud of an alternative, newly laid, trail beside the River Goit. 

Our 'alternative' route to White Coppice soon crossed a marshy area where Norman was temporarily stranded on a pontoon masquerading as a footbridge linking two giant puddles.

White Coppice cricket pitch appeared – we enjoyed a quintessential English village scene from our lunch spot on the long bench under the pavilion’s verandah.  Just the sunshine and the players were absent.

Two other walkers sat miserably on a distant bench in the rain.  We would have embraced their presence had they asked, but they waited for us to leave before taking adjourning to the comfort of the pavilion.

Norman friskily led half the group up the direct route beside Dean Black Brook, but progress from now on was rather slow as Reg had failed to inflate his energy bank before setting off after lunch.  Clearly two fudge brownies were not enough (even though most others only got one!).

We spent a while at the ruin of Drinkwaters Farm, where Joe's Cup received a donation before being replaced in its home deep within an old dry-stone wall.  I recently wrote about this here.

It was a romp from the ruined farm to the summit of Great Hill (380 metres), where these old timers pottered around the X shaped windbreak whilst awaiting the arrival of their leader.

Despite the dull day, the grassland was a lovely colour on the descent towards Abbey Village.  Our route went left past the trees above Reg’s head (see below), then right alongside the distant wall that leads towards the woodland.  Long-time readers of these pages may recall that the top of Darwen Tower blew off a while ago – it appears here in the distance, with a newly refurbished top (turret?) that I’ll visit soon.

Allan, Reg and I fell well behind as we sauntered down the hill towards Roddlesworth Woods, where moss covered exposed roots amidst a bedding of beech leaves make for a very pretty winter’s scene beside the River Roddlesworth.

Norman’s power-crazed mind couldn’t restrain him from leading his group of nine around the north side of Roddlesworth Reservoir, whilst Reg, Allan and I enjoyed the colourful woods to the south.

Soon we were on the last lap to the Hare & Hounds at Abbey Village, where the three of us could see Norman’s men outside, with freshly charged glasses.  “We’ve got a good five minutes before the 3.19 bus to Wigan” observed Reg, at 3.12, when the bus arrived.  Some frantic gulping was necessary, and some beer went to waste, only Peter having the presence of mind to slowly sip his pint to the dregs whilst waiting for the sudden queue for bus tickets to subside…

It remains a mystery as to why the bus timetable carried by the driver differed significantly from the one displayed at the bus stop.  Passengers need to arrive about ten minutes early in order to avoid missing the bus!

Here’s our route for the day – 18km, 400 metres ascent, in about 5 hours including stops.

A short (27 images) slideshow is here, and Reg’s take on events is on this web page.

Two bus rides got us fairly swiftly back to ‘chez Reg’ where afternoon tea with scones went down a treat.  Thanks Reg, and Saro, for your hospitality for the second time in a month.

For anyone interested, the next stage of this trail will see our feet on Wednesday 22 February.  Let me know if you want details in due course, or get them from the LDWA website.

For completeness, here’s my Garmin Gadget’s version of today’s route:

Missing Hillwalker – Grant Cunliffe

I do not take pleasure in posting this entry.  Fellow TGO Challenger and ‘Dales Walker’ Heather T-S has asked me to reiterate the message she sent out earlier today.  It’s self-explanatory.

“URGENT: A serious message to all those out Winter Walking/Mountaineering or Skiing in the Cairngorms - Missing Hillwalker, Grant Cunliffe. 
A local friend, Grant Cunliffe, is missing and despite a full search by several Mountain Rescue Teams and Helicopters he has not yet been found. I gather he left his sleeping bag at Corrour Bothy having gone through the Lairig Ghru, which suggests he expected to use the bothy as a base.

I do not have details of his route but he was due home on Saturday after a couple of days hillwalking. He may have gone through Cornice, be on the Plateau or be in a gully; the current avalanche hazard is considerable in areas with NE to SE aspect (please see www.sais.gov.uk  for up-to-date information). He has Winter skills and it seems he had a snow shovel with him (now thought to be unlikely) so he may have had to dig in. It was very windy on Saturday so snow will have blown into lee areas creating some windslab.

The Northern Constabulary have asked that if any member of the public has seen Grant since last Wednesday (18th Jan) to notify them immediately on 01479 810222. Please see http://www.northern.police.uk/News-and-Media/news-item.htm?item_id=PR4115_2012 for more details.

If anyone can post this onto other sites/blogs or forward to others known to be walking in the area,  etc I would be grateful.  I have posted a message onto TGO Challenge Message Board & Emily has put on TGO’s Facebook & Twitter pages. 

It is a shock after just returning from trip to Lochaber myself as know the winds on Saturday were dreadful* so I fear the worst if he was already in trouble.

Best wishes to all

Heather”

I’m sure our thoughts are with Grant and his family, and that we all hope he is found soon.

Martin

* – I also experienced these winds – we were pinned down at 600 metres for a while.

Test

It seems that my Google account has been disabled and my blog has been deleted, so you may never read this.

But I’m alive and well, if invisible!

Martin

PS – And if you do read this the blog may even have revived!

Joe’s Cup

 

The old enemy (time) has delayed the write up of my continuing perambulation along the Lancashire Trail with East Lancs LDWA group.  I’ll write about that next week, but here’s a highlight from Wednesday’s ‘plod’.

On the moor above the quintessential English village of White Coppice, stands the ruin of Drinkwaters Farm.  Norman claims to have known the old farmer – he probably hastened the poor man to an early grave!  The farm was so named because of a nearby spring which still flows, rather gently, just below the path from the summit of Great Hill.

Not far from the farm ruins is a small, discrete memorial to a local fell runner, Joe Whitter (1939-1991).

Joe, a member of Wigan Phoenix,  was one of Lancashire’s true fell running characters well known for his ultra-distance runs over these moors. The spring at Drinkwaters was used regularly by Joe and his companions on Sunday morning runs.  The February 1992 Fellrunner magazine contained an obituary where it was observed

“Joe Whitter was one of those essential characters that make fell running what it is. The Anglezarke Moors will be a poorer place without him and he will be sadly missed. Typically, Joe requested his ashes be scattered on the moors he loved, and there are many fell runners who will now be unable to run past Drinkwaters on Great Hill without remembering him.”

Norman seems now to have taken over custodial duties in relation to the cup, which is now used to collect small donations – here Anne is doing just that, making a donation.  With my money!  I’m sure it’ll go to a good cause.

Much of the text for this posting was taken from Ian Charters’ excellent running blog – here – I do hope Ian doesn’t mind.

I’m heading north for the weekend in a few minutes, so will be back next week with a fuller report on Wednesday’s walk from Rivington to Abbey Village.

Have a great weekend, everyone.

Five Days of Winter Sunshine

The wet weather had to end sometime, and the forecast of fine weather was reliable enough to allow Rick, Stuart, JJ and me to enjoy a superb day in the Lake District on Friday.

The good weather continued until Wednesday morning, when we woke to fine drizzle from a low cloud.  I’m slightly ashamed not to have taken better advantage of the fineness, but the Parkrun on Saturday was under clear skies, and JJ joined Sue and me for a very pleasant 10km stroll to Dunham Park and on to Altrincham on Sunday.  The header image is from Dunham’s Winter Garden, and there’s a slideshow from that walk/visit here.

Monday saw me take advantage of the continuing fine, frosty conditions via a bike ride to Lymm and back, but the small camera (Canon Ixus 105) that I thought had dried out after its drowning last week decided to remain poorly, so no images of a lovely sunrise.  All was well until the sun caught the frozen mud of the towpath.  The surface couple of millimetres soon thawed sufficiently to be dragged up by each turn of the wheels.  It was like cycling through glue.  Glue that was thrown up and gradually enveloped both cycle and rider!  So whilst the conditions looked perfect for a ride, they were actually the opposite.  To cap it, our outdoor hose was frozen, so cleaning was laboriously attempted (‘achieved’ is not the correct word) using buckets of warm water to swill the mud…

Tuesday was another nice day, that somehow disappeared in a fog of forgotten activity.

And so to Wednesday, and fine drizzle from a low cloud – more of that later…