Never be afraid to change your plans Pt.2...

So where did we leave it last time?  Oh yes, I was awash with whisky and spaghetti bolognaise by Ladybower...


So we were both awake before dawn, but the first hints of light were beginning to materialise to the northeast.   The pocket rocket was fired up and a brew on the go within a few minutes.  Breakfast was one of those flapjacks that you will have seen on an earlier blog.  Not great, but the chocolate chips helped.  Black coffee always helps to kickstart me in the morning, in more ways than one, so a trip to the wilderness toilet was had.  The turf was replaced and a huge rock placed over it to ensure it didn't escape.  I resisted taking a photo - some things are best left unrecorded.


Today we had decided to walk the shore and join the road at the Ashopton Viaduct which would take us around to the westernmost point of Ladybower.  After the shoreline section, the road was not pleasant, although the A57 was thankfully very quiet with it being early on a Sunday.  


I think my wife must have been praying, because the teawagon on the A57 was there, open and a steaming cup of tea was ready for us to purchase.  A smashing chap runs that wagon - and I urge you to stop by if you are driving through.  Some nice fellas were in front of us, be-gaitered and ready to go off hiking.  One of these men appeared addled, and was clearly confused that he had lost something, but was making no sense when I questioned him.  He was ushered away by his 'pal' who I asked what he had lost - he too said he didn't know.  We came to the conclusion that he had some form of dementia.  That thought stayed with me and troubled me for a while after we left the lay-by.


After being caught short again, I had to catch up with Den who had walked on slowly ahead.  Every time I looked up - he looked back over his shoulder, and started running off.  This he did about a dozen times, until I finally caught up with him.  How we laughed.

Looking back down the Woodlands Valley over to Ladybower

The road section, despite seeming endless, was not and we crossed the bridge in the Woodlands Valley, just to the north of Hope Cross on the OS map.  There was a slight uncertainty as to which was our path onto Win Hill - our main target for the day.  A short walk ahead confirmed there were no other paths to take and that, coupled with the fact that Len's Path was clearly signed as a route onto the Roman Road, removed any doubt that this steep and dirty trail was the one we should take.

Len's Path, that's Den by the way, not Len

Occasionally we saw dirt-bikers, all of whom Den asserted were off-duty superbikers having a day of fun.  In fact I think we saw all of the following according to Den:


- British Superbike
- World Superbike Champion
- MOTO GP Champion
- TT Champion
- Eddie Kidd
- Evil Knieval


Each of these were on their DT50's with muddied out number plates.  I resisted the urge to stop them for their autographs.  Didn't want to bother them on their days off.


The initial distasteful appearance of Len's Path (now known to me as Den's Path) gave way to a really lovely route which became so at what appeared to be a small settlement at around SK164867.  For some reason I failed to take a photograph here, but I couldn't quite work out what these places were other than long deserted homes.  I wondered if the owners might have been cleared as in the Highlands.  
From these mysterious steadings the path leads through dense conifer plantation (which may or may not confirm my clearance wondering).  Despite my having a real dislike for dense conifer plantation, the path was a joy to walk, being sheltered from the wind and full of atmosphere.  Punctuated with lush and verdant grassy clearings to the southwestern side, this latter section of ascent eased off in steepness as we gained the ridge.  

The coniferous tube of Den's Path

The ridge took us by surprise for it was substantially broader than we expected.  The Roman Road section was largely easy walking and this was borne out by the myriad Sunday walkers in trainers and bomber jackets that materialised shortly after we popped out above the conifer line.


The views over to Kinder were fine at first, but Mother Nature seemed to have her felt pens out and quickly coloured everything to the west in grey.  She spared us for some time along this never-ending, long tongue of a hill.  It was a lovely place to be and I felt like I could have walked along it for hours.   I'd say from the point where we joined it, to the summit rocks, was around 2.5 miles of loveliness.  
There was a varied, sandy terrain of neatly grazed grass, interspersed with tussocks of tougher grasses, and heather in places.  There were several pits which dotted the top of the spur-like plateau and we wondered what they might be.  Evidence of open-cast mining - but of what?  Sink holes?  We remain clueless. 
The highest point is marked by Hope Cross which seems to have had its top stone removed and all that remains is the upright and a metal spike where the top stone once rested.  At least that is what I can glean from a quick Google search. I might have been looking at the wrong marker post I suppose(?).  Anyone got any better info?

Den on the Roman Road - summit bound

Some you Win.  Lose Hill from Win Hill

Grass, Heather, Sand, Erosion, Mist, and Den

After a brief spell of more closed in mist, the air cleared and the winds got up to full strength for the first time so far, the air being compressed on the prominent summit rocks of Win Hill itself.  We'd looked across to this pointy top some ten years earlier and vowed to 'do' it one day.  We never expected it to take us 10 years.  I suppose the Munros and Wainwrights got in the way.


The summit moment was poignant, but brief due to the gale-force battering we were getting so we set off downwards for a steep and very careful descent to Yorkshire Bridge. 

Den in his lovely new Spyder jacket.  The armed guards weren't far away
on account of its ludicrous value.   

Me at the Trig - you'll not believe the number of times that Garmin knocked me on the head.
Note to self - reposition next walk.  It didn't even get switched on!

Although a fabulous setting, the conditions underfoot were less than fabulous - ankle deep mire most of the way.  And folk were coming uphill in shiny white trainers!  I should add that a good many of them were not smiling.  
My trusty Fizan poles had had a good outing and continued to prove themselves by making this descent far less troublesome with them in hand.

We regained our knees for a spell at Yorkshire Bridge and I phoned home with a quick progress report whilst Den caught his breath with a much needed roll-up.  Nuthatches were shouting in the trees above us and as if to tease us, remained disguised by their silhouettes or hidden by the boughs.  A little way up the lane all manner of small songbirds erupted from the trees by the road and my eyes scanned for the cause.  In that moment the culprit, a male sparrowhawk, burst empty-handed from a bramble and flew off along the line of trees.  Doubtless cussing the wasted energy.  There's usually a moment like this on our walks, a real treat.

The next couple of miles along the peakland lanes were a bit of a slog, but I enjoyed getting into the rhythm with my poles.  I paused often to suck up the views down over Bamford, I remember thinking that it was a shame it would soon be over. 

Shortly before we reached the parking spot at Dennis Knoll - a honeypot for Stanage climbers - Den noticed the car, stile a mile or so away.  It was a welcome sight, and given that I couldn't see any bricks supporting the axles, I was all the more pleased.

We slumped into the car, checked the map for a while, scouting a pitch for the night, and headed down into Hathersage to fill the tanks and resupply.  After driving about looking for suitable spots to camp close to the road, we decided that we'd head for the North Lees campsite and pitch there.  It was a little soggy, the facilities were clean and serviceable - although the lights in the loos seemed to be switched off overnight and only came on after dawn - go and figure that one out.  Oh, and there was no cold water either.  Bear this in mind if you are thinking of staying.

Therein lies the tale of my first bit of backpacking in what seemed like an age.  How quickly one can get back into the groove.  Quite apart from the fact that our initial route plan was dumped on day one, we had a great walk, a good wild camp, and a memorable weekend outside.

I hope you enjoyed reading this as much a I did recording it.

Finishing where we started, beneath Stanage Edge.

1 in 420+

That's what I was.  

I found my fate today by both letter and a leak on the challenge forum.  Ok so not exactly a leak as it was a post from John Manning himself.  

I was one of the 420+ people to find out that I am on the standby list.

I had prepared myself for disappointment, expecting not to get on but I have to say I was strangely close to tears.  It was odd, I guess despite openly and outwardly readying myself for the possibility of a 'No' I already had book my place.  In truth, I fully EXPECTED to get on and not getting on was a complete surprise.  

I have lit the tinder of a few new friendships which I hoped to fuel in the coming months, which I can and will still do.  BUT I WANTED TO GET A 'YES'.

I had promised my wife, who really wasn't cherishing 2 weeks without me (although I would have thought she would have had the opposite reaction), that I would withdraw from the standby list.  But I just couldn't resist asking John 'Outdoors' Manning where I stand on that list, so that is what I have just done.  

I don't know what I will do with the number, I suppose it depends what number it turns out to be.

I do have a plan to finish off my round of Wainwrights - I should be able to do 62 in a year if I make a few concerted forays so that is what I plan to do with 2012.

But what if I am number 1, 2, 3......10, 11, 12 on the list?

153 down, 62 to go?

Ok, so once again, not quite a TGO Challenge post, but it all counts towards the physical preparations.

The huge magnetic pull of Lakeland had me rolling up the A1 on Friday 16^th September 2011 on what was to be a couple of brief forays onto the mountains culminating in the crowning of my best pal as a completer of the Wainwright summits.

Pulling in to the car park of the Co-Op in Keswick, a slightly built chap, going by the name of Dennis Taylor was sitting by his backpack having arrived on foot from Ulverston. His original plan to hike the Cumbria Way before meeting up with me had required a little alteration. Nature wasn't on its best behaviour; Hurricane Katia had a modicum of maelstrom left in her when she touched the UK and this resulted in a small catalogue of digital images of other people's tents bent double against the force of the winds.

Low pressure reigned supreme over the Westernmost coast of England, Scotland and Wales and it seemed that it was hell-bent on curtailing Den's first attempt on the relatively sedate Cumbrian long-distance path. The end of day two saw Den in Langdale, waiting for a day of better weather after having a rather moist and squelchy couple of outings. The day of better weather wouldn't manifest until four days later! He chose to sit it out in Langdale, rather than going over Stake Pass and on to Keswick via Langstrath.

This turned out to be a sound decision, as Den watched his peers' inferior shelters being ripped from the ground, tattered and torn, in spite of the gallant attempts of the staff at the ODG Camp-site, he wondered what might have been had he gone over the tops that day. His Vaude Ultralight 2 stood firm (well, it flexed a little) and kept the outside where it should be – outside.

I was completely without contact with him, there being no signal in Langdale, often a blessing, but on this occasion I did worry after not hearing from him for a couple of days. And then I got a text message:-

“Still stuck in Langdale. Took bus to Ambleside for food. 70mph over tops. Haven't slept for two nights. Have abandoned c.way this time. Walk or bus to Keswick for Fri.”

Sure enough, there he was, looking surprisingly fresh despite the battering. I packed his Berghaus C7 Bioflex into the boot, slammed the tailgate and pointed the car towards Borrowdale. We were bound for Den's penultimate Wainwright top – Rosthwaite Fell. He'd been up it before but an administrative anomaly (ahem), had him erroneously ticked off the peak before returning home and discovering that he'd missed the actual Wainwright summit at 612m. When he realised, he immediately resolved to go back and climb it again, making sure that he climbed to Wainwright's prescribed peak.

After parking down a tiny lane just out of Rosthwaite, we headed up the hill across open fell in the general direction of Tarn at Leaves, where we would turn right to our targetted top. This we did and after a bit of casting about in the mist we scrambled over the rocks to the highest point – Rosthwaite Fell. I then mentally ticked off my 152^nd Wainwright and shook Den's hand as he hurried off the hill, to regain some visibility. We returned to my car inside of two hours, ready for the drive round to Eskdale.

We went on past our campsite at Boot, which had assumed a rather sodden appearance from the days of rain. A vehicular struggle up the hairpins of the Hardknott Pass, with as little wheel spin as possible, delivered us to the uppermost car parking spot for our 'dash' up the final summit of Den's journey through the Pictorial Guides.

When I write “dash” I actually mean to write “languid wander” for we took a slow walk over the waterlogged, yet still discernible path past the first, lower summit and over the brow until our goal came into view.

Hard Knott was chosen as Den's last when we were on Whin Rigg on an earlier outing. Appearing pyramidal, dark and forboding, Hard Knott struck a chord that would ring in his mind for the next, however many months and however many fells until, well, now.

The winds – which had been light until this moment – began to build, strengthen, in some kind of symbolic resistance. They ensured that we pay greater attention to our final steps toward the summit cairn. By the time we were within striking distance of my 153^rd top the wind had become more than a light gale. Den was unperturbed and turned about – the gusts had caused his eyes to moisten, possibly – and gave me an hombre's embrace. I shed a tear, and reciprocated the hug before Den reeled and kissed Hard Knott's summit cairn.

His ten-year assault was completed.

Postscript:

Those of you who are more astute than myself, which amounts to probably all of you, may have noticed that there is an error in my assessment of the number of fells I had summited. For the height of Wainwright's Rosthwaite Fell (Bessyboot) is in fact 550 or possibly 551m above sea level. The highest point on the broader fell is at 612m and is not the summit to which Mr W refers. In my haste to agree with my good pal, I failed to spot that he had in fact climbed his 213^th wainwright months earlier, and had no need to return to correct the 'error'. More irritatingly for me perhaps, I had just climbed to the wrong summit, meaning that I must return to climb it another day!

Let's make that 152 for me then, shall we?

Lowland leg crunches, Lakeland windblasts & more gear...

It's been a while since my last post (I wonder how many blogs begin with just those words?).  Anyway I have been out stretching my legs in the wilds of Suffolk with a day walk from Bury St Edmunds to Clare, and on to my hometown - Haverhill.  In all I'd guess its 26 or 27 miles (plus a bit for diversions - I took a couple of wrong turns).

This was largely a bit of preparation for The Yorkshire 3 Peaks challenge later in June as a means to getting my head on really. 

The stretch from Bury to Clare (around 18 miles) felt pretty good but it all got measurably harder from Clare to Haverhill - the last 8 or so miles.  Having said this, the Inov8s performed really well (I threw away some memory foam inserts I was trying as they kept creeping around  my shoes) and my feet felt tired but ok by the end of the day.  The road walking had given them a battering but this was to be expected, and I don't expect that any of my days will even approach 27 miles on TGOC.

I've also been up into Lakeland (the scenic region, not the kitchenware shop!) again getting a bit more hillwalking under my belt.  A friday afternoon jaunt from Castlerigg to High Rigg of around 4 miles to get the juices flowing, followed by the three Dodds and Clough Head to the north of the Helvellyn ridge.  To say that the wind was strong was understatement of the century - I won't estimate the windspeed but thank Montane for their windproof gear - the Featherlight jacket and trousers nailed the windchill.  Just my hands suffered at one point when I picked up my poles (which I actually used to great effect this time) and jogged over to catch up with my brother in law who had gone off ahead.  I swear frostbite was moments away - brrr!

I took the opportunity to test out walking in running pants (I'd recently bought a couple of pairs for £16 from Aldi) and have to say they performed brilliantly, keeping off all but the keenest wind and when combined with the Montane Featherlight Pants made for an excellent alternative to regular mountain pants.  One slight downside is the lack of pockets.  Just a single money pocket at the back, but this really is a pedantic complaint and they are a definite contender to be in my pack for TGOC.  I'll just have to get over the psychological issues of walking in tights!

Helly Hansen's baselayer Tee is a new garment for me and I hardly noticed I was wearing it which has to be a good thing.  Two for £32 in Blacks Keswick was reasonable I thought.

I can't remember if I mentioned that I have sold a ton of kit on eBay but that's exactly what I have been doing.  Here's what I sold:

- Mtn Eqpt AR Ultralite 1 Tent
- Trangia 27 UL Cookset
- Primus Stove
- Thermarest Prolite 4 Reg
- Rab Summit Extreme Jacket
- Some climbing crabs and quickdraws
- My MLT confidence rope (spare)
- A few other sundries

and here's what I've bought with the money:

- Tarptent Moment (so excited about that)
- Montane AntiFreeze jacket
- Golite Jam
- Montane Featherlight Pants
- Vargo Triad Titanium Meths Stove
- Lifeventure Titanium Mug
- Helly Hansen base layer Tees x 2
- Fizan Compact Lite poles (pair)

I have had to put very little towards the new kit so my mantra of "BUY CHEAP BUY TWICE" has truly paid off here.  I look after my gear so its all in good nick.  If I had bought cheap gear it'd probably have packed up by now so I would be replacing it anyway, but by buying top gun gear, and looking after it I have been able to 'recycle' it into new gear for little if any extra outlay. 

The resale value of top gun kit on eBay is excellent.  Folk realise that well looked after kit on eBay can save them money and can be resold meaning that kit can be kept up to date without shelling out for more and more gear whilst the old stuff festers in the loft space.

That'll do for now, I'm at work and due back from lunch in five minutes.  I'd be interested to hear from anyone who reads the blog about connected issues so feel free to comment. 

Might try an audioblog next time.

Bye for now.

Carl.