Gangsta Grouse.

Clougha Scar.

I’m very fond of walks at odd times of day, but my post-work outings are usually restricted to late spring and early summer when daylight stretches well into the evening. So this walk, from the beginning of December was a bit unusual, but with an early start at work (a training day), a 1pm finish, a good forecast and a cracking little hill close to work, it seemed too good an opportunity to miss.

Windy Clough.

I parked in the Rigg Lane car park and took pretty much the same route up and down, but this walk, of only a little more than three miles, packs a great deal in to that short distance.

A frosty afternoon.

Caton Moor Wind Farm, the hills above Kirkby and the Three Peaks.

Looking back down Clougha Scar towards the hills of the Lakes.

Time for a brew.

I’d treated myself to a new small gas canister – I had been using much bigger ones which wouldn’t pack away with the rest of the stove. I was extremely disconcerted, when I connected said canister to the jetboil, to find it squirting liquid propane everywhere. I’ve since been told that this is usual, and it has continued to release a little fuel every time I reconnect it. I shan’t be buying anymore branded Jetboil canisters – the Coleman canisters I’ve always used in the past have never done this.

Morecambe Bay.

It was cold, but very still, and, well wrapped-up, I enjoyed sitting and admiring the view, although I was very conscious of the fact that I only had limited daylight left to get back to the car.

Sunset.

Gangsta Grouse.

I always see Grouse on Clougha. Usually they hide until I’m almost on top of them, and then suddenly fly off, making a right racket and putting the wind up me in the process. In the summer months the males are much more evident, displaying themselves on prominent boulders. This individual seemed to have an unusual amount of bravado and wandered around on the path just in front of me – often stopping to give me a once over and generally displaying a complete lack of concern about my proximity.

Back at the car park – timed it about right.

Later, Uncle Fester, who had come up from Manchester, and I were at the Platform in Morecambe to see Merry Hell supported by local band Hiroshima Twinkie.

Hiroshima Twinkie.

It was a bit of a punt on our part, neither were bands either of us had seen before, and I’d didn’t know a great deal about either apart from the fact that Merry Hell seemed to be the kind of thing that both UF and I would enjoy.

Merry Hell.

Happily, it was an excellent show and I would gladly see either band again. A great start to the weekend!