An October outing up two Wainwrights which I’ve never climbed before. Not sure how I’ve managed to avoid them. Anyway, my mistake: they were well worth a visit. In the photo above, you can see that there’s a lot of steep stuff on Eagle Crag and it’s not immediately obvious how you’ll get up there, but fortunately it’s all plain sailing; the path winds round to the left of the first knoll, Bleak How, and then finds a passage through the remaining complexities.
Fungi.
Having said that, after the initial easy plod along Stonethwaite Beck and then a boggy bit of field, I turned away from the valley path either too late or too early and then found myself fighting spiky, crumpled bracken uphill, but eventually managed to reach a sketchy path by the wall which then lead me around the craggy parts of Bleak How and on to the ridge.
Long Band on Coldbarrow Fell.
This stream, unnamed on the OS map, has carved quite an impressive looking amphitheatre below Long Band on the opposite fellside and I filed away the idea of having a gander there on a future walk.
My ascent route, approaching Eagle Crag..Knotts and Great Crag above Stonethwaite.
It was a fairly grey day, with occasionally the odd drop of moisture in the air and the apparent threat of rain, but none-the-less good walking weather.
A broad ramp.
The route follows a resourceful path which finds first a broad ramp with crags above and below, and then switches back up an easy-angled gully through what might have seemed impenetrable cliffs.
Looking down on Bleak How.Heron Crag and Langstrath.A steepish section.Looking to Sergeant’s Crag
On the last part of the ascent, the path loops drunkenly back and forth following broad ledges separated by short slabby crags. You could probably take a more direct route, but it’s pleasant walking so why bother?
Sergeant’s Crag and Langstrath.Sergeant’s Crag again.
Too many photos of Sergeant’s Crag? I liked the look of it!
The long Glaramara ridge.Looking north to Skiddaw.
On the top, the inevitable cup of tea, a video-call with my Mum and Dad, and a brief conversation with another walker. I saw surprisingly few that day.
Sergeant’s Crag.Again!Looking back to Eagle Crag.Eagle Crag again.Glaramara.
Not much more climbing to attain Sergeant’s Crag and then I took an off-piste route down towards Langstrath, aiming to avoid Bull Crag and Blea Crag and the crags around Lamper Knott. With hindsight, I’m not sure it’s a route I could recommend: there’s a lot of crags and even the grassy parts are liberally sprinkled with boulders and rocks. Still, I enjoyed it immensely.
An off piste descent.Approaching Langstrath Beck.
I wanted to come down this way so that I could have a peek at the renowned Black Moss Pot…
Blackmoss Pot.
There were quite a few wet-suited swimmers nearby, the ones who had just finished swimming advising and encouraging another group who had just arrived. I’ve never swum here myself and it’s on my wish-list, although not for a grey day towards the end of October!
Langstrath Beck.Stonethwaite.Map the first.Around six and a half miles – but there’s a lot packed into that short walk.
Late September. The Tower Captain and I drove* up to Glencoe to join a small party of old muckers who’d already been there most of the week. (*Well, he drove, I took photos out of the window obviously).
On the Saturday, we dragged ourselves away from the drama of the Ryder Cup* and headed around the coast to Glen Creran, parking one car up the valley in the car park near Elleric, before returning to park the other near Druimavuic from where we began our traverse of the longish ridge of Beinn Sgulaird. (*Not as tricky for me as it was for some of the others. I hate golf. Although I do enjoy watching Europe beat the USA)
Looking down to Loch Creran.
Now Beinn Sgulaird was a new Munro to me. Not something that happens very often. I think the last new one I ticked off was Stuchd an Lochain back in 2011. I didn’t think much about that novelty last September, but this evening I dug out my old Munros map/tick-list and have enjoyed looking it over and wondering about some of the other Munros I’ve yet to climb. I’ll never finish them all, which I’m totally happy with, in fact there are many I’ve climbed before that I’m really hankering after revisiting, but it is nice to grab a new one now and again. If I remember right, the reason we’d lit upon Beinn Sgulaird in the first place was that it was one of UF’s remaining four unticked Munros. He’s obviously much more single-minded than me. And braver. I’ve done some summits in the Skye Cuillin, but on the whole I’m content to leave those hills to people with a better head for heights than me. And better balance, come to that.
Meall Garbh from unnamed top at 488m.
We did Stuchd an Lochain mostly in mist. This was another cloudy day, but we had much better views than we did that day.
Looking back to the 488m top.
There was a small, but easy to follow path, and although I never move very quickly, we made steady progress.
Andy on Meall Garbh (I think).
The cloud on the ridge was swirling about and offering partial views, which was very atmospheric.
Misty conditions.A partial clearing.Andy again.The descent from Meall Garbh.Beinn Trilleachan (I think).Pano.The ridge on to Beinn Sgulaird.Looking back to Meall Garbh. (I think).
I don’t seem to have taken a summit photo. I’m not sure why not, but we were in the cloud for a while, either side of the summit.
Descending into Coire nan Tulach.
The Prof was adamant that from the top we should turn-tail and retrace our ascent route, since there had been a good path. He was in a minority of one however. Old, wiser heads prevailed. Well….older anyway.
Stob Gaibhre in the foreground. I presume that’s Beinn Fhionnlaidh beyond. Looks good.
Any trace of a path, faint or otherwise, soon disappeared. Never-the-less, to begin with the descent into Coire nan Tulach was great. It was rough going, yes, but rocky and interesting, with expansive views and a real, remote wild feel to it.
Pretty much the same view again. I like them both!
But the lower we descended, the more tussocky and awkward the going became. We skirted around Stob Gaibhre and then dropped off the ridge down towards Glen Ure.
Beinn Trilleachan. Rocky.
I fell over, which was annoying. Then I fell again, but this time it was more than annoying. It ought to have been an innocuous affair – I pitched forward onto a large tussock – but the impact was on my sternum which was extremely painful and which took me almost a month to recover from. Maybe I cracked a rib. Certainly breathing was uncomfortable for the rest of that day and the one which followed. I’ve always been prone to tumbling now and again, but it seems that these days I don’t bounce like I used to. Maybe the Prof was right about our choice of descent route. Just don’t tell him I admitted that.
Glen Ure.
Fortunately, once we hit the track in Glen Ure the rest of the walk became an easy and very pleasant affair, although I think it did spit with rain a little.
Looking back. An Grianan in the centre. Looks worth investigating.Beinn Fhionnlaidhon the left.The whole ridge:Stob Gaibhre, Beinn Sgulaird, Meall Garbh and point 488m on the right.
Back in the car park, UF, for reasons only he knows, decided to settle an argument with a tree by backing his car into it. I think he lost, although said collision didn’t seem to slow him or his speedy vehicle down any on the drive back around to Glen Coe.
A mostly brilliant day. Some views, a new tick, an interesting gnarly ridge, great company and rounded all off with another fabulous meal at The Laroch in Ballachulish (which is highly recommended).
Map.
MapMyWalk gives a little over 10 miles, and almost exactly 1000m of climbing (which is definitely an underestimate).
What with Harrop Tarn being my new favourite swimming spot, after my visit last June, I was keen to share it with my nearest and dearest, so when A asked about a potential swim when her boyfriend L was visiting, that was the first suggestion which sprang to mind. The small parking area at Stockhow Bridge was already jam-packed when we arrived, but we were lucky to find some roadside parking close to the junction of the currently closed road around the western side of Thirlmere and the main road.
Thirlmere Reservoir.Helvellyn.
It was a beautiful day, quite warm, so the views back across the reservoir to Helvellyn and its satellites gave me frequent welcome excuses to stop for a breather and take photos during the steepish ascent.
The rocky bowl which holds Harrop Tarn.A and L racing each other on the stepping stones.
There’s a bridge across Dob Gill near the outflow from Harrop Tran, but A insisted on a race across the stepping stones. And then again with a headstart. And again with a more generous headstart, but L is a triathlete and clearly very agile, and no amount of leeway was going to get our A across first.
L was ready and into the water before I’d even undone my laces. Then out again even faster. Apparently the water was cold. He wasn’t wrong. I guess triathletes are used to the luxury of a wetsuit. A is undeniably much hardier than I am: she and her friend S (the Tower Captain’s daughter for long-suffering readers) have instigated a new ‘tradition’ of going for an open water swim on S’s birthday. In March! This year that was in a stream up by Alston in the Pennines (it looked lovely, but A was a bit vague about the exact location). Last year it was in High Dam, with snow still sitting on the banks. Brrr. Never-the-less, on this occasion she took her time getting in and didn’t last much longer in the water than L had.
Harrop Tarnpano.
TBH took an absolute age acclimatising herself inch by squealing inch. By the time she was fully immersed I’d almost finished my first circuit of the tarn (like a lot of mammals adapted to cold water I have my own built in insulation). I could see that TBH intended to follow my lead, so I cut a corner and we swam a circuit together. Or almost together – like most people, TBH swims faster than I do.
Black Darter.
Not the most attractive dragonfly perhaps, but exciting for me because I’m not aware of having seen one of these before and I certainly haven’t photographed one.
Another stepping stone race. Only ever going to be one winner.Fly agaric?Elephant Hawkmoth Caterpillar.
The first time I saw, and photographed, one of these, was also on a walk with A. And her friend S and the Tower Captain come to that, way back in 2009. One of the photos I took then somehow ended up high on the list of results of an internet image search and for a few years that post would get heavy traffic every July and August when people were trying to work out what it was they’d seen clambering on their Fuschias.
When I was a nipper, trips to the limestone caverns around Castleton where a regular treat, at least that’s how I remember it and we certainly visited all of the show caves in that area. But I don’t think we ever visited Poole’s Cavern near Buxton. So, we’d booked online the night before to put that right. Driving up, Google maps took us on a high level route, coming into Buxton from Axe Edge Moor, which I very much enjoyed because of the fantastic views.
One of the resident Buzzards near our accommodation.
Actually, I’m getting ahead of myself. There were a pair of Buzzards evidently resident in the trees near to our rental property and I took every opportunity to try to get photos of them. Here’s one I took whilst I was waiting for everybody to be ready to set off for Buxton.
Flowstone features Poole cavern.
I thoroughly enjoyed Poole’s Cavern. There was an interesting little museum in the visitor’s centre too. Apparently there’s evidence that the cave was occupied from the Bronze Age onwards. One of the occupants was an outlaw called Poole, hence the name.
Flowstone features Poole cavern.
The large and broken stalactite in the centre is called The Flitch of Bacon. I was more impressed with the pools in the flowstone beneath.
An abundance of stalagmites and stalactites.
Quarrying in the hillside above the cavern has caused the stalactites and stalagmites to grow at an increased rate. Research is ongoing into this accelerated growth.
Stalagmites and stalactitesPoached Egg Stalagmites.More flowstone features.And more (or a backdrop from a scene in Alien?)And more.Flowstone coated boulder at the furthest point of the tour.
Seasoned cavers have apparently been working for years to dig a way through the stonefall at the end of the passage to find a way through to potential caverns beyond. It sounds like a dangerous and thankless task.
Poole’s Cavern is part of Buxton Country Park. There’s a Go Ape there too, and so I booked the DBs in for an afternoon session, we lunched at the cafe in the visitor centre, and then while the boys were doing their Tarzan thing, TBH and I went for a wander through Grin Low Woods and up to the top of the hill, where there’s a folly and a fine view over Buxton.
Grin Low.Grinlow Tower (Solomon’s Temple).
Grinlow Tower was apparently commissioned by the splendidly named Solomon Mycock to provide work for the unemployed in the town.
Buxton from the top of the tower.Looking towards Axe Edge Moor.
Back in 1983, my dad, his friend John and myself completed a challenge event called the Bullocky Smithy Hike. It’s an annual thing, still running if you fancy a go, organised by Hazel Grove Scouts. It’s advertised as 56 miles, but whilst there are checkpoints there’s no fixed route. We did a bit of road walking to avoid stumbling down Miller’s Dale in the dark, so I’ve always claimed that we walked 60. To be honest, it’s mainly the checkpoints (and the pain in my left knee for the last few miles) which I remember. At the checkpoints volunteers offered friendly encouragement, lavish quantities of food, hot sweet tea and (I think) treatment for blisters and muscle aches. I think we crossed Axe Edge Moor at about three in the morning. I was exhausted and very, very cold at this point. The checkpoint was in a barn close to the Cat and Fiddle Pub, I think, and the warmth and the tea and soup on offer, cheered me up no end. A couple of years later, in my first year at University, a fellow resident of the tiny Halls I lived in, an ultra-runner, won the event in a ridiculous, record time of around 9 hours. We took 22 I think. I don’t think I’d even realised it was a race. There’s a fuller, more detailed, account of a more recent completion here, which I enjoyed reading.
We took a different route down through the woods and found lots of heavily laden raspberry canes.
Sculpture of a Lime Burner, Grin Low Woods.
Although tucking into the raspberries slowed us down somewhat, we still had time to kill before the DBs were done swinging through the trees, so we had a wander down into Buxton.
Boating Lake, Pavilion Gardens.Buxton Pavilion.
Back in University Hiking Club days I think we held at least one post-hike Meal and Barn Dance (we’d call it a Ceilidh these days I suspect) in Buxton, I think in the Pavilion, although I could easily be wrong. I also ran the Buxton half-marathon years ago, a very hilly affair with a brutal first few miles up on to Axe Edge Moor. Anyway, it’s a handsome spa town and a lovely place to visit, so I was glad to be back.
Buxton Pavilion.Pavilion Tea Rooms.Pavilion Interior.Buxton Opera House.London Transport Bus – a bit lost?Buxton CrescentGrove Hotel.Cafe at the Green Pavilion.
We popped into the Cafe at the Green Pavilion for a drink. It was hot by now, so I settled on a locally brewed beer. Very nice too. The menu looked enticing, so we were disappointed that the staff were in the process of closing up, and we couldn’t come back for tea. In fact, I can’t remember what we did by way of an evening meal – maybe this was the night we had late fish and chips from the chippy on the Market Square in Ashbourne? Also very nice.
War Memorial.
There were a group filming by the War Memorial, but whether film or TV, drama or documentary, I’ve no idea.
The Crescent and the Pump Room Roof.
I did dip into the Pump Room, now a visitor centre and cafe, but my photos of the interior are not very impressive.
Danebower Colliery Ventilation Chimney.
We weren’t done yet. I’d taken a leaf out of Andy’s book and been scouring satellite images looking for a suitable layby to give us access to the River Dane, because I’d also been scouring the internet for wild-swimming spots in the Peak District. There don’t seem to be many likely venues.
River Dane
Which probably explains why, even though it was getting quite late, the pools at Three Shires Head were very busy. It’s nice to see people enjoying the outdoors, but, as much as I enjoy loud music, in the right circumstances, I prefer it when other people don’t subject me to their execrable taste in modern pop. (Heh, heh, I sound like my dad: ‘It just goes thump, thump, thump’). In fact, the pools are not ideal for swimming. Well, you can manage a couple of strokes in the pool on the left in the photo below, but neither is very deep.
Three Shires Head.
We consoled ourselves by ducking under each of the waterfalls, a bracing experience, which seemed to start a bit of a trend.
It’s a long time since I last visited Three Shires Head and I was trying to remember whether the paths were as eroded then as they are now. I remember it as quite an isolated, quiet spot, although, since it’s not far from a major road, I suppose that I might be guilty of looking back through rose-tinted spectacles.
Advancing shadows. The Roaches on the skyline.
All-in-all, a really enjoyable day. And, Grin Low, which was new to me, might be one for our forthcoming book ‘Small Hills with Disproportionately Good Views’. Talking of which, we have a competitor…
Our idea made flesh!
I saw this in Waterstones in Lancaster and then, fortuitously, also found it in the Oxfam bookshop, so I now have a copy. Some of our favourites are in there, but many are not, so we may be in the clear. Phew! Unless Phoebe Smith has a volume two on the way? Oh no!
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.
B and I had been discussing various plans for a night or two away somewhere, but dodgy weather and the fact that B was quite busy between work and social commitments had prevented that so far. However, the forecast looked half reasonable, and B could spare me an afternoon and the following morning, so we hastily packed (fortunately my gear had dried out in the day since my wash-out walk from Austwick) and set-out for Patterdale. We parked at Cow Bridge, just north of Brothers Water. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the car park wasn’t full, especially given that it’s free.
Fungi in Deepdale Park.
We used the permission path beside the road through Low Wood. The map shows a much more direct route through the woods on to the Hartsop above How ridge, but I would have been much happier to take the less steep route even if I hadn’t been carrying camping gear. Actually, B had volunteered to carry the tent, so although I had the food, pans and stoves, my pack wasn’t as heavy as it might have been.
Fungi. Possibly Amanita rubescens?Gavel Pike.
Gavel Pike looks very dramatic from this direction, which is a bit misleading, but it’s a Birkett which is well worth taking a detour to visit when climbing St Sunday Crag.
Arnison Crag and Place Fell either side of Patterdale.Arnison Crag, Great Mell Fell, Place Fell, and Angle Tarn Pikes from Gale Crag or thereabouts.“So, where are we going to camp?”
The long ridge over Hartsop above How is a lovely walk. It gave us lots of opportunity to look ahead to the various potential campsites I’d identified. I let B make the decision and he was most taken with the idea of dropping down into Link Cove, the craggy corrie below Hart Crag and Scrubby Crag. Although I left the choice to B, that was my preferred option too. I’ve visited Link Cove a couple of times before, ascending in to it on the way up Fairfield from Deepdale, with Andy and Uncle Fester years ago and I’d been wanting to return.
B admiring Dove Crag, Hart Crag and Fairfield. Before succumbing to ‘ant attack’.
There were a lot of flying ants about. We’d decided to stop here for a drink and a snack, but this little knoll seemed to be a particular focus of their attention and we were quickly overwhelmed and decided to move on.
Link Cove dead ahead.Link Cove.
There’s no path into Link Cove. We took a line which angled down below the darkly shadowed crag on the left of the photo above, then climbed again onto the small ridge in the middle of the cwm. This was rough going, but I love getting off-piste into dramatic scenery like this.
Tent pitched.
It was hard to find any level, dry ground to pitch the tent on. This spot was probably more level than it looks in the photo, but it wasn’t as dry as we might have liked. Then again, after the weather we’d had, it was always going to be hard to find a spot which wasn’t soggy.
Camp in Link Cove.Looking down Deepdale.
Once we were pitched and organised, we left our gear and set-off unencumbered for a circuit of Link Cove. I thought the map suggested that The Step would give a good ascent route and that proved to be the case.
The High Street range from ‘The Step’. Looking across Link Cove to Hart Crag. Our tent is to the right of that short rocky ridge in the cove.St. Sunday Crag.Looking down Deepdale. Hartsop above How ridge on the right.Black Tippet and the northern buttresses of Fairfield. Cofa Pike on the right.
You can’t beat this sort of exploration – we had great views into Link Cove, then suddenly we hit the far side of the ridge and found terrific views of the northern steeps of Fairfield. From Scrubby Crag we decided that a detour to take in the summit of Fairfield was called for.
Dollywaggon Pike, Nethermost Pike, Helvellyn and Striding Edge.Cofa Pike and St. Sunday Crag.
The skies to the east were looking increasingly grey and it was clearly raining not too far away. It would surely be only a matter of time before we got our own shower.
Looking west. Scafells, Gable, Dale Head, Maiden Moor, Northwestern Fells.Rainbow Weather.Looking down Rydal. Great Rigg and Heron Pike on the right. Windermere, Coniston Water and Morecambe Bay in the distance.Link Cove, Deepdale, Hartsop above How. Sunshine and showers.
I thought we could descend, with care, the gully to the south of Scrubby Crag, but B took one look at it and clearly doubted my sanity, so we climbed Hart Crag instead, descended the ridge towards Hartsop above How and then repeated our route down into the cove and back up to our tent.
St Sunday Crag.Descending towards our camp.
Of course, eventually it began to rain and didn’t stop for quite some time, even though the sun was still shining too…
Dove Crag.
We thought we could pick out the path to the cave on Dove Crag which is meant to be a good bivvy spot.
A Link Cove frog.
We were using the tent which we’ve borrowed (seemingly indefinitely) from Andy. It’s not the lightest, but it’s amazingly spacious and the huge porch was superb in the wet – perfect for me to sit in and cook our evening meal (filled pasta, pesto, dried fruit and custard, very satisfying).
Second Day
A breakfast view of Scrubby Crag.
This early morning photo might be a bit misleading. Once again, we seemed to be on the divide as far as the weather was concerned. To the west, all was blue sky and sunshine; to the east, low cloud. And although the wind was, I was sure, blowing from the west, the cloud was sweeping up Deepdale towards us. Still, we at least had sunshine whilst we breakfasted and packed up.
A Crab Spider. Xysticusspecies. I think.Ascending The Step again, with atmospheric clouds.
We wanted to regain the main ridge, and could choose to retrace either our ascent or our descent routes of the previous evening. Despite its initial steepness, we agreed that The Step was much the easier going of the two. With the cloud sweeping in across the crags, it was atmospheric too.
Hart Crag.The ‘view’ to the East.And to the West. Coniston and Langdale Fells. Heron Pike and Great Rigg in the foreground.Looking South from Dove Crag. Windermere, Coniston Water and Coniston Fells.
As you can see from the photos, the weather was really odd, but it gradually improved as we wandered over Dove Crag and then Little Hart Crag and finally along another delightful ridge to High Hartsop Dodd.
Middle Dodd, Little Hart Crag and Red Screes.Looking down Scandale. Scandale Tarn in the foreground.
I have several spots in the area earmarked as potential wild-camping locations. Scandale tarn is one of them.
Middle Dodd and Red Screes.The complex terrain at the head of Dovedale.B descending towards Brothers Water.Looking down on the Romano British enclosed stone hut circle.
I’ve waffled on before about this amazing archeological site. Historic England has a thorough physical description, but doesn’t supply much detail about who lived here and how they might have lived.
Another view of the settlement. The knoll on the right is the site of the oval cairn.A final rest stop.Looking up Dovedale.
This was effectively a day’s walk divided in two, which I think is probably a good way to plan an overnighter. We both enjoyed it immensely and were both keen to go again. B also wanted to borrow some gear and take some of his friends wild-camping, but then he got a job pitching and packing-up much bigger tents (marquees) and his availability became severely restricted. Who knows, maybe next summer we’ll get a mutually convenient spell of settled weather and manage to fit some more trips in?
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.
Old friend GFS was staying at Chapel Stile campsite in Nether Wasdale with his family and had been regularly posting pictures from the fells he’d bagged. I messaged him wondering whether he wanted to meet on the Sunday for a walk. He suggested Black Combe. I was a bit puzzled, since I knew he was enthusiastically ticking off the Wainwrights, as well as the Ethels he would tell me about later in the day, and Black Combe is not on that list. It turned out that he’s using an online list which includes all of the Outlying Fells, so, as far as he was concerned, it is a Wainwright and would add to his tally.
GFS suggested an eleven o’clock rendezvous, which, being jealous of my weekends, especially if the sun is shining, I felt was inordinately late, so I set-off early and drove a little past our prearranged meeting point for a quick swim in the Irish Sea at Silecroft.
The shingle upper region of Silecroft Beach.
I don’t think that Cumbria is reknowned for its beaches at all, but the one at Silecroft is lovely, and I suspect many others are equally good.
Sea Kale.
My first encounter with the beach here was also in July, over thirty years ago, when I came kayak-surfing here with a group of trainee teachers. It was far from being the first time I’d kayaked, but it was probably my first experience of surfing and it could easily have been my last. We were using some rather battered fibreglass canoes and the cockpit coping on my boat was cracked. I only discovered that my spray-deck was firmly jammed into that crack when I’d capsized and was trying to roll out of the boat in the way we’d been taught in the safe environs of a swimming pool. Of course, I should have been performing an eskimo roll, but I never quite mastered that. After a little confusion followed by some hasty tugging at the spray-deck, I managed to free myself, and was surprised to find myself the centre of attention and a worried looking instructor chest deep in the sea in an effort to rescue me. Reckless youth and adrenaline junkie that I was then, my only regret was that he wouldn’t let me go back out for some more surfing. These days I’ll settle for an intentional swim without the preceding drama. There were a few people on surfboards near where I swam, but the waves looked unpromisingly tiny. Perfect for a swim with a great view however.
Black Combe.
I’d taken a leaf out of Andy’s book and had been perusing satellite images of the area in search of liking looking parking spots. As a result, I’d suggested a layby just off the main road, opposite the church at Hallthwaite.
Cinnabar Moth Caterpillars and lots of Soldier Beetles making love not war.The Duddon Estuary from Baystone Bank, Bank House on the left.GFS descending Baystone Bank.
The path which descended Baystone Bank should have alerted us to what was to come – it started out sketchy and quickly disappeared completely in the enveloping bracken.
Stoupdale Beck.
Having reached access land just below Force Knott the plan was to turn sharp left and to follow the path, marked on the OS 1:25,000 map, which follows the intake wall. The idea was to work our way around to Whitecombe Beck and then on to the Horse Back ridge which I have often admired, but never climbed. My plan then extended to a lengthy descent route which would conveniently take in the Swinside stone circle, which has also been on my wish list for a very long time. As Iron Mike famously opined: “Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the face.” In this case, the knuckle sandwich was delivered by the head-high bracken.
Heath Spotted-orchid.
Sadly, the advertised path simply didn’t exist, at least not in July, and the path which climbed up beside Stoupdale beck, which seemed like the only alternative, briefly lulled us into a false sense of security before also disappearing. Orienteering maps use different colours to indicate the density of the undergrowth, the most extreme being ‘fight’ I think. This was definitely a fight. Fortunately, we eventually climbed above the worst of the bracken and the path returned without a hint of embarrassment or any sign of an apology.
The Duddon Estuary again.
From that point on it was just a steady climb to the top, in glorious sunshine.
GFS in the region of Whitecombe Moss.Looking towards Whitfell, The Scafells and the Coniston Fells.GFS and me by the trig pillar.The huge cairn on the south top.View to Walney Island beyond the mouth of the Duddon. Piel Island can also be picked out.
We sat with our backs to the large cairn, eating our lunch, admiring the extensive views and discussing potential onward routes, since we had already climbed much of my proposed descent route and we were keen to avoid another quarrel with the bracken as much as possible.
Horse Back ridge.
I had a theory that a route around the southern edge of the actual Blackcombe corrie might be our best bet. I thought the path beside Whitecombe Beck would be bracken free.
Eller Peatpot.
It did turn out to be a good route, with only a modicum of bracken bashing as we approached the track by the stream.
Ominous clouds heading our way.Blackcombe Beck.
Our new route involved a lot of road walking, mostly on quiet lanes which was fine, but from Fox and Goose Cottages to Lanthwaite Bridge along the busy A595. Whilst we were walking that section, TBH rang me to find out whether we were back at our cars yet? She was in Heysham, to pick up Little S, and reported a torrential downpour which had immediately flooded the roads and made driving difficult. We’d been watching showers tracking across the sea in our direction for a while and now the sky was dark and threatening.
New (2020) Standing Stone at The Green.
I was very taken by this new standing stone, which was carved by Irene Rogan and Danny Clahane. It took a while to find out anything about it, but I eventually turned up a suggested walk taking in this and the Swinside Stone Circle, which I shall have to come back to try at some point.
Black Beck at Hallthwaites.GFS in Hallthwaites.
In the event, the first drops of rain only began to fall as we arrived back at our cars and the anticipated heavy showers didn’t materialise at all. Despite the best efforts of the bracken, it was a terrific walk. It’s always interesting to chat with GFS and I remember that we covered a lot of ground in our conversation.
MapMyWalk gives a little under 10 miles and almost exactly 700m of ascent.
Beating The Bounds 