We had one more day in our little cottage in Staffordshire, but Little S was under the weather and B needed a lift to Uttoxeter to catch a train to Manchester where he was meeting friends. Unfortunately, the main road was closed due to an accident, which meant that trip took a lot longer than it ought to have done.
Calwich Park.
So TBH and I finished off our short trip with a wander in the vicinity of the cottage. The countryside was green and rolling and very pleasant.
I’d noticed Calwich Abbey on the map and was keen to take a peek. According to the Historic England website the house is Victorian, but in a Tudor style, and is built on the site of a medieval abbey. It was derelict when the listing was made, in 1984, but was sold in 2015, so hopefully it will be restored?
Calwich Abbey, otherwise known as The House of Usher.Another Ground Beetle. Maybe a Pterostichusspecies?Buzzard, I think.River Dove.TBH by the River Dovenear Norbury.Small scale hydro scheme?
The path through the woods near Norbury were overgrown from the off – nettles, brambles etc; all the obstacles to pleasant country walking in the summer. As we progressed it became more and more impenetrable. We should really have turned back. By the end, a machete was needed, and my habitual choice of shorts had turned out to be a very poor decision. Then it was spitting with rain as we walked along a minor lane for a while.
TBH heading towards the Dove.
At least the last section, over the Dove via the charmingly named Toadhole Footbridge was much more pleasant.
TBH on Toadhole Footbridge.
As we crossed the bridge, we were lucky enough to catch sight of a Kingfisher, my first for some time.
River Dove.TBH on Toadhole Footbridge.Almost back to our accommodation.
Looking at the map, after our walk, it struck me that there is probably quite a bit of scope for decent walks in this area, just outside the National Park. The wooded valley of Ordley Brook looks particularly worth exploring. Another time perhaps. I certainly hope it’s not too long before we come back to the Peak District for another visit – perhaps a slightly longer one next time.
After our epic US trip last summer, this summer, for various reasons, we had no firm plans for a holiday, but were planning to get a late booking and go to the Isle of Man. I suppose the wet weather we had did give us lots of time to try to plan something. In the event, the steep combined cost of the ferry and accommodation put us off, but we managed to find a cottage just outside the Peak District above the River Dove between Ellastone and Mayfield.
When I met her, TBH had only recently moved from Sheffield, on the edge of the Peak. I lived for many years in Manchester which also sits on the border of the Peak District and grew up in the East Midlands making the Peak District the most accessible National Park and where I did almost all of my earliest hill-walking. We have a shared affection for the area and this would be a trip down memory lane for both of us.
George and Dragon, Ashbourne.
We arrived a little too early to check-in to our cottage, so drove into nearby Ashbourne for an excellent late lunch/early tea at the George and Dragon. Ashbourne is a very handsome town. Wainwright was of the opinion, I believe, that it should have been the start of the Pennine Way which seems like a good idea to me. The Historic England map of the town shows an absolute rash of listed buildings, which perhaps at least partly accounts for its charm. The George and Dragon is one of those listed buildings, as is the nearby Town Hall…
Town Hall, Ashbourne.
…where, many moons ago, a certain Mr and Mrs Jones, known to many readers of this blog, tied the knot. I was on my best behaviour, and didn’t carry out my threat to wear a bridesmaid’s dress to the ceremony. Andy tells me that our beforehand Dutch Courage pints were consumed in the very same George and Dragon.
The Manifold Way.
Taking a leaf out of our New York trip, we tried to pack as much in each day as we could, so that evening we parked at Weag’s Bridge in the Manifold Valley to have a bit of a wander.
Thor’s Cave seen from the valley.
I’ve walked along the Manifold way, a cycling track and footpath which follows the course of an old light railway line, many times in the dim and distant past, but I don’t recall ever climbing up to take a closer look at Thor’s Cave.
The River Manifold?
As is sometimes the case in Limestone country like this, the river runs underground in some parts of the valley. I guess that there’s still a clear course for the river because it will sometimes flood and run above ground too in the winter months after heavy rain?
Fossils in the steps on the way up to the cave.
The large slabs which had been used to make steps on the steepish path up to the cave were resplendent with fossils, a marvellous excuse for me to stop and takes lots of photos whilst having a sneaky breather.
A view along the Manifold Valley.Thor’s Cave.Inside Thor’s Cave.The view out of Thor’s Cave.Another ‘entrance’.Exploring the cave.Thor’s Cave.Exploring the cave.
It’s an imposing cave with lots of nooks and crannies to explore. Apparently evidence was found here of inhabitation from the Paleolithic era right through to medieval times. From the cave a path, not shown on the map and, by the looks of it, still under construction, climbs up to the edge of the gorge.
Above Thor’s Cave.Another view along the Manifold Valley.More Caves.
There were more small caves evident from this vantage point and the DBs spent a fair while exploring them. On the OS map a track can be seen making a beeline for the nearby village of Wetton. Although it’s not shown on the map as such, it’s now a permission path, so we followed it into the village, where we called in at the Royal Oak for a quick pint. From there we wandered down Carr Lane back to our car in the last of the light.
July fizzled out in a welter of wet weather, leaving me stuck at home, perusing my maps and the none too promising forecasts and feeling increasingly stir crazy. When the first of August rolled around, I couldn’t stand it any longer and decided to get out for a walk, come what may. There’s probably an object lesson to be learned from the consequences of that decision, but I’m not entirely decided what the moral of this sorry tale should be. Maybe an inquiry is required, they seem to be in vogue. Here’s the evidence…
Submerged stepping stones.
I’d plumped for a Lune Catchment wander, and was thinking that Smearsett Scar, at the eastern extreme of the Lune’s Yorkshire Dales reach, would be ideal. Optimistically, I was thinking that, if the weather was a little better than expected, I might extend the route to explore the limestone pavements of Moughton Scar too. In the event, the cloud was so low that even the little wooded heights above Austwick were hidden in the miasma. I hastily adjusted my plans, deciding to head south from the village, away from the hills. Had I taken a little more time and care, I might have noticed the words ‘stepping stones’ on the route I’d chosen and had second thoughts. I did eventually have those second thoughts, but only after I’d walked as far as Austwick Beck and seen the submerged stepping stones.
Oxenber Woods.
My second attempt to leave Austwick also brought me to Austwick Beck, but a little upstream of the stepping stones where there were two clapper bridges.
Little Bridges, Austwick Beck.Little Bridges, Austwick Beck.
They’re named ‘Little Bridges’ on the OS map. Makes me think of Baloo addressing Mowgli as ‘Little Britches’ in the Disney version of the Jungle Book. (I had an LP of the soundtrack which I listened to obsessively as a kid. Maybe that’s why I’m so happy listening to a playlist of Chet Baker, Sidney Bechet, John Coltrane, Nina Simone, Herbie Hancock and the like as I write?)
After that more auspicious start, the quality of this path quickly nose-dived where it passed between two walls and very quickly became extremely overgrown. This part is the best bit…
An inviting path?
Under the trees it was plagued by low branches and nettles. I’d put my overtrousers on before I plunged into the vegetation, so at least didn’t get stung. I next needed a machete where the path met the A65 road and the stile over the wall was protected, on both sides, by dense thickets of brambles. Which at least brought me into the open. Maybe I was just disheartened by the rain – did I mention that it was, inevitably, raining? – or the heavy going so far, but even walking through this meadow, in knee high wet grass seemed like unduly hard work.
Another inviting path?
I decided to use minor lanes where possible, and at Lawkland turned right along Graystonber Lane.
Cottages at Lawkland.With an old post box.
Faceache’s algorithm has clearly pigeonholed me as a middle-aged sad-act and keeps suggesting groups like The Dull Men’s Club, The Country Lane Appreciation Society, Bathtubs in Fields, and most recently The Peeling Paint Appreciation Society. To be fair, I think it has me pretty well sussed. But, for some reason, I’ve stopped seeing endless photographs of post boxes, which is a shame, because I do find them appealing – especially the Victorian ones. In fact I like them almost as much as I like a listed building. This one, Lawkland Hall, is a bit special, it’s grade I and those aren’t ten-a-penny. It was restored in 1912, but the oldest part dates back to the Sixteenth Century.
Lawkland Hall.Lawkland Hall.
I might not have known that Lawkland Hall was worth a look, but the miserable weather had at least given me a chance to read a little more of John Self’s marvellous ‘Land of The Lune’ and I’d seen a picture there.
At Lawkland Green I turned left on a path which would take me across several fields back to the A65. They were large fields. One field was home to a small herd of what I assumed were bullocks. They ignored me. Then, when I was half way across, one of them started to walk my way. Then a couple of others decided to investigate. Pretty soon, they were all running full-pelt across the field.
Raging bullocks?
Do they look angry to you? They don’t really do they. But they seemed very aggressive at the time. What’s more, that stream was wider and deeper then it looks in the photo and I got wet feet plodging through it.
The following field held nothing more threatening than a number of tall, broad mushrooms, which I assumed were Parasol Mushrooms, but I may have been wrong of course (see the comments section in my previous post).
The next section was road walking, but mostly along a very quiet lane. The weather showed some signs of improving: the cloud was lifting a little and the rain was slackening off. As I descended through fields towards the tiny hamlet of Feizor, it even began to look as if Smearsett Scar might emerge from the cloud.
Smearsett Scar. Almost.Smearsett Scar, very nearly clear.
I suppose I might have reinstated my plan to climb the scar, but decided instead to head for the tearoom, which old friend J has been raving about (in an approving way) for ages.
She was quite right. It was lovely. A pot of extra hot water with my Earl Grey without even asking for it – TBH’s test of a tea room’s standard of service. The fact that it was busy late on a wet, mid-week afternoon is probably a good sign too.
Smeatsett Scar – cloud free!Hale Lane.Hale Lane.
After the tea shop, there were longer gaps between the showers. The little ditch by the lane was gurgling away however, brimful of run-off.
Burn Moor – and sunshine?Austwick and Robin Proctor’s Scar.Studrigg Scar and Moughton Scars.Austwick Beck.Austwick Bridge.
‘Probably C18’ according to Historic England.
Austwick Cross and The Church of the Epiphany.
Austwick church is more recent, finished in 1839 according to the same source, originally as a lecture hall and only latterly turned into a church. The pillar is of a similar age, but the base is ‘probably C15’.
In the grounds of the church…
Book shed.Heaven!
I managed to restrain myself and only came away with a couple of books.
So: have you reached a verdict? Is the moral – when the weather is truly awful, best stay at home? Or the opposite? There was definitely an element of what our friend JB calls ‘Type 2 fun’. It was a bit grim at the time, and I got very wet, but there were some good bits too, especially in retrospect. I’ll let you draw your own conclusions.
Dent Head Viaduct and Packsaddle Bridge over Fell End Gill.
Another Lune Catchment walk, on a day of decidedly mixed weather. I don’t mind a bit of mixed weather, depending, I suppose, on the ratios employed in the recipe: I can stand a bit of rain so long as it isn’t poured with too heavy a hand and if I get some dramatic skies in compensation.
I know that Dentdale is lovely, but curiously, given that it’s not really all that far from home, I haven’t actually visited all that often. I’ve climbed Whernside from Dent on a couple of occasions. We camped here once, in the rain, when the kids were little I think. But I haven’t visited most of the valley, I hadn’t climbed any of the hills to the north or east. All of which is even more odd, given that where I parked, this early July Sunday morning, by the magnificent Dent Head Viaduct, was about a five minute drive from Gearstones Lodge, where we’ve spent a weekend prior to every Christmas for a few years now. In fact, we fairly recently watched the cloud pouring over Great Knoutberry Hill and Wold Fell from the northern end of Whernside during a cloud inversion weekend at Gearstones.
Bridge End Cottage (I think).
My walk began downhill, along the road – neither of which would usually be my first choice when picking a route, but on this occasion, with the infant River Dee alongside, a mass of wild flowers on the verges and lots of old, listed buildings to admire, I was more than happy. Both the viaduct and the old bridge are listed, along with just about every building in this upper part of the valley it seems. All, perhaps, except this one, if I’m right that this is Bridge End Cottage. In fact, I might have finished and published this post by now, apart from the fact that I’ve spent a lot of time down the rabbit-hole of reading all of the listings on the Historic England website. I think I enjoy the fact that they are quite clearly dense with information, but simultaneously, make no sense to me whatsoever.
“Rock-faced sandstone in massive blocks, mostly coursed but some snecked, with brick soffits to the arches. Slightly curved line on north-south axis. Ten tall round-headed arches on battered rectangular piers, that in the centre broader than the others and with a broad tapered pilaster; short cavetto-moulded imposts at the springing of the arches, rusticated voussoirs (now with 3 tie-plates to each arch), a moulded string course, and parapets with rounded coping.”
This is the viaduct, for example. Snecked? Soffits? Cavetto? Imposts? At least I know what voussoirs are, after a previous rabbit-hole episode, although I can’t tell you what it means for them to be rusticated; and I’m guessing that, in this context, ‘battered’ has nothing to do with coating in a mixture of flour, egg and beer and then deep-frying? (Although it has probably been tried in Scotland).
The River Dee.Dee Side House.
Formerly Dentdale Youth Hostel and before that a hunting lodge; now available as a holiday let. I’ll let you insert here your own rant about the YHA losing its way and selling off so many wonderful remote properties like this one. I’m saddened that I never got around to staying here whilst it was still a hostel, but even more upset that apparently Patterdale Hostel in the Lakes, where I have stayed many, many times, including for several big family get-togethers when I was in my teens, is facing a similar fate.
Common Spotted-orchid.Scow Force.Speed up – missed Red Squirrel photo opportunity.
I did see a Red Squirrel, running along the top of a gate, but I was much too slow with my camera to get a photo. I was impressed that somebody has put out these signs in an attempt to save the local squirrels from motorists, but I clearly needed to speed up, not slow down, in response to the presence of squirrels.
Bettony.
I passed a garden hereabouts which had been decked out as a picnic spot for Dales Way walkers – which seemed like a really generous thing to do and reminded me of the esrtwhile ‘Hiker’s Rest’ near to Beck Head at the southern end of Whitbarrow.
Meadow Crane’s-bill.The River Dee.East Stonehouse.Outbuilding at East Stonehouse.
There was something about the higgledy-piggledy design of this building which I found appealing. Higgledy-piggledy is the technical term obviously; I can’t think how else to put it, not asymmetric exactly, most houses aren’t symmetrical after all. It’s something to do with the windows and doors all being different sizes and positioned at different levels, I think. Anyway, I liked it.
West Stonehouse.
Confusingly, West Stonehouse lies NNE of East Stonehouse. I’m sure it made sense to name them that way to somebody at some time, but it seems very odd now. Here’s a snippet of the Historic England description of West Stonehouse:
“White-painted rubble, the centre portion random, with quoins, and the outer portions coursed, also with quoins; stone slate roof.”
I often bemoan the modern penchant for using the word random, when the desired import is actually ‘arbitrary’; so I was struck by the use of ‘random’ here. Apparently random rubble stone is where undressed or hammer dressed stones are used. Like a dry-stone wall; the stones are all different sizes and fit together like the squares and rectangles in a painting by Piet Mondrian, not in neat, even layers, which would be ‘coursed’. So there you go.
It probably makes more sense with a picture – I shall have to take one.
Arten Gill Viaduct.
By the track from Stonehouse there was an information board about the mining, or possibly quarrying, or – looking at the map – probably both, which formerly went on in this area. I didn’t take a photo, which is most unlike me, but the area’s industrial past no doubt explains the effort which was expended in creating the cobbled track up towards Arten Gill Viaduct.
Cobbled bridleway.Arten Gill Viaduct.
This viaduct was if anything even more attractive than the Dent Head one had been. You’ll have to bear with me, I took lots of photos. On the other hand, I didn’t manage to catch the pair of raptors, I think Kestrels, which were flying in and out of the trees by the viaduct.
Arten Gill Viaduct.
Tautologically, the stream below is labelled, on the map, both as Arten Gill, and as Artengill Beck.
Arten Gill Viaduct.
The skies were beginning to build some ominously dramatic looking clouds and I was soon paying for it in the first of several showers. To be fair, the showers were at least short-lived and mostly not too heavy either.
Arten Gill Viaduct.
The track rises steadily, without being hard work and so was ideal. There were lots of birds about – Wheatear and Pipits, but most entertainingly Stonechats.
Male Stonechat.
A couple of individuals, first one and then later another, took it upon themselves to fly ahead in little short hops and then stop and wait on the fence, allowing me to get very close before scooting on again.
Male Stonechat.
Naturally, I took lots of photos.
I also got overly excited, during a shower, about what I decided was a Mountain Ringlet, even though I strongly suspected that they are not found in the Dales. Which absence would, of course, make my discovery all the more notable and exciting. When I finally got close enough to get a photo and a close look, it transpired that it was in fact a very small Ringlet, of the plain, old common-or-garden variety.
A sidestream.And another – being neatly directed across the track.An excess of weather.
Having reached the top of the pass, I could have taken a direct line up to the top of Great Knoutberry Hill, but I’d done a bit of research online and read great things about the track, Galloway Gate, which contours around the southern and western slopes of the hill.
Whernside from Galloway Gate.Ingleborough and Whernside and more showers.Looking down Dentdale.
Choosing Galloway Gate turned out to be a good decision – it’s a fine walk which gives great views, particularly down into Dentdale.
Baugh Fell and Wild Boar Fell from Galloway Gate.
Eventually, I turned right, heading uphill and on to Pikes Edge, where there a number of scattered cairns and even more scattered boulders.
Ingleborough and Whernside from one of the cairns on Pikes Edge.Looking down Dentdale again.
As I approached the summit of Great Knoutberry Hill, I was engulfed in by far and away the heaviest shower of the day – for a while it was really chucking it down. A little annoyingly then, I found that I had unpacked my waterproof trousers from my rucsac, which is something I very rarely bother to do. Since I was wearing shorts anyway, and my waterproof trousers are mostly holes and layers of duct tape patched up with more duct tape, it probably wasn’t that great a loss. Also, this stone seat, possibly of random rubble, was facing away from the wind…
Stone seat/shelter on Great Knoutberry Hill.Lunch stop in a Bivvy bag in pouring rain.
Since the rain was falling horizontally, once I was hunkered down on the seat, and snug inside my bivvy bag, I was able to enjoy my packed lunch and a brew despite the rain. Anyway, it soon started to clear again.
Ingleborough and Whernside from Great Knoutberry Hill.Cloudberry – or Knoutberry.
I had a bit of a wander in the vicinity of the trig pillar and found several Cloudberries. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them before, although I shouldn’t have been surprised to find them here, since Knoutberry is apparently a local name for Cloudberries. I also read that they are regarded as somewhat of a delicacy in Scandinavia; that the UK population of plants is predominantly male, so that it’s rare to find fruit; and that this example isn’t ripe, since they turn orange when they’re ripe.
Widdale Tarns.
Great Knoutberry Hill is merely the highest point on the huge expanses of Widdale Fell. Beforehand, I had been contemplating a little wander to explore the tarns at least, but based on the area around the summit, I decided that it would be very rough going and that I would leave that for another day. Looking at the map again now, I see that Widdale Fell has an impressive looking edge above Widdale itself, that most of the streams drain either directly into the River Ure or into the Ure via Widdale Beck; but that some of the streams run down into Garsdale and the River Clough – a tributary of the Lune which I haven’t explored at all yet: so I shall need to come back at some point.
On this occasion I took a more direct route back towards the crossroads between Great Knoutberry Hill and Wold Fell.
Pen-y-ghent, Wold Fell, Ingleborough and Whernside.Pennine Bridleway signpost.
This is the signpost at the crossroads, which I hadn’t photographed when I first passed it because it had been raining at the time. This track is part of the Pennine Bridleway, a route which, like the Dales Way, some of which I also lay on this route, always seems superb wherever I encounter it.
Wold Fell.Juvenile Wheatear.On Wold Fell, looking back to Great Knoutberry Fell.
Wold Fell was quite odd: limestone pavement, mostly grassed over, a very flat topped hill – there was a small cairn, as you can see, but it was very difficult to tell whether that was the actual highest point of the fell.
Ingleborough and Whernside from Wold Fell.
The lump between, and in front of, Ingleborough and Whernside is Blea Moor. I’ve often looked at it, especially when climbing Whernside from Little Dale via Greensett Tarn, but never been up it. I suppose I might get around to it at some point, although the lower slopes above Ribble Head are a bit of-puttingly rough and reed covered.
Pen-y-ghent and Ingleborough from Wold Fell.Descending towards Ingleborough.
From Wold Fell it was a simple romp down a track and then a minor road, accompanied by a couple more brief showers, back to the car.
Fell End Gill.Dent Head Viaduct again.Common Spotted-orchid.
As almost always seems to be the case with my Lune Catchment outings, it was a very satisfying trip, packed with interest, from which I came away with a host of ideas for possible future excursions.
More showers at home – and a double rainbow.
Back at home, there were more showers, and this time an accompanying double rainbow.
Later still, around 10pm, Little S sent me back outside to have a look at the moth which was resting on the plug on the charging cable for our car. It was dark and I’m amazed that my phone managed an image as clear as this…
A Large Yellow Underwing?
I’m told that this is a Yellow Underwing Moth , although to an untutored eye it also looks very similar to a Square-spot Rustic Moth. I’ll settle for it being a lovely colour, whichever.
Map the first.Map the second.
MpaMyWalk gives a little shy of ten miles and 485 metres of ascent, which seems about right.
If you take an interest in the Lune and its many tributaries, then inevitably you will be drawn to the area around Sedbergh, where the rivers Lune, Rawthey, Clough, and Dee all meet in close proximity. I’ve been looking at the map and trying to work out routes which take advantage of that fact a great deal. The night before this walk, I had the ridiculous idea of following the Rawthey and the Lune from Sedbergh as far as Crook of Lune, crossing the Howgill Fells to Cautley and then returning to Sedbergh along the Rawthey. Even I realised that was overly ambitious, but I set off anyway, with a compromise plan which I knew would really be the route I would end up walking.
The playing fields of…Sedbergh School.
I parked not far from Sedbergh School, where, years ago, B played in a couple of sevens tournaments and I got to poke about and see how the other half live and wonder at all the wealth on display. From there, I wandered along a minor lane, past the cemetery, to the tiny Hamlet of Birks. I was very taken with Birks, where there are several very old, listed properties, of which these are two…
Birks.
Birks is by the Rawthey, and from here I was able to follow the river downstream towards its confluence with the Lune.
River Rawthey.River Rawthey.Birks Mill.Broom.
When I see bushes with yellow flowers in the spring, I always anticipate Gorse, so I was surprised to find that this little thicket was Broom.
Broom.
What my photo doesn’t really capture is that all around the Broom the bank was peppered with Bluebells and Stitchwort and the combination of yellow, blue and white looked magnificent.
Opposite where the Dee flowed into the Rawthey, I clambered down the steep bank to take a photo.
Confluence of the Dee and the Rawthey.River Rawthey.
A little downstream for there, the path crossed a disused railway line, with a tall embankment.
River Rawthey and a golf course.Derelict railway bridge over the Rawthey.
In these health and safety conscious times, there’s a tall and stout fence blocking any access to the bridge, although I did manage to clamber onto a parapet to get a view. Years ago, on a walking tour with my dad and a good friend of ours in Snowdonia, we followed a disused railway line and crossed a derelict viaduct much like this – it was exhilarating to say the least.
Brigflatts from the bridge.
I was hoping to visit the Quaker church at Brigflatts, but it seemed that there was no access from the riverbank path, so that will have to wait for another time.
Germander Speedwell.Path along the old railway line.
There’s no official path along the railway, but it looks like it’s being used regularly – something to store away for future walks.
The bridge from below.A mini ‘fence’ by the river.
I was really puzzled by this miniature ‘fence’ by the riverside. The only time I’ve encountered metal rods quite like this, we were using them as pegs to guy a small marquee we borrowed every year for the village Field Day.
Made of giant pegs?
Close by there was a small, clearly man-made plinth which I thought looked like the footings for a bridge. Does anyone have a theory what these might be and why they would be lined up ‘on parade’ by the river’s edge?
Winder in the Howgill Fells.
The path I was following, and the route I would take as far as Crook of Lune, is part of the Dales Way. Based on this section, I suspect it would be a great long distance route to follow.
Holme Knott.
I’ve climbed the Middleton Fells a number of times over the years, but not Holme Knott at the northern end of the ridge, and recently I’ve been eyeing it on the map and dreaming up routes which incorporate an ascent. It must surely have great views of the rivers and their confluences? This photo was taken as I stood by this little footbridge…
Little bridge over Haverah Beck.
As I crossed the bridge, I noticed this Alder Fly…
Alder Fly.
This encounter sparked a lengthy hiatus in my walk, and in this post I suppose, as I realised that the lush vegetation in and by the stream, mostly Wild Celery, Mint and Brook Lime I think, was home to an abundance of creepy-crawlies. I took loads of photos, and here are a few of them. Well, quite a few. If you’re more interested in views than in small creatures, you might want to scroll down a bit.
Chrysolina polita.
There were lots of these beetles, common and widespread apparently, which hasn’t prevented them being unknown to me. I’m a sucker for a beetle with a metallic sheen.
Chrysolina polita.Chrysolina Polita.Chrysolina politaA Wolf Spider, male.
Quite a few Wolf Spiders too, on the rocks at the edge of the stream.
Wolf Spider, female.
“The wolf spider is a medium-sized spider that hunts on the ground during the day; it chases down its prey and leaps on it, just like a wolf.”
Wolf Spiders – two female, one male. The female in the bottom right is carrying an egg sac.
“Wolf spider young disperse by using silk ‘parachutes’ to float away on the wind.”
There are quite a few UK species of Wolf Spider, but apparently an examination under a microscope is required to make a confident identification, and I’m happy with Wolf Spider anyway.
Fly – possibly Graphomyia Maculata, female.Fly – possibly Graphomyia Maculata, female.A Greenbottle, or something like it.
Not all shiny green flies are Greenbottles so this is a tentative identification.
Also a Greenbottle, or something like it. I think.
You might think a shiny blue fly would be a Bluebottle, but I don’t think this one is; according to my field guide, the abdomen of a Greenbottle “ranges from bright green to bluish green”, so I’m inclined to think that this is another Greenbottle, although, admittedly, this is more blue than green. Incidentally, could that be another reflected selfie just by the edge of the left wing of the fly?
Also a Greenbottle, or something like it. I think.
Then again, this one is blue and green, so what to make of that?
Pfeiffer’s Amber Snail – Oxyloma elegans
There were lots and lots of these tiny snails. At first, I wasn’t even sure that they were snails.
Pfeiffer’s Amber Snail.
Apparently, unlike other snails, they can’t completely withdraw into their shells.
A Drone Fly – Eristalis pertinax, female.
And there ends the sample of the many photos which I took during what was probably about a half an hour of snapping away. A very happy half-hour. What the group of four who walked past me thought of my intense absorption I suppose I shall never know.
The path to The Oaks.Wisteria.Bluebells.Arant Haw and Winder.Lincoln’s Inn Bridge.
Probably Seventeenth Century according to Historic England. Very elegant, I thought.
The Lune, looking downstream from near Lincoln’s Inn Bridge.Lune Viaduct.
The second of three viaducts on the walk, here’s the lowdown…
“The Lune Viaduct carried the railway 30 m (100 ft) above the river Lune on a 38 m (124 ft) cast iron arch. It was suspended between three red sandstone arches built on each side of it. The total length was 162 m (177 yds). Its beautiful setting has earned it a listing of Grade II*.
A little to the south a bridge consisting of an arch identical to that on the Lune Viaduct crosses the river Rawthey.
North, an 11 arch red sandstone viaduct set on a curve crossed the Dillicar Beck at Low Gill, shortly before the railway joined the main line. This too is a marvellous site in a splendid setting. Both of the latter two are listed Grade II.”
Restoration work was fairly recently carried out on the bridge; it’s a shame that the line wasn’t converted in the process into a footpath or cycleway as has been so successful elsewhere.
Ravens (I think) nesting on the viaduct.
From the viaduct, the Dales Way climbs a little above the river and passes through fields and past a number of picturesque farmhouses.
Another view of Arant Haw and Winder.Low Branthwaite.Howgill Fells pano – with bonus fells on the left.
It was lovely walking. Around here somewhere, I was overtaken by a father and (grown up) son who were walking the Way together. They were walking much faster than me (although I did bump into them again a little later), but slowed down to chat for a while. They were really enjoying their walk and did a very good job of selling the Dales Way.
The route rejoins the river just beyond Hole House…
Hole House.
At Hole House there seemed to be two houses connected by a little section of roof, which struck me as very neighbourly and practical.
River Lune.
Maybe not the best photo – a fence prevented getting closer – but here the river passed through a very narrow, rocky cleft, clearly flowing at great speed. Just upstream the river is much wider and far more placid looking…
River Lune.
I’ve been reading river guides, for kayakers, to the river and some of it is pretty sobering – we shan’t be venturing onto it in our open inflatable canoes any time soon.
Near where Chapel Beck flows into the Lune I met the four walkers who had passed me by Haverah Beck and who’d now found a very pleasant spot for their picnic lunch. I dutifully took photos of all the points where sidestreams entered the Lune, including Chapel Beck, and of the many footbridges which took me over those streams, but have decided not to include those not particularly exciting pictures in what may already be an overlong post!
Crook of Lune Wood.
The woods here were full of Bluebells, but, as usual, my attempts to capture the way the flowers seem to blush the woodland floor a deep blue failed miserably.
Bluebells and Stitchwort.Lowgill Viaduct – Grayrigg Forest behind.
Sadly, there’s isn’t a great view of Lowgill viaduct from down by the river – I guess I will have to come back. What a shame!
Crook of Lune Bridge.
“Believed to be C16 or earlier. Humped and unusually narrow. Forms part of ancient north-south route along Lunesdale, used in C17 and C18 by drovers. A very picturesque feature in this setting.”
TBH can attest to the description ‘unusually narrow’: she wasn’t best pleased about my navigation last year when she was driving us this way to meet our ‘camping friends’ for a walk.
…which is where I was headed on this occasion too.
I’ve been wondering why I have no photos from my hot sticky ascent out of the valley up towards Four Lane Ends, or of the clearly little used path through the farmyard at Riddings, or of the rather nice looking little campsite at Beck House, where the lady of the house escorted me through a small section of track by the house which was sardined with Sheep. I’m not sure whether it was a kindness or whether she was worried that I would let the Sheep escape, or perhaps a mixture of the two. Anyway, it occurs to me now that the reason that I didn’t take any photos until I’d climbed most of the way to the shoulder of Fell Head called Whin’s End is that my phone had been low on charge, so I’d plugged it into the portable charger Little S bought me and stuffed it into the top of my rucksack, where it wasn’t handy for quick snaps.
I retrieved it again when I halted for a rather belated brew stop.
Looking across the Lune Valley to Firbank Fell and Lambrigg Fell. Lowgill Viaduct on the right.
I climbed Lambrigg Fell once, many years ago, and remember bumping into and chatting to the farmer, who expressed his surprise to meet anyone else up there.
A pano from Whin’s End.
The path I took onto Whin’s End, seen in the photo above, is the same path which we used to contour round to Blakethwaite Bottom for a wild-camp one wet weekend six years ago. I was thinking I should come back some day and walk its entire length.
Grayrigg Pike and Tebay Gorge.Fell Head.Fox scat, I think.
I know, I’m sorry, but I’m increasingly struck by how many hill-paths are regularly marked with fox scat. I’m encouraged to think that there must be a very healthy population of foxes on our hills even though we rarely see them.
Northern Howgills and the Pennine skyline.Lune Valley, Bowland Fells and, in the distance, the Kent Estuary and Arnside Knott.Howgill Fells.Approaching The Calf and White Fell Head.
It was getting on a bit by now, but there were still a few other walkers on the Howgill tops.
The valley of the Rawthey, Garsdale and Dentdale. Ingleborough and Whernside in the centre.
Given my Lune obsession, I was really thrilled by this view of three valleys which carry major tributaries all converging.
Arant Haw.The light catching Bram Rigg Beck.Looking back to Calders.‘Three valleys’ pano.Sedbergh.
By the end of my walk, it was getting a little shady for photos. As I descended, I could hear a crowd cheering and some sort of open-air concert. I could hear the vocals very clearly and the drums up to a point, but no other instruments, some acoustic trick of the topography no doubt. The singer was doing an eclectic set of covers which began with ‘Teenage Kicks’. I don’t remember what the other songs were but I do recall being impressed by the choices, and it sounded like the crowd were appreciating it too.
Map 1
MapMyWalk gives a little over 16 miles and about 750m of ascent. Probably best I didn’t try to extend the route down to Cautley. However, how about a Tour de Howgills? Now then!
Another Lune catchment outing, which, once again, didn’t disappoint. I had splendid views of the Howgill Fells all day. I’d parked down by Rawthey Bridge and when I left the minor road which leaves the A road there, took another version of this view which was rather spoiled by the foreground of dessicated Mole corpses hanging from the barbed wire fence – a grisly traditional method for a mole-catcher to show the success of his labour.
The field path took me past a series of old farmhouses, heading up the valley of the Rawthey.
New House Farm.
What intrigued me about this farmhouse was the unusual tall building with the pyramidal roof, which is a coach house apparently, according to Historic England, added in 1914 to a building which is “probably early/mid C18”. I should have taken a photo back down the hill at Wraygreen, which is considerably older. Next time.
Approaching Needle House.
I’ve included this photo because it shows the trees beyond the house, clearly planted, looking almost like an arboretum, of which more in a moment.
Needle House.
I was surprised to find that the very striking Needle House is not listed. I did find a fascinating history of the Frankland family, who lived here and modified the house, written by Dr Helga Frankland, whose father seems to have been taken with all things Scandinavian (so hence Helga?).
Barn by Needle House.
“Unusual features created by my father include the belfry on the gable end of West Laithe in the yard at Needlehouse. It is based on belfries seen on farms in Scandinavia. We used the bell to summon people to the house from the fields.”
Laithe is a northern word for Barn, apparently.
Bridge over Needlehouse Gill.Needlehouse Gill.
“My father planted all the woods on our land, except for the much older Uldale Wood and the natural woodland in the gills. Scandinavia held a strong fascination for my great grandfather, grandfather and my father. By skillful placing of relatively small, largely coniferous woods, my father managed to create a landscape that looks more wooded than it actually is and therefore, has echoes of Scandinavia.”
In the woods beyond the gill, I was delighted to spot four or five Red Squirrels, or, very possibly, the same Red Squirrel four or five times. I have one very blurred photo to remind me, but if I hadn’t taken it myself, I don’t think I would know that it was of a squirrel. Much of the walk to this point had been accompanied by the sound of Cuckoos, but, as usual, I didn’t see them at all.
Needlehouse Gill again.
I watched a largish bird of prey fly up and along the gill. I don’t know what type sadly.
Part of the reason for choosing this route was the fact that I haven’t climbed Wild Boar Fell for far too long. It used to be a bit of a favourite. I always used the same route: up the Rawthey, over Holmes Moss Fell, which was invariably very wet, then onto Swarth Fell, Wild Boar Fell and down via Fell End Clouds. This time I intended to ring the changes and explore some more Lune feeders. My original plan had been to hop over the fence here, onto access land, and follow the gill upstream, but the going looked like it might be difficult, due to the steep banks and fallen trees, so instead I almost doubled back on the track and then took to the open fell-side.
Looking back towards the Howgills.
It wasn’t half as wet underfoot as it might have been I suspect.
Drinker Moth Caterpillar.
I found a hint of a path, which took me down into Grain Gill, and then followed the gill down into Needlehouse Gill which at some point becomes Uldale Gill.
Waterfall.
I took lots of photos of small falls and cascades, but this was the best, so can stand in for them all.
Dor Beetle.
I watched this Dor Beetle as it wandered around in the rough vegetation, laboriously and seemingly with quite a lot of effort, going back and forth over the same ground for reasons I couldn’t fathom.
Looking back down the gill to Cautley Crag.
On the left of this photo you can see a small sliver of white, which is where water was spouting from a hole in the crags and pouring under the wall into the stream. The boulders in the foreground are, I assumed, the dry bed of a tributary stream where a spring would emerge in wet weather.
In the absence of a path, following the stream turned out to be quite heavy going, so I decided that it would be a good idea to climb up to the left, above the northern bank of the gill. I was wrong. That bright idea brought me into very boggy ground with tall reeds. The only upside was that I saw a number of Common Lizards…
Common Lizard.
…which were all too fast for me to get any decent photos.
Fortunately, when I climbed high enough, the going got much easier.
Looking back to the Howgill Fells.Larinioides cornutus.
I’m reliably informed that this spider, on an impressive web stretching between sedge stems, is Larinioides cornutus, the Furrow Orbweaver. They like damp places, which fits. This must be a female, which makes a silken cocoon and then produces pheromones to attract a mate. At the time, I thought the cocoon might be full of babies, but with hindsight, it looks more like a larder.
Furrow Orbweaver.
The ‘furrow’ in her name refers to the pattern on her back, which sadly she never deigned to reveal to me.
Furrow Orbweaver.
She was intent on running repairs of her web.
Furrow Orbweaver.Furrow Orbweaver.
But then I must have upset her in some way and she disappeared into her lair. I’m well aware that not everyone likes arachnids, but as you can probably tell, I was entranced.
Looking back from near the top of the gill.Swarth Fell Tarn.Cairn on Swarth Fell.Wild Boar Fell from Swarth Fell.Looking south from Swarth Fell. That’s Whernside and Ingleborough peeking out from behind Baugh Fell.
I found a very comfortable spot amongst the boulders on Swarth Fell, made a brew and then had a little nap in the sun whilst it cooled down. You can’t beat a bit of a snooze during a hill walk if you ask me.
On the way back down to the col, I followed the steep eastern edge…
The eastern edge of Swarth Fell.
The rivers both Eden and Ure rise down there somewhere. The first is heading for Carlisle, the Solway Firth and hence the Irish Sea, whilst the other, via the Ouse and the Humber, heads through York to the North Sea.
Looking back to Swarth Fell.The Band.
This path, around The Band to High White Scar, is not marked on the OS map, but it is an absolute delight. As I walked along it, I watched a Buzzard gliding out across Aisgill Head.
Ais Gill and Swarth Fell.High White Scar. Mallerstang Edges beyond.Along the edge.A proliferation of cairns.
Wild Boar Fell has a large summit plateau and two tops, both with a spot height of 708m.
Cairns!Yoadcomb Scar.Yoadcomb Scar pano.Looking back to Yoadcomb Scar.The Nab, Eden Valley, Northern Pennines.The Nab pano.Trig pillar.
Here’s ‘the other’ top. Not quite as exciting as the one to the east, to be honest.
Sand Tarn.Forcepot Sike.
Forcepot Sike apparently drains Sand Tarn, although there wasn’t an obvious or easy to spot outflow. The hills opposite are Harter Fell (there’s a few of those about!) and Green Bell. I don’t think I’ve ever climbed the former, and it must be about thirty years since I climbed the latter – and since the source of the Lune is said to be on its slopes, it’s high on my to do list. Of course, we know that the Lune, like any river, has countless sources, but we’ll let that lie.
Clouds Gill.
This was pathless going, but much easier than that had been by Uldale Gill. The stream gradually grew as it absorbed lots of other rivulets, at some point becoming Clouds Gill. I’ve come down these slopes a few times before, but always heading for Fell End Clouds, never sticking with the gill. As the terrain changed to limestone country, that brought unexpected bonuses. The stream began to appear and disappear underground.
Clouds Gill.
In some spots I could see the water flowing through a narrow channel to the left and below the exposed rocky riverbed. In other places the river had eroded large deep pots which were full of stagnant water. And also full of tadpoles.
Tadpoles.
Many moons ago, I used to walk to school with friends. Our route took us across fields and via a small footbridge over Johnny’s Brook. Armed with coffee jars or buckets, we would collect frogspawn, tadpoles, frogs, sticklebacks and other unfortunate denizens of the brook and take our finds to school. There was an aquarium tank in one of our classrooms, I remember. Whether the aquarium was a result of our enthusiasm or its cause, I don’t recall. I do know that I’ve never seen tadpoles in this profusion before, pool after pool, deep or shallow, were full of them. But then suddenly – no more.
Grey Wagtail.Mayfly?
I’m assuming that this is a Mayfly, although my field guide describes them as ‘flimsy’ whereas this looked quite sturdy to me. Apparently, there are 47 different species in the UK. The winged stage of their lives lasts for just a couple of hours or up to a couple of days, depending on the species. The nymphs, living in the water, often live for a year or even two, although, again, that depends of the species.
Mayfly nymphs? About to emerge?
Limestone, of course, erodes in interesting ways. Here the stream had created a narrow gorge and a huge rock overhang.
From above.From below.Hare.
I’ve begun to think that certain creatures are emblematic of the landscapes of the Lune, particularly Curlews and Hares. Maybe Grey Wagtails as well.
Cloud Gill and Harter Fell.A roofless barn.Fell End Clouds.
I had planned to cross the valley and have a wander through the woods of Murthwaite Park, but it was getting late, so I just wandered along the minor road back to the car.
Another view of Fell End Clouds.Valerian, host to tiny flies. St. Marks flies or something similar?
When I got back to the car it was covered with Mayflies. These did look flimsy.
Mayflies.
There had been lots of cars parked along the road near the Cross Keys, presumably for the walk up to Cautley Spout and beyond, which is a very fine walk and another which is high on my ‘to do’ list. But I’d met a couple on Swarth Fell, another couple at the Nab and two blokes and their dog by the trig pillar on Wild Boar Fell, and that was it. On a sunny Saturday in May. I can’t think why Wild Boar Fell is not much more popular, but I’m not complaining!
A little over 11 miles, but largely pathless so harder work than that might sound.
This was the day after my Holme Fell and Black Fell outing with TBH. After that modest affair this was much more ambitious. I think I was frustrated that the first week of the Easter holidays had only yielded three Wainwrights. In my defence, the weather hadn’t been much cop and we had also been decorating our living room. I say ‘we’, but in honesty TBH had been decorating the living room and I had been ferrying the boys about to give her the time to do that. I did put a coat of paint on the ceiling I suppose. I had to really, I’d told the kids that anyone who didn’t contribute would lose their TV privileges. Anyway, over the next three days I made an effort to make up the deficit (of Wainwrights bagged, not decorating).
Hallin Fell
I parked by the ‘new’ church, below Hallin Fell, dropped down to Howtown and then climbed steeply towards White Knotts.
Steel Knotts / Pikeawassa and Martindale.
I don’t know who made the path, or why, but it was very cleverly done.
Ullswater.
Having hit the ‘ridge’ – it’s neither a ridge, nor a plateau, so I’m not sure what to call it – I had to descend slightly to reach Bonscale Pike. From Easter onwards (and quite often in the winter) I habitually wear shorts. It was very windy and very cold this day and I wondered at times whether I would have to turn back, but I found that by layering up on my top half, with a couple of fleeces, hat, gloves and at times my cag too, my legs didn’t seem to be an issue.
Bonscale Pike has lots of humps and hollows – thinking, quite rightly as it turned out – that shelter would be at a premium, I stopped for a cuppa.
Skiddaw and Blencathra. Gowbarrow and the Mell Fells in the middle distance.Arthur’s Pike (on the right) from Bonscale Pike.
From Bonscale Pike the route drops into a hollow and then climbs out to Arthur’s Pike.
Bonscale Pike from Arthur’s Pike.
From there, it’s a long series of very gradual ascents, over Loadpot Hill, Wether Hill, Red Crag, and Raven Howe to my high point for the day High Raise.
The route ahead.Cross Fell catching the sun on the other side of the Eden Valley.The Trig Pillar On Loadpot Hill.
Clearly the showers we’d watched the day before shrouding the long ridge from the Dodds down to Fairfield had fallen as snow on the higher parts of the range.
The snow-capped hills on the western side of Patterdale.Red Crag (on the right) and Low Raise and High Raise ahead.
I had my eye on the wall in the photo above from quite some distance away. It looked like it might offer some shelter. It did, and it was most welcome. I sat behind the wall here for quite some time, ate my lunch and had another hot drink (Pink Grapefruit squash – a tip from old friend the Hairy Oatcake).
The hills across Patterdale again.High Raise, Rampsgill Head, The Knott and Rest Dodd.
It seemed to take a long time, but I was gradually reeling High Raise in.
The shelter and the cairn on High Raise.
I didn’t have high hopes for the little stone shelter, but in the event it wasn’t too bad. I finished off the Grapefruit cordial and enjoyed the views over the Eden Valley.
Looking across Low Raise from High Raise to showers over the Eden Valley.Kidsty Pike and Rampsgill Head. High Street beyond.High Street.Kidsty Pike from Rampsgill Head.
There’s a high ‘ticks to effort’ ratio here, with not much energy expended to grab Kidsty Pike, Rampsgill Head and The Knott.
Harter Fell, Mardale Ill Bell, High Street, Thornthwaite Crag.Looking back to High Raise and Raven Howe.Catstye Cam stands out in this view of the fells west of Patterdale.Huge Cairn on The Knott.Rest Dodd – showers behind.
Rest Dodd is not such a push-over, with a steepish re-ascent to be overcome.
High Raise and The Knott.
It looked like frequent showers were tracking south along Patterdale and I thought it was only a matter of time before I got a drubbing, but aside from a few flurries of snow, they never materialised.
Two cairns on Rest Dodd.Icicles on Rest Dodd.Raven Howe and High Raise.The Nab.
The ground between Rest Dodd and The Nab looked like it would be very heavy going, but although there was a fair bit of bog and some big peat hags, it was surprisingly easy to circumvent.
High Raise and Rest Dodd.
I knew, from a previous visit, that there’s a superb path which spirals down the western flank of The Nab. Again, I don’t know who made it or why, but it’s a great bit of work. In places the slope is extremely steep, but the path, narrow at times, keeps on contouring and descending very gently. Perfect.
The well-made path on The Nab.Hallin Fell and Steel Knotts / Pikeawassa looking down Martindale.The Nab.The Bungalow.
“Constructed in 1910 as a shooting lodge for Hugh Lowther, Earl of Lonsdale, in a colonial style to host a visit from the German Kaiser”
Nowadays, it’s self-catering accommodation, sleeping 10, so the likes of you and I can rent it out and see what kind of luxury was laid on for ol’ Wilhelm.
Looking up Martindale.
The long walk down the valley on the road was…well, long. I was getting a bit worn out by now.
Martindale Old Church, St. Martin’s.The Nab and Beda Fell.Cotehow – Grade II Listed of course.Hallin Fell.
But then the sun came out and I was quite tempted to tag on Hallin Fell. It was already pretty late however, so I decided to leave that for another day.
Martindale New Church.St. Peter’s.
Some hike stats: MapMyWalk gives 14½ miles and 980m of ascent (which is bit of an underestimate I think).
Wainwrights: Bonscale Pike, Arthur’s Pike, Loadpot Hill, Wether Hill, High Raise, Kidsty Pike, Rampsgill Head, The Knott, Rest Dodd, The Nab.
Birketts: those ten, plus Red Crag. I could, and should, have revisited the top of Swarth Fell while I was at it. But I didn’t. Never mind.
Two days after my birthday, and time to climb some actual hills, although, in truth, quite diddy ones. I can’t remember why, but it was already well after midday when we parked in the car-park just off the busy A593 which runs between Ambleside and Coniston. We were in the little car park near Glen Mary Bridge which has the dual advantage of being a National Trust carpark and of being beside Tom Gill, the stream which drains Tarn Hows.
Tom Gill Waterfall
We’ve been this way before, and knew that the walk up through the woods, besides the many waterfalls in Tom Gill would be delightful.
Tom Gill WaterfallIn the woods.Tarn Hows
When we arrived at Tarn Hows, the sun was shining and it was really very attractive. I could almost understand why the crowds flock there. It was a bit too cold and a bit too busy to strip off for a swim, so we decided to have a very early, at least in terms of the walk, lunch stop by the shore of the tarn.
Inevitably, away from the tarn, it was much quieter as we headed steadily up through Iron Keld Plantation towards Black Fell. (The OS have both Black Fell and Black Crag, but since I am currently obsessing about ticking off Wainwrights, I’ll stick with the name the old curmudgeon used.)
Looking towards the hills around Langdale and Eskdale.
It was no surprise that the views from Black Fell are superb, but fabulous to have such fine conditions to enjoy them. I was disproportionately chuffed that Lingmoor, where I’d been earlier in the week, featured prominently in those views.
Ambleside and the head of Windermere.Wetherlam.Looking towards Helvellyn and Fairfield.
The weather looked a bit grim over the long ridge of hills which runs north-south between Clough Head, the Dodds, Helvellyn, and the Fairfield Horseshoe. It looked grim over those hills all day. Curious how that can happen and how localised the weather in Cumbria can be.
Below the top of of Black Fell there’s a very substantial cairn. We decided to investigate.
And then decided to have a second lunch stop just below the cairn from where there was an excellent view along Windermere…
The weather still looks grim towards Helvellyn and Fairfield.On our descent, Coniston Water in the distance.
We were on the same path we had followed when we walked from Coniston to Ambleside last summer, although we would divert off to the left fairly soon.
The weather still looks grim towards Helvellyn and Fairfield.Low Arnside Farm. Grade II listed. Property of the National Trust. The gift of Beatrix Potter.
I’m beginning to wonder if there are any old buildings in the Lake District which Beatrix Potter didn’t buy and give to the National Trust.
The weather looks even grimmer towards Helvellyn and Fairfield.
We still had sunshine, but it wouldn’t last much longer. We soon had the first of several short showers, with a little hail mixed in. We didn’t see much sun after that, but it generally stayed fine at least.
Only Lingmoor has the sun.
Although I’ve climbed Holme Fell quite a few times over the years, I’ve never used this route before, up the long broad ridge from Oxen Fell via Man Crag. It’s a terrific route which I discovered in one the Aileen and Brian Evans Cicerone ‘Short Walks’ guides.
The weather looks marginally less grim towards Helvellyn and Fairfield.Black Fell. Not black. Unlike the skies behind it.Yew Tree Tarn and Coniston Water.
We had another brief drink and snack stop on the ridge, but it had become a bit cold and windy to stop for very long.
This is an extremely lumpy ridge with lots of rocky little knolls. Fortunately, we found a series of little paths which wound around the bumps.
Ivy Crag on the left, the top of Holme Fell on the right.The disused reservoir over TBH’s shoulder is reputed to be a good place to swim. It’s on my list!The top.
This painted stone was on the summit cairn. I wish I knew what it was commemorating? The writing just says Africa, Europe, Asia, Aust so I’m not sure that helps. Curious that the Americas are omitted.
Coniston Water.On the descent. Holme Fells impressive crags behind.Yew Tree Farm and Barn. Grade II listed. Property of the National Trust. The gift of Beatrix Potter.Inevitably. I liked the open gallery along the front of the barn.
Some stats: MapMyWalk gives 7½ miles and 360m of ascent. The Evans say 6¼ miles, but their (excellent) route drops down from Uskdale Gap and so misses the top of Holme Fell which probably accounts for the difference.
If you’re looking for a half-day walk in the Lakes I reckon you’d be hard-pressed to beat this one for variety and views.
Blea Tarn. Side Pike on the far side and the Langdale Pikes obscured by clouds behind.
B had a shift in the cafe at Brockholes; since I was dropping him off there, I decided to stay in the Lakes and make the most of it, despite a fairly ropey forecast. I had a fine time, even though it rained on and off most of the day.
I parked up by Blea Tarn, another National Trust carpark, although the joy of ‘free’ parking was tempered by high winds and driving rain which weren’t terribly encouraging. I rarely set-off for a walk in full waterproofs, I’m a fair weather walker, as much as I can manage to be.
Looking back towards Blea Tarn. The plug of rock in this photo is Tarnclose Crag.
Fortunately, my route started downhill into Little Langdale and I hadn’t walked far before both the wind and the rain had abated a bit.
Farmhouse at Fell Foot When the skies are grey and the weather is rotten, I always think the white-washed stone buildings still look attractive. I’ve often thought that the porch over the door here is unusual. Turns out this is a Grade II listed building.
“At the foot of Wrynose Pass. C16 north wing, the main block C17. A long, low house, white-washed stone rubble, flag roof, 2 storeys. The door is under the overhang of a slate-hung upper storey, gabled, and without windows, the timber beam ends showing in the gable.”
This shows the entire farm complex at Fell Foot with Castle Crag behind, itself a scheduled monument because of it’s suspected history as a hill-fort. By the farm there’s the Ting Mound where the Norse inhabitants of the valley had council meetings.
Behind Castle Crag you can see Lingmoor which is out of the cloud and would remain so all day, unlike any of the surrounding higher hills. I assume these very rocky lumps – Side Pike, Tarnclose Crag and Castle Crag are volcanic in origin, but would love to find out more.
Bridge End Cottage.
The National Trust own both Fell Foot Farm and Bridge End Cottage, in the latter case at least, gifted to them by Beatrix Potter. Bridge End Cottage is another grade II listed building.
I had half an idea that I might be able to bag Holme Fell and Black Crag as well as Lingmoor, but I needed to collect B from Brockholes at the end of his shift, and even I could see that I would be pushing it to manage all that and still arrive on time to pick him up. On the other hand, just climbing Lingmoor would undoubtedly leave me with quite a bit of time to kill, so I decided to extend my walk along Little Langdale as far as Skelwith Bridge and then come back up Great Langdale before bagging Lingmoor.
Lingmoor and Little Langdale Tarn.High Hall Garth – you’ve guessed it, Grade II and property of the National Trust.Low Hall Garth. Owned by the NT, gifted by Beatrix Potter, Grade II. Lingmoor and Slater’s Bridge.
I didn’t divert, as I usually have, to photograph the marvellous Slater’s Bridge – it was very busy. It has appeared on the blog many times before. (Here for example, or here). It’s an amazing structure, in a low-key picturesque sort of way. I’ve never thought to look up it’s protected status before, but it turns out that it trumps the other local properties by being Grade II*.
“Slater’s Bridge II*. Over River Brathay. C17 packhorse bridge of slate and natural boulders. Huge boulder in mid-stream supports segmental arched bridge of 15 ft span with 3 1/2 ft voussoirs, and a flat causeway of a single slab on slate supports.”
Voussoirs? A wedge-shaped or tapered stone used to construct an arch, obviously. Learn a new thing every day! (And forget it the next sadly.)
The obvious knobble on Lingmoor with a prominent gully on its right, is Busk Pike, of which more later.
No sign of any voussoirs at the next bridge down the Brathay, but still quite a handsome footbridge I thought.
Little Langdale and Lingmoor.Colwith Force.
At Chesters, at Skelwith bridge, I managed to buy a nice lunch* from their takeaway counter and then was lucky to get a picnic table under the eaves and so out of the rain. (*Pricey, but very tasty.)
Elter Water. Lingmoor on the left. This should be one of the iconic views of the Langdale Pikes, but they were still lost in the cloud.Bridge over Great Langdale Beck in Elterwater. Rebuilt 1702. Grade II listed of course.
Judging by Historic England’s map, just about every building in the village of Elterwater must be listed. I shall have to come back to investigate some time. Since one of those listed buildings is the Britannia Inn, that should be an enjoyable experience!
I left Elterwater on a steep and stony track and was amused by this cycle route sign at the bottom, since ‘challenging’ seems like a huge understatement to me.
This path leaves that track at around its highest point. I think it must be an old mining track, it has fabulous zig-zags and clearly someone has gone to a lot of effort in constructing it.
I’ve become a bit obsessed with being able to put a name to every hill, hump and hollow in the view. I blame Andy. The wooded hill in the middle-ground here doesn’t have a name on the OS map and there’s no path to the top, but the wooded slopes on it’s northern and eastern flanks are access land, Fletcher’s Wood, so it would be possible to get at least close to the top. The higher ground to the right, meanwhile, is the end of the Black Crag ridge. TBH and I traversed those slopes on our walk between Coniston and Ambleside last summer.
A day of contrasts – the Coniston Fells are lost in what I suspect was foul weather, whilst the sun is trying to shine on Little Langdale Tarn.
The weather had brightened up enough for me to take a short stop and drink some of the contents of my flask. The view was limited by the dense, low clouds, but still pretty good.
After the initial steep climb, somewhat eased by the marvellous zig-zags, a much steadier ascent ensues. There were still a number of broad grassy tracks, testament to this areas quarrying history. I took the lower path, intending to take in Busk Pike.
Looking down on Little Langdale Tarn. Holme Fell visible through the rain.Spoil heaps and small, tumble-down walled structures like this were dotted about the hillside.Busk Pike.Busk Pike again.
I’d like to revisit Busk Pike when the views are less curtailed by clouds.
Brown How – the summit of Lingmoor – from Busk Pike. Notice the ruined buildings between the two tops.This was the biggest of the many derelict buildings I saw on Lingmoor. It provided a sheltered spot for another drinks stop. The sun even shone a little, although it also started drizzling again, just in case I was getting complacent about the weather. Looking back to Busk Pike and the the old mine buildings.And again.from a little higher up.
On the summit of Lingmoor, I met a family party of three, the first walkers I’d met since leaving the track near Dale End. We congratulated each other on the fact that it was “Not too bad”. As soon as our conversation ended, I realised that it was indeed ‘too bad’: the weather was back to how it had been when I first set-off from Blea Tarn – a howling gale and very heavy rain. It seemed highly plausible that closer to the higher hills around the head of Langdale, the weather had remained this way all day.
I was keen to get out of these conditions and back to the car, but I did divert slightly to include Lingmoor Tarn on my route…
Side Pike – it had been my intentionto include this on my route, but with the weather now so foul and with time running short, I decided to keep it for another day.MapMyWalk gives a little over 11 miles and 560m of ascent (the latter might be a bit of an overestimate)
B had told me his shift finished at 6.30, but when I arrived to pick him up (and two friends who had also been working at Brockholes that day), it turned out that, because the cafe had been so quiet, they’d been ‘sent home’ an hour early. B was furious that I hadn’t been answering my phone (it had been on flight mode, preserving the battery whilst I probably didn’t have a signal anyway). Unfortunately for B, beggar’s can’t be chooser’s, and he soon calmed down when I offered to leave him behind, if he didn’t like the free taxi-service on offer.
Beating The Bounds 