In search of a Nuttall... (29th & 30th June 2013)

I've been very lucky to get in a lot of varied hill walking this year so far, which is perfect for my forthcoming ML assessment and I'm pleased to say that it has very much been in great weather most of the time. Now I do put up a lot of blogs on my trips into the mountains, and this one will be no exception. However, we start with a slight twist from the norm.

At the Levellers concert in Grassington, L-R; Sam, Lorna, Ruth, Emily, James and me. This one was taken by Imogen.

I certainly don't claim to be a musical expert, but I've been introduced to some great folk bands by my friends over the past year. Imogen is a big fan of the Levellers and we had tickets on Saturday for a concert they were performing for the final night of the Grassington Festival. Standing up in a big crowd watching a band - it was due to be a first for me as all the previous gigs I had attended had been sitting down. Told you I'm a novice ;-). We set off across to the green and lush Wharfedale on Saturday afternoon with Lorna and Sam. We were rendez-vous-ing with the whole Fisher Family near the small hamlet of Yockenthwaite, located below the one and only Yockenthwaite Moor; proclaimed by the Nuttalls to be one of the boggiest hills in Yorkshire. No sign of any bog for us though thankfully as it was a lovely sunny afternoon and we followed a picturesque traverse path along the southern rim of the valley for a short distance among limestone outcrops and flowery meadow. Returning back along the wooded River Wharfe, our walk was followed by a lovely riverside picnic before we headed down valley to the market town of Grassington (and yes, I confess to pronouncing it Grarsington). The gig itself was an experience and a half; lots of colour and certainly what I would describe as high intensity music combined with crowd 'jostling'. We had prime position right down the front near the stage.

Having absorbed lots of sound for a couple of hours, the bleak, drizzly desolation of Firth Fell created a stark contrast for Imogen and myself as we headed out from the village of Buckden later on in the evening. We had decided that we fancied a wild camp in the Yorkshire Dales, so after some studying of the map a few days prior had settled upon the broad grassy ridge dividing Wharfedale and Littondale as a suitable location. Having followed an increasingly indistinct bridleway uphill for about half an hour, we arrived at a suitably flat step in the hillside just before the windy plateau of the ridge. The tent was popped into action and we crashed out on a fine mattress of Yorkshire moorland grass.

Imogen on Horse Head with our long ridgeway walk in view behind.

Now this is where we a brought onto the subject of this post. The Nuttalls in this case being a list of hills in England or Wales in excess of 610 m (the classic 2000 ft cut off) but being 'distinct tops' as defined in detail by the two volume 'Mountains of England and Wales' by John and Anne Nuttall. The books are a fine piece of work and are just what every enthusiast of English and Welsh hills needs on their bookshelf. Our walk on Sunday would take us over one of the above defined summits, however having not consulted my hill lists 'app' prior to heading out, I was left pondering over which of the many OS marked spot heights along our 7 km moorland romp would indeed be the one and only 'Nuttall'. The 1:25 000 OS map unfortunately does not quite commit any of the spot heights along the stretch between Firth Fell and Horse Head to the all important 610 m; the plateau is at an almost consistent 600 m altitude, with a multitude of spots at 605, 608, 609 m and all in between. Of course the devil is always in the detail and this is a perfect reason for these wonderfully illustrated books being a must on my list for Father Christmas this year. I await with much anticipation the detailed reasoning behind this  minor discrepancy between map and highly researched piece of writing about the British Hills. It is exactly this sort of discussion that gives hill bagging a peculiar but unique appeal. Upon our return, I have of course now located the actual top as defined by the Nuttalls as being the Cairn on Birks Fell - we didn't actually touch it giving a great reason to go back!

Hill Walking with Bonington... (Sunday 16th June 2013)

Ok it's not quite the South Face of Annapurna or the North Wall of the Eiger, however the opportunity to climb Sharp Edge with the legendary mountaineer Chris Bonnington was certainly one not to be missed. Having been out with Chris and the LUHC a year ago on warm and sunny day in the Howgills at Cautley Spout, this years destination was the small village of Mungrisdale in the north Lakes. There was a good turn out from the LU Hiking Club for the occasion and we even had four dogs in total; two of course being Toffee and Jess Axe.

On a march along Souther Fell with Blencathra in the background, Chris Bonington setting the pace

All twenty plus of us set off at a decent pace up the valley, with Chris having chosen the route for its promised variety of terrain. It certainly did not disappoint; we almost certainly followed the finest line to the summit of the mostly rounded Bannerdale Crags. Approaching via the north east ridge leading through the heart of the crags after which the summit is named, the ascent gave much interest with broken scree and heathery steps leading up through an area of old mine excavations. The stillness and warmth of the air had however brought the midges out and we were soon striding out along the broad grassy slopes of Mungrisdale Common towards Blencathra. 

We had our very own South Col moment at the unnamed saddle at 610 m with Sharp Edge in splendid profile leading direct to the summit of Blecathra's subsidiary, Atkinson Pike. Chris was keen for Sharp Edge, and of course many of us opted to join in. It was a wonderful traverse of the ridge, topped off with talk of the recently celebrated 60th anniversary of the Everest 1953 Expedition. We took a long lunch break on Blencathra, with the mild conditions giving us the opportunity for a good number of obligatory summit group shots. The route down took us onto the altogether different terrain of Souther Fell; home, according to my Cumbrian expert Andy, to a ghost army once seen marching along its broad ridge in the dead of night. We performed a fine march along its grassy apex, congregating on the summit briefly before an extraordinarily steep grassy decent back down to the Glenderamackin in fine sunshine.

A fine day in the Lakeland Fells always ends at a good village pub, Chris Bonington with myself, Imogen, Mum and Dad at the Mill Inn, Mungrisdale.

It was a great day out and was great to see Chris keen to keep up the grand tradition of ending a fine trip into the hills with a visit to a fine Lakeland village pub. The Mill Inn at Mungrisdale provided fitting finish to our day with such an inspiring character. Many thanks to Sir Chris Bonington for being such a great honorary president for the LUHC and for joining us on another fabulous annual walk. His kind words and encouragement for aspiration in the mountains is an inspiration to us all. 

Killin' for Munros...

Munro bagging is indeed a strange pursuit. However it's appeal is incredible. Having not been out on a big ticking mission in a while, the prospect of a sneaky last minute trip to the Killin Hills in fine summer weather was very appealing.

The fine warm weather that had prevailed in Lancaster for the previous week promised to hold through the weekend so it was following a frantic packing session on Thursday evening, I was all set and stoked for another LUHC weekend in the north. The campsite at Cruachan Farm lived up to good expectations of comfortable toilet blocks with hot showers. Our reserved area was on a rather sloped section of the field, however it mattered not as it meant we were could spread out over a wide area, well away from any potential interruptions from late night BBQ's or snoring. 

The dome shaped Carn Gorm, 1020 m.

Saturday's bagging excursion saw myself, Imogen, Lorna and Mouse getting dropped off in a lush and green Glen Lyon at the small settlement of Invervar. We were sharp out of the blocks and soon found ourselves well above the forested valley pounding up the beautifully grassy slopes of Carn Gorm. We remarked at the novelty of finding ourselves on a reasonable path on the ascent which (for Scotland) made short work of the 800 or so meters to bring us to the summit of the first hill of the day; Carn Gorm, a fine concentric dome of a summit with great views of the west highlands, Rannoch Moor and Cairngorms to the east. The route following took in a collection of Tops and 3 further munros. With the weather being so fine, we took a leisurely stroll from one to the next with Mouse taking time for all important quick kips on some of the summits - 'it's surprising how comfortable lying down among the boulders of a Cairn can be'! Our descent from Meall na Aighan, the final Munro for the day was an efficient trot down a fine nose down into the wooded waters of the Ivervar Burn. Given that we had completed our round of the hills around 2 hours quicker than expected, we had time to kill prior to our minibus pickup. Finding a picturesque deep pool in the Burn, we took time out, and I took the opportunity for a refreshing plunge in the pool. For our return journey to the campsite, we were treated by chauffeur Ivar to a trip up over the Tarmachan road weaving up and down steeply among the high hills of the Ben Lawers range. 

Taking the plunge in the Invervar Burn. 

Saturday evening turned out rather damp and still on the campsite. This brought the midges out. We had come well prepared given the time of year and after all the cold weather of the spring, they were certainly far from their worst. 

After a clearing of the sky by the end of Saturday evening, it was a rather cloudy start to Sunday morning. There were signs of brightness around, and we knew the sun must be streaming down elsewhere in Scotland so it wouldn't be long before the mist gave way to clear blue skies. It was up and over the Tarmachan road once again, this time dipping into the cloud briefly at the top of the cloud, as we headed over into Glen Lyon. We were off to the dam at the end of Loch Daimph for a quick 'bag' of Stuc an Lochain. The cloud wafted around, with the sun making its best efforts to create a clear view for us as we rounded the corrie rim to the summit. Unfortunately, it wasn't to be until we were well on descent back down to Loch Daimph that the skies did their magic and the sunglasses once again came out of the rucksack top pocket.

Going Full Wharch (whack) in Galloway...

Scotland with the LUHC is usually some sort of cold, dark epic. A springtime trip to the Galloway hills however is usually somewhat different. Firstly it's only 3.5 hours on a minibus and secondly, it involves lots of daylight! We arrived at the Glentrool Campsite in rather damp conditions, but luckily got our tents up in the dry. The House O'Hill Inn provided fine refreshment and warmth, it was set to be a rather chilly Mayday bank holiday weekend.

On Saturday morning, the majority of us set off early-ish for the end of the Glentrool road where the Bruce's Stone stands high and proud above Loch Trool. We were aiming for a round of the 'Full Wharch' (wack); our walk had been proudly named by Andy in the pub the night before. Anyway, it became a more and more appropriate name for the walk as the day went on, given the 23 odd kilometres involved and optional 'bag' of Mullwharchar itself midway through the walk. The terrain of the Galloway hills away from the main 'tourist route' up the Merrick is incredibly rough and 'ard going. It makes skipping along the Cairngorm plateau in rock hard winter snow seem like a jolly by comparison. The day provided some spectacular clear panoramic views with a brisk westerly wind. We finished our round of the summits on Craignaw followed by a knee-jerking descent through a mixture of thick heather and saturated ground back down to Bruce's Stone.

On ascent of the Merrick.

Having brought wetsuits on the trip, myself and Imogen had been hoping for a bit of sunshine on the Sunday as we headed out to the Galloway coast at the fishing village of Portpatrick. Things looked promising at first and the sun tried its best to burn through the whispy cloud, being carried by a fresh westerly. However, given that we were still clad in thick fleeces for our morning stroll along the coastal path to Dunskey Castle, that afternoon dip was looking less and less likely by the minute. We returned to Portpatrick after lunch on a small rocky cove in the shadow of the derelict castle and contemplated our plans for the afternoon. After a bit of alpine style dyno-ing on the rocks beyond the harbour wall, the default choice seemed to be to head north along the coast towards Killantringan bay. By the time we reached the sweeping sands of the bay which lies around 5 km north of Portpatrick along the coastal path, the chance of swimming was long gone. The cloud had thickened and a touch test of the water on the beach revealed the temperature was officially still Baltic-esque. No good; our wetsuits were on the minibus. Instead we kept ourselves warm and entertained undertaking the miniature engineering feat of daming a stream.

The sun trying its best to break through the cloud on the Galloway Coast. Castle Bay with the ruin of Dunskey Castle standing on the headland to the rear.

For Monday morning, we could have done with our wetsuits on to negotiate the thick mist that shrouded the campsite. After spending a while contemplating our motivation to leave the campsite, we took the minibus once again down to the car park at Mr Bruce's lump of rock aside Loch Trool. Some were brave enough to head off up onto the mysterious and mist shrouded moorland of Craiglee, whilst the majority of us opted for a pleasant downhill trudge through the forests bounding the south side of Loch Trool. The moist conditions added a hint of atmosphere to the heroic tales of battle betwem English and Scots depicted on various information boards on the forest trail. Following the Southern Upland Way beyond the western end of the Loch, we were now following the Water of Trool westwards towards the campsite. The vegetation had also changed from coniferous plantation to a more natural mix of broadleaf species following a significant woodland restoration project. Whilst still very much juvenile, there were already signs of a thriving ecosystem re-establishing itself in the landscape. As we had walked almost continuously downstream from Loch Trool, we were able to walk right back to the campsite and take some time out for a leisurely lunch before the moorland baggers turned up. 

Even by mid afternoon, as we pulled away to the east from Castle Douglas, the mist and drizzle had still not managed to peel back from the Galloway hills! However, our journey became progressively brighter as we skirted around the Solway Firth. We cruised over Shap Moor and down into the Lune valley under clear blue skies and nice warm air.

Three Lakeland Valleys, Sunday 3 March

So Sunday was an interesting one! A 30km walk in Lakeland, taking in 3 valleys and nearly 1000m of ascent, but no summits...

The walk began at the Wasdale Head campsite. Myself, Imogen and Lorna had stayed overnight following the trip up from Kendal the night before. It was a fine spring-like start to the day, with bright sunshine pouring into the amphitheatre like surround of peaks at Wasdale. I was soon on ascent up towards the high, barren ground between Illgill Head and Scafell, pounding up the bridle way, down to just a t-shirt and wondering why I'd packed a bag full of winter clothing! After passing by Burnmoor Tarn, I was soon on descent into Eskdale and the Dalegarth terminus of the L'al Ratty (Ravenglass and Eskdale Railway). Unfortunately, no trains were to be had for me today, but I was pleased to stroll into the car park at 10:30 and meet Andy, who had just himself arrived from Whitehaven. The two of us had a good catch up in the sunshine whilst awaiting the arrival of the LUHC minibus from Lancaster. It was a good rest for me waiting for all the walks to be announced and officialdoms of pink sheets to be filled out. I decided to join one of the hiking groups heading for Harter Fell in order to continue on my quest to reach the third valley. It was a fine walk through the wooded valley following the River Esk upstream. After Whahouse Bridge, it was down to just Jim and myself for the start of the long-haul up onto Great Moss. This was to be my first visit to one of England's largest bogs, and a fine time to do it as there had been very little rain for the past two weeks so underfoot it was probably about as dry as it gets. Surrounded on all sides by Lakeland's highest and craggiest peaks, the Moss is a spectacularly grandiose setting, bounded with the fine rock scenery of the Scafell range to the north. Just after Cam Spout Crag, Jim headed off up How Beck towards Scafell, whilst I continued the gradual easterly romp across the Moss until I reached the very upper reaches of the River Esk. I followed this through an exciting, part snow filled, canyon like feature until the beck was no more and I emerged triumphantly onto Esk Hause, the highest point for the day! Unfortunately by this time, the cloud cover had increased to a blanket greyness, and it was quite cold in the brisk wind, so I didn't hang around. With 1 hour 25 minutes to go until the early bus from Seatoller, the prospect of a cup of tea in Keswick got me going downhill at a brisk rate. I was heading for Grains Gill and Seathwaite via the direct route from Esk Hause (not Ruddy Gill). This provided the excitement of a steep snow bank, which made the carrying of the ice axe and crampons worthwhile as I was able to get the metal out and descend in speed and style!
Upon reaching the flat part of Borrowdale at Stockley Bridge, and with about 25 minutes to go until that early bus, it seemed unlikely that I'd cover the remaining 3km without some sort of mad sprint. With around 2km on Tarmac ahead, this did not seem appealing, so I slowed to a more leisurely pace and enjoyed the Borrowdale scenery along to Seatoller. The later and indeed last bus turned up on time and I was able to sit back and enjoy a very smooth trip back to Lancaster via Keswick and a quiet Pendolino from Penrith.

A fine day in Lakeland, whoever said it was all about getting to the summits?

Up towards Scafell and Scafell Pike from Wasdale

Great Moss and surrounding hills, looking east

The headwaters of the River Esk

Braemar & the Southern Cairngorms, 23-24 Feb 2013

What an outstanding weekend! Club trips to Braemar always install an excitement for adventurous backpacking trips out into the wild southern Cairngorms and this one was to be no exception! After a surprisingly comfortable wild camp at the Linn of Dee on Friday night, we were well prepared for the long walk to the high mountains along Glen Lui and Glen Derry on Saturday. The four of us (Sam, Lorna, Imogen and myself) had set our sights on a two day mission to the Hutchinson Memorial Hut high in Coire Etchachan, although we weren't bargaining on floor space in the bothy so carried our tents with us. It was a spectacular 13km walk in along the Glens, gradually rising through increasing neve-like snow cover to 700m up at the Bothy. We arrived at the Bothy just in time for a decent lunch break, and shared experiences over our lunch with a Royal Marines member (not on duty) who had spent the morning walking over Ben Macdui from Corrour Bothy. After lunch, we off-loaded most of our heavy gear for the camping and set off up the steep northern slopes of Derry Cairngorm. The first bit out of Coire Etchachan provided some interest in it's steepness, although we were soon up onto the vast gradually rising upper slopes. The views from Derry Cairngorm were spectacular, with the sun coming out across much of the hills to the South. After Derry Cairngorm, we decided to head north and then west up to the summit of Ben Macdui. It was a fairly long haul up to the summit, which was unfortunately cloud covered. Our decent back down to Hutchinson Memorial hut via the completely snow-covered Loch Etchachan was fairly rapid on the hard snow, although it was just breaking dark when we arrived back into the corrie. Given the temperatures, we didn't hang around long and cooked a quick meal on our stoves before retreating to the tents for an early night. The moon was out as the sky had mostly cleared through, so I managed to grab a few nice night-time shots on my camera through experimenting with the long-exposure setting! Sleeping was no problem as we were all pretty tired.

On Sunday morning, we decided not to proceed with our option of bagging Beinn Mheadhoin as the cloud had dropped down and we were not feeling up to another strenuous day. So after a leisurely start, we set off back down Glen Derry towards Derry Lodge and the Linn of Dee. It cleared through the morning and early afternoon and there was a feel of spring in the air as we dropped away from snow clad upper slopes and into the more forested sections of the Glens. I was pleased to see plenty of young Scotch Pines attempting to gain a foothold in Glen Derry, in some places aided by tree guards and deer fencing. I pondered optimistically over how the Glen might look in 20 years time if the pines manage to grow to maturity and recreate more expansive stands of beautiful Caledonian forest that once covered much of the Scottish Glens and Moors. We arrived back at the Linn of Dee around an hour ahead of schedule, which was nice as we could enjoy a cup of tea and a chat in the sunshine with those who had done walks and climbs at Lochnagar the previous day. We were on our way from Braemar by late afternoon which meant we were able to enjoy all the mountains through the Glenshee area in daylight, followed by sunset over the hills of the West Highlands as we headed south around Perth and on to Stirling.

A fine winter weekend in Braemar once again and thanks to all involved for making it an enjoyable trip.

On ascent to the Hutchinson Memorial hut passing through the lower slopes of Glen Derry.

Approaching Ben Macdui Summit in 'bright mist'

Wild Camping spot in Coire Etchachan

Sunday's walk back to Linn of Dee... downhill all the way in the sunshine!