Niagara Whirpool, Niagara Power Plant, Fort Niagara, Lake Ontario

Niagara Whirlpool.

After a long drive to Buffalo, we were itching to get out and see what the area had to offer. The Whirlpool was really awe-inspiring – you perhaps have to see and hear it moving to get a proper impression of it’s massive power.

There were numerous large birds of prey circling overhead and, not for the first time, I regretted the lack of my superzoom camera.

Whirlpool Rapids.

Captain Matthew Webb, the first man to swim the English Channel unaided, died here attempting to swim across the Whirlpool. Foolhardy doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Niagara pano.

Cable Car over the Niagara Whirlpool.

Hydro plant visitor centre.

The visitor centre at the Robert Moses Niagara Power Plant had all sorts of interactive demonstrations, quizzes and games. It was a big hit with the younger members of the party. I enjoyed the history of power production in the area and of the rivalry between Edison and Teslar over AC and DC supply.

Two hydro plants – Canadian and American.

I think this was the day we ate lunch at an amazing cafe right by the river which served enormous sandwiches.

We were packing a lot in and by the time we got to Fort Niagara it was already quite late in the day. We did a whirlwind tour of the museum, but didn’t have time for the film, which young M assured us was a great loss.

Never mind, the fort itself was fascinating.

A Tower at Fort Niagara.

Cannon!

I’m always a sucker for any kind of battlements and was particularly taken with the top of these roofed towers.

Tower view.

Another view from the tower.

River Niagara flowing into Lake Ontario.

Reenactors.

I assume the man on the left is dressed as a member of one of the local native American peoples. An Iroquois?

The man on the right was demonstrating the loading and firing of a musket. I think his uniform is French. His talk was entertaining and informative. The main thing I remember is the huge weight of wool he told us was in his uniform. He must have been sweltering. It was hot.

A Red Coat.

Inside the Trading Post.

A barrack.

The chapel.

Lake Ontario. If you squint, Toronto is just about visible behind the sailing dinghy.

Another tower.

More cannons.

Nesting swallows.

Another tower view.

Fort Niagara Lighthouse.

The fort was closing as we left. Just one last thing to squeeze in…

Lake Ontario paddle.

A huge Cricket in the Prof’s garden.

Hardknott and Tongue Pot.

Eskdale.

I enticed B out for a walk using the lure of Tongue Pot; he’s been campaigning for a return ever since his first visit, which was five summers ago. How time flies! My side of the deal was that he had to climb a hill with me first. We parked on the big section of grass verge just west of Brotherikeld Farm (you can make out the parked cars in the photo above) and then set off toward the Hardknott Pass, soon leaving the road for the path which cuts across to the remains of the Roman Fort.

Arriving at Hardknott Roman Fort.

B has visited the fort once before, when we climbed Harter Fell with old friend X-Ray and came down via Horsehow Crags and Demming Crag (Birketts which needed ticking off, of course), which, astonishingly, was twelve summers ago. How time flies!

Beyond the wall: Horsehow Crags and Demming Crag.

Inside the fort. Border End beyond.

The Roman Fort.

The Roman Fort.

We left the fort on a path heading towards the pass – I guess the old Roman road.

The pass, the fort and Eskdale.

By the time we hit the road, it was very hot. Fortunately, from the top of the pass it was only a very short climb to the Birkett of Border End, which turned out to be one of those Birketts which is well worth a visit, with superb views and nobody else about.

On Border End, looking to the Scafells.

On Border End: Esk Pike, Bowfell, Crinkle Crags and Hard Knott.

Border End panorama.

Border End summit.

As we dropped away from the top of Border End I noticed this moth on the ground.

Garden Tiger Moth?

I think it’s a Garden Tiger, although it’s quite a way from any gardens. The wings usually seem to look more cream than yellow and the spots can vary in shape, but the general pattern looks right.

Garden Tiger Moth?

Since the moth was dead, I could and should have looked at the underwings which should have been a spectacular red, but unfortunately that didn’t occur to me at the time.

A view down on to Eskdale Needle.

I’d read that Border End has a good view of Eskdale Needle, and it does, although you may have to open a flickr copy of the photo above and zoom it to see it. One day I’ll have to come this way and drop down to have a proper look.

Yew Bank Crag panorama.

The tarn on Hard Knott was choked with reeds and looked extremely shallow, I soon dismissed any idea I’d had of an early dip there.

We diverted off the path to take in the rocky knoll of Yew Bank, another Birkett (and a Tump and a Synge apparently). Dropping slightly below the summit gave absolutely superb views of the hills and crags around Upper Eskdale and of the Esk and Lingcove Beck.

Slightside, Scafell, Mickledore, Scafell Pike, Broad Crag, Ill Crag, Great End. The river Esk and Lingcove Beck below.

Descending from Hard Knott.

Panorama.

Another view of England’s highest – hard to resist!

Lingcove Beck and Bowfell.

Lingcove Beck and Crinkle Crags.

When we reached Lingcove Beck we immediately came upon an inviting looking pool.

An inviting pool.

Me made our way down the beck, moving from pool to pool, B looking for places to jump in, whilst I settled for a swim. I think we found around five good spots. I thought Andy and I had made a pretty thorough exploration of the swimming possibilities of both the Esk and Lingcove Beck, but I don’t remember these delightful pools.

Taking another plunge.

Tongue Pot was busy, busier than it looks here. I jumped in from the wimps side, by the tree on the right, but B had only one thing in mind: the mega-leap having not done it five years ago.

Tongue Pot. Busy.

The ‘mega-leap’. This is a video. If it won’t play, click on it to visit the flickr page and view B’s feat of daring.

No qualms this time.

Once he’d done it a few times, all that remained was the pleasant walk down the valley back to the car.

Eskdale Needle from below.

Heron Stones.

The Esk and Bowfell.

Lazy Sunday Callander Walk

The view east from Bochastle Hill. Is that the Ochils beyond Callander?

After their exertions of the day before, The Prof and The Tower Captain were both in need of an easier day. Obviously, I was up for another Big Day On The Hills, but felt that they needed my company. Well, okay, I was a bit tired too. I was also put off by a forecast which sounded like the winds would be even fiercer than they had been on the Saturday. I found a circuit on my OS maps app which looked ideal and wasn’t too far out of our way home.

The high ground north of Callander.

We had a little drizzle, but the wind was quite mild, and later in the day, TC and I were both down to just a t-shirt – pretty mild for March!

Samson’s Stone, Dunmore Fort, Loch Venachar.

With hindsight, we should have climbed Dunmore Fort which is not only a little higher than Bochastle Hill, but also has some very impressive looking defensive structures on its western side. Next time.

We chatted to one of the marshals who were out on the course for the Callander 10K which would be running later in the day and then walked down a road with a sign declaring it to be ‘a walking and cycling friendly road’. A nice idea, but it’s drivers that need to be friendly, not roads.

Eas Gobhain.

Coilhallan Wood.

The ditches by the track were full of frogspawn.

As the track through Coilhallan Wood descended towards Callander, there were tantalising views towards Ben Ledi, always partially obscured by trees…

Ben Ledi.

We climbed Ben Ledi back in 2015, on another day with a ropey forecast, which I enjoyed enormously, despite the forecast proving to be largely correct.

Ben Ledi. Garbh Uisge and Eas Gobhain meet to form the River Teith.

We found a bench on the outskirts of Callander and sat by the river to eat our lunch, and watch runners coming by near the end of their 10K. They were of all shapes and sizes, ages, and speeds. Some were struggling, some clearly very happy. It made me feel quite nostalgic for the days when I used enter races of this kind myself.

Bochastle Roman Fort.

From Callander, we walked back to the car park along the course of the former Callander to Oban railway line. In the field next to the line there are earthworks which betray the site of a Roman Fort. This is even further north than the Antonine Wall which stretched between the Clyde and Forth estuaries. It was built in AD85, which means it predates Hadrian’s Wall.

The next day it was back to work sadly, but at least I had some welcome company during my breakfast…

Harter Fell and Birks Bridge.

On the Saturday of our Easter weekend I stayed at home with TBH, who, unfortunately, was suffering from her worst bout yet of labyrinthitis. Most of the rest of the party went for a swim in the Kent at Levens. It really was that warm, which is hard to believe now that it’s late May and the wind is howling outside beneath grey skies.

Easter Sunday was B’s birthday. How to entertain a teenager on their birthday? Fortunately, B was happy to fall in with our plans for a shortish walk up Harter Fell, followed by a swim in the River Duddon. TBH was feeling much better, but not well enough to want to join us.

This…

…is Birks Bridge, where we planned to have a dip after our walk.

You can see that the water is crystal clear. Deceptively deep too, it was possible, we later found, to jump from these rocks into the water without hitting the bottom.

River Duddon.

First of all though, we had a hill to climb. The initial ascent was very steep and it was unseasonably hot. Here we are…

…resting after the first steep pull.

This rocky tor…

…is Maiden Castle. It’s very imposing and we’d picked it out from the car park as somewhere worth visiting. Actually, around the far side it can be easily scaled via a grassy ramp. That’s be sat on the top.

From this point on, not only did the angle ease, but there were lots more rocky knolls, so that a variety of different entertaining options for scrambling to the top were available. Andy and the DBs were in their element. I followed on more slowly, picking my route and avoiding some of the steeper sections they sort-out.

At the top itself, there were plenty of sheltered spots for some lunch and a sunbathe…

But also lots more rocky knolls to enjoy…

B tells me that this photo…

…gives a misleading impression about the route he is climbing, which, apparently, was “much steeper than that!”

A and B have been up here once before, although I’m not sure how well they remember that visit , it was a long time ago after all.

Hazy view of the hills around Upper Eskdale.

Bird’s-eye view of Hardknott Roman Fort.

We chose the simple option of retracing our steps down to the valley. By this time, the haze had begun to clear and the views were improving.

The others were setting a cracking pace, no doubt eager for the swim to come, but I was distracted by the great number of Peacock and Orange-tip butterflies which were flying.

Orange-tips are one of those species of butterfly which rarely seem to land, at least when I have my camera handy. Fortunately, there were other distractions…

…I love the way the almost lime green new Beech leaves complement the layer of old orange leaves which always blanket the ground beneath Beeches.

They look pretty good against a blue sky too.

Eventually, a couple of Orange-tips decided to oblige and pose for photos…

All that and a swim still to come!

Andy has photos of us swimming (as well as lots more pictures of the DBs scrambling). The water was refreshing of course, but not as cold, frankly, as I thought it might be. My theory is that the rivers are a good bet after prolonged dry spells, which is exactly what we’d just had. Once you were immersed, it wasn’t bad at all, and even Little S, who has no padding whatsoever and often suffers with the cold, managed a good long swim.

Little S and I both like to climb a hill on our Birthdays if possible. I think this might be a first for B, but the combination of sunshine, old friends, some scrambling, and a swim is surely a hard act to follow.

Hadrian’s Wall Day V – Brocolitia to Chesters

Our final day on Hadrian’s Wall. We caught the early bus from outside the hostel. The sunshine had returned and picking up from Brocolitia the landscape felt more welcoming with the sun on it. Our steady ascent continued until we reached Limestone Corner, where the ditch which accompanied the Wall is very evident, and also a jumble of large limestone boulders. Shortly beyond the boulders there’s a trig pillar….

 

The Wall had been noticeable by its absence for a while, but as you drop away from Limestone Corner there’s a couple of lengthy, impressive sections.

 

At Black Carts turret we stopped briefly for a drink and a snack.

 

Dropping down into the valley of the North Tyne we found ourselves in a new environment; for much of the last three days we had walked over rough moorland and sheep cropped turf; we were now passing through hedged fields, some of them full of vegetables. We watched four buzzards circling above a small copse. The national trail diverted considerably from what my book and map led me to expect, but fortunately it was well sign-posted.

We’d only a short walk to reach the fort at Chesters and with our early start we were there soon after it opened. My original plan would have had us arriving at Chesters the previous afternoon and starting again from there rather than Brocolitia. Because we hadn’t, my intention to walk out to Hexham was now a little in doubt. Already slightly leaky, my plan now foundered on the children’s activities on offer at Chesters. For two hours the kids were royally entertained by three young English Heritage employees. They were encouraged to think like archaeologists. They examined replica Roman household objects and guessed their purpose. They participated in a mock dig and then tried to decide from the odds and ends they had found what kind of person had owned them.

 

They dressed as Roman soldiers…

 

And although B looks very serious here, they were both thrilled. Finally, they acted out some tales of Roman life.

By the time they’d finished, we were ready for some lunch, which we bought from the little cafe on the site, and ate at the picnic tables outside. The sun was still shining, but it was extremely sticky and to west the sky  was black. Sure enough, our meal was seasoned by a dash of lightening and a soupcon of thunder. I thought we would have a sprinkling of rain too, but it never really materialised.

I’d already had a swift tour of the fort whilst the kids were archaeologising, but naturally, they wanted to have a gander themselves. The forts on the Wall all seem to have a similar layout. A perimeter wall with gates at each point of the compass. And within: some barracks…

 

A principia or headquarters, the administrative and religious centre of the fort. At Chesters this contains an underground strong-room…

 

…currently flooded. This is where the payroll would be stored, When this was excavated a studded oak door was still in place and some denarii were found on the floor.

Next to the principia: the commandant’s house. At Chesters this building was refurbished at some point, with the insertion of hypocausts for under-floor heating, and the addition of a small bath-house.

 

Usually there are granaries too, but at Chesters there’s just a grassy space where you might expect to see those.

Just outside the fort, where the Romans bridged the River North Tyne (you can just about make out the Wall and the hint of a bridge abutment on the far bank)….

 

…is another bath-house. This is so well preserved that, for once, it’s relatively easy to imagine the building in use, and to understand what those uses were.

 

I could picture Romans undressing for their baths and dumping their togas in these alcoves…

 

…washing away the cares of the day in a hot bath…

 

…and relaxing in a hot room….

 

The gaps between these flags reveal a fairly substantial space below: the stoke hole…

 

Of course, A and B just had to have a crawl in there. B emerged with a handful of small bones and the conviction that no archaeologist had ever ventured into the hole, “Because they are all too frightened.” (If anybody from English Heritage wants any of those rodent bones, B has them all in his bedroom.)

There’s something about squeezing into a cramped spot which appeals when you’re young. Here’s A in a water channel beneath the North gate…

 

We caught the AD122 for the last time, just outside the entrance to Chesters. Clearly not everywhere had avoided the rain like we had. The bus was awash both inside and out. Our luck continued to hold-out whilst we had drinks and an ice-cream outside the cafe by Hexham bus station, and long enough for us to be inside Hexham Abbey when the heavens finally opened.

 

On the left of this picture the large stone in the even larger alcove is the tomb-stone…

 

…of Flavinus, a Roman standard bearer, who is depicted riding his horse over a cowering Britain. Since the rain showed no signs of slackening, we repaired to yet another cafe. Cake for the kids, endless cups of tea for me and a quick lesson in Pontoon. (They both had a flair for going bust.)

We’d arranged to meet TBH ‘somewhere near the Abbey’ so were delighted to see her pull-up right outside our cafe. She’d come through flash floods on the A69, it seemed we’d had a very lucky escape. Which seems like an appropriate note on which to end, since that’s how I shall remember the whole trip: a very lucky escape.

Now, let’s start planning our next escape….

Hadrians’s Wall Day IV – Once Brewed to Brocolitia

Resplendent in freshly laundered gear we climbed the lane from Once Brewed back up to the Wall, pausing only to admire this very obliging butterfly, which I think might be a ringlet. It was already fairly warm, if a little hazy. We would be back at Once Brewed that night, so the kids were able to leave their rucksacks at the hostel, and despite the addition of their water-proofs to my bag, I was able to lighten my load too.

 

Today’s walk would mostly be more of the roller-coaster ups and downs of the Whin Sill.

 

Along Peel Crags, overlooked by Milecastle 39….

 

…to the famous Sycamore Gap, which, as Hollywood knows, is perched on the outskirts of Nottingham.

 

I’d expected this part of the Wall to be busy, but we had it all to ourselves.

 

The sun-lit cliff-top walk above Crag Lough was perhaps my favourite single section of our walk. I’ve walked this way before, but I’d forgotten how beautiful it is.

 

On the climb up Hotbank we were distracted by what, this time, was unmistakably a ringlet…

 

We were revelling in the views. Back over Crag Lough to Winshields Crags with Cross Fell still dominating in the distance…

 

…and forward to Broomlee Lough and the final fling of the Whin Sill at Sewingshields Crags, which we would climb later in the day.

 

To me, this is one of the great pleasures of a linear, multi-day walk: the satisfaction of looking back to distant places already walked through or past or over and likewise the anticipation of looking ahead to landmarks on the route to come.

 

So the sun shone. We slowly reeled in Sewingshields Crags. It’s a very simple pleasure.

 

Every so often the Wall threw in a bit of a distraction to give us an excuse for a pause. Milecastle 38 had been an undistinguished mound in a boggy spot on Hotbanks crag. Milecastle 37 was a little more interesting…

 

Unlike other milecastles we passed, this retains some evidence of internal walls…

 

…and the remnants of an arched gateway on the northern side.

 

We did finally meet the crowds, when, at around eleven, we arrived at Housesteads.

 

We had a lengthy stop here, to watch a short  film and examine the exhibits at the museum, take a good look around…

 

…play a bit of hide and seek….

 

….lunch on ice cream…

 

…and cool and dress feet, both children having developed some red spots which suggested rubbing and foreshadowed blisters. Fortunately, a combination of Compeed and surgical tape seemed to do the job and any further problems were avoided.

Soon enough, we were looking back on Broomlee lough….

 

..and topped out on Sewingshields Crags, at 325m not much lower then our high point of the previous day.

 

From there a long steady descent to Sewingshields…..

 

….is followed by Fozy Moss. A slightly rising path, shadowing the road, took us across rather bleak, featureless moorland. It might have been rather dispiriting. In fact we passed several large groups of teenagers, heavily laden and heading in the opposite direction to us, presumably D of E victims, some of whom were singing to keep up their spirits, and some of whom were openly weeping. It was saved for us, bizarrely, by the fact that we regularly had to negotiate wet and muddy ditches running across the path, which the kids found perversely enjoyable.

At Carraw, where the path diverts slightly away from the road around a farm and a small woodland, the flagged path was bordered with nettles and the nettles were festooned with snails.

 

Rich brown, striped and flecked in pale yellow, I thought they were rather handsome.

 

I think that they might be copse snails?

I’d originally planned to finish at Chester’s, but it had soon become apparent that this was much too ambitious. That would have made for a much longer day then any of the others and time was against us. Whether we dawdled or, as I thought we had today, generally kept moving, we seemed to pretty consistently manage a mile and a half an hour. So, we chose a new destination: Brocolitia.

Brocolitia is another Roman fort. There isn’t too much to see – the grassy mound on the right of this picture shows how the unexcavated outer walls look. But outside the fort there is a small temple to Mithras, a god popular with Roman soldiers. The site is boggy and the conditions preserved the timber pillars, replaced now with concrete casts, as have been the three altar stones and a small headless statue.

More importantly for us, Brocolitia has a bus-stop for the AD122, which took us back to Once Brewed, where we would eventually get fed and watered and reconvene our card school.

Hadrian’s Wall Day III – Greenhead to Once Brewed

Leaving Greenhead we retraced our steps up to the Walltown Quarries which are just beyond Carvoran and the Roman Army Museum. We were into the iconic section of the Wall now, where it dips and climbs along the hard basalt reef of the Whin Sill.

There’s a fair bit of up and down. In retrospect, I realise that the kids coped very well with it.

 

In one particularly steep-sided trough we were overtaken by a fast-moving, jocular group of four guys. Or rather, a group of three and one straggler. Sweat was pouring off the unfortunate tail-end-Charlie as he pounded past us.

“In a hurry?”, I asked.

“Trying to do the Wall in two days”, he panted.

I suppose that’s one approach.

 

The clouds had become increasingly dark and threatening through the morning and when we arrived at the car park at Cawfields Quarry it finally began to rain. Although we had a fair accumulation of snacks between us, we had no clear plan for lunch, so it was a great relief to find two ladies selling tea, soup, sandwiches, sausage-rolls and cake from the back of their car (The Pop-Up Cafe). They seemed to be doing a roaring trade.

 

Their dog joined us whilst we ate, sitting at the solitary picnic table. Apparently there used to be more tables, but they were swept away in a flood. Which was a cheery thought given that it just begun to rain, but by the time we were ready to leave it had stopped again.

Whilst I was faffing about, taking the photo above a weasel, or stoat, ran across the gateway in the background.

 

Cawfields Crags Milecastle.

Pretty soon the cloud was breaking up, the sun emerged and from that point on it was a glorious day.

 

The Whin Sill is not particularly high, but it’s a great vantage point and the walking from here was truly magnificent. I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves….

 

 

 

 

 

I think that this….

 

…is a whinchat (but as usual, I’d be glad to be better informed). It was unusually calm about our proximity and let us get very close before finally taking to the wing.

This….

 

…is the trig point on Winshields Crags, at 345m the highest point on the Wall.

Incidentally, Watson’s Dodd in the Lake District is 789m. Has anybody thought of listing hills with consecutive digits spot heights? Baggers everywhere would love it! There must be a book in the idea. Hills of this sort would have to have a name….., hang-on, talk amongst yourselves…..Got it: Consecutive Ordinal Digits Found In Spot Heights.

C.O.D.F.I.S.H.

 

The views ahead to Crag Lough were enticing, but that would have to wait until tomorrow.

 

We headed down to Once Brewed and after a deal of muppetry involving standing at the wrong bus-stop and compounded by a dodgy timetable, we finally managed to catch the AD122 service to Vindolanda. (AD122 is the year that work on the Wall began. The AD122 bus is a shuttle which serves the Wall and various places nearby through the summer months. Very handy.)

Vindolanda lies on the Stanegate Road and like the road it predates the Wall. I came here once before, when I walked the Pennine Way with my Dad, but in the intervening years I’m sure that a great deal more had been uncovered. Since the place was occupied for Centuries what’s here is not one town and fort but several superimposed.

 

It’s a live archaeological dig and what’s really impressive is that the treasures which have been unearthed here are all on display in the Chesterholm museum which is adjacent to the remains.

 

The museum really is stunning. Some of the coins, pottery and jewellery in particular, have been so well preserved that it was hard to believe that they weren’t fresh from the mint, the kiln or the smithy.

 

I think what the kids most enjoyed however, were the replica sections of wall – one of stone and one of timber and turf.

Jersey – The Channel Island Way III

Leaving the restaurant we walked past the entrance to the castle and down some steps to the end of Gorey promenade. On the wall by the steps we saw a couple of these wall lizards. Apparently the colouration can vary enormously, but the two we saw…

…had very similar colouring. This species is widely distributed across Europe but is introduced on Jersey, as it is in some southern parts of the British Isles.

Gorey is a very handsome place…

 

….where I suspect one could wile away a very pleasant afternoon.

 

Perhaps playing in the sand…

 

Or maybe playing golf on the links at Jersey Royal Golf Club, although don’t hold your breath if you intend to join the waiting list for membership. The golf course is on common land, so it’s OK to walk across it apparently. If you do – look out for sea holly…

 

…we also saw it in the huge dune complex on the mouth of the river Canche at Le Touquet, but for some reason I didn’t photograph it there.

 

The remainder of the day’s walk was along the long curve of beach…

 

..alongside La Baie du Vieux Chateau. On the landward side we passed a number of Jersey Round Towers, many of them incorporated into more recent houses, and also concrete reminders of the German occupation…

 

A week before, B had found lots of these…

 

…on a beach near Boulogne. He thought that they were mermaid’s purses and was doubly disappointed when I told him that they weren’t, but that I didn’t know what they were. Thanks to Arthur, I do now. They’re cuttlebones – the internal cartilaginous skeleton of a cuttlefish. However, there are several different cuttlefish and I wouldn’t begin to know how to sort out which particular species this belongs to.

Of course this is one of the great delights of a walk on a beach – you never know just what the tide might have washed up, like a dead spider crab….

 

…or what you might see feeding on the tide-line, like a flock of ringed plovers…

 

The end of our first day’s walking brought us to the harbour at La Rocque…

Where, from the end of the harbour wall…

…and through the magic of the little Olympus’ zoom, we had our best view of Seymour Tower…

The tower is built on one of the largest inter-tidal reefs in the world. Depending on which website you believe it’s either one mile or two miles from the shore – with the 1:25,000 map and a ruler I arrived at 2km as the gull flies, so somewhere between the two. At low tide it’s possible to walk out and then to stay there, although you have to be accompanied by a guide and it isn’t cheap. I think that my boys would think it was a great adventure – and so would I come to that!