Eagle Crag and Sergeant’s Crag

Stonethwaite Beck and Eagle Crag.

An October outing up two Wainwrights which I’ve never climbed before. Not sure how I’ve managed to avoid them. Anyway, my mistake: they were well worth a visit. In the photo above, you can see that there’s a lot of steep stuff on Eagle Crag and it’s not immediately obvious how you’ll get up there, but fortunately it’s all plain sailing; the path winds round to the left of the first knoll, Bleak How, and then finds a passage through the remaining complexities.

Fungi.

Having said that, after the initial easy plod along Stonethwaite Beck and then a boggy bit of field, I turned away from the valley path either too late or too early and then found myself fighting spiky, crumpled bracken uphill, but eventually managed to reach a sketchy path by the wall which then lead me around the craggy parts of Bleak How and on to the ridge.

Long Band on Coldbarrow Fell.

This stream, unnamed on the OS map, has carved quite an impressive looking amphitheatre below Long Band on the opposite fellside and I filed away the idea of having a gander there on a future walk.

My ascent route, approaching Eagle Crag..

Knotts and Great Crag above Stonethwaite.

It was a fairly grey day, with occasionally the odd drop of moisture in the air and the apparent threat of rain, but none-the-less good walking weather.

A broad ramp.

The route follows a resourceful path which finds first a broad ramp with crags above and below, and then switches back up an easy-angled gully through what might have seemed impenetrable cliffs.

Looking down on Bleak How.

Heron Crag and Langstrath.

A steepish section.

Looking to Sergeant’s Crag

On the last part of the ascent, the path loops drunkenly back and forth following broad ledges separated by short slabby crags. You could probably take a more direct route, but it’s pleasant walking so why bother?

Sergeant’s Crag and Langstrath.

Sergeant’s Crag again.

Too many photos of Sergeant’s Crag? I liked the look of it!

The long Glaramara ridge.

Looking north to Skiddaw.

On the top, the inevitable cup of tea, a video-call with my Mum and Dad, and a brief conversation with another walker. I saw surprisingly few that day.

Sergeant’s Crag. Again!

Looking back to Eagle Crag.

Eagle Crag again.

Glaramara.

Not much more climbing to attain Sergeant’s Crag and then I took an off-piste route down towards Langstrath, aiming to avoid Bull Crag and Blea Crag and the crags around Lamper Knott. With hindsight, I’m not sure it’s a route I could recommend: there’s a lot of crags and even the grassy parts are liberally sprinkled with boulders and rocks. Still, I enjoyed it immensely.

An off piste descent.

Approaching Langstrath Beck.

I wanted to come down this way so that I could have a peek at the renowned Black Moss Pot…

Blackmoss Pot.

There were quite a few wet-suited swimmers nearby, the ones who had just finished swimming advising and encouraging another group who had just arrived. I’ve never swum here myself and it’s on my wish-list, although not for a grey day towards the end of October!

Langstrath Beck.

Stonethwaite.

Map the first.

Around six and a half miles – but there’s a lot packed into that short walk.

Earthstars at Fell End Nature Reserve.

Earthstars. Or alien invaders?

October half-term. On the Saturday I was in Lancaster for some reason. Whatever the reason, I crossed Carlisle bridge, which takes the railway lines over the Lune, but also has a footbridge attached. I like the view of Lancaster from there…

Lancaster from Carlisle Bridge.

On the Sunday, our old neighbour from when we lived on The Row, MM, was visiting his daughter and her family, who are now our neighbours (are you following?) We got chatting and he asked if I’d ever had a wander around Fell End Nature Reserve. Not only had I never visited, I didn’t even know it was there, which, given that it’s pretty close to home is a bit of a surprise.

MM offered to introduce me, drove us over there, lent me a pair of binos and gave me a guided tour. What a star!

Part of the herd of Fallow Deer at Fell End.

When we’d almost completed our circuit, we bumped into first one, then a second fungi expert, both of whom MM knew, and we set-off together for another turn around the reserve.

Honey fungus?

MM had been disappointed by the paucity of the fungi on display, but with a couple of knowledgeable tour guides, there was a fair bit to see after-all.

Hinge and Bracket fungus.

You’ll notice that I’ve pretty much given up on any attempt to identify the various brackets and toadstools. Fungi seem incredibly difficult to get to grips with.

Erm..slightly red looking fungus.

My favourites by far with the little cluster of Earthstars which MM and I had missed the first time around.

Tree-climbing social fungus.

Manky pancake fungus.

Yellow disco dot fungus.

Teasel seeds sprouting from a teasel seedhead.

Anyway, it was a lovely way to spend a couple of hours and both another visit to the reserve and another walk with MM are long overdue.

Arnside Knot with Love

New sculpture, hanging from tree on the Knot.

By the Sunday of the music festival weekend, we are usually ready for a change and a walk. Last year was no exception, so we opted for the classic local route, around the coast to Arnside and back via the Knot. (Except for UF who will have made one of his standard lame excuses around playing snap or utilising his season ticket at Man City, or having a bone in his leg).

Around the coast.

It’s always a good walk, but throw in some clear blue skies, some sunshine and a few old friends and you can’t go wrong.

Looking south to Know Point and Clougha Pike.

Grange-over-Sands.

Turning the corner into the estuary.

High tide at New Barns.

Old dinghy moored near Arnside.

Racing dinghies on the Kent.

I keep saying that I should join the sailing club at Arnside, but then I never get around to it. But I really should. It must have been pretty windy that day, some of these yachtsmen are really leaning out to counteract their boats heeling.

Arriving on the prom.

I suppose we probably purchased pasties or the like for a lunch in Arnside, we usually do.

The Kent estuary, Whitbarrow and the Lakeland fells beyond from Arnside Knot.

Arnside Knot pano.

The sculpture again – this time with some people in.

The view south – Ingleborough, Arnside Tower Farm, Middlebarrow, Warton Crag and the Bowland Fells.

Descending from the Knot.

As usual, I was a bit rubbish at taking any team photos. I did get this one on the last leg of the walk which makes TBH look preposterously tall. J meanwhile seems to be taking extra special care over where she is placing her feet.

Anyway, after that, all back to ours for tea. Another fab weekend.

Lancaster Music Festival 2023

Shaggy Inkcap.

Okay, the Shaggy Inkcap was not one of the acts from the Lancaster Music Festival. This photo is the sole representative from our habitual Sunday walk around Jenny Brown’s Point, the weekend before the festival.
I neglected to mention that my previous post shaded me into last October. So I’m now officially nearly ‘only’ six months behind!

Mid-October brought the aforementioned Music Festival, one of the highlights of my year, and, as has recently become a tradition, a gaggle of visitors to share the fun with us.

Peloton at Kanteena.

I broke with my previous self-imposed rule about not going to gigs on a school night and went to the Kanteena on the Thursday night. Local band Peloton opened (a ska version of ‘Psycho-Killer’ anyone?) They’re marvellous and we saw them again, later in the weekend. Next up were a sort of Latin rock-band from New York (who’s name escapes me) followed by perennial festival favourites The Uptown Monotones, who are from Graz in Austria, but who seem to have made Lancaster their second home.

Uptown Monotones at Kanteena.

As you can see, it wasn’t exactly thronged; unlike the rest of the weekend, when just about every venue was heaving. I think the festival may, to a certain extent, be a victim of its own success.

Siqian Li at work

On the Friday evening, I didn’t even need to leave work to begin my musical excursion. Over the weekend, classical pianist Siquian Li was playing all of the best pianos in Lancaster. Apparently, the very best is the one in our main hall at work. I had a front row seat and it was spellbinding. So good, in fact, that I persuaded our group to start with her performance at the Storey Institute the next day.
UF was the first of our visitors to arrive on the Friday evening and once we’d met up we went to see…other stuff? I can’t remember now! Maybe we finished the night with the Uptown Monotones again at the Storey? Or the Gregson? Or was that another year? Oh dear. I can’t really remember many of the bands I saw at Reading Festival either, but that was at least 30 years ago. I’m sure we enjoyed ourselves anyway.

On to Saturday…

Across the fields to the railway station.

Away from the Numbers at Kanteena.

Harri Larkin at Lancaster Castle. Excellent.

Lancaster Castle.

Uptown Monotones in Lancaster Priory.

A view over Lancaster.

I do know that on the Saturday evening some of us took some time out from the music to watch Alfie Moore, of ‘It’s a Fair Cop’ fame at The Grand Theatre. Very good he was too.
TBH and I had also recently seen Bridget Riley at the Grand (I think). And at some point we saw Daliso Chaponda rehearsing new material for a Radio 4 show in a smallish room above the Borough Pub in Lancaster. Both of them were hilarious. Neither of these were that weekend, but since I didn’t take photos at either event I now have now clear idea about when they happened!

Reggie Mental at Kanteena.

Reggie Mental are another local ska band with a nice line in off-the-wall covers, ‘Inbetween Days’ for example, although they mostly cover late seventies British ska bands’ songs. The Kanteena was absolutely rammed for their performance.

A date for your diaries: this year’s festival is the 10th to the 13th of October. I’ve no idea of the line-up, but no doubt lots of local favourites will be there and hopefully some of the acts which seem to travel every year to entertain us.

A Sunny Glen Coe Stroll.

Glencoe Folk Museum – housed in thatched eighteenth century crofters cottages.

The Sunday of our Glencoe break was absolutely glorious. Uncle Fester and The Prof elected to stay in the house to watch the golf. I know; they often seem like quite rational types, but clearly some kind of mental instability is suspected.

Impressive looking ridges either side of Fionn Ghleann (I think).

The rest of the party decided to head for the Pap of Glencoe. Since breathing, and moving, more both proving a bit painful for me, I thought I would just settle for a bit of a wander. Initially I followed on up the path heading for the Pap, but with no intention of going all the way up. The views were tremendous.

Looking down to Loch Leven.

Those hills again.

After a couple of small, innocuous looking rocky steps, which, since I couldn’t really bend down, I thought I might struggle to descend (I was right), I chose to slowly amble back down.

And again. It’s a very long time since I did Bidean nam Bian (on the left here). Too long.

And then to do a slow circuit of the small lochan above Glencoe.

We have ‘chatty benches’ in Silverdale, but this road-sign takes friendliness to another level.

Glencoe Lochan.

It was genuinely warm and I made good use of the many benches stationed around along the path.

Glencoe Lochan.

The were quite a few dragonflies about and I quixotically tried to photograph them using my phone, with no success whatsoever.

Glencoe Lochan and the Pap of Glencoe.

Glencoe Lochan and the Pap of Glencoe from a slightly different angle.

Beinn a’ Bheithir and Loch Leven.

I finished with a little wander by the loch.

River Coe, Pap of Glencoe, Sgorr nam Fiannaidh and Bidean nam Bian.

And was back in time to see the end of the Ryder Cup. Oh no! Could it be that I have a smidge of ‘mental instability’ too?

Beinn Sgulaird

Sunset from the M74, just across the border.

Late September. The Tower Captain and I drove* up to Glencoe to join a small party of old muckers who’d already been there most of the week.
(*Well, he drove, I took photos out of the window obviously).

On the Saturday, we dragged ourselves away from the drama of the Ryder Cup* and headed around the coast to Glen Creran, parking one car up the valley in the car park near Elleric, before returning to park the other near Druimavuic from where we began our traverse of the longish ridge of Beinn Sgulaird.
(*Not as tricky for me as it was for some of the others. I hate golf. Although I do enjoy watching Europe beat the USA)

Looking down to Loch Creran.

Now Beinn Sgulaird was a new Munro to me. Not something that happens very often. I think the last new one I ticked off was Stuchd an Lochain back in 2011. I didn’t think much about that novelty last September, but this evening I dug out my old Munros map/tick-list and have enjoyed looking it over and wondering about some of the other Munros I’ve yet to climb. I’ll never finish them all, which I’m totally happy with, in fact there are many I’ve climbed before that I’m really hankering after revisiting, but it is nice to grab a new one now and again.
If I remember right, the reason we’d lit upon Beinn Sgulaird in the first place was that it was one of UF’s remaining four unticked Munros. He’s obviously much more single-minded than me. And braver. I’ve done some summits in the Skye Cuillin, but on the whole I’m content to leave those hills to people with a better head for heights than me. And better balance, come to that.

Meall Garbh from unnamed top at 488m.

We did Stuchd an Lochain mostly in mist. This was another cloudy day, but we had much better views than we did that day.

Looking back to the 488m top.

There was a small, but easy to follow path, and although I never move very quickly, we made steady progress.

Andy on Meall Garbh (I think).

The cloud on the ridge was swirling about and offering partial views, which was very atmospheric.

Misty conditions.

A partial clearing.

Andy again.

The descent from Meall Garbh.

Beinn Trilleachan (I think).

Pano.

The ridge on to Beinn Sgulaird.

Looking back to Meall Garbh. (I think).

I don’t seem to have taken a summit photo. I’m not sure why not, but we were in the cloud for a while, either side of the summit.

Descending into Coire nan Tulach.

The Prof was adamant that from the top we should turn-tail and retrace our ascent route, since there had been a good path. He was in a minority of one however. Old, wiser heads prevailed. Well….older anyway.

Stob Gaibhre in the foreground. I presume that’s Beinn Fhionnlaidh beyond. Looks good.

Any trace of a path, faint or otherwise, soon disappeared. Never-the-less, to begin with the descent into Coire nan Tulach was great. It was rough going, yes, but rocky and interesting, with expansive views and a real, remote wild feel to it.

Pretty much the same view again. I like them both!

But the lower we descended, the more tussocky and awkward the going became. We skirted around Stob Gaibhre and then dropped off the ridge down towards Glen Ure.

Beinn Trilleachan. Rocky.

I fell over, which was annoying. Then I fell again, but this time it was more than annoying. It ought to have been an innocuous affair – I pitched forward onto a large tussock – but the impact was on my sternum which was extremely painful and which took me almost a month to recover from. Maybe I cracked a rib. Certainly breathing was uncomfortable for the rest of that day and the one which followed. I’ve always been prone to tumbling now and again, but it seems that these days I don’t bounce like I used to.
Maybe the Prof was right about our choice of descent route.
Just don’t tell him I admitted that.

Glen Ure.

Fortunately, once we hit the track in Glen Ure the rest of the walk became an easy and very pleasant affair, although I think it did spit with rain a little.

Looking back. An Grianan in the centre. Looks worth investigating. Beinn Fhionnlaidh on the left.

The whole ridge: Stob Gaibhre, Beinn Sgulaird, Meall Garbh and point 488m on the right.

Back in the car park, UF, for reasons only he knows, decided to settle an argument with a tree by backing his car into it. I think he lost, although said collision didn’t seem to slow him or his speedy vehicle down any on the drive back around to Glen Coe.

A mostly brilliant day. Some views, a new tick, an interesting gnarly ridge, great company and rounded all off with another fabulous meal at The Laroch in Ballachulish (which is highly recommended).

Map.

MapMyWalk gives a little over 10 miles, and almost exactly 1000m of climbing (which is definitely an underestimate).

A Nautiloid

White-lipped snail.

A post to deal with mid-September last year.
On a dull Sunday, after a walk around Jenny Brown’s Point with TBH, I went to Lambert’s Meadow and took a few photos of spiders and a lot of photos of snails. Do snails breed in September? I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many in one visit.

More banded snails.

Cottage at Silverdale Green.

Another cottage at Silverdale Green.

On the following weekend, the second Morecambe Poetry festival took place at the Winter Gardens. This time TBH joined me and we went to see the headline poets on both the Friday and Saturday nights; first Brian Bilston and Henry Normal, then Jackie Kay and Carol Ann Duffy. Fabulous.

Morecambe Winter Gardens.

The line up for this year’s festival looks every bit as enticing, hopefully TBH will join me again.

I saw Lemn Sissay at the first festival and years ago when I lived in Manchester and likewise, I saw Mike Harding live several times, but not for a very long time. This time, two BBC programmes – Loose Ends and The Verb – will be broadcast live from the festival. Things are on the up and up, both for Morecambe and for the Winter Gardens.

On the Sunday of that weekend, TBH had a mission to perform.

Hazelwood Hall.

She took me to Heald Brow with a hand drawn map she’d been given by a colleague.

TBH on Heald Brow – Bowland Fells on the horizon.

The map showed the location of…

Heald Brow fossilised Nautiloid.

I’ve heard about this impressive fossil a few times from friends in the village, but have never actually managed to find it. With the aid of TBH’s map, we found it this time almost immediately. It’s hard to spot because it’s generally covered with a piece of turf which you’re supposed to replace, although I’m not sure why.

A skein of geese.

Post sunset light at The Cove.

Later, I was out again for a wander to the Cove and across the Lots.

After years of not putting out food for the birds because our cats were a bit too interested, we’ve now realised that our one remaining cat is too old, fat and slow (I sympathise) to do any harm anymore. I snaffled a number of feeders from my parents a while ago and since TBH strung them all up (the feeders, not my parents!) from the Silver Birch by our kitchen window they have been giving me a great deal of pleasure ever since.

Starling eating dried meal-worms.

Starling on our beech hedge.

Expect a lot more photos of our very varied visitors as I catch-up (ho ho) with the intervening six-months or so.

Whitbarrow before the Heavens Opened

Ascending through the woods onto Whitbarrow.

TBH recently declared herself to be ‘fed up with Whitbarrow’. I suppose we have climbed it quite a few times in recent years, but I’m struggling to imagine getting tired of that prospect.

Foulshaw Moss, The River Kent and Arnside Knott from the south-western tip of Whitbarrow.

On the Sunday after our TMTCH gig, we needed something reasonably local and reasonably short because the forecast suggested that things were going to get very wet later in the day. They did.

A bit of a sit and a chinwag.

Whitbarrow, then was ideal on both counts.

Gummer How, the Lakeland Fells and Lord’s Seat.

Early sunshine soon gave way to much greyer, gloomy skies.

J and MM by the large cairn on Lord’s Seat.

A view of the Forest of Bowland Fells, Warton Crag, Arnside Knott and the Kent Estuary.

By the time we were off the hill by Witherslack Hall there were a few drops of moisture in the air.

Chapel Head Scar.

Approaching Witherslack Hall.

Curious looking cloud over the woods on Yewbarrow.

We almost made it back, but somewhere around Beck Head it began to absolutely chuck it down.

A road turned into a stream.

Not to worry, we’d got out again, and had a fabulous weekend together.

We didn’t walk along the A590. Must have forgotten to pause the app.

A Night to Remember

Or Black Combe Again.

The substantial track up Black Combe from the south.

Old friends J and A, MM and F, and UF had booked a cottage in Silverdale for the weekend.
Back in our Manchester days, UF and I went to a fair few gigs together. (Perhaps I should say back in my Manchester days, since UF still lives on the outskirts of Manchester). One of the bands we saw together way back then was The Men They Couldn’t Hang. We’ve seen them many times since, although none of those all that recently. But they were playing the Platform in Morecambe and hence the get-together.

Black Combe

I suspect that J and A do more hill-walking than just about anyone else I know, but they live in Aberdeen, so chances to walk in the Lake District don’t come around all that often. J had never climbed Black Combe and asked was everyone amenable to join him in putting that right? We were.

Bog!

There was a little miscommunication over where we were going to park, but the layby we ended up in was perfect for our intended route – a north-south traverse starting and finishing to the west of the hill. The weather was a bit odd – warm and sunny with lots of lovely blue sky, but heavy, low cloud to the south.
Black Combe wasn’t busy at all, and the people we did see were cyclists flying along on ebikes which seems to be becoming the norm for mountain-bikers.

The team by the large cairn on Black Combe’s south top. TBH napping.

I suggested this spot on the south top for a lunch break because it has terrific views over Morecambe Bay. Well, sometimes it has terrific views over Morecambe Bay, but not on this occasion sadly…

The view!

Looking back up to the large cairn.

As usual, I hadn’t brought any lunch, so had a little wander down to another prominent cairn to see whether that offered any better view, which it did to a very limited extent…

A partial view of Morecambe Bay.

The hills north of Black Combe.

On our descent.

Whitbeck

TBH and I then went for a refreshing dip in the sea at Silecroft. It was spitting with rain by then, but that didn’t detract I didn’t feel. The others didn’t join us, they were eager to get back to their cottage to get fed, watered and spruced up for our evening’s entertainment.
My old friend X-Ray joined us at the venue and we also bumped into another friend of mine, E, who was TBH’s work colleague many moons ago and who was at the gig with a relative of a member of the band. TMTCH were fantastic. We’re off to see them again soon, well UF and I anyway, in Barnoldswick of all places.

Map

Bold as Brass

Evening light on the coast near Far Arnside.

‘Back to work’ a three word phrase perhaps as dispiriting as ‘replacement bus service’? (see the comments a couple of posts back!). But all good things, including long summer teaching holidays, have to come to an end I suppose.
To add insult to injury, the weather in the first week of September usually takes a turn for the better after the damp squib which has been August. Certainly our first Monday at least was lovely. Starting how I meant to go on, I got out that evening for an ascent of Arnside Knott. The following evening I was out on my bike, after that my resolve seems to have crumbled – or probably the weather returned to our new norm of rain, rain and more rain.

A pair of Roe Deer in the woods, Heathwaite.

During a recent visit to ours, The Sherpa and The Prof were speculating on how many times I’ve climbed the Knot. To be honest, I don’t have a clue, but I think that they estimated, I don’t know how, a figure of around a thousand times. That might be a fair guess. This particular ascent stands out from the many not just because of the lovely evening light, but because of this pair of Roe Deer which stared at me for a while, but then went back to browsing the woodland floor seemingly quite unconcerned even when another walker passed and threw us all a cheery greeting.

Kent Estuary post sunset.

A pair of Roe deer in our garden.

My guess is that this pair are siblings, although I couldn’t tell you why I think that. I’ve noticed that the deer are occasionally more brazen in our garden these days too, particularly when we are in the house when they seem to have no qualms approaching quite close.

Addendum: I’ve found some more photos, which I took on my camera and hadn’t downloaded, and this is in fact three deer – a mother and her two fawns, so I wasn’t so far off with my siblings guess.

Here’s the mother:

Roe deer close up.

A very hairy caterpillar, possibly a Ruby Tiger moth.

Whilst I remember both sets of deer, I have no recollection at all of photographing this caterpillar. I hope that it was in our garden, I once found a very colourful Garden Tiger Moth in a spider’s web on one of our window ledges, but it would be nice to think that we have resident Ruby Moths too. One day I’ll get around to making or buying a moth trap and then I suppose I’ll find out.