We had a ‘continental’* training day at work, starting at eight and finishing at one, not that I actually got away at one. It was the end of November, so that didn’t leave an awful lot of daylight, but with a high start from the Littledale car park, which is not far from Lancaster, and no ambitious plans, there was still time to squeeze in a good little wander.
That’s it, short and sweet. I’m beginning to think that these short, hit-and-run excursions might often be my favourite walks. Having said that, I notice that this one was nearly six miles, so not too brief after all.
Of course, it helps if you have the right terrain for a pleasant, short walk on your doorstep.
*Is there anywhere on the continent where people actually work these hours?
When, last January, in the first flush of enthusiasm for my new assault on the Wainwrights, I tackled the Coniston Fells in less than optimal weather conditions, I chose an inefficient route taking in the three central fells of the range and leaving three scattered outliers – Dow Crag, Grey Friar and Great Carrs. With hindsight, I think that this is no bad thing, since it gives me an excuse for more walks in the area.
So, this mid-November Saturday found me parked on the roadside by Tarn Beck, just outside Seathwaite in the Duddon Valley.
It was a glorious morning, and very quiet in Seathwaite, in stark contrast to what I might have expected on the Coniston side of the hills.
Harter Fell tended to dominate the views on this walk and I took lots of photographs of it, many of which, but by no means all, have made it into this post.
The Coniston Fells are liberally supplied with crags and hows and pikes and this western side is no exception. The path climbs between Tongue House Close and Tongue House High Close, just right of centre in the photo above.
The path I had chosen fell away slightly leftwards here, towards those shaded crags on the slopes of Troutal Fell, the south-west arm of Grey Friar. Between here and those crags, the path crosses Tarn Beck. There’s no footbridge marked on the map, but this is the busy, touristy Lake District – there’ll be a bridge surely?
The ground descended very gently towards Tarn Beck and was quite boggy. When I reached the stream…
…it was to discover that there is no bridge. What’s more the stream was large and deep and fast-flowing.
It was so sunny at this point that I actually contemplated a swim, but sanity prevailed, in part because of how fast the stream was running. I hate to think how cold the water would have been.
Since I clearly couldn’t cross Tarn Beck without a dip, I followed it instead and then cut up to the dam of Seathwaite Tarn…
I paused on the dam to take several photos of a lone Goosander, none of which came out very well.
The early part of the steady climb away from the tarn was enlivened by the presence of numerous brightly coloured waxcaps…
Naturally, I took loads of pictures, but I’ve restricted myself to just two here.
In my mind, Dow Crag is always associated with the eponymous crag above Goat Water, with the south ridge over Brown Pike and Buck Pike and with Easy Gully, which is far from easy and which I haven’t ascended for many, many moons. It was good to see it from this less familiar perspective.
Sadly, I arrived at the summit cairn on Grey Friar at the same time as the low cloud brought by the encroaching weather front. I was lucky to still have some views, but not the spectacular views I might have expected given the open blue skies at the start of the walk. In addition, the temperature had dropped appreciably and, without the warming sunshine, it now felt very much like mid-November in the hills.
I found a sheltered spot for a quick drink and a snack. Truth be told, as usual, I had an overly ambitious plan B which involved climbing the main ridge and completing a horseshoe round to Dow Crag. It was clear though that I didn’t have the daylight hours left for that route, or the weather to make the extra effort worthwhile.
So, I beat a hasty retreat, retracing my ascent route initially, before following a track down, which gave very easy walking and which is presumably a remnant of the construction of the Seathwaite Tarn dam.
Presumably due to the lack of retail outlets and other tourist attractions, the lovely Duddon Valley often seems to be relatively quiet; I saw very few other walkers on this outing. When I get around to ticking-off Dow Crag I think I shall have to do it from this side for a change.
The final day of October half-term, and for reasons I can’t remember, I only set-off for my favourite stroll around the coast to Arnside and back over the Knott at around three in the afternoon.
When I moved to the area, around thirty years ago, there was no salt-marsh at White Creek and none at Grange either, but you could walk on the grass from Knowe Point to Far Arnside. Now the situation is reversed, testament to the way the river channel changes and so keeps the Bay in constant flux.
Likewise, thirty years ago, I wouldn’t have expected to see any Little Egrets in the area, but now they are relatively common, and Great Egrets are also beginning to establish themselves.
If I’ve identified this lichen correctly, and it is Xanthoria parientina, then it’s a common lichen which produces a yellow chemical, xanthorin “thought to be produced as a defence against UV radiation” (source), when the lichen is shaded it doesn’t produce the chemical and is then green.
Lichens are famously a symbiosis between a fungi and a photosynthesising partner, either an algae or a cyanobacteria (blue-green algae). I’ve been reading ‘Entangled Life’ by Merlin Sheldrake, which TBH bought me for Christmas, and apparently many lichens are now known to be multi-species symbiosis, that is, to have three or more species living in partnership.
I didn’t study Biology at school, even to O-level standard, but with hindsight that seems like a crazy decision; the more I learn the more unlikely and astonishing almost every aspect of life seems to be. For example, also gleaned from “Entangled Life’, did you know that are own mitochondrial cells might have started life, in evolutionary terms, as independent bacterial cells? I think I’ve got that right, although, as I said, I’m no biologist!
There were four Little Egrets stalking the shallows just off the promenade in Arnside. They fish by stirring up the riverbed with their feet, and look pretty comical doing it, a sort of avian ‘Ministry of Funny Walks’.
I know: they don’t have black heads, but their name is a bit misleading, because that’s breeding plumage, which, by autumn, they’d just about lost.
If you are reading in the UK, and haven’t got around to watching ‘Wild Isles’ yet, and, to be honest, I’ve only just started myself, there’s some amazing footage in the first episode of Black-headed Gulls trying to steal Sand Eels from Puffins.
One advantage of a late start!
*If you were expecting at least a passing reference to the John Wyndham novel, my apologies**. I like his novels, this one included, but haven’t read it, or any of his others, for a very long time. Fifteen years in to blogging, when most of your posts consist of photos of leaves and butterflies, and the same three walks repeated ad infinitum, it’s sometimes hard to come up with titles you haven’t used before. That’s my excuse, and I’m sticking to it.
**Although, now, of course, you’ve had it. What are you complaining about?
Our wedding anniversary. Brass and nickel apparently. TBH had been doing some tutoring and a grateful tutee had given her a voucher for the New Inn in Yealand. So we’d booked a table.
Uncharacteristically, we left early enough to be almost on time. If we took a direct route and didn’t tarry. So we did, and didn’t, if you see what I mean.
Despite the slight pressure we’d put ourselves under, it was a pleasant walk, if a somewhat gloomy day, as you can see.
I used to be a bit sceptical about the stone circle on Summer House Hill, thinking maybe the boulders just happened to be here anyway, but then I discovered that it’s actually a scheduled monument, and that the four remaining stones were once joined by thirteen others, now evident due to the socket holes which show their former positions, and by a ditch which ran around the circle.
Not a great photo, but it does demonstrate how wet and muddy the ground was back in October and the propensity of lambs to get through a hedge or a fence and then decide that they would prefer to be back with the flock, if only they could remember how they managed it.
I used to come to the New Inn quite a lot. When I first moved to Silverdale, I would walk here to meet friends for a meal and a few drinks, then stagger home in the dark.
The pub closed for a while and was refurbished and I haven’t been back since then.
Anyway, the food was excellent. TBH was very happy with her vegan option.
Mine was good too, and the beer went down well.
On the way home, the weather even brightened up a little.
It was a grand day and we really should have repeated the experience by now. Soon, hopefully.
Another October half-term outing, a short walk with TBH, around Hawes Water and back.
I think theses last three photos all show Honey Fungus. I hope so anyway, because it’s fascinating stuff. It grows on wood, dead or alive. When it attacks living trees it will kill them, so it’s not popular with gardeners.
The colour of the cap varies, depending on what kind of wood it’s growing on.
It’s apparently bioluminescent. Every year, I tell myself I will bring some home to see this for myself, and every year I somehow don’t get around to it. Maybe this autumn.
It’s sometimes called Bootlace Fungus because the mycelium, the main body of the fungus, consists of black strings which resemble, well….bootlaces. This mycelium can be huge; a related specimen in Oregon was discovered which occupied almost four square miles of forest, making it the largest known organism on the planet.
It is reportedly edible, but not when raw. Details like that make me feel suspicious, so I haven’t tried it yet.
October half-term. Some very mixed weather, if I remember right. I stuck to local walks. Actually, the weather was sometimes better than expected, and then I felt a bit cheated, because I could have gone further afield, but in truth we were probably getting better weather here on the coast than I would have experienced in the hills, so local walks weren’t a bad choice after all.
These photos are from a short outing up Arnside Knott. An ascent of the Knott, or a walk around the coast to Arnside, or some combination of the two are my go to walks these days, especially when there’s some drama in the skies.
I’ve joined a few Faceache groups, a butterflies and moths one, obviously, a plant ID one, and a fungi of the world one. I think the latter made me more conscious of the huge amount and diversity of fungi on display locally last autumn.
I took loads of photos on this walk, and through the week generally. The ones I took on this day mostly weren’t very sharp. Maybe it was a gloomy day, although there were definitely some periods of blue sky…
Finally, I was surprised to find this holly bush, which was liberally festooned with yellow berries. I wondered if it might be a cultivar, a garden escapee, but I’ve since read that yellow or orange berries are just a rare variation of our native holly.
A catch-up post to cover some ‘other stuff’ from last autumn into early December. First-up, the Silverdale Hotel, know locally as ‘The Lower House’, had a beer festival. The Woodlands has long had its own beer festival, and very good it is too. The Silverdale’s festival had the added attraction of live music. I enjoyed Billy Joe the Canadian’s act, but the big draw was the John Verity Band. They’ve played the Hotel several times now and we are incredibly lucky to have them. Mr Verity has had a long and distinguished career in music, his current band play a mixture of his own songs, old and new, and some fantastic covers, mostly blues flavoured. The beer was good too! At this distance it’s two stouts that stick in my memory, a black forest gateau stout and, particularly, a cappuccino stout. Yum.
By contrast, here’s ‘Little’ S at Silver Sapling, where we organised a fundraiser for his scout trip to Bangladesh and India, long-awaited and delayed by Covid, but now fast-approaching. The event was attended by lots of local Brownie groups. There was a round robin of many activities, the main attraction being viking reenactors with axes and the like.
Nextdoor neighbour BB and I were on ‘Fire-lighting with flint and steel’ followed by toasting authentic norse marshmallows. Some of the flint and steels were very tricky to use, and the weather was a bit mixed, but the cheerful enthusiasm of all of the brownies and their leaders was a real tonic, making it difficult even for a grumpy git like me not to enjoy themselves.
This is the Mikron Theatre company in the Gaskell Hall in the village. We’ve seen them there several times. This show was about the weather, forecasting and climate change, with a cast of four playing all the parts and all playing instruments and singing to boot. Highly entertaining as ever.
The Lancaster Music Festival is becoming a much anticipated high-point of my year. This year, once again, we were joined by a number of the old-gang, who booked a house in Lancaster for the weekend. I went in to town straight from work on the Friday afternoon. Over the weekend we saw numerous acts of which these photos show a very limited sample. Away from the Numbers play covers, the Jam, Secret Affair, The Who – if it’s mod, they like it.
We saw the Uptown Monotones twice, once at the Gregson on the Friday and again at the Storey on the Saturday. They’re massively entertaining live and highly recommended if you get a chance to see them. I see they are playing a few UK gigs this summer.
We’d enjoyed Ten Sheds in the John O’Gaunt in 2021, so made a point of seeing him there again.
I think the White Cross was one of the places we listened to local ska band Peloton.
This photo was taken on the Sunday morning of that same weekend. A pair of Roe Deer bucks were sparring in our garden, something I haven’t seen before. In truth, one of the pair seemed distinctly disinterested, and kept trying to withdraw, but the aggressor insisted on pressing home his advantage. I took a few photos, but all of them came out a little blurred.
These two photos were taken, about half an hour apart, at the end of October half-term and probably sum-up the weather that week. We were there for a rugby match for B’s colts team, played on a pitch which was a quagmire.
Early in November, B and I travelled down to Twickenham with Kirkby Lonsdale RUFC for a rugby international.
It was a great experience, but a very long day.
At least this was when Engeland were still winning matches occasionally.
TBH went into Lancaster on a Saturday morning to catch the last day of an exhibition.
It was terrific, with lots of interesting exhibits.
Finally, at the beginning of December, TBH and I went to the West End of Morecambe for a Lantern Festival. It was on a smaller scale than the one we’ve visited a couple of times in Ulverston, but enjoyable none-the -less.
There’s a lot goes on in our neck of the woods; nice to take advantage of it.
Somebody, Andy I think, had organised an extended trip to Glencoe and had booked a a little bungalow for us to stay in. Being a teacher, I couldn’t get time off for the trip, but luckily the Tower Captain agreed to join me for a weekend only version. We drove up on the Friday after work, stopping in Hamilton for my usual haggis supper and fish supper for TC.
In my head, the Saturday dawned clear and bright after a week of miserable weather, but looking back at Andy’s posts about this trip, I find that that is just wishful thinking on my part, and that they had already had several excellent days. Never-the-less, Saturday morning was stunning and it was fairly quickly agreed that a jaunt up Beinn a’ Bheithir was called for.
Here are some of the crew in the kitchen of the aforementioned bungalow. I believe there was a bit of a Herefordshire Harangue in progress which is what was making Uncle Fester grin so much. Clearly, I should have used video and then I might have some hope of recalling why the Prof was in trouble with his Parental Control.
Four of these people had the misfortune of sharing my time at University, centuries ago, (not the Prof obviously) and three of them, I think, were with me the first time I climbed Beinn a’ Bheithir. On that occasion, we ascended the western arm of the horseshoe, heading for Sgorr Dhonuill. The ridge has more contours than you can shake a stick at, with constant up-and-downs over innumerable humps, hollows, knobbles and hillocks. In deep powdery snow and a strong wind it was exhausting.
Anyway, this time we were heading for the other munro, Sgorr Dhearg. We parked in the playground of Ballaculish primary school (it’s allowed apparently) and set-off towards our first objective, the rounded lump of Beinn Bhan. This ridge…
…the southern arm of Coire Riabhach, offered an alternative, much steeper, route to the top.
Our own route was steep enough at first, after a couple of fields, the going became both steep and rough, with initially no sign of a path.
I was entertained by a pleasing variety of wildflowers underfoot, most notably some Grass of Parnassus, also known, apparently, as Bog-star, which gives an idea of the kind of ground we were crossing!
The path on the ridge was much better and the ground began to level out a bit too. We had the first of many stops not long after I took this photo, I think.
It’s far too long since I’ve walked the marvellous ridges of the Mamores.
If any of the party had been keen to go on to bag Sgorr Dhonuill, they managed to hide their disappointment well as we all turned down the long ridge which heads north from Sgorr Dhearg.
I think that I’ve been down this way once before. It was May half-term, about 30 years ago, and I was acting as driver for a school group – they were mountain biking and I was driving the minibus and towing a bike-trailer between the hostels we were staying in. I had knee problems, but where possible I would try to fit in a walk whilst the others were cycling. One day, I decided to repeat the two Munros of Beinn a’ Beithir. One of my colleagues, my friend CT, and a couple of the lads (it was all boys on the trip) decided to take a day off from cycling and join me for a walk. I think we had a good day, but the descent does stick out in my mind since I can remember a steep slither beneath dense forestry. Not much fun.
Anyway, the ridge was great fun. Rocky and airy to begin with, broader, grassy and easy walking after that.
Eventually, the easy walking ran out. We entered a heavily vegetated, tussocky purgatory. It was horrible. Different from slithering through steep-sloped forestry, but just as bad, although we did manage to squeeze in a bit of forestry right near the end.
At least it did end, and we had a table booked at the Laroch in Ballachulish, where the food was superb. I think the beer might have been acceptable too. And the company was definitely up to scratch.
On the Sunday, the weather was pretty poor. We were forced to restrict ourselves to a short ramble in the forest behind the village. I was worn-out from the day before and happy to have an excuse not to do too much before our long drive home.
A couple were getting married by the lochan, a shame about all the clouds. I hope they had a good day..
Still back in September. Storth had a beer festival. In the spirit of not looking such gift-horse opportunities in the mouth, I decided to combine a walk with a couple of pints.
I attempted to take a lot of photographs of butterflies, hoverflies and dragonflies on my phone, without a great deal of success.
So, I had a couple of very nice beers, some chowder from the Morecambe Bay Soup company, which was delicious, and listened to a very good singer/guitarist, whose name, sadly, escapes me.
All I lacked really was a bit of company. I shall definitely come again, if it happens this autumn, but will try harder to drag some neighbours along too.