Listed Lancaster: Storey Institute Back Entrance

“Former frontispiece to Cawthorne House, which was built in the 1770s by Richard Gillow for John Fenton Cawthorne and stood on the site of the present Post Office in Market Street. Re-sited and reduced in height c1906. Sandstone ashlar. Roman Doric portico with 2 columns in antis under a triglyph frieze and cornice. Above this 3 courses of masonry with chamfered quoins and a small moulded cornice, then a single course surmounted by a pediment with dentils. (Originally there were 2 storeys between the portico and the pediment.) The openings of the portico are furnished with elegant wrought-iron gates and screens, also from Cawthorne House, which have elaborate scrolled cresting. The structure frames a rectangular opening in a single-storey building.”

from the Historic England  website.

I’ve wanted to get a photo of this marvellous gateway for a while, but there’s usually a vehicle parked in front of it. I didn’t realise that it had been moved here from somewhere else, but that does make sense since it does look somewhat out of place in its current position – even on Castle Park where listed Georgian buildings are the norm rather than the exception.

There’s a photo of the front of the Storey Institute in this post.

Skiddaw by Ullock Pike

Bassenthwaite, the Solway Firth and the distant hills of Galloway.

This was actually a weekend away with old friends, the usual crowd, if you are familiar with the blog, but I’m only going to post about the Saturday because we dipped out on the Sunday, due to a dodgy knee and a discouraging weather forecast.

Ullock Pike.

As you can see, by contrast, Saturday’s weather was superb, although the photos don’t convey the strong wind which was blowing.

The stoney slopes of Skiddaw.

Longside Edge.

Derwentwater and central Lakeland.

Looking back along the ridge.

Skiddaw again.

In the photo above, you can see the scar of the main path up from Carlside Tarn to the summit of Skiddaw. Some of us took a more direct route up to the southernmost end of the summit ridge.

Binsey, with the Galloway hills behind.

Finally some shelter from the wind and the chance to enjoy some the sunshine.

A great day out in wonderful company. Having said that, I don’t seem to have managed to take many photos of the assembled masses. Andy’s post has more photos generally and more photos of people in particular.

There were a whole host of Birkett’s on this circular and it occurs to me that, now that I’m off it’s high time I updated my Birkett tick list, with which I am way behind.

The last time I climbed Skiddaw it was an overnight affair with a couple of hours of sleep snatched on its stoney flanks.

September

Big skies over Eaves Wood.

Autumn Lady’s Tresses on the Lots.

Swallows, gathering to leave.

Sunset, rivers Kent and Bela, Whitbarrow Scar.

The last photo is from a standard, short circuit I walk, when it’s light, after I’ve dropped A off for a ballet lesson in Milnthorpe. The others from Sunday afternoon walks after following on from morning Rugby duties. On one of those Sundays, B had played for Carlisle against three other teams, including his own, because Carlisle had arrived for the mini tournament short of players after a bug had decimated their ranks. He enjoyed it enormously, because the Carlisle players were so friendly and welcoming. Aside from that, I can’t tell you much about those walks, because I don’t remember.

Maybe I’m in the September of my years?

I find the more familiar versions of this Weil-Anderson standard a bit pedestrian. Trust Mr Brown to pep it up.

Hell’s Mouth and Mynydd Cilan

Serious surfers. 

Hell’s Mouth, or Porth Neigwl, is a huge beach in the south-western corner of the peninsula. Unlike Porth Towyn, where we spend much of our time on these trips, Hell’s Mouth is exposed to the prevailing westerlies and has Proper Surf and is therefore patronised by Proper Surfers. We were there for a walk, on a very windy day. At the sight of the large rollers, B’s eyes lit-up. Next time we visit, we’ll have to come back and let him play in the waves. To be fair, he’s not the only one who will enjoy it.

Happy Hikers.

For today though, we were making a circuit on the breezy headland of Mynydd Cilan.

Hell’s Mouth.

A hardy Painted Lady – I’m not sure how butterflies cope with the winds.

The hill on the far side of the bay is Mynydd Rhiw. One for a future trip.

Carn Fadryn and Garn Bach on the right.

At some point, we managed to get a little of the beaten path and found ourselves bashing through bracken and prickly low-growing gorse. Somebody, I think it was TBH, practically stepped on a snake. Sadly, I didn’t see it, so no photograph, I’m afraid.

I may have missed the snake, but I did spot this little chap, hurrying across the sand as we were almost back to our charabancs. I think this is the caterpillar of the Fox Moth. I’ve seen them before in the hills – for example in Greenburn Bottom after climbing Helm Crag, or on Rolling End more than 10 years ago now. But apparently they are very widespread and coastal grasslands are another of their favoured habitats.

Carn Fadryn – a Perennial Favourite.

Every trip to the Llyn peninsula inevitably includes an ascent of small, but perfectly formed, Carn Fadryn. Here we are on the summit. I don’t know why A looks so sour, she enjoys a walk, but, thinking about it, she’s not so keen on sitting around. She was probably cold.

Garn Bach.

Because we’ve climbed it on just about every visit, Carn Fadryn has appeared innumerable times on the blog. You can find some of those previous visits here.

Looking Westward towards the end of the peninsula.

It wasn’t quite as clear as it has been on some previous occasions, nor did we have the drama of the previous year’s atmospheric sunset, but the views were expansive never the less.

The Rivals.

 

Butterflies on the Mynydds

Bardsey Island.

A walk at the end of the peninsula, parking on Mynydd Mawr and walking to Mynydd Anelog, will perhaps become a new fixture of our summer trip to the Llyn. The views and the colours are truly spectacular.

I started this walk at the back of the pack, even in a slow moving group I seem to gravitate towards the rear.

And having started there…

…I fell gradually farther and farther behind.

The problem was that I was distracted, not only by the stunning views and the carpet of purple heather and yellow gorse, but also by the profusion of butterflies and my attempts to photograph them.

Painted Lady underwing, subtler than the more familiar upperwings, but beautiful none the less.

Painted Ladies were the most abundant, but I remember happily counting nine different species of butterfly on this single walk. It’s the kind of thing which makes me inordinately happy. 2019 was a bumper year for butterflies apparently, particularly for painted ladies. The last big year for these migrants was 2009, an influx which I remember well.

Mynydd Anelog.

Common Blue on Common Fleabane.

I’ve read that Common Blues did well last summer too, with recorded numbers up over 100%. These two seem intent on increasing the population even further..

The male is on the right, recognisable because he is more brightly coloured. Which bright colouring includes his aedeagus (analog of a penis). Which came as a bit of a surprise to me!

There were quite a lot of Common Blues about. Here’s another pair…

Painted Lady on Common Fleabane.

Drone Fly on Mint.

Mynydd Mawr.

It wasn’t only the butterflies who were feeling amorous…

I knew that grasshoppers are very variable in colour within a species, but the differences are quite striking here. I was also surprised by how much smaller the male is than the female…

I’ve found an excellent online identification guide to crickets and grasshoppers, but I’m still not sure about these. I think they might be Field Grasshoppers.

Tatty Meadow Brown.

Mottled Grasshopper. Possibly.

Small Copper.

Tatty Painted Lady.

Small Tortoiseshell.

Red Admiral. Also two types of heather, Ling Heather, which is paler pink and dominant here and, to the right of the butterfly, the darker, purpler Bell Heather.

Along the coast to the distant Rivals.

Mynydd Anelog.

Red Admiral.

Meadow Brown.

It may have seemed, earlier in the post, that I had promised nine different species of butterfly, but the post only has photographs of six. What were the other three? Well….I’m fairly confident that one was Small White, but they rarely sit still to be photographed. And…I don’t remember I’m afraid. Possibly Ringlet. Maybe Wall Brown, which I’ve seen here before. Or Gatekeepers? Or Small Heath? Much as I’ve enjoyed revisiting this marvellous walk at eight months remove, there might almost be something to be said for keeping a diary up to date!

My account of the last time we did this walk is here.

Andy’s posts about this walk are well worth a read, and can be accessed here. That’s him, on the right of the final picture.

Kite Flying and Other Fun at Towyn Farm

We were at home briefly after our trip to Germany and Holland, but no summer is complete for us without a trip to the Llyn Peninsula with our Camping Friends and so we were soon packing our trailer tent and driving down to Towyn Farm. All of the usual fun was had: barbecues, camp fires, mass games of cricket and kubb, and frequent trips to the beach. At the beginning of this visit, the sea was like the proverbial mill pond and we had, I think, the best snorkeling we have ever had there. There were so many fish to see, including Dogfish and, I think, a Plaice and lots of Wrasse. Later in the week, the winds picked up and so did the waves, which always makes the kids (large and small) very happy because of the opportunity for some body-boarding.

The winds also encouraged us to dig out TBH’s parafoil kite. She’s had it for years, from before we met, which is over 20 years ago, but it needed new lines and it has sat neglected in our garage.

It’s a stunt kite and remarkably easy to crash. I blame the variable winds. A was the most successful of the kids at keeping it aloft. B’s reactions were hilarious, he got very excited and usually over-compensated for the movements of the kite.

TBH demonstrates how it’s done. Perhaps.

I’ve always enjoyed flying kites. I once entertained the whimsical idea of flying a kite from the summit of all of the Munros. I think I managed about four. I’ve often carried a pocket kite on walks however. But I don’t have a pocket stunt kite….hmmmm.