The Aqueduct

This aqueduct, situated on the Levada dos Piornais at the northern end of the Socorridos Valley, is pictured from the furthest point I reached up this levada today. Though Barry and Dave continued for a short way further, the vertiginous path dictated that I turn at this point.

The aqueduct looks quite substantial. It is. The problem for me is that is has only very flimsy rails and it isn't much more than three feet wide. Over half of that width is taken up by the water channel, leaving a choice of two nine inch parapets for the walker to choose from. I chose the seaward parapet as it was furthest from the unruly barking dogs.

Sue reports that it rained in Funchal today. That must have been whilst the LoTSW contingent were enjoying elevenses in a bar or when, a little later, they were found to be dining in the tunnel that was the subject of the previous posting.

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Lunch on a Levada

Dave and Barry - senior members of this LoTSW trio - enjoy a rare moment in a levada tunnel, where lunch was taken in this sheltered spot on a cliff face. Such is the Levada dos Piomais.

The rare moment relates to the 'light shower' we are experiencing. Dave and I don't usually encounter rain. It must be Barry's fault!

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Friday 20 November 2009 – Last Vestiges of Autumn

It’s all looking a bit bare just now, so whilst it is sunny here, we are off to warmer climes for a while.

I’ll be reporting briefly from there…

Hello

Hello, we are still here, fighting off a virus.

It’s a computer ailment and has taken up far too much of my time this week.

Darren is helping, but we’ll be taking a break tomorrow, for a week, when the Blackberry thingy will take over, and that hasn’t got a virus.

Meanwhile I’ve just about caught up with some reading, and was entertained by this from Martin Rye:

and this from Wiggers World (hope Tom is feeling better):

I’ve never been up the Eiger, but we frequently beat out the rhythm of the Animals whilst hiking over the Yorkshire Moors in the old days, when Cream, John Mayall and Zoot Money were all regulars at our favourite music venue – Redcar Jazz Club.

Finally, Adventure Travel magazine occasionally comes up with a little nugget, such as this:

It hasn’t rained here in Timperley today, but apparently the Lake District has rather copped it.  Commiserations go to the soggy residents, and to students on a Mountain Leaders Training Course, who are currently out on an ‘expedition’.  No doubt Heather T-S will come through with flying colours!

Sunday 15 November 2009 – The Calf in Cloud

Mike joined Andrew and me on a trip up The Calf back on 20th July.  His new project – climbing the Yorkshire 2000 footers – required him to climb it again.

So Mike, Bruno and I duly assembled outside the Cross Keys Temperance Inn at 9.30 am today.

Sun was forecast.

I’ve tried to over-expose these shots to give the impression of sunshine, which I am assured by Sue bathed Timperley all day.

As you can see, the horses fancied Bruno, but he wasn’t sure…

Then it started to rain.  I’ve managed to digitally wipe the water from the lens, though Mike may not have been so lucky as his camera had lost the will to ‘view’ (ie its LCD monitor had died, showing a constant image of a blobby cloud).

Lots of water was cascading down the Spout.  A foursome who had set off with us, and gone ahead, were already returning to the valley.

The Pie Man needed a snack.  He claimed it was a quiche, but it looked more like a pie to me.  Bruno likes pies.  He ate some.

Mike lost his compass, but luckily I had one, so we managed to locate The Calf’s 676 metre summit.  This despite the distraction of Mike’s camera suffering heart failure.  After a selection of “b*****d, I thought I’d recharged them” remarks from Mike as he fiddled with a selection of batteries, the camera finally zz’d back into its own version of pathetic death throey noises.

Q:  “Do you think it will last until Christmas?”  A:  “No.”

Thanks go to a conveniently encountered man with a SRC1 walking pole, for composing the above masterpiece.

Meanwhile, the rain had relented, though in the cool, breezy conditions we were happy to keep waterproofs installed for the rest of our stroll.

Bruno dried out as well, though at the far point of our walk, by Bowerdale Beck, he developed a severe limp.  “Oh s**t” said Mike, “I’m not carrying him back from here.”

Meanwhile, Mike seemed to become aware of his impending strangulation, which turned out to be the errant compass – in its efforts to remind Mike of its existence it was slowly tightening its grip by winding its way around his throat.  It’s usually Bruno who does this – by running in circles with his lead gradually wrapping its way around the unsuspecting traveller.

Large lumps of jelly, with the consistency of wallpaper paste, lay beside the path.  Mike knows about these things – apparently its source is a mystery (the puking birds theory seems a trifle unlikely!), but it does contain organic material.  John Wyndham would have a field day…

We gave the limping Bruno a five minute break.  He went to sleep.  Then we embarked on the steep ascent of Yarlside, ready to abandon the dog if he couldn’t keep up.  Luckily, he’d forgotten that he had a limp, and he proceeded to haul Mike up the hill, our second Marilyn of the day, (Mike’s an ardent ‘Bagger’).

The summit of Yarlside was free of clag, but in the dull weather the views were unremarkable.  The descent was steep.  “This would be good in snow” we agreed, surveying the smooth, steep hillside.  It was wet and slippery.  We sat down and raced each other to the bottom, enjoying the bum-warming qualities of the friction of overtrousers on wet moss.

Here’s our route – if the weather had been better we’d have included Hazelgill Knott as well – 13 km, 890 metres of ascent, taking just over 5 hours.

We spent a pleasant hour in Cross Keys Temperance Inn – surprisingly hospitable despite the lack of beer, with coffees, a tasty scone for me, and a glass of mysterious red liquid that seemed to bring Mike back to life.

Then we interrupted a photo shoot and went home.

The full slide show, principally for Mike’s benefit, is here.  And his report on our day out is here.

Thursday 12 November 2009 – A Winter Circuit from Alstonefield

Blue skies greeted this Timperley resident this morning.  So he leapt into the car and sidled off to Alstonefield, where three free car parks buck the trend of expensive ‘Pay and Display’ in the Peak District.

After setting off at 9.20 past the church in cool sunshine, I slid down dew laden paths to Milldale, whilst the mist rolled in.

By the time I emerged onto the Tissington Trail, the conditions were distinctly ‘atmospheric’.

Leaving the Trail, after chattering to Blue Tits, Great Tits, Blackbirds and Goldfinches, I headed towards sunlit Biggin, but failed to catch much of the sunlight as cloud from the next weather front imperceptibly rolled in to replace the mist.

It was only 11.30 – the doors of the Waterloo Inn were still shut.  I would have to wait for a taste of Stuart’s Black Sheep bitter.

A good track led past this lovingly reconstructed dry stone wall.

Soon the view down to Wolfscote Dale revealed a very Autumnal scene, with the remaining foliage mainly very yellowy and ready to drop, as it is in Timperley.

Mallards on the River Dove were being hassled by a pair of Goosander, but this Dipper, and a rather scruffy Heron (maybe it was trying to stay warm) were very much minding their own business.

 

Wolfscote is a popular dale.  After seeing virtually nobody for three hours, I met a procession of folk heading for a late lunch in Hartington.

The sun had disappeared long before I reached my crossing point – Gipsy Bank Bridge.  Gipsy Bank, just beyond, is a bit of a haul…

At the top of the hill a Raven sat on a fence post, (‘pruk’, ‘pruk’), watching a field of munching cattle that were clearly aware of the direction of the prevailing weather.

But the rain kept off until after I had passed the Alstonefield Dinosaur on my way back to reach the car by soon after 1 pm.

It’s a 17 km route, with 560 metres ascent, for which you should allow around four hours.

I took a few more snaps – there’s a (admittedly pretty ordinary) slide show with 30 pictures here.

Anyone wishing to join us on a re-run of this walk should meet outside the small car park by the public toilets in Alstonefield at 10.00 am on Sunday 13 December.  Lunch has been booked at the Waterloo Inn, so you need to contact me in advance (use the ‘Contact us’ button here) to get menu details and make a choice.

Tuesday 10 November 2009 – Settle to Malham and back

After yesterday’s sunshine, Mike Knipe and I braved the morning dreichness to rendezvous in Settle.  Booth’s car park was a suitable rendezvous point, but in the absence of a café therein we wandered up the street to a deserted looking ‘Poppies’ café.  The coffee was good, and seated in the far corner were some familiar faces – John Towers and his wife.  ‘Out of context’ (ie not on the TGO Challenge) Mike and I were greeted by baffled looks, as if we had just arrived from the moon!  John’s twin brother David soon arrived, and he and Mike burbled on for a while about their forthcoming 20th and 10th Challenges respectively, before Mike and I released ourselves into the misty atmosphere and rescued Bruno (Superdawg) from beneath a picnic table.

During our sojourn in the café the light rain had ceased, so we enjoyed a dry stroll to Malham and back, albeit in rather seriously overcastness.

Bruno took delight in being out on the hill, dragging his master up the path out of Settle.

The town remained in a November pall of smoke tainted vapour.

 
Up at Attermire, Mike pointed out some iron debris that he claimed had been used in wartime anti tank testing.

If they were testing the ‘bullets’, they passed, but if they were testing the armour plating – I’m sorry, but it failed!

Mike enjoyed one of his customary mid-morning snacks….

…before diving down a cave.  There are many caves in this area – you are reprieved from my intended discourse on the ones we passed, due to the ‘Malham and Penyghent’ volume of ‘Northern Caves’ being ‘in preparation’ during my ‘caving phase’, so I’ll leave any extra information to Mike*.  We did get quite muddy, though, and Bruno the cave dog was pleased to return to the surface as he hadn’t been provided with a lamp.

We probably managed just 10-15 metres down here, Miner’s Hole – in the vicinity of Pikedaw Calamine caverns, where gritstone meets limestone to provide numerous underground cave systems.

We passed a manhole cover under which a 23 metre ladder – about 9 inches wide, disappeared into the murky depths of a bell shaped cavern.  Bruno declined the invitation to go down this, and a few minutes later decided he didn’t want to fetch this pair of electrically powered boots that had been put on a ‘washing line’ high above the path.

The Buck Inn welcomed us in, mud, dog and even Mike, to its warm interior and an excellent dose of Skipton Brewery’s Copper Kettle bitter.  Here we met another group of ramblers – virtually the only folk we saw all day.

After stumbling off for more pies, we approached the magnificent rock wall of Malham Cove.  Mike fantasized about the waterfall that must once have flowed over here, and about his previous life as a mountaineer, when he climbed here.

Today we climbed it by a different route, as Bruno had forgotten the rope, though he did lead his boss over some quite difficult terrain when he got the chance.

A fair part of the afternoon was spent on a well surfaced track that led from Langscar Gate, to the north of Langcliffe Scar, all the way to Jubilee Cave and beyond, whence we took a slithery footpath above Langcliffe, heading for the rapidly brightening lamps of Settle.

Here’s an outline of our 23 km route, with 830 metres ascent, taking around 7 hours, including some nice long breaks.

An excellent day out.  Thanks for your company, Mike. 

[Mike’s take on today’s walk, using the same photos but different text, is here.]

I believe we may meet again on Sunday 15 November for a walk up The Calf – meet at SD 698 969 at 9.30 am – all welcome.

* There’s no escape – Mike has emailed the cave data:

”Just to confirm the names and statistics of the caves on yesterday’s ramble:
The first one, which I thought was Spider Cave is actually Bivi Cave Grade 1 10 feet.
Pikedaw Calamine Caverns is 3200 feet Grade 2. The entrance pitch is 75 feet and there are several caverns : Cavern 84, Cavern 44 Cavern 104, The Great Shake, Mitchell's Cavern and an unnamed cavern containing the entrance pitch.
Miners Hole 240 feet Grade 2 (higher grade due to  crawls).
Jubilee Cave 300 feet Grade 1 - is actually 3 adjacent caves - excavations  found neolithic and celtic archeology.”

Autumn Sunshine in Timperley

Well, after many overcast days, we at last enjoyed wall to wall sunshine today.

Shame it was an ‘admin’ day.

Sunday 8 November 2009 – A Circuit from Burtonwood

I popped out for a stroll on a gloomy Sunday morning.  At least the rain kept off, though judging by the motorway spray it could have been chucking it down.

From the deserted car park of the Chapel House pub in the nondescript village of Burtonwood, where lots of smartly dressed middle aged folk were engaged in Remembrance Day activities, I headed across sodden fields towards the M62, beckoned by the distinctive outline of the Burtonwood Services building, and a large ‘IKEA’ sign.

The paths appeared rarely walked and were deserted today.  I bimbled on past broken signs and piles of rubbish (being close to Liverpool!), across fields planted with spring crops, eventually emerging from underneath the motorway into Sankey Valley Park.  Here, an avenue of birches leads the walker alongside Sankey Brook on the left and past the high fences of one of Warrington’s new industrial estates on the right.

The hedgerows around here were teeming with bird life; a buzzard, gliding between its favourite perches, flocks of starlings, chaffinches and more wary yellowhammers, chattering sparrows, black-headed and black-backed gulls, gaudy jays and distracted blackbirds.

The trees here are looking quite bare, leaving little cover for the birds.

The colours hereabouts reminded me of a car my dad once had - ‘Maestro Bronze’ perhaps?  No, I fear it was a rather ugly, mustard coloured Morris Marina.  Not my dad’s finest hour!

After crossing a footbridge, I headed alongside the brook, passing bushes laden with berries.

Soon I reached The Sankey Navigation (St Helens Canal), the first canal of the English Canal Age.  It opened in 1757, two years before the Bridgewater Canal, and was used mainly to transport coal from St Helens’ collieries and, more recently, sugar from the Sankey Sugar Refinery, to Liverpool for over 200 years.

After its closure in the 1960s it deteriorated rapidly, with some sections being completely filled in.  Recently some restoration has taken place, but some sections of the canal are only traceable by the outline of edging stone.

Winwick Dry Dock (below), made from sandstone, with stepped sides and curved ends is the only remaining dry dock on the canal.  The sleepers were for the traditional ‘Mersey Flat’ boats to rest on.  Once a boat was inside the dock the gates were closed and the water was drained through a culvert – very simple and effective.

Here’s a lock that was filled in but which has recently been ‘restored’.

The ‘winter crops’ (looks like grass to me – a townie) are currently flooded in places in these fields, but look healthy enough.

A winding path led back along a short section of fly-tipped road to a track, past some stables near a kingfisher pond, where a couple of horses were clearly joyous after being liberated from their warm stable into a field, and onto the road that led back to my start point in the centre of Burtonwood village, where the pub was still shut and its car park still empty.

This pleasant 10 km (6 mile) amble took me a leisurely 2¼ hours.

Here’s a brief outline – it’s based on Jen Darling’s ‘Around Sankey’ walk in her book – Walks in North Cheshire.  It’s covered by Explorer Map 276, which shows all the paths described.

Park in Burtonwood village and turn left from the front door of Chapel House pub, pass the church, then turn right down a footpath beyond the parish hall.

Soon reach fields and continue on to cross a track to more fields, to reach Tan House Lane.  Turn right then immediately left down Burtonwood Road.

Turn left before the road rises to cross the motorway, and head down the lane to Dial Post Farm.  Go straight on through the grotty farmyard and follow waymarks by the field edge, keeping to the right of the hedge.

Go straight on at one sign, then after a few metres follow a further sign, bearing right across the field towards a pylon.  On reaching the pylon, carry on through a wide gap in the hedge, along a track through the crops towards a lone tree then on to reach the M62.

Turn left, then right, under the motorway and into Sankey Valley Park.  Keeping the brook on your left and the industry to your right, continue on pleasant paths until a concrete bridge takes you left and over the brook.

Follow the path alongside the brook for a few hundred metres before leaving it in favour of a gravel track with the remains of the St Helens Canal between you and the railway.  Continue along here, appreciating the industrial heritage (information boards) until you come to an old canal building with 1841 written on its side.

Go under the M62 and down a gravel lane to the left of a scrap yard to reach a tarmac lane – Alder Lane.  Turn left and stroll past ugly fly-tipping to reach Sankey Brook again.  Bear right, and after about 50 metres take a path to the left, following the edge of a field with the hedge on your left.

After a while the path veers round to the right.  Continue in this direction briefly, before turning left along a track that leads through a copse and on to a T-junction.  Turn right, then immediately left to pass by stables before reaching the lane (Farmers Lane) that leads back into Burtonwood, where a left turn down Chapel Lane takes you back to the Chapel House pub.

Sunday 1 November 2009 – A Stroll from Cressbrook

Sue, David, Jacqui, Gill, Marcus and Gaynor were the ex-Jo’burg Hiking Club stalwarts who had assembled at Owl Cottage in Cressbrook for the weekend together with Woody.

I braved driving rain and flooded roads to reach them at around 9.45, in plenty of time to enjoy a coffee from the correct side of the rain lashed windows.

Being ‘fair weather walkers’, we fumbled.  Gill did this best, claiming for some time to have lost the boots in which she arrived back from the previous day’s walk.

“Perhaps I left them outside and someone stole them?” she enquired!

The rain eased, the boots miraculously reappeared.  It was time to go.

Sue didn’t want to get her library book and map wet, so the guide book was abandoned and I was given free rein.  My initial plan was binned – they did that walk yesterday; so we headed off towards Litton, sliding through woods and fields, restraining Woody from chasing the cows, and veering off towards Tideswell.

Tideswell is at the edge of one side of the White Peak map, my copy of which is disintegrated to the extent that removing it from the map case in even light rain is inadvisable.  As a result, we fell off the map at the wrong place.  Luckily, nobody noticed, the rain stopped and the sun came out as we strolled up the straight lane towards Water Lane, heading for Wheston.

Beyond Wheston, a rough lane, then tarmac, then another rough and flooded lane – we joined the Limestone Way here – led to fine views south over Miller’s Dale and the gem like scenery of the White Peak.

Having successfully negotiated the flooded track, we slipped down a steep, narrow path, across huge slippery stepping stones through a bog, to the delights of Miller’s Dale, namely the Anglers Rest, a haven for hikers as well as anglers.

There’s a hikers bar, where boots etc can be worn – the sort of place Mike Coldwell would like.  We lingered there for the best part of an hour and a half, joined for lunch by Marcus, who recent activities on the surgeon’s bench have driven him to decline such exercise as today’s in order to nurse his phantom pregnancy.

The stroll back to Cressbrook was delightful, starting across the rampant River Wye, then joining the Monsal Trail – along the course of the old Midland Railway that was opened (to Ruskin’s distress and disgust) in 1863 - for its scenic trip through Litton Mill Railway Cutting, where the 19th century engineers scythed through the 330 million year old rocks.

Here we are before leaving for Litton Mill:

Martin, Jacqui, Woody, Gill, Gaynor, Sue and David.

Jacqui and I go back nearly as far as to the last days of this railway in 1968, so it’s always good to meet up and reminisce.

A deep carpet of leaves led down (below) to Litton Mill, from where the river path was followed briefly before we ascended back to Cresswell, avoiding the habitually flooded section of the path.

Here’s the route – 14 km, 500 metres ascent, taking around 4 hours excluding stops.  A delightful little excursion.

A slide show (20 pictures) of the day’s exploits is here.