Friday 4 to Sunday 6 April 2008 - An Arctic Wind from Ben Alder

An Arctic wind from Ben Alder greeted us as we emerged from the tent to dump our bags onto the snow-laden heather on the third morning of our walk. As I went back to supervise the striking of the tent, I caught sight of Alastair chasing a blue blob across the hillside. The blue blob was my fully laden rucksack. It was duly rescued and re-attached to terra firma with a piece of ironmongery.

It was indeed windy!

This was Alastair’s second attempt to climb Ben Alder and its neighbouring Munro (Scottish peaks over 3000 feet) summits.
Last year we had abandoned the attempt in advance, in favour of day walks, due to a poor weather forecast. [Our report on that trip is here.]

This year we set off from Pitlochry Backpackers Hotel on Friday morning in good spirits despite the light rain. An hour’s drive took us to the head of Loch Rannoch and a good parking spot by a deer fence that marked the start of our route.
By now we had seen red deer and red squirrels and assorted birds of prey…and the rain had stopped. As we strolled along a good track towards Benalder Cottage it was briefly t-shirt weather, but the forecast colder air soon arrived, with a change of the wind direction to north.

Fine views of the Glencoe summits opened out to the west, whilst our path headed unerringly towards Ben Alder, with its summit cloaked in cloud.

Laden with supplies for three days, the 13 km to Benalder Cottage took us 3½ hours, the last 5 km being over increasingly boggy ground beside Loch Ericht.

We lunched in the small bothy. It was cold and uninviting inside, but out of the wind. I tried to sit on a broken plastic chair, hence looking like a midget beside Alastair's ample frame.

From the bothy we ascended steeply up to Bealach Breabag, reached way ahead of schedule at soon after 2 pm. Our plan had been to find a camping spot and bag Beinn Bheòil before supper, but the weather was fair, and we had loads of time...

"Ben Alder, then?"

"Yes" replied Sue and Alastair in unison.

So up we went, with excellent views across to Beinn Bheòil from the steep route up to the heavily corniced rim of Garbh Choire.

By now, Sue and Al were feeling the weight of their packs - I'd given Sue the food and the tent poles, and Al had the rest of the tent. We all had full winter gear including axes and crampons, and my pack contained The Kitchen. Loch Ericht seemed a long way down behind us.

My Go-Lite Quest rucksack, weighing in at much less than the others' old Karrimor efforts, allowed me to zoom up the slope, but it was a cold wait at the top!

Eventually we regrouped for a walk above the huge cliffs of Garbh Choire, taking care to steer clear of the massive cornices.

This was a big summit for Sue and Al. Ben Alder is not the simplest of places to reach, and they were very pleased to be able to tick off this hill. For me it brought good memories of a warm May weekend in 1990 when several of us walked in from Dalwhinnie. The trainers I used on that occasion would not have been appropriate today!

We decided not to attempt the direct descent via the Short Leachas to our planned campsite, as we didn't fancy an exposed scramble. So we headed north to the long pinnacled spur that is the Long Leachas - and that proved quite scrambly enough for us.
After descending with great care for a while we arrived at a minor col before another rocky section. Here the soft snow provided us with an enjoyable 200 metre bum slide into the depths of Coire na Lethchois.

We strolled over the snowy wastes for about 1 km and found an excellent camping spot near the outflow from Loch a' Bhealaich Bheithe. Before setting up camp I thought it worthwhile to have a look at the outflow. I expected to find a small stream. With stepping stones...
No such luck!

We decided to get wet now, rather than in the morning, and to cross here rather than try a long diversion around the head of the loch. So we marched across the fast flowing river, knee deep, in our socks. The rocks were actually very smooth, so bare feet would have worked. But the water was icy cold. [The socks soon froze and remained frozen until we got home on Sunday night!]

Camp was quickly established right next to the outflow, so fetching water was not an arduous task, though having both cold feet and cold hands was a little annoying.

We enjoyed a sumptuous meal in the spacious tent (Terra Nova Hyperspace - being used in conditions for which it was designed), and in the time honoured manner of backpacking we drifted off to sleep shortly after 9 pm when darkness embraced our world.

After sleeping deeply up here at 720 metres in the pitch black tent we woke refreshed and eager to bag another Munro.

Beinn Bheòil succumbed without a fight, by 8.30 am.

There had been a couple of inches of snow overnight, and the thick fabric of the flysheet was rigid with slabs of frozen snow.

The path down to Culra bothy was delightful. By the time we reached this (most welcome) bridge over the Allt a' Chaoil-rèidhe it was 11 am. Having met just one person yesterday, we met 3 smartly attired hikers on the bridge. They had just left the bothy, in which they were staying, to climb Ben Alder.

Here's the bothy, with Ben Alder and the Long Leachas ridge behind. If those 3 hikers' mountain skills are anything like their bothy skills...they never made it.

The bothy was a tip. Not from accumulated rubbish but from the current mess of its occupants.
A man in pink trousers was in residence, but he would soon be heading off towards Benalder Cottage.
We found a space to brew up and enjoy an early lunch, pleased that the bothy was there to provide shelter from the wind for a while, but also pleased that we had our own shelter and did not have to endure the messiness of others.

Our next objective was Carn Dearg - a 1034 metre peak, some 600 metres above us. At first, steep boggy heather, the most awkward sort of slope, and very slow. As we rose up the steep flank of the hill, the snowy squalls that had featured all day became more intense and more frequent.

Alastair donned crampons, unnoticed by me as I looked back down the hill. I was cool with just 3 thin layers, and I stormed up the exposed slopes to reach the summit some time before the others. I found a good sheltered spot to add a thick fleece to my clothing, but the storm increased and visibility dropped to 5 metres. Sue and Al were understandably annoyed at my having left them, albeit the route seemed safe and straightforward.

As we navigated our way through stinging spindrift along the broad snowy ridge, the weather cleared briefly to show the way ahead (over Sue's right shoulder in this picture - steeper than it looks).

There was a steep snow slope in severe weather to be negotiated to reach the Geal-chàrn plateau. We were moving at differing speeds. Visibility was between poor and non-existent. It was blowing a gale. Blinding spindrift was a bit of a hazard...

We retreated towards Bealach Dubh down a gentle snow slope from Diollaid a' Chairn.

We had known our plan to bag three more Munros was an ambitious one requiring fortune with the weather, and we felt we had made the best of the day - after all, two remote Munros on one wintry day is not bad by our standards, and it was just so good to be out of the severe weather on the ridge.
It was an excellent, if snowy, path that led us over Bealach Dubh, then Bealach Cumhann, to the relative tranquility of the valley by the Alder Burn.

By 6 pm we had set up camp on some flat, springy heather at about 540 metres at NN 476 705.
Here we are, with a snowy Beinn a' Chumhainn behind the tent.

And here's the view from the tent, towards the Carn Mairg group in the distance across Alder Bay and Loch Ericht.

The weather worsened. Overnight we saw another two inches of snow fall. (Well, if we'd been awake - I think we all got about 10 hours sleep after another sumptuous meal.)

When we woke it was 0° C in the tent.

Alastair was on the leeward side so we made him cook breakfast.

I was on the windy side of the tent, the wind having shifted from north to east during the night. I could feel a tent pole as it flexed over my face as if nudging me..."wake-up, wake-up"...

The tent must have been flexing to a most peculiar shape, but it was well secured and we were cosy in our winter bags.

But eventually we had to pack up - done inside the tent - and strike camp. And that's when my fully laden rucksack blew away in the wind. Alright, it didn't go far, but...well, should a full pack just blow away? Perhaps Go-Lite need to install a restraining gadget? The ice axe kept it in place anyway, whilst we efficiently got the tent down:

1. Remove poles.
2. Drag out inner, folding as you go.
3. Fold flysheet as you unpeg it.
Easy really, then you shoulder your pack, if you can find it, and head down the hill.

Soon Benalder Cottage, the hovel (sorry, bothy) in which we could have stayed, came into view by Loch Ericht, whose waves were splashing way above the shore line.

The path beside the loch was as boggy as ever, now with a thin crust of snow and ice that neatly concealed some of the wetter bits. But the wind was behind us and, looking back, the mountains were shining brightly above the white horses on the loch.

The walk out from Benalder Cottage took about 3½ hours, as had the walk in two days earlier.

Alastair's rucksack still sat at the jaunty angle that had become a distinctive feature of his rear profile - it was actually usually worse than illustrated here!

And as the weather became more benign, the track improved, skylarks sang above, birds of prey floated menacingly over the trees, and as we reached the car at about 1 pm we met a man walking a dog - only the sixth person we had seen in three days.

Here's an overview of our route, if you can make it out. In total we walked about 60 km and climbed about 2700 metres during this most excellent three day trip.

Wednesday 2 April 2008 - Bits and Pieces

The robins are mating in our garden, but what has happened here?

1. Thanks to Bob and Rose at backpackinglight.co.uk for sending a new rucksack liner so quickly. I wonder whether Exped will provide a refund, or has this 65 litre liner, bought for last year’s TGO Challenge, really worn out within a year? The old one, with many pinhole perforations, is in the post back to Bob. [Good value regardless – it has endured much use.]

2. It was a lovely day out yesterday with Daryl. But I can’t help thinking….
...Perhaps he should ruthlessly go through his bag and send a parcel home. The really cold weather should be at an end after this weekend.
...He has a fine pair of boots, but heavy. Are they helping or hindering his ankle injury? I might yearn for something lighter in his position…

...I questioned why (how) he could put up with a serious amount of road walking. Today his blog will answer that question most eloquently.
...Daryl certainly has his remote blogging system well sorted.

3. Now how can I do that (blog remotely without recourse to an internet cafe)? I was thinking of the Blackberry 8120 that I can get on my Orange contract, but Daryl thinks there may be a problem with word and excel documents. Do I really need those? Ho hum. And blogging from Italy in the summer using the phone looks as if it may be very expensive. Perhaps the blog will need some holidays. Any thoughts on all this will be welcome, by comment or email. They really will be welcome!

4. The psychic rattle
Strange that having rattled from new, and some 6 years down the line having developed an exacerbated form of the ‘disease’, our car somehow recognised the presence of an acoustics engineer keen to analyse the problem.
This is not a whinge (I am quite attached to our rattly old car), just an observation; why should it have run as silently as ever in its entire life when Daryl, acoustics engineer, was a passenger?

5. Blog goes on Holiday
All will be quiet for a few days as we are backpacking in the wilds of Scotland (subject to weather) and (see 3 above) still need the right equipment to blog, though I don’t recollect being able to get a phone signal from the area in question.
Back next week…

Tuesday 1 April 2008 - A stroll along the Lancaster Canal with Daryl May, JOGLER

Since returning from New Zealand a couple of weeks ago I had gradually become aware of the presence in the UK of Daryl May, a retired acoustics engineer in the aerospace industry. Last year Daryl walked from Lands End to John o’Groats; this year he returned to John o’Groats for the walk back to Lands End!

A quick look at some of the outdoor blogs, in particular Alan Sloman’s – he did LEJOG last year – reveals that Daryl is not alone in his outdoors venture this year.

I’d looked at Daryl’s well written and entertaining blog, and had read of his difficulties with a septic blister and a poorly ankle. He lives in Tampa, Florida, so unlike Alan last year he has few friends and family to visit and encourage him. But such folk do have an extended ‘family’, such as Ian Shiel, who recently intercepted Daryl on Beattock summit with hot soup and other goodies.

I’d noted Daryl’s route and surmised that I could intercept him myself today. Moreover, whereas I have hiked frequently in the Trough of Bowland to the east of the M6 motorway, I had never walked much of the section of the Lancaster canal between Lancaster and Preston. So here was my chance.

After many helpful exchanges with Ian, an experienced ‘end-to-end’er, I set off to find Daryl after stashing my bike in the back of the car. After getting covered with oil and dirt in the process I had a good feeling – ie the bike would not be needed!

And so it proved, the unmistakable figure of an elderly man in orange trousers was moving slowly out of Galgate on a footpath beside the A6 road, just loosening up after his sojourn at The New Inn. I had time to turn, park, boot up, and greet this ‘Hobson’, as Daryl sometimes refers to himself, just where a path leads from the A6 to the rather more peaceful towpath of the Lancaster Canal.

Luckily he agreed to come with me, and we set off over an iron gate securely fastened with barbed wire, across a muddy field in search of the canal. When we got to it, to my surprise, there was no easy access to the canal. The barbed fence and steep bank could have been negotiated but I think Daryl was relieved to avoid that in favour of walking a short way north to gain legitimate entry to the towpath where the waterway to picturesque Glasson Dock diverges from the main canal.

It was good to chat with Daryl. To him this is not a wilderness challenge involving high level long-distance routes such as the Pennine Way. It’s a personal challenge to reach Lands End in time to catch his flight home in mid May. So if he has to walk on roads, so be it. And he does need to do that in order to maintain his schedule, which after his delay due to injury in Scotland has left him with only a very small number of days off.

I’m sure he will enjoy more company over the coming days. His main journal page is here, and he is currently in Chapter 6.

The time flew past as we strolled down the canal, followed for some way by an attentive swan, with chaffinches, great tits and goldfinches in the hedgerows, and the occasional distinct bubbly musical song of a curlew in the fields.

Strategically placed benches helped Daryl rest his sore ankle, and where they were absent a grassy bank or stone steps could usually be found. And of course we scoffed Sue’s CCS (see here) along with our mugs of tea.

Lunch was taken on a bench just outside Garstang. I’d packed a few provisions and I think Daryl enjoyed the smoked salmon and cream cheese on freshly baked bread. Just around the corner in Th’Owd Tithe Barn, a characterful canalside pub dating back to 1710 and originally a tithe barn used for the storage of corn, pints of Strongbow and Cumberland Ale refreshed us for the afternoon.

Passing lots of quacking mallards, and the occasional barge, we continued south, closer now to the frighteningly fast inter city trains and the rumble of motorway traffic. It was very pleasant though, and I was disappointed to reach the edge of Bilsborrow, where the A6 provides a shorter route south than the meandering canal.

Whilst Daryl continued along the road for a couple of miles I explored a newly opened and vast Barton Grange Garden Centre before catching a bus back to Galgate and returning to pick up Daryl and provide him with food and lodging, with a promise to return him to the same spot the following morning.

It was indeed a very pleasant evening.

Here’s an overview of today’s route. I walked about 19 km in 6 hours including stops, Daryl did more than that.

Sunday 30 March 2008 - Dipping and Fishing in the Goyt Valley

The clocks changed today. So our evenings will be blessed with the chatter of the birds and the glint of the declining sun for the next six months or so. Whoopee!
This morning, however, after losing the hour that propels us into ‘summertime’, we had foolishly planned a walk to start at 10 am. And a phone message indicated we would have company, so we left in plenty of time to get to the Pym Chair rendezvous for a walk in the Goyt Valley.
But Wilmslow was closed for its annual half-marathon event, necessitating time consuming extrication from its traffic jam and a lengthy diversionary route.
Sue and Phil were puzzled but relaxed about our lateness. It’s usually the other way round, but Phil had been up early ringing today.
From a balmy morning in Timperley we had been transported to rather different conditions up at Pym Chair. The car doors were at risk of serious damage from the strong icy wind.
We soon warmed up on the good path to Windgather Rocks, a mecca for climbers but deserted this morning, as Pym Chair had been.
On down Taxal Edge, we watched lapwings fluttering wildly in the wind, before dropping down into the calm of the valley where this lone tree stood proud against the deep blue sky.

Down here, out of the wind, it was a lovely day for a stroll.

Entering the smart hamlet of Taxal, we walked down the sturdy ancient cobbles that led past the church that was positioned serenely in a bed of daffodils.

The River Goyt can be forded down here, but we chose the footbridge and then enjoyed a most scenic stroll through woods and fields beside the Goyt to Fernilee Reservoir.
Pausing to transfer tea from flasks to stomachs we watched a dipper breakfasting along the fast flowing stretch of water. Then the unmistakable blue flash of a kingfisher further brightened our day.
Some of the trees hereabouts reminded us of the moss laden ‘bush’ we had so much enjoyed in New Zealand.

After helping to reunite a youthful jogger with her mother, we walked up the bank to Errwood Reservoir. There are a number of benches along here, one of which proved an excellent lunch spot.

The path up Stake Side brought back memories of the ‘Four Inns’ walk that I did a few years ago - at 45 miles, it’s a full day out, and this path is memorable for being the last major ascent on that walk.

But today it was easy going, and after assisting some misplaced pensioners with their route back to Pym Chair (they had a map but couldn’t use it) we soon found ourselves up at Shining Tor, the highest point in Cheshire, with great views in all directions.

[Note that the Cat and Fiddle Inn just to the south of our path would be an easy (2.5 km return) diversion for anyone following this route and wanting a pub lunch.]

The path between Shining Tor and Pym Chair used to be a difficult boggy route, but a few years ago stone slabs were laid and the surrounding land has now virtually recovered from its previous devastation. We noticed that some netting had been laid, presumably to aid the recovery process.

Back at Pym Chair at 3 o clock, the car park was now full, a bright yellow radio controlled glider was being skilfully manoeuvred in the wind, a kite was flapping threateningly above our heads, and kestrels were soaring gracefully.

Apparently Pym Chair takes its name from a formation of rocks that once stood on the ridge near here. There is a choice of local legends about the man known as ‘Pym’.
Perhaps he was a non-conformist preacher whose pulpit here was away from the eyes and ears of the authorities who prohibited such events.
Or perhaps he was the highwayman who used to watch from Pym Chair and then ambush the packhorse trains passing below the rocks with their cargoes of salt from Cheshire or coal, lime or lead from Derbyshire on this route which has linked Cheshire and Derbyshire since Roman times and was used well into the 19th century.

Our route is outlined below – it was about 16 km, with 550 metres of ascent, and took us about 4 hours plus stops.

Saturday 29 March 2008 - TGO Challenge – Chocolate Caramel Shortbread (CCS) Stops

We appreciate this hardly competes with Alan and Lord Elphus’s cheese and wine parties, but we are pleased to announce the following venues where Nallo Lady’s CCS will be available:
Friday 9 May – 9.00 to 9.30 – Kintail Lodge Hotel – a bit of extra fuel before departure.
Sunday 11 May – lunchtime at Alltbeithe Youth Hostel.
Wednesday 14 May – lunchtime on the Corrieyairack Pass (or a little later on Corrieyairack Hill summit).
Friday 16 May – lunchtime around Baileguish – NN 82 98.
Monday 19 May – 9.30 to 10.00 – Lochcallater Lodge - fuel for those ascending Lochnagar.
We hope to meet a few challengers in these places, or beyond them, until the supplies are exhausted.
Bon appetit!

Friday 28 March 2008 - Maurizio joins the TGO Challenge Fraternity

Today turns out to be a TGO Challenge day.
We arranged to meet J and V for lunch at the Giobrio restaurant in Sale.
J is doing the Challenge. After we had enjoyed a fine selection of Maurizio’s risotto, pizza and tagliatelle, he produced a bag full of 1:50000 maps of Scotland. Comparing routes, we worked out that we should catch him up at Tarfside, and can give him a lift home later. We discussed food drops – his route is similar to ours so we may be able to do some drops for him on a trip to Scotland several weeks before the Challenge.
We also discussed Nallo Lady’s charitable donations of her signature dish – chocolate caramel shortbread – the subject of a separate posting later. We should be able to carry plenty as our simple route with four re-supply points means we (NL that is) only have to carry a maximum of two days’ provisions at any one time.
Back to Maurizio. We discussed the state of his business…”so so” – cheese has recently doubled in price, flour for pizza making likewise, and lots more. But has he increased his prices? The pizza was £3.50, risottos were £3.99, so perhaps not. However, that was all academic, as this fine fellow joined in the true spirit of the Challenge and absolutely refused to let us pay him anything at all, drinks and all!
NL and I will be back. The ‘Talk Italian’ package has arrived from Waterstones and NL wants to practice on Maurizio, even though he told us that the area we are visiting in July and August sports a strong local dialect.
So we were a very happy pair as we strolled back home past the King’s Ransom (see photo – Giobrio has fine food but its frontage lacks photogenicity).

Thursday 27 March 2008 - Rescued by Scallies

As I write, gravity has finally got the better of our faltering TV aerial. Switching to the alternative ‘gravitas’ of Radio 4’s Today programme, we are just in time to hear the first known recording of a human voice – allegedly a recording of a woman singing Clair de Lune in 1860. It’s a hilariously bad recording and the usually formal voice of Sarah Montague falters as she tries in vain to continue with a serious item of news. It brings back vivid memories of one of Brian Johnston’s legendary cricket commentaries. Jim Naughtie’s faltering voice slowly brings things back to normal…
Perhaps we shouldn't replace the TV aerial – the VHF one is solid as a rock and a conduit for great entertainment!

Last night we enjoyed the last of this winter’s ‘Pitch Black’ walks, as Sheila calls them. Due to certain folk being afraid of the dark it was the select trio of Notchy, Nallo Lady and I that set off at 7.30 from Dane Road Metro Station. The last rays of the spring sunshine had been displaced by chilly evening air, but the route was virtually flat and the ambient light in the Mersey Valley near the centre of Manchester meant that torches weren’t needed.
We followed the route shown on this ‘flier’, soon leaving the canal towpath by an old sign which rigorously regulates tonnages allowed on the ‘weak’ bridge.

A puddle strewn track took us past a cemetery and over Chorlton Brook to join the high embankment of the River Mersey.
At Jackson’s Boat we eschewed the short cut to the pub, continuing on around Chorlton Water Park, opened in September 1978 after gravel extraction during the construction of the M63 motorway had left a large pit.
It’s a wildlife sanctuary, with many ducks and geese, but we actually saw more birds tonight settling down at the edge of the river on the stretch back to Jackson’s Boat. Kingfishers can be seen around here, but not tonight. No one else was about, and we were accompanied only by the quack of the ducks, the rumble of the motorway and the drone of descending aircraft.
Nallo Lady yearned to be back in the tranquillity of New Zealand.
The footbridge across the River Mersey at Jackson’s Boat was originally erected in 1816 and at that time there was a halfpenny toll to cross it. The bridge was built to replace a local farmer Jackson and his boat, who had provided a ferry service across the river. The boat was hauled from bank to bank by a chain fastened to posts on either side, much like the chain operated ferries which still provide a similar service on the Bridgewater Canal.
Jackson’s Boat pub has undergone many changes during my time in Manchester. It now sells Timothy Taylor’s ‘Landlords’ bitter, which set us up well for our stroll back to the start.
A pleasant path led towards Sale Water Park, another converted gravel pit, past the Visitor Centre that in years past provided many happy hours for my children, then over stepping stones to reach a familiar giant pylon and the car park at Deckers Restaurant.
This was my first visit for several years, and it had changed. The motorway has been widened and is now spanned by a footbridge. Unsure as to whether the old underpass had survived, we headed over this well constructed, wheelchair accessible, bridge. It’s a long one, spanning 11 lanes of motorway!

A right turn signed ‘Bridleway’ took us in the direction of the old underpass, but that had gone. After walking further than intended down this path, the railway and canal came into view, so we doubled back along a good track to complete our circuit. On reaching Dane Road, our objective, we found ourselves on the wrong side of a huge pair of locked steel gates. So we turned around, in search of an alternative.
To our surprise, two figures emerged from a nearby tent…these two scallies seemed most relieved to discover that we were not the local constabulary, just 3 idiots trapped within the confines of the Mersey Valley. Whilst guiding us back to the steel gate and trying to conceal the fumes on their breath, they chatted about this being their practice for a Duke of Edinburgh silver award expedition next week around Keswick. [Tall story of the week?]
The lads helpfully directed us to a weakness in the walled ramparts beside the steel gate that allowed us to clamber out and make our escape, though Notchy made a fine impression of a bluebottle in a jam jar before easing his aching body over the wall to freedom.

Wednesday 26 March 2008 - In Search of the Dunham Ripper

It’s many years since I was a member of the Long Distance Walkers Association (LDWA), but when I received an email last night from John about one of their walks today I decided to take advantage of a bit of exercise whilst the DP was busy at work, especially as it was only a 10 minute drive to the start.

Despite wet weather it was a jolly bunch of 17 walkers that set out soon after 10am from Dunham Massey under Peter’s brisk leadership.
He assured us that the Dunham Ripper would indeed be found.
The group turned out to be dominated by early retirees who get very regular exercise – the pace was certainly more than reasonable (if reputedly much slower than on their longer weekend walks).
The forecast of worsening weather proved inaccurate; it was one of those days when overtrousers donned at the start stayed on, but those left in bags stayed in, if you can follow that. (The weather actually improved significantly during the course of the day.)

We zoomed off past a herd of fallow deer before crossing an area of lush green grass and randomly placed sand dunes where we were sternly paused by some gaudily dressed gents chasing a small white object.

Soon afterwards Peter wanted to show us an ancient school but was foiled by the adjacent roadworks; John wanted to visit the nearby micro-brewery to sample the ‘Deer Beer’ but was foiled by Peter’s feigned deafness.

John and I seemed to be lagging behind by the time we reached the Bridgewater Canal for the second time, at Agden Bridge.

Bombing on at a rapid pace we left the canal at the bridge at Oughtrington and headed through woods then suburban streets to reach the centre of Lymm, where one of the group demanded to be placed in custody as he was feeling a bit tired.

After marking down the leader for going too fast, the throng proceeded to lunch at 12.15 (a bit early?!) by the well fed Mallard population of Lymm Dam. 20 minutes was all we got, before rushing off down ‘The Bongs’, by the waters of Lymm Dam where a cormorant was enjoying a thorough wash, in a southerly direction, to be halted only by the thick blue line of the M56 motorway.
Luckily Peter had reccied the route and managed to avoid the ankle deep slurry in which the track past Broad Heyes Farm immerses unwary victims.
Having lost more points due to the bogginess of his route (rather unfair, I thought, as the slurry had been cleverly by-passed), Peter then imposed a ‘single file’ restriction at frequent intervals during the walk across fields which returned us to a selection of canalside hostelries, all of which were ignored.

His ‘leader’s score rating’ had now been reduced to nil, so he tried to bribe the throng into recognising that he had some skills by producing a large packet of liquorice allsorts and sundry other goodies. Very nice, but, he was told, only a pot of tea for 17 on his tab at the end of the walk would remedy the position. He responded by threatening to use his ‘delete’ button on any troublemakers, in his role of Membership Secretary of the LDWA.
We continued, in sunny weather, striding on past flapping lapwings to complete the circuit.

And where was the Dunham Ripper?
At least Peter found that, just around the corner from where the walk had started 5 hours earlier; he had the last laugh as it seemed that he had taken us by rather a roundabout route.
Here it is, a frame saw that has been ripping into tree trunks and converting them to planks since around 1860. It’s powered by a waterwheel below, through a series of belts and shafts, and is still in fine working order.

And so we adjourned to the same excellent tea shop that Sue and I enjoyed following our return from New Zealand nearly 2 weeks ago, for more of the same, before admiring the National Trust property and returning homewards.

The route is shown below. It’s 23 km with only 177 metres of ascent, and took us a brisk 5 hours, including stops.

An excellent day out. Thank you John for letting me know about it.

Tuesday 25 March 2008 - The Outdoors Station

It’s high time I provided a link to The Outdoors Station, and you will now find one on the right of the screen under ‘Useful Links’.
This is Bob Cartwright’s ‘hobby’ activity when, together with Rose, he is not busy running backpackinglight.co.uk – the source of high quality lightweight gear and advice.
Together with ‘blogfather’ Andy Howell, ‘Podcast Bob’ (pictured) is a prolific producer of podcasts relating to the outdoors, including a ‘Podzine’ with excellent weekly competition prizes.
There is a recent podcast – ‘Outdoors Show Special – Bloggers!’ in which (about 22 minutes into the podcast) Sue and I are interviewed by Andy. Not exactly ‘fame’, but still something we are not used to happening whilst we enjoy a drink with a few friends!
The podcasts are easy to listen to or download and cover a plethora of subjects.
Enjoy…

Monday 24 March 2008 - Shutlingsloe

I have written about a previous walk up Shutlingsloe (see here), but today’s stroll was completely different.

It’s a favourite short walk of mine, featuring lovely Peak District scenery after only a short drive to just beyond Macclesfield.

Following yesterday’s more sedentary activities we decided on this excellent 11 km circuit in the Peaks. We parked up in the busy lane by the Leather’s Smithy and set off at 2.30 through throngs of folk too intent on controlling their dogs and children to notice the tufted duck and the dabchick (little grebe) that were busy lunching in the cold water of Ridgegate Reservoir.
Beyond Trentabank we enjoyed the snow laden woodland as the path led us steeply up to disgorge us on the open moor below the 506 metre hill. The picture above shows Nallo Lady striding out towards the summit, reached in fine but blustery weather after just half an hour from the car.

With fine views in all directions, we lingered here whilst others puzzled as to the route down.

It was Bank Holiday Monday, a day when not everyone you see ‘on the hill’ is familiar with the terrain.

The initially steep descent to the east of the hill soon eases and we quickly reached the tarmac lane which leads to the Crag Inn. No time to dally here; just beyond the Inn a field is entered and a good path contours round to join another lane above Lower Nabbs Farm. By now there was a more bitter feel to the sharp wind, and dark clouds were invading the wintry panorama behind us.

Soon after turning right at a minor road, our route carried straight on where the road bore left. We headed on up to Oakenclough, then left over the top to emerge with long views west over the conurbation of Greater Manchester, with Winter Hill’s tall mast prominent in the distance.

Dropping down the boggy ginnel to The Hanging Gate Inn, I noticed that stone chippings had been laid over the wettest places since I was last here. The late diners in the Inn (it was after 4pm) stared blankly as we passed their window just as the bitter weather deteriorated into a snow shower. I was slightly envious of them. Emerging at another narrow lane, we turned left and after a couple of hundred metres found the ‘G’ signs that mark the route of the Gritstone Trail. Turning right onto this descending path we were disappointed to see a killjoy ‘No Sledging’ sign above the enticing slope.

The trail back to the car was an excellent and varied path – the ‘G’ signs being followed all the way, suddenly depositing us at the end of Ridgegate Reservoir, in view of the car, at 4.40, well in time for our appointment with Alan and his large teapot, just 2 minutes down the road in Langley.

Here’s the route, for which you should allow 3 hours (we were brisk today). It’s 11 km, with about 500 metres of easy ascent.

Sunday 23 March 2008 - Braised Five Hour Lamb

Today we enjoyed one of our easiest and favourite main courses, and are delighted to share it with you…Enjoy!

Braised Five Hour Lamb with wine, veg and all that (to serve 6)

This is a very easy meal, oft repeated as a Sunday dinner.

Ingredients:

1 large leg of lamb
salt and freshly ground black pepper
olive oil
6 rashers of thick streaky bacon
3 red onions, peeled and quartered
3 cloves of garlic, peeled and sliced
2 good handfuls of mixed fresh herbs (thyme, rosemary, bay)
4 large potatoes, peeled and cut into chunks
6 large carrots, scrubbed and halved
3 parsnips, scrubbed and halved
1 bottle of white wine

Preheat the oven to 170ºC/325ºF/gas 3. In a large casserole pot or a deep seated roasting tray, fry the well-seasoned lamb in a couple of tbsp of olive oil until brown on all sides. Add the bacon, onions and garlic and continue to fry for 3 more minutes. Add the herbs and veg, pour in the wine and an equivalent amount of water, bring to the boil, and tightly cover with kitchen foil.
Bake in the preheated oven for 5 hours until tender, seasoning the cooking liquor to taste.
To serve, pull away a nice portion of meat, take a selection of veg (you may need to dig deep for the onions and bacon) and serve with some crusty bread to mop up the gravy.

This recipe is from Jamie Oliver's excellent book - 'The Return of the Naked Chef'.

In other words, and with the assistance of a trusty Swiss Army Knife:

Capture one of these:




Using the knife, amputate a leg,
and trim it to look a bit like this:





Put the leg into a big casserole dish with the other ingredients and cook for 5 hours to arrive at this…

Don’t forget to bake some fresh crusty bread to absorb the juices that aren’t shown in the photo due to a minor technical problem.

Saturday 22 March 2008 - Icy Lakeland Fells

Being Easter, it was appropriate that hot cross buns should accompany our coffee at the Apple Pie Cafe in Ambleside, prior to striding off up the hill (the wrong way, in mine and Jenny's case!).

Despite a few initial problems with Andrew's GPS, we were soon warming up, despite a headwind, on the ridge leading north to Red Screes.

A good deal of 'catching up' was being done....

My leisure time has involved some experimental baking recently, so some testing was required. In the shelter of a wall, we tasted a batch of flapjack (not one of my signature recipes), and various comments ensued:

"Not enough glue!"
"Where's the chocolate?"

"I can't see any caramel"
"A lack of shortbread..."

Perhaps next time, a batch of the usual caramel shortbread would be better!

Behind the wall, additional windproof layers were pulled from rucksacks. The forecast indicated severe wind chill, and we were just about to experience the worst of it. Nearly at the summit of Red Screes, the temperature did indeed feel like the estimated minus 18 degrees C, with cold fingers, and even cold teeth.

Some fun was had by Martin and Richard who tested the strength of the ice. Although some cracking was heard, there were fortunately no wet feet.

The views down the Kirkstone Pass to Brothers Water were lovely, with sharp contrasts between sunlit fells and lakes, and those shrouded in grey cloud and snow showers, which were sweeping across frequently.

Our route continued towards Scandale Pass, over snowy grass, then an icy path next to the wall. Jenny managed to lose a leg down a hole, retrieving it with Richard's help.

At the pass, the sun made a very timely appearance as we sheltered on the leeward side of the wall to have lunch.
Dove Crag was our final objective. There were slate grey clouds with sunlit snow in one direction, and in the other, sun on Windermere creating a ribbon of bright water, with another on the distant sea of Morecambe Bay.

The grey clouds finally caught us up, and snow fell heavily for a few minutes, disappearing as fast as it had arrived. With Ambleside in our sights, the descent was slowed only to accommodate Richard's problem ankle and two episodes of cramp for Andrew, the first being on the top of a large stile, from where he couldn't move for some minutes!

Today, I was struck by the significant number of people on the fells in jeans. OK, all precipitation was falling as snow, not rain, but maybe the message isn't getting out as it used to (or less of the population are being well prepared by Scouting!).

The journey back to Manchester was strategically delayed by a visit to the superb Doi Intanon Thai restaurant in Ambleside, where the hot chillies were an ideal antidote to today's chilly wind.

Thank you Andrew for chauffeuring duties.

Here's the route - it was 15km with about 1050 metres of ascent, and took just over 6 hours, including about an hour of stops.