Tuesday 12 October 2010 - A Great British Ridge Walk - Number 23 – A Deepdale Circuit – Fairfield via Birks and St Sunday Crag and descent via Hart Crag and the Hartsop above How Ridge

Rick and Stuart, both recently retired from their all consuming careers, are enjoying regular walks in the Lake District.  They are following routes described in Bill Birkett’s brilliant work, ‘Complete Lakeland Fells’.  Today’s choice was ‘FAR 1’ – the Deepdale Horseshoe in an anti-clockwise direction, whereas Bill’s ‘Great British Ridge Walk No 23’ covers almost the same ground in the opposite direction.  Our chosen route actually included a couple of tops (‘Birketts’) not incorporated in route 23.

Descending from Kirkstone Pass towards Ullswater, we came upon a cloud inversion that saw us starting off from the Patterdale Hotel at 9.45am in mist.

In his youth, Rick was a class act on the running track.  He had forgotten that this was not a contest and set off at a burning pace up Arnison Crag.  This didn’t last – we took nearly 2.5 hours longer than Bill’s 5.25 hour estimate for this walk.

Our early speed did however extract us quickly from the mist, which continued to blanket Ullswater for most of the day.  Here, Rick and Stuart approach the 433 metre (1422 ft) summit of Arnison Crag.

It was truly wonderful, with blue skies above and mist lingering in the valleys on this windless day.  We were soon down to t-shirts for the lumpy path to Trough Head and the subsequent steep ascent to our second summit, Birks – 622 metres (2040 ft).

Hand towels would have been welcome – we were all dripping in the heat.  Luckily the gradient eased as we continued towards our third and fourth summits, Gavel Pike – 784 metres (2572 ft) – on the left – and St Sunday Crag – 841 metres (2758 ft) – centre.

Mist over Ullswater and to the east gave head-turning views, so we made slow progress.  Strange that the mist-shrouded views seemed more eye-catching than the normal views in which the lakes and valleys would be visible.

Once on the main trod from Grisedale we encountered quite a few folk on St Sunday Crag, beyond which we enjoyed a leisurely lunch amongst some kamikaze, non-biting flies.  Grisedale Tarn now lay ahead, with the Helvellyn massif to our right.  Beyond, Seat Sandal and the high peaks of the Lake District, with the distinctive bobble of Great Gable on the far horizon (to the right of the image below).

I’ve discovered that I was here 25 years ago to the day, on a Helvellyn/St Sunday Crag round from Patterdale.  Apparently I was too tired to go up Fairfield on that occasion!

After encountering a large group we enjoyed the scrambly (direct) ascent of our fifth summit, Cofa Pike – 823 metres (2700 ft).  Views opened out in the dazzling sunlight.  We spent some time with the 1:40,000 BMC map laid out before us, identifying hills far and wide – as wide as Grisedale Pike, anyway.

A short final scramble took us directly to the summit, our sixth, of Fairfield – 873 metres (2863 ft).

This was the high point of the day in more ways than one.  The Coniston hills were revealed in the distance, their upper reaches shimmering in the sunshine whilst mist concealed their base.  The lakes of Coniston and Windermere languished below, partly obscured by a thin veneer of mist. (See link to slide show below.)

There were now quite a few folk around.  Everyone was chatty and jolly.  It was that sort of day.  Between Fairfield and our seventh summit, Hart Crag – 822 metres (2698 ft), our ‘Deepdale Horseshoe’ route coincided with the ‘Fairfield Horseshoe’, a route from Ambleside.  So it’s a path I know well, but I don’t remember having enjoyed such stunning weather up here.

We lingered on Hart Crag, reluctant to lose a significant portion of the view.

Eventually we turned ENE with the sun on our backs and set our sights on the Hartsop above How Ridge, with Place Fell and the summits of High Street laid out in the distance.

Gill Crag, on the Hartsop above How Ridge, 582 metres (1909 ft), our eighth summit, provided an excellent spot to drain our flasks and finish the shortbread.

Further on, we hardly noticed the ninth and final lump on our route, Gale Crag, 512 metres (1680 ft).  There was lots of this [subsequently identified] Fir Clubmoss (Huperzia selago), looking very healthy on the Hartsop slopes.

The day’s heat had finally dispersed the mist, but the low sun provided a lovely mellow light for the rest of our descent to Patterdale.  We really didn’t want to finish this walk, but we had to get home at some point, unlike the gent we had met on Hart Crag who was sensibly planning to stay high and camp at Grisedale Tarn.

However, we couldn’t resist a pint of nectar before leaving…

…we didn’t encounter any traffic problems – the ‘rush hour’ was long gone.

A slide show (55 images) is here.

The day’s route, executed exactly as suggested by Bill Birkett in his ‘FAR 1’ route, is shown below.  It was about 15km with 1100 metres ascent and took 7.5 hours – a very leisurely pace was adopted once we had burst out of the mist into the sunshine above Patterdale.

Here is another link to Bill’s book, and to the accompanying and very worthwhile almanac.

Arnison Crag

There's a stunning view from Arnison Crag this morning...

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Sunday 10 October 2010 - The Calderdale Mountain Bike Marathon

This year Robert’s foot prevented his continuing efforts to finish this annual event in under three hours, so it was just Alastair and I (the former after a break of six years) who started on a sunny Sunday morning from near the hamlet of Sowerby Bridge.

It seemed very crowded at the start, but there were actually fewer people than in the previous two years.

It was a lovely day, but difficult to concentrate on that fact as we pedaled along, often in single file down muddy tracks.  It was indeed muddy, but not as excessively so as in some earlier years, when it has been virtually impossible to pedal over Midgley Moor in particular.  This year I seemed to have retained some bike fitness from August’s Transalp trip, so I only needed to push at one point – the short ascent up to the Midgley Moor track – though others seemed to be doing a lot of pushing hereabouts.  It was a bit sticky.

I’d stayed near Al and waited for him at the food and drink stations until about 15+ miles, so could have gone faster, but still managed a respectable 3 hours 18 minutes, only just outside my previous best.  Al came in a bit later in 3 hours 29 minutes, but that was a pretty good personal best considering he does very little cycling.  Our bikes were two of very few without suspension – I certainly saw no others at the finish – and we probably lost about ten minutes to those who could descend more safely at a fast speed.  But we did our best and enjoyed the morning.

The rocky descent to Mytholmroyd was more enjoyable this year as more people were cycling it, though some were presenting obstacles to be cycled around!

Here’s the scene at the finish.

And here’s Alastair coming in 201st out of 325 finishers.

The winner took an impressive 1 hour 58 minutes, and another 172 folk finished before I did. The last person finished in 6 hours 3 minutes, long after we’d returned home to our hot baths.

I took a camera but failed to get it out en route, though one of the photographers on Midgley Moor should have a good shot of my bike rearing up behind me as I lost concentration (the photographer put me off) and narrowly avoided a nose dive into a deep bog! 

A very jolly event, well organised and supported, and really enjoyable on a sunny day like this one.  Excellent.

Next year’s event is on 9 October 2011. 
This year’s results are here. 

To view all four of my reports on the event (since 2007) and for full route details, click here.

Saturday 9 October 2010 – Oscar visits the Bridgewater Canal

Oscar is growing up.  Today he managed the three mile walk from Sale Water Park to Timperley.

Unfortunately he fell into the canal.

He survived the ordeal, but we found it so hilarious that we failed to record the incident on ‘film’.

Friday 8 October 2010 - A Pootle along The Limestone Way

Rick and I spent nearly two hours in the car, reaching Bank Top camp site at Fenny Bentley on time at 9.30. 

Here we joined JJ, “Millie” (aka Gill), Viv and Mick, who had all set off along The Limestone Way, starting in Rocester, on Thursday afternoon.

We enjoyed a very leisurely stroll, involving a long tea break at Tissington, a long lunch in a pleasant meadow, and extensive views of a Peak District rather gloomier atmospherically than it had been a couple of days earlier. [A full report on that will follow.]

Our peaceful amble was jolted out of Lassitude when Gayle leapt over a stile from the direction of Grangemill.  Having worked all week, she was exhibiting ‘Saturday morning syndrome’, bouncing around like a demented hairdresser.

Nevertheless, a shortcut was required in order to reach the Miners  Standard at Winster by 4.45pm.  This was fortunate for me, enabling a return home to Timperley in time to change for dinner!

Gayle’s take on the day is here.

My photos, for what they are worth, are here.

And the 21 km route, with 650 metres ascent, taking us a very leisurely 6.8 hours (well, most participants had large packs and encountered much difficulty with the many stiles, and the queues to pass through them created by our large group of seven meant that we took ‘ages’).

Thor’s Cave

This cave was created over thousands of years by the effects of water and wind on the limestone rocks formed from layers of dead marine animals between 280 and 360 million years ago. The area was submerged under a shallow, warm sea near the equator, and the hill would have been like a tropical reef.

The name may be a corruption of ‘tors’ (meaning hills), or it may come from Thor, the Norse god of thunder.

Around 20,000 years ago the huge cavern would have been used for shelter by both humans and animals.  Bones of bears and giant red deer have been found in the area, and Thor’s Cave is the site of a Bronze Age Burial.

Sue and I visited it yesterday.

Saturday/Sunday 2-3 October 2010 – A Visit to Ironbridge and The Wrekin

Ten of us assembled in The Swan in Ironbridge on Friday evening before adjourning to GS’s range of accommodations, carefully selected from his Observer’s Book of Fawlty Towers.

Saturday morning found us joined by Keith and Carol and lingering at the old iron bridge, with Tove visiting a local café to purchase the continental breakfast that the Robin ‘Music til Late’ Hood* was unable to supply.  It seems that in the absence of a chef, breakfast there had been cooked by the cleaner.  Perhaps the chef had been one of those making merry until 4am in the room below the B&B accommodation.

Those of us staying at the Bird in Hand had been relieved to find that its 12noon to 10.30pm opening hours were strictly observed…

 

Here’s the route we embarked upon after a photocall in the sunshine.  It was 22km, with over 500 metres ascent, taking around 7 hours.

Shortly after gaining the thick woodland that seems abundant in the Ironbridge Gorge, we came across this enticing sign.

We strolled by museums – there are lots around here – and over chicken wired duck boards, up and down ladders, along grassy paths strewn with conkers, and past some of Telford’s numerous lakes.

A short loop took us through the church yard at Holy Trinity Church in Dawley, a parish in which my grandfather was vicar, before the new town of Telford was even a planner’s dream.

It was hot.  Chocolate caramel shortbread and apple and raisin cake were washed down with tea and coffee.

We passed close by Telford Town Centre.  It appeared to be inhabited by Old Mother Hubbard and some dinosaurs.  We, of course, boosted the dinosaur population.

A brief pause from walking found us transfixed for a while by a magical performance from The Invisible Shakespeare Company.  The audience was sparse, but it was fair value for the price.

Further on, not far from Blists Hill Museum, the All Nations Inn provided welcome sustenance by way of some local beers and a black pudding, cheese and onion buttie for Keith.

The beers had a particularly drastic effect on one of our party, who later hastened across the widest level crossing in Britain without realising that the risk of being hit by a train was relatively low.

First aid kits were deployed for the second time in six days, but Graham’s was, luckily, only a flesh wound.

How things change!  I used to come train spotting here!

There are more pictures here.  Or you could wait until the end…

Our day concluded at the Swan, where a reasonable meal was served, though the residents at the Robin Hood were entertained by juke box bandits until ‘late’ – or should that read ‘early’?

Sunday

Rain hammered down on the thin roof of our penthouse suite.  It was indeed an extremely wet day.  A shame for Robin and Jenny, who had joined us only the previous evening.

We enjoyed a leisurely breakfast.

After which the rain was still hammering down.

So whilst half the party had urgent hill-bagging appointments, the remaining seven of us chose to visit the Tile Museum.

Very interesting it was too.

Here are some exhibits – above, a typical butcher’s shop; below, a typical fireplace for a ‘modern home’ of the 1930’s.

I know such fireplaces were still being made in the mid 1960’s, as the memory of carrying them from delivery lorries to the living rooms of Harry Peacock’s lovely new houses is still scarred on what remains of my brain.

They were Heavy.  But not as hot as the bags of cement, fresh from the cement factory, which had to be carried up to a small shed on the top of a hill in a pre-re-enactment of Sean Connery’s performance in ‘The Hill’.  We student workers got all the best jobs in those days!

We spun out the tour of the museum, and a compulsory visit to its coffee shop, until lunch time.

It was still raining, but our resident medic, after holding a brief surgery, prescribed fresh air.  So we went up a nearby hillock known as the Wrekin. 

Here’s our route – 5km, over 250 metres ascent, in 1.5 hours.

My father used to take us up here every Christmas morning for a number of years in the 1950’s.  It hasn’t really changed much since then, but today’s views were less than inspiring.

Even when the rain stopped there was little visibility, and Jenny never did make it to the summit, having become tragically misplaced en route.  She concealed her disappointment well, and was consoled by luckily encountering us at a random point on the descent.

So by the time this photo was taken our 14 strong band was down to 4 plus the photographer (self timing proved impossible due to the camera blowing away), 7 having gone bagging, Jenny having got lost, and Robin having wandered off into the mist.

Here’s the view on a day with slightly better visibility in the direction of Snowdon, a pimple on the horizon some 71 miles distant.

So, another jolly weekend was over (not so jolly for those kept awake by the antics of the Robin Hood’s clientele), and everyone dispersed, with Blackpool and Manchester City supporters in nearly as euphoric moods as the European Ryder Cup golfing team.

In case you didn’t click on the earlier link, there’s a slide show of the weekend’s photos here, if anyone is interested. 

The weekend wasn’t over for everyone.  There is now a short postscript of three final images provided by our illustrious hill-bagging department, who report as follows:

“Not a good menu choice for us….car got stuck in a flooded stream. Needed a tractor to pull us out. There was water up to the gear stick... see if you can see the hidden sign saying ford / unsuitable for motors…they say things go in threes – no sleep in the pub, smashed up leg, flooded car…hope that’s the lot for now!”

At least there were no ripped hands on barbed wire fences, though I suppose that’s of little comfort just now…

* I suppose you could always be the first to record your experiences at The Robin Hood on the proliferation of pub ‘appreciation’ websites.

Happy Birthday

Peebles to Moffat – it’s all over now, and Good News on the Hand front

Alan’s hand will be OK.  See here for news from Peewiglet (Shirley) on that front.  You’ll need to click on the individual headings.

There’s little to add to my own entries, except that most people did about 56km (35 miles) and 2200 metres of ascent over the course of the two and a half day trip.

To view my postings click here and scroll to the bottom of the postings to start at the earliest entries….but first:

Some code names have been used that may puzzle those unfamiliar with W E Bowman’s account of ‘The Ascent of Rum Doodle’ – a fictional account of the ascent of a mountain higher than Everest.

‘Binder’ – already used by Alan Sloman over on his blog, is the leader (a figure of fun)
’Jungle’ – Peewiglet already has this nickname – is the route finder (who is always lost)
’Prone’ is the doctor (who is always ill)
’Burley’ is the crack mountaineer and strong man (who always suffers from Lassitude)
’Medical Supplies’ = champagne

A slide show of my pictures and a few of JJ’s is here.  There are none of the gory hand as photography wasn’t appropriate at the time of the accident – Shirley’s blog contains a gruesome image taken later.

Mike’s blog, Northern Pies, has a report in his usual entertaining style:
Day 0  Day 1  Day 2  Day 3

Tony’s blog, Pennine Ranger, also has an excellent report here.

I think that’s all, for now.  I’m off to replenish my first aid kit, which was totally inadequate for Alan’s injury.  Luckily, others were better equipped.

Peebles to Moffat - Disaster Strikes

We made it to Moffat.

But not without a serious mishap.

Binder, aka Alan Sloman, unfortunately slit his hand on a handrail below Greygill Head, about 200 metres from an easy track to Moffat.

A team effort got him down as quickly as possible, and as I write (quite late) he is hopefully being attended to by experts in Carlisle.

Meanwhile, the remnants of the Pie Man's ever diminishing team enjoyed some nourishment at the Black Bull together with a Proud Scotsman. But sadly it was not the 'minor celebration' we had hoped for.

Our thoughts were with Alan, who seems to have a rather nasty injury. We hope he makes a speedy recovery.

With all except our leader, the Pope, and myself having decided against returning by foot to Peebles over the next three days, and with 'Heavy Rain' forecast for much of that time, a decision to postpone the return leg, possibly until April 2011, has been made.

The picture shows JJ and the Pie Man luxuriating in the sunshine after emerging from the cloud before the fateful descent of Greygill Head.

Our thoughts are with you, Alan.

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Handrailing

Today was spent mostly above 600 metres and as already intimated was described by our esteemed leader as 'handrailing'.

"It's an easy way of navigating, you just have to follow the wall or fence marked on the 1:25,000 map", he remarked, "the worst that can happen is that you could get impaled on the handrail."

Here, Binder is shown to be dangerously close to the handrail in a view that is typical of today's scenery.

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Hart Fell

Asthma antidotes (Jungle needs Prone), and other incentives were required.

But we made it up here soon after 2pm.

Summit Lassitude has been overcome by the desire to reach Border Control at Moffat.

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Tea Party at Rotten Bottom

No, we are not at Alan's rear end, although that is suffering from Plumber's Lassitude.

Mr Grumpy has kindly turned up with tea and Medical Provisions.

What a star!

Tormentil, scabious, bell heather, wire fences and stone walls (known to our leader as 'handrails'), luscious bogs, peat hags and occasional rocky outcrops. But only within a 50 metre circumference of our jolly band of wayfarers. That's a summary of today's view.

And doing this isn't very easy in the moist conditions. Next report will be later. Perhaps much later.

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Summit Lassitude

Firthhope Rig. We made it!

Now heading south towards Border Control.

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Megget Lassitude

Burley (aka JJ Mk2) is to blame. And HMP3. Burley claimed a sleepless night due to much cheese and McEwans Export.

Binder and Jungle were also to blame and are suffering from Piglet Lassitude. The Pie Man is suffering from cheese induced Kylie Lassitude.

Others have their own problems.

The cloud base is 600 metres.

We've now made it that far....

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Peebles to Moffat - Megget Stone reveals Hidden Medical Supplies

Today we tramped around 22 km (a bit more for some) in lovely late September weather, with around 900 metres of ascent, over various summits, most notably Broad Law, a Corbett (on which some junior members of the party, confused as to the direction in which we should be heading, are pictured above), to reach a cache of 'Medical Supplies', kindly provided by our inspirational leader, who goes by the name of 'Pie Man', but would more appropriately be named 'Binder-Jungle-Pong, however we already have characters with those names, and also one called 'The Pope', who admitted that his most recent backpacking trip had been in 1972.

The morning was spent on tussocks. Excepting the periods spent in bogs and the short diversion to Dun Rig taken by Jungle and Phreerunner. Our leader insisted that the way ahead would soon be paved with short grass. It wasn't. Lunch was taken in the sun. Four trail bikers briefly relieved the tension of resting in the sunshine pondering why anyone should be wishing it to rain on us. Here, JJ Mk2 was unable to contain his joy at finding a path. He set off purposefully down it, towards Tibbie Shiels Inn, in search of 'Medical Supplies'. He has a 'Bad Knee' (yes, another one).

After 9.5 hours of marching under a hot sun, including a surprisingly grassy if disconcertingly undulating afternoon, we found ourselves at NT 147 200, a less lumpy oasis well endowed with sheep s**t near the Megget Stone, which nobody visited, as fresh Medical Supplies were close at hand.

Those supplies, and hors d'oevres provided by HMP3 and Jungle were soon applied to ease the aches and pains of the day. JJ Mk2 had reappeared at said map reference and greedily tucked into the fresh supplies and a pan of 'Beef Smash'.

Then everyone had a Love In and went to sleep.

Telegram to Martin Wry reads:
"Please send fresh Medical Supplies."

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Peebles to Moffat - Lunch in the Sun

Some will be pleased to hear that it's a lovely day here in Sunny Scotland.

We've had a Wry Smile about that!

Thanks for your comments....

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Peebles to Moffat - Setting Off

We arrived shortly before 6pm, here at NT 247 318, a small grassy oasis at 520 metres surrounded by heathery lumps. A burbling stream breaks the silence, at least when the faint sound of chatter and the breaking of wind from nearby tents subsides.

We had assembled in Moffat, and again at the Bridge Inn in Peebles. Some had arrived nearly a day early! Others were late.

Baguette heaven offered sustenance for two, before our 2pm departure.

HMP3, veteran of nine TGO Challenges, was there to wave us off, before having to return to edit his love child, Big Jugs Weekly.

A vicar turned up to bless the congregation and pour consoles over various ailing knees. This fine fellow even joined us for an hour before hugging everyone and skipping off like Eric Morecambe.

That left nine heavily laden backpackers trudging up Glensax on a sunny Saturday afternoon:

The Pie Man of Crook Town
JJ Mk2
Andrew
Binder (aka Alan S) and Jungle
Piglet (Jungle's pooch)
Tony (Pennine Ranger) and Christine
The Pope (aka Another Mike)
And myself (Phreerunner)

We covered around 11km in 4 hours and rose a good 450 metres before reaching this spot, where our seven tents seem to fit quite cosily on the slope. There were a few minor obstacles en route, namely the repeated crossing of the same stream. Jungle and Piglet eventually got the hang of it!

My wild camping is usually solo or with Sue, so it was strange to be in such a big group.

We all enjoyed large meals of dried provisions and medicine. Then it went dark so we settled down for a long night on the heathery lumps of Glensax.

Ho ho. What fun! There are five UK outdoors blogger amongst us - I wonder what the others are saying...

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Peebles – Moffat: Earwiggo

It has been a busy week. 

A South West Coast Path summary will follow in October, but in the meantime feel free to peruse a slide show.  The short one is here, but if you are called Andrew, or have more time, you may choose this one.

A report on the walk that Sue and I enjoyed around Woolston on 18 September will have to wait, or forever be forgotten.

Here’s part of the reason for the busy week – repatriation of a container load (we filled the ‘van’) of possessions after around eight years – it’s like a treasure trove – but where to put them all.

The evening walks have now become ‘night’ walks, although we were blessed with a full moon during our short perambulation around Little Budworth on 23 September.

 
On Saturday morning (later today) a trip to Moffat/Peebles will be undertaken, and during the next six days a 130 km circular route will be attempted.  Some friends failed last time.  One of them is a fellow blogger.  ‘Earwiggo Again’ he reports, having scoured the land for reinforcements for this second attempt.  Curious as to what happened last time?  It’s described here.  And the picture below (courtesy of the Pie Man) provides a clue as to the reason for failure.