I must admit to having never heard of this Burton. Of course as a fan of football (my team is about to disappear into the ether!) I had heard of Burton Albion…I don’t think this is the same Burton. However, aside from all that, with the A.A. event getting ever closer (gulp!) it is getting more and more important that I continue to get out and about walking, but not just walking, cold-weather walking, for as sure as eggs are eggs, it will be surely cold atop Darwen Hill on the 13th of February! Hence I pledged to do this Burton walk straight away after the Rambles (soggy) walk in the Lune Valley earlier this month.The choice of the three walks were:

C – About six, relatively flat, miles
B – Eight and a half miles, a stretch of estuary and only about forty metres of ascent.
A – At least eight fields, all of which would be muddy – no, seriously we were warned that they would be muddy!

So, obviously I opted for B and what a grand walk it was! Within the first mile we were wandering through Coniferous woodland and treated to a site of two Alpacas – two very shy Alpacas who were intent on staying put at the far end of their field, which was more like a paddock to be honest. Within a few moments we were on the trail which ultimately became the Wirral Circular Trail and encompasses an easy to walk-upon section of path that used to be a railway line. this was further evidenced when we visited the disused Hadlow Road station at about halfway. This was where we stopped for lunch.
To be honest I couldn’t re-start quick enough as the temperature started to become more ‘noticeable’ after the eating had stopped and the drinks had been drunk.

Our next destination was to head in a northerly direction then veer off due west in order to transport us over towards the marshes at the estuary. I loved it here, although I do like a good beach, and we Sand-grounders are resigned to the fact that we’re losing ours, the marshes were captivating. It also has to be said that the weather, although clement enough, didn’t lend itself to spectacular views. We could see across the river Dee’s estuary towards the other side…we just couldn’t see the Dee itself! This made for some really rather lacklustre photographs. After carefully negotiating the marshes and keeping our collective feet dry – thanks to Trefor’s memory and Jean’s leadership, we then headed uphill for the last stretch back to the start and a café – where I was able to wirelessly connect to EduRoam (this is a big thing to me!). the uphill stretch would only grant us a further forty metres in altitude, but after so much flat walking…felt considerably more.

All in all a good walk with the section of marshes at the Dee estuary being far and away my favourite.

Distance 8.5- 10.4 miles
Altitude gained / lost – 348 feet.
Time taken – Around four and a half hours.

Song of the walk (even though I was chatting a lot): Ellie Goulding: This Love

I made it to Barley for around 11:00, set my phone to run ‘Map My Walk’ and was all ready to roll at 11:07. I’d planned to go up the hill via one of my lesser used routes – the ‘Grit stone slope’. Along with its sister routes this path starts around the back of Pendle House but splits off to the left. I passed only one person on route to the public footpath which starts facing the Barley Mow – he was a huge hulk of a man who appeared to be walking hap-hazardly, I couldn’t get past him quickly enough. The stretch from the road up to the area around Brown House is a gentle walk over multiple teraains – gritstone, grass, tarmac road, you name it. I occaisionally peered over to the steps to see if I could catch sight of anyone ascending by that most arduous of routes, some Bank Holidays it can be like looking at a procession of ants, but not today. In the centre of the village the weather was quite mild, my scarf and gloves would stay in my backpack, for now and I kept my coat undone.

The first person that I encountered on route was a young blonde haired (I want to say woman, but to be honest she could have been fifteen or twenty) who said ‘Hi’ to me with a lovely smile…the day was shaping up. By the time I’d reached the horrid fields on the run-up to Pendle House I think I’d exchanged greetings with another four people, a couple of couples. After roughly twenty minutes Map My Walk had told me that I had walked one-point-six kilometers, odd, even though I’d set the ‘app’ to read in metric measurements it still wanted to tell me the milage – why not tell me of my progress after one kilometer as opposed to 1.6  a mile!

After traversing three footbridges and noting that the footpath at Ings End needs repairing again (honestly, it’s a mess again) I finally arrive at the horrid fields which had their usual draining effect on my calves and thighs, I’ll never appreciate this part of the route and to make matters worse, the second field was rather cut up and muddy, I think I could have taken five minutes less time on the day if I had ascended via Barley Road. I vowed to not come this way on the return to Barley.

And so I arrived at the foot of the infamous ‘Barley Steps’. By this time I had encountered a lot more people on route, possibly around fifty or so. The mood was somewhat bouyant, I heard the odd ‘Happy New Year’ and the dog-walkers were definitely out en masse. Whereas last year my initial vow was to essentially ‘say yes to everything’ (I pretty much stuck to this, even if sometimes I ought not to have done so), this year’s inspirational motto is to be ‘balance’ (this has been influenced by a very dear aquaintance, who is one of the most balanced people I’ve ever met). I’d need balance to get me up the slope as it starts off quite easy – for a good five yards or so…then gets really tough for roughly a quarter of a mile. I had been tempted to try the steps route but promised myself to stick to plans that I have made (if it makes sense to do so), so I kept to the slope plan. I met a lovely couple who were gingerly descending the slope, it was quite wet so they were watching every footstep, I have lost my footing on the way down this slope prior to this visit and can vouch for how tricky it can be. I failed to take any more photographs as the higher I climbed the more fierce the wind became and by the time I had reached the hollow at the top of the slope, just before this path merges with the one from Boar Clough, my ears were stinging owing to that biting wind.

Map my walk informed me that I had been walking for forty five minutes, this had the effect of accelerating my pace. I met several more people who were taking my route back down and exchanged greetings with a number of people (including one Happy New Year). I now wanted to get to the summit trig point as soon as possible, would I improve on my previous time of fifty-seven minutes? The summit plateau was decidedly ‘crunchy’ in places were the myriad of micro-streams which ultimately merge and become Pendle Water, had frozen. Now the wind was howling, this was more like being on Cross Fell at the time of the Helm Wind, let a lone Pendle Hill. The trig point beckoned and seemed to get nearer all at once, not enticing for seemingly ages but appearing to stay the same distance away. Within moments I was touching the top of it and uttering ‘for mum’. Only after doing this did I notice the time – twelve o’clock, it had taken me just fifty-three minutes from start to summit!

From my backpack I retrieved my scarf and gloves, this did not aid photography in any practical way. Thus I took just a few photographs. Many more people were now nearing the top of the hill and I wondered if someone kind of ‘meet-up’ had been arranged as they all seemed to know one-another! I did consider doing the decent thing by asking other amateaur photographers if they needed a photo taking by me (with the cameras/phones) but the wind was screaming by now and this did not facilitate conversation. Myself and another walker tried to have a dialogue about our respective routes of ascent and descent but to no avail. We said our farewells and headed off in opposite directions, I aimed for the Downham boundary wall where I then turned right and began a perilous desent of the steps. Why was it perilous? Well the wind was now being highly efficiently transported to my eyes causing them to water profusely. Whilst this was not painful and was tolerable, it didn’t expediate progress as I had to keep stopping in order to blink!

After a few hundred yards the wind was much easier to cope with owing to my losing altitude. More people passed me on the way up the hill, I had expected it to be busy today. For the first ever time, when I got to the bottom of the steps I stayed on the same route (as opposed to veering off to the right as normal) and took the left path passing the rear of Pendle House, I was sticking to my resolve to not slip and slide my way across the horrid fields. To be honest it was an inspired choice as quite soon I had removed my gloves in order to send Chris a text boasting of my progress. I stopped to check the ‘app’ and take a photograph of the slope – the odd thing is that I cannot find this photo on my phone and it was rather a good one with a little dog posing in the forefront (this tickled the dog’s owner, who was actually a stunning strawberry-blonde haired woman!).

When the leafy lane met with Barley Road I turned right and resisted the urge to wander across the fields opposite in a bid to nail Stang Top Moor as well, that would have to wait, today’s walk was to be just Pendle (see I’m already getting the hang of sticking to a plan if it makes sense to do so!). The walk along the tarmac back to the centre was very boring, but all the same it was lovely to be out and about getting fresh air and exercise and before long I was back at the car park and café from where I would get a really fowl-tasting latte – the staff at the Cabin are lovely but they need to ditch that coffee machine as it’s a good few years since I last had a decent drink here!

Summary

As far as walking goes, this was a perfect start to the year. I’d shaved another four minutes off my record walking time – obviously aided by the cold weather, I’d been sociable and said ‘morning’ or ‘hi’ to a dozen people or so and most importantly I’d shed the December cobwebs in preparation of Sunday’s Ramble to Hornby with the Southport Ramblers.

Stats:

Passed – seven

Passed by – three (but I then passed them!)

Miles: Just over five.

Ascent -1,043 feet.

Time taken: One hour and forty-two minutes!

Song of the walk: Love Me Like You by Little Mix

Route: Barley visitor centre, Ings End, Brown House, Pendle House, The slope, Big End, The Steps, Pendle House, Barley Road.

January saw the start of my walking year…I know how obvious that sounds but some years I haven’t started walking until March.

I had decided to have another bash at joining Southport Ramblers after 2011’s falling out with them. This time around I found that I was much better prepared to keep up with them – picking category ‘C’ walks at first proved to be a wise decision. I have to admit that I’m not the biggest fan of the routes offered by the ramblers. We seemed to traverse muddy fields simply for the sake of traversing muddy fields. The highlight of each walk definitely was the company. Our first outing to Longridge in order to take in various country lanes, could essentially have been anywhere. Likewise two weeks later saw us at Saint Asaph for a walk through some more washed-out and verdant fields! Late January saw the weather take a turn for the colder as Karl and I enjoyed a walk in the snow over Darwen Moor. Karl and Anne and I traversed the hills on my mission to acquaint myself with the route of the Anglezarke Amble (I did mention that I’m doing this in February 2016 didn’t I?) This was to be my first West Pennines yomp of the year and a thoroughly enjoyable one…minus a couple of minutes when I had to climb over a barbed wire fence and nearly became an alto singer! A further expedition along Southport’s thought-provoking Coastal Road gained me some more leg milage – twenty one to be precise. The 22nd of February saw me with the Ramblers at Rivington in a very enjoyable, snowed-out walk over Rivington Moor and Catter Nab whilst taking in the sights of Rivington Lower Reservoir and the Yarrow Reservoir on route.

Until the end of March far the most challenging walk of the year came about when we (The Southport Ramblers) went to Chipping, walked over six mile’s worth of muddy fields then took on the steep southern face of Parlick Pike. This would put me in good stead for the rest of my walking year as not even Whernside or Snowdon (the Llanberis route) can measure up to the ridiculous gradient this aspect proffered, by the time I reached the summit, I was shattered. Parlick had been on my ‘to-do’ list for the year, although I had meant to set about it from the top of Longridge Fell – I still intend to do this iconic walk…maybe next year.

Further trips in the first quarter of the year saw Karl and I back at the West Pennines in order to take in Turton Moor and another section of the A.A. whereby we wandered over the side of Turton Heights then back over past Cadshaw to Green Arms Road. I’d never walked in this locale prior to this and was taken aback at just how scenic the West Pennines (including Winter Hill) can be. Another attempt at doing a section of the A.A. on my own resulted in a ten mile walk over Rivington Pike, Winter Hill and many, many miles of roads as my legs started to moan under the stress of so many walks in such a short time. The walk in itself was fantastic but the company was a bit irksome! This would improve dramatically as in March Chris and I enjoyed a quite balmy walk on one of the many trails through Delamere Forest.

April saw me return to do the Coastal Road once again and a trip with the Southport Ramblers to Besston. I’d never heard of the place before and to be honest, I could quite easily forget all about it now as we took in a tiny summit (the name of which I cannot recollect) and we visited a candle factory (be still my beating heart!).

May brought with it a couple of Bank Holidays and one of these saw me return to good old Pendle to do ‘The Middle Way’, on a walk which I laughingly referred to as ‘Pen-ny not so dreadful’ I completed my objective of ascending Pendle the undisputed hardest way. The climb itself was hard, but the time to complete the steep ascent was a breathtaking sixty-nine minutes. I had no idea that I could walk so quickly uphill! As this was training for the month after’s Yorkshire Three Peaks attempt, my confidence was escalated beyond my wildest possible expectations. Another walk two days later which would take in Winter Hill via the east and again ran in at around ten and a half miles, left me feeling that this time, more than at any other point in my past, I would be able to get around the infamous Yorkshire three peaks of Pen-Y-Ghent, Whernside and Ingleborough.

And thus onto June and on the sixth I booked a car from Enterprise (A wonderful little Corsa), drove up to Horton in Ribblesdale, met up with the lovely Linzi from Southport Ramblers and Mark – an old acquaintance from my Bolton days and took on the challenge of Yorkshire’s finest. It’s tough going but at no point did I consider not completing the twenty four and a half mile course. I would go on to to scale bigger mountains throughout the year but nothing could compare to the sense of sheer unprecedented joy of arriving back at the Penyghent Café to be informed that we had completed the route in time…eleven hours and four minutes. I believe that there were many factors which contributed to my success: yes the weight loss had definitely been principle among these, but also the twenty-plus mile walks along Southport’s stunning Coastal Road had definitely played a part – as had May’s ascent of Pendle’s ‘Middle way’ – even Ingleborough seemed less challenging than this (though not to be taken lightly, I still paused a number of times). Mark was excellent company – even if he did comment to the effect that I dropped down the hills like a sheep (A sheep? Not a GOAT?) and it was a shame to lose Linzi at Chapel le Dale. I had vowed ‘never again’…that promise would last but two short months as I returned to do the reverse route with Darren and Colin at the end of August. Alas our bid was unsuccessful after some wayward rambling put us on a path which never seemed to get use any nearer to Pen-y-ghent.

In between the two Yorkshire assaults there were a few walks – including two trips to the glorious Lake District. The first trip was again with the Ramblers under the pretence of ‘We’re going up High Street’ – this was a blatant mis-direction as in fact the hill which we did ascend was the much lower (but still a Wainwright!) outcrop of Arthur’s Pike. Although the walk in itself was ‘lovely’ and the company was as good as ever, it just didn’t seem to be that much of a challenge a week after completing the Y3P. The second return to the Lake District however, was a real belter as four of us took on the impressive Fairfield Horseshoe. Karl and Sue were almost apologetic for the abysmal weather that stuck with us for over half of the walk…I was overjoyed to not be able to see the route in full and thoroughly enjoyed the whole day. If I only stick to one intended walk next year it would have to be another one of these Lakeland Horseshoe routes – preferably the Kentmere Horseshoe. That being said, there is another return to Horton in Ribblesdale planned in May!

From here on in the walking year became considerably easier. Yes there was a rather boring ascent and hair-raising descent of Winter hill and a record attempt at Pendle’s stepped path from around the back of Pendle house – in just fifty-seven minutes. On the same walk I also discovered the wilder side of Pendle at Churn Clough and Deerstones – locations to which I will surely return.

Ultimately, the ‘big walk’ came around. If the Y3P taught me anything it was a sense of perspective, we can only ever walk one footstep at a time. This would be a good motto onto which I would hold on as Darren, Connor and I took on the Welsh giant of Snowdon from Llanberris. Yes, it did prove to be easier than I could have hoped, but, was this only relative to the rest of my walking year? If I hadn’t already done two speedy (for me) walks up Pendle, the arduous trek up Parlick, the two Y3Ps and ultimately Fairfield’s Horseshoe would it have seemed as easy? Snowdon is a beacon in every sense of the word, it’s a challenge even once one has ascended it and I can hardly wait to return in the spring of next year to complete the challenging ‘Watkins Path’ again with Darren – though I’m not sure we’ll be roping in Connor to do this one! There would be few walks for the rest of the year, save for one adventure to do Rivington Pike with Chris…and a last visit to Pendle for All Saints Day, more stunning sceneryand the walk re-routed at Under Pendle, which is never a down-turn given that it’s my faourite part of the area.

In October we visited the lovely city of Edinburgh and on a leisurely amble I ended up climbing to the top of Arthur’s Seat – a hill of which I’d never heard before our visit. It was a thoroughly enjoyable dash to the summit and I’d love to return to take in a more circuitous route as opposed to the ‘up and down’ direct approach that I took.  Finally in November, Karl and I met up once more with the intent of completing another section of the Anglezarke Amble, but, with the main road from Egerton to Belmont being something of an ice rink we headed to the east – Edgworth and took in the bleak but captivating Holcolmbe Moor. This was about as remote as I have been all year, I doubt that I saw twenty people on the walk and would certainly not want to do this one on my own. We must go back one day when it’s warmer to ‘bag’ Bull hill but for now I’m glad to have made it through the day without falling over!

And so ends my walking year. It’s unlikely that I’ll add to my twenty four walks total – the greatest number (by far) that I have completed in one year. I can congratulate myself that I’ve taken on some big challenges in the Yorkshire Three Peaks, The Fairfield Horseshoe and the completion of Snowdon and I’ll be hard pressed to surpass this next year…but surpass I shall as I intend to re-visit Horton in Ribblesdale (with Darren) and to complete the Anglezarke Amble, the Watkins path up Snowdon and there are still those wretched four missing peaks from my ‘Top ten of England’ to tick off. Of course there will have to be more trips to Pendle – I’ve not completed all possible routes up there yet and well, I still love it there. I’m hopeful that Karl and I can get back to Keswick to do the classic Skiddaw via Ullock Pike and wouldn’t it be wonderful to replicate Julia’s walk over Broad Crag and Ill Crag before arriving at the mighty summit of Scafell Pike – it’s been too long since I last went there! For now it’s a case of feet up and build up the calories on mince pies ‘cos come February they’ll certainly be getting burned off again!

Oh I nearly forgot to mention: the hardly-coveted ‘Walk of the Year for 2015’…well I’m afraid that vanity wins out. Whilst achieving Snowdon with Darren and Connor was very rewarding and a great summit to tick off, and the Fairfield Horseshoe was again a great walk with great company…I did the Yorkshire Three Peaks for God’s sake…that was the ultimate highlight!

Andiamo!

So, we took a last minute decision to head off over to Edgworth in order to take on the triple threat of Harcles Hill, Bull Hill and erm that un-named hill next to the afore mentioned ones. I hadn’t been walking in these parts for a couple of decades and had never ‘done’ Bull hill so I was enthused to give it a shot now. The weather had been nice upon travelling through Southport but as soon as I hit Tarleton, the snow on Winter Hill was evident. So it was no surprise to discover Edgworth’s lofty and bleak environment to be a complete white-out, and boy was that first gentle climb a slippery tale? At times I did wish that I had seen fit to pack my walking spike-sole things. Karl seemed to be coping admirably, but then, he is not a fair-weather walker, unlike me!

It’s at this point that I have to admit something a little bit painful…I don’t know the names of anything around these parts…which makes describing the walk somewhat difficult!

So, here are lots of pictures…

Yes, it was actually quite beautiful to behold. On three of my four walks with Karl this year:

• Darwen Moor
• Turton Moor
• The Fairfield Horseshoe
• Holcolmbe Moor

We have had unusual weather, snow twice and weird spooky fog followed by a heatwave once!

After roughly an hour or so we found ourselves on the final slog up the western slopes of the unnamed hill which is capped by Peel Tower. The going underfoot needed a little bit of attention, which Karl must have failed to do as he suddenly became horizontal in front of me! I decided at this moment that there was something eye-catching to behold behind me and I just had to stare at it until the desire to laugh…had gone! It was at this point that we met some other people which was very nice as thus far we had only seen distance glimpses of solitary walkers. I had formed the impression that this was one of those walker locales frequented more by individual walkers as opposed to groups. The last time that I walked up this hill was roughly twenty years ago with Dave Hill (from Bolton), it was considerably warmer then, but I was a smoker and I seem to remember it taking a good deal longer to get to the top than it had today. I still yearned for a cigarette at the summit, even in the bracing wind…thank heavens I’ve stopped the suicidal habbit.

The views from the summit where as wonderful as I had expected them to be. This location offers spectacular vitas to the north featuring: Pen-y-Ghent, Pendle Hill, Ingleborough and Longridge Fell. To our right was the Forest of Rossendale – an area that I have yet to begin exploring and of course slightly to our left,the ubiquitous Winter Hill, which always looks at its best when given a lovely dusting of snow. It has to be said that the temperature became only slightly warmer as we headed off in the direction of nearby Harcles Hill – this was the hill upon which I had previously believed Peel Tower did sit. It just goes to show how the memory fades when we don’t revisit a place enough times. We were aiming for the local landmark of Pilgrim’s Cross. I know roughly what this particular landmark looks like through watching another one of Adam Gallimore’s long distance walks – the Peeler’s Hike.

As we were both a bit on the cold side by now, and the light was beginning to fade a little, we decided to simply bag the Pilgrim’s cross then turn left and head for home. I did want to ascend Bull Hill and at one point I think that this might have only involved a fifty foot ascension over something like two hundred yards…but did I mention it was bitingly cold when static? Bull Hill would have to wait for a warmer time – I nominated summer! Oddly enough, the views of the route that we had already taken on the way out were now displayed to us and they were just gorgeous…

Finally, after some very gingerly walking owing to Plantation Road being exceptionally slippery, I knew it was going to be worse descending than it was ascending, we made it back to the car. It took a good few moments of reversing down the ice-rink, as my poor old Xsara was simply not up to the job of powering up the road in order to turn around. We made it back to Karl’s house in good time and had a good old thaw out on route!

Summary

This was a great little walk in an area that I really should visit more often. This is the eastern fringe of the West Pennines with just three or four summits to add to the overall collection. The walk was not very strenuous, although the slog up to the summit plateau is not to be taken lightly, if you’re doing a very long walk in this area then this should be taken into account at the start! It was great to see Karl again and it was just as good to be back walking after a bit of a break. This was walk number twenty four – will I get to twenty six before New Year’s Day?

No song of the walk for this walk: Karl and I when together can talk for England!

This was the culmination of our (mine and Christine’s) walk around Edinburgh on Saturday 10th of October.

We had already walked from the centre of the city up to the beautiful Edinburgh Castle, then walked around that. After an hour and a half of walking we then went to the Camera Obscura…and walked around that. We then descended the lovely Royal Mile back down to Holyrood before hitting the base of the range of upland which would take us up to Arthur’s Seat.Around ten minutes into the walk, Chris bailed – well it was her birthday weekend and I suppose asking her to walk up this steep little beast could be seen by some as a bit cruel. The weather was thankfully behaving rather well, the day before I had experienced cold on the train before we even arrived at the Arctic circle – Scotland.

At the end of the nice, flat and comfortable to walk upon path; Chris took a left towards a lovely looking lake and I went right…up a soddin’ big hill! Undeterred, I carried on, even though I was wearing jeans – never good for walking wear and Clark’s shoes – definitely not good footwear for grass let alone hill walking. I soon began to pass people as I was on a mission, I didn’t want to leave Chris sat on her own for very long, it would be just rude! The path became progressively steeper – and more polished rock became apparent. I feared a fall.

This was the culmination of our (mine and Christine’s) walk around Edinburgh on Saturday 10th of October.

We had already walked from the centre of the city up to the beautiful Edinburgh Castle, then walked around that. After an hour and a half of walking we then went to the Camera Obscura…and walked around that. We then descended the lovely Royal Mile back down to Holyrood before hitting the base of the range of upland which would take us up to Arthur’s Seat. Around ten minutes into the walk, Chris bailed – well it was her birthday weekend and I suppose asking her to walk up this steep little beast could be seen by some as a bit cruel. The weather was thankfully behaving rather well, the day before I had experienced cold on the train before we even arrived at the Arctic circle – Scotland.

At the end of the nice, flat and comfortable to walk upon path; Chris took a left towards a lovely looking lake and I went right…up a soddin’ big hill! Undeterred, I carried on, even though I was wearing jeans – never good for walking wear and Clark’s shoes – definitely not good footwear for grass let alone hill walking. I soon began to pass people as I was on a mission, I didn’t want to leave Chris sat on her own for very long, it would be just rude! The path became progressively steeper – and more polished rock became apparent. I feared a fall…

All of a sudden, as often happens when hill walking, the summit appeared to be much closer now. I could hear the murmur of hordes of people all excitedly chatting away. This was the lowest summit I had climbed all year, but with perhaps the exception of Whernside in June, this was also the busiest hill that I had ascended. I paused a while to take in the scenery as I had been going pretty much full speed thus far.

As I expected, the tiny twin summits were heaving with fellow tourists and walkers. This doesn’t do justice to just how many people were gathered in such a small area, it made Snowdon look empty by comparison. I loitered at the top for roughly five minutes, listening to some kids boasting about being at the highest point in Scotland – hmmm as the 1,900′ Pentland Hills were right behind them, not to mention Ben Nevis etc…Geography is apparently not everyone’s strong suit (I know it isn’t mine!).My descent off the hill top was even quicker than my ascent up it had been. I was on a mission, well, two actually:

1. Don’t fall over
2. Get back to Chris as soon as possible

I managed to achieve both criteria and it must have taken me just twenty minutes to arrive back at the parting of the ways where I had left her some fifty minutes before.

Summary

This was a lovely, frisky little walk up a seriously steep little hill. I hadn’t wanted to do this alone but by the same token I didn’t want to pass up the chance of climbing this famous little hill as I don’t know when (if ever) I’ll be in this vicinity again – I do hope that we do go to Edinburgh again as it’s wonderful.

Song of the walk – Song of the walk: Emmelie De Forest – Drunk Tonight Again!!!

Untitled Document

Snowdon walk on Sunday 27th September, with Darren and Connor Peake

Myself and Darren (my brother in law, well he would be if Christine and I ever get married) had talked about doing this walk a couple of weeks before our “Yorkshire Three Peaks in Reverse” walk in August. With that event out of the way / postponed until May 2016, we figured it would be great to get down to Llanberis before the end of Summer. And his son Connor would come along to – to keep us oldies from simply ambling up the mountain at a snail’s pace. We decided to do the classic of “Up the Pyg and down the Miners’ track”.

On the day, we arrived at Llanberis a little after nine thirty and managed to park quite handily near the main A-road from which the Llanberis path commences. Yes, that’s right, at some point in time our planned route had taken a turn for the mainstream / tourist route and we would leave the “Piggin’ Miners” for another time.

The weather was utterly glorious for a late September morning, we chatted with a pair of ladies whom had just got back from watching the sun rise atop Snowdon – what a fantastic spectacle that would have been. I was a bit concerned that Darren felt some discs move in his back – unlike me; he’s self-employed and I didn’t want him to go without income owing to crippling himself climbing up a 3,560′ mountain…he soldiered on!

The opening mile of the Llanberris path is

1. Tarmac
2. Steep, no seriously steep!

Okay, even for an urban walker such as myself, the tarmac was far from interesting or picturesque. That being said, I believe that it facilitated progress over the first half a mile. We kept swapping places with a trio of walkers – two adults and one daughter, then we marched past a couple of teenage girls who wanted to know where the next train stop was – oopss, it was with only a slightly heavy heart that we gave them the options of “At the top or at the bottom”, as I said…”oops!” Later – much later After some distance (I really couldn’t say how much) we began to merge with many more walkers and by the time we hit what I would term as the halfway stage (a café no less!) the chain that was; had now become more or less a throng. We stayed for a few moments, I had a slurp of my water and knocked back one of my orange gel things – it’s never a pleasant experience but it’s a mighty quick way of getting seventy plus calories inside me! Connor looked a little tired, he’s only…(I want to say twelve and now I’m thinking what a bad uncle I am!) and thus his body is not as efficient at shedding heat as Darren and I…who looked like we had run up the path thus far!

When the trio of walkers from earlier on in the walk came into view; I decided it was time to push on. The next section started off easily enough…and then got seriously strenuous, alarmingly quickly. The gradient steepened, the throng went all kinds of wide as opposed to long and the terrain of the neighbouring giants became more and more ornate. Cliffs were visible from most aspects, I spotted a couple of ridge paths the likes of which would put Sharp Edge to shame and even began to notice the walkers on the path akin to ours – this was the Snowdon Ranger path…I have to confess it looked a lot harder than ours.
Here are some more views of the day as sadly I don’t know the names of the peaks and mountains that we passed by:

After walking through essentially a ‘doorway’ we got our first ‘proper’ view of the distant summit – the photo shows the view opposite the doorway. Now we were into a serious ‘slog’ up the side of the mountain and onto the top. I did feel the need to tell Darren and Connor that we were still lower down than a few neighbouring summits – and as we were going up the highest thing around, that meant we had a way to go yet. This didn’t sit well with one of the walkers near us at the time who joked “Did you have to say that?” Oops again! The path levelled out, I felt like cheering, but didn’t. All of a sudden, the summit seemed to get a whole lot nearer, and so did a procession of walkers, many of which were ascending the last stretch of the infamous ‘Pyg’ track or was this the ‘Miners’ Track’ – there are at least six ‘official’ routes up this giant and whilst I don’t think I’ll do them all, it’s nice to know what they are called.

And so the last final push was upon us, we were well over half way into the climb / walk. The next push was a sustained one as opposed to a brutal one, more Whernside from Ribblehead than Pendle via the ‘steps’. And before long we were on to the ridge which would lead us to the apex of this mighty mountain. Even though there was a train to our left and a café and a visitor centre, the terrain really felt like a true mountain, albeit  one with a very busy summit. The trig point was like an open jar of honey next to a wasp hive – yes there were many more colourful similes I could have used then, but that was the least offensive! Somehow I avoided falling off the final rise up to the o/s column, some people should just touch the thing then bugger off – not do countless selfies which never quite turn out right anyway!

We dropped back down off the summit and hit the café for a latté – okay that’s a bit Italian for the summit of a Welsh mountain, but what do the Welsh drink which is, y’know, Welsh? Exactly! We sat around full of a triumphant feeling, I can’t remember how long it had taken getting here…about two and a half hours I think, but it was mine and Connor’s first (and definitely not last) ascent, we wanted to savour it. It was lovely to sit watching people hit the summit from over the Watkins path, I distinctly remember an American-sounding lady ask a group of girls from a larger, mixed-gender party which route they had taken, to which one particularly well-spoken teenage girl responded ‘A hard one!’ Priceless!

It would take us a further hour and a half to get back to Llanberris, although these days I drop like a greasy stone, I promised to wait for the Peakes (Connor and Darren), well there was no rush, the weather stayed beautiful and to be honest…they are such damned good company. I was proud for myself – ha I always am whenever I’ve walked up anything over a thousand feet, but I was also proud for Connor and to be honest after Darren’s back playing up at the car park at the start of the walk, he deserves some ‘man points’ for making it to the top and back, downhill is always considerably harder on the joints than going up. We arrived back at the café akin to the mountain railway station and I had another latté satisfied with the day’s walk.

Summary

This was the loftiest peak that I have ascended from top to bottom – okay I have been atop Mont Sant and Montserrat (near the top) both of which weigh in over four thousand feet, but they’re in Spain and don’t count…and I haven’t actually walked all the way up them! I have to admit to being something of a fan of Snowdon and it’s frustrating to not be able to name the accompanying summits – the ‘horseshoe walk’ is really tempting, but seeing as this covers a traverse of the imposing ‘Crib Goch’ which I promised Chris I would never attempt, I’ll probably never do that. I was somewhat disappointed to complete Scafell Pike in 2013 – the summit is awful to walk upon, Snowdon on the other hand was lovely and I can’t wait to go back and walk the ‘Watkins path’ which I gather is a real tester!

I’ve been really lucky with the weather this year, and as such have been blessed to complete such classic walks as the Yorkshire Three Peaks, The Fairfield Horseshoe and now the mighty Snowdon. I think this was walk number nineteen, I don’t plan on taking a break from walking during the Winter this year…Pendle on New Year’s Day is a must-do, so as the nights draw in and the weather gets much worse it’ll be lovely to re-read this page and mentally re-visit this wonderful September day in excellent company and excellent weather up a very noble mountain indeed…excellent!

No song of the walk for this one: I was too busy talking!

I’d been meaning to go for a solo walk over the old girl (yep, that sounds misogynistic enough!) for a couple of weeks since the Y3PiR marathon. This Sunday, with dubious weather forecast for the weekend, presented a golden opportunity and with the car finally running sound, well, who was I to turn down the chance to go to Barley once more?

Actually, the weather was gorgeous on route to Preston, well, as soon as I had officially left Southport. I opted once again to take the route of A59 and A671 then on towards Barrowford but this time I went along and up Nogarth Ridge before dropping down to Roughlee and finally in to Barley where the car park / visitor centre was already full by 10:30. A lovely Scouse girl was trying her best to fit me in the car park, as this would probably involve my car being blocked in as soon as I alighted, I opted for simply using the entry to the car park as a turning point and parked on the main road instead.

Having booted-up, I was on route by 10:38. Previously, notably on the walking forum, I had declared my intention to take in Stang Top Moor first, but on the day I thought I would spend all of my energy on getting up the Barley steps first, then explore afterwards. This decision served me well. In between Barley Lane and Ings End I did not see another soul. This led to speedy progress along the start section and I was quite surprised to find myself at Brown House by eleven o’clock. The views were starting to open up a bit now, but, once again, I had resolved to take as few pictures as possible on the way up the hill so as to keep to a steady rhythm. However, I had promised myself that this was going to be a more relaxed, gentle walk and certainly not a race up to the top of the hill.

With this in mind, I tentatively set off on the steps around the back of Pendle House – after traversing the usually sheep-filled paddock. I saw numerous small family groups which tended to be mostly one child and two adults, there was also one group of one adult and two children. During the next thirty minutes we would all pass each other on numerous occasions. I even had a thirty second sit down when I saw someone who looked fitter than me engaged in this activity.

It was all very friendly on the hill, some of the kids were very definitely feeling the heat…and the slope, no matter how many times I do this route, that slope will stay relentless. I did the decent thing, I lied and told ‘struggling’ kids; ‘not far to go again’, sadly I knew otherwise, the fun had only just started! That being said, I could have fainted when the very pinnacle of the slope came into view, I was very near to the top already, and when the Downham ‘boundary wall’ came into view I was very close to being flabbergasted. I checked my watch to see that lo and behold – it was only 11:30 and I hadn’t been walking for an hour yet! Although it was in my head to watch my feet and to take care on route to the summit…I had to go for the sub-one hour finish. Left foot down, and charge…I made it to the summit trig point at 11:35 – thuis taking me just 57 minutes from Barley Road to the ordnance survey column! Impressed just doesn’t seem to convey the depth of emotion, pride…I was well chuffed!

As I have scores of photographs of the trig point, I was happy to let the other walkers (mainly extremely tired but celebratory; children and their parents) take over the trig point, whilst they all posed for a dozen different cameras. I happened to notice that the views north were quite decent for a change and could make out easily the profiles of Parlick Pike, Longridge Fell and even little Beacon Fell. In addition to this, Ingleborough and even Pen y Ghent were just about visible but my camera was not good enough to get a decent picture of two of the Three Yorkshire peaks.

Having consumed all three sub-bars of my bounty bar, I tapped the trig point, and set off once more. I fancied the idea of wandering over to Spence Moor via the stone slabbed path down to Pendle Water, up and onto Ogden Clough and over to the bleakness that is Spence Moor. This was sadly only lacking in one detail…there is, as of yet, no such single path to facilitate this desire and I ended up going “off piste” – once again. The upside of my next thirty minutes worth of wandering around somewhat aimlessly and having to retrace my steps; was that quite by accident, I discovered the hidden treasure which is Deerstones, not only is this an outstandingly desolate and yet beautiful area of Pendle, it’s very remote too – handy when nature calls…I imagine, as the rest of Pendle is somewhat exposed! I passed just a handful of people  who were taking the lovely and effortless route in from the Nick of Pendle, within twenty minutes our paths collided again as I realised and rectified my mistake rather than compound it by carrying on towards parts unknown…the last time that I did this in Pendle was in 2010 and I still have the psychological scars of twisting my ankle every fifty feet at Spence Moor…it can be a cruel and heartless environment at Pendle.

Nevertheless, I continued my walk and finally stopped retracing my steps when I spied a family descending a path that I believed would take me once more to a crossing of Pendle Water. This was a steep drop down, I must have descended about three hundred feet in less than a quarter of a mile. As luck would have it, and for a change, my feet didn’t let me down and before long I was on the Boar Clough side of Ogden Clough – if that makes sense! From here it would be simple to simply traverse the side of the hill and on to Barley Green and return to the visitor centre, however, my watch (still stuck on Mediterranean time) let me know that I still had time to continue wandering. Thus I did take the route passing the Upper Ogden Reservoir, but then I crossed the valley, having first stopped to admire this object to the left and right of the this text.

Now it was up into the gloomy and eerie Fell Wood. The only thing that is nice about Fell Wood…is its name. The path is steep, the trees are a bit bleak and characteless and the general feel of the place instills in one a sense of ‘do not dawdle, you’re being watched!’

At the summit of Saddlers Height – the hill at the Southern edge of Fell Wood, I took a few minutes out to just admire then view – the path through the wood is that steep! From here I had the choice of dropping steeply down to Wellhead Road and onto Newchurch or taking the hard-to-follow-on-the-ground path down to Barley Green via the rear of Cross Lane Farm. Effectively the latter route would nullify the point of ascending Fell Wood, is notorious for being a bit on the wet side and would present me with another chance to get lost…I went to Newchurch instead. This option also gave me the chance to call in at Witches Galore whereby I could buy some more fluids as I was running short and the weather, being so warm, was not helping. I didn’t have a lot of cash on me so had to buy a key fob or two in order to build up the bill enough to pay by card.

After my shop stop, I opted to walk down Jinny Lane because I had never taken this route before but had driven past both entrances to the street so was fairly certain of where I was going. I was right in that I didn’t get lost, but I had no idea just how long the road was, actually not that long but on a hot day having already walked a good old distance, every footstep seemed to be a bit of a drag. Finally I arrived at Ridge Lane, Roughlee and took the left hand turn to take me back to Barley. After around four hours walking…I was a bit tired but elated that I had got up Pendle quicker than ever and finally found Deerstones – ‘though I’d never thought to look for it prior to this day.  In summing, this was one of those classic walks that you remember at the end of the year when the rains hit hardest. It’s always wonderful to be in the company of Old Pendle and today was no exception.

Stats:

Total distance around 8.5 miles

Ascension around 1,800’

Song of the walk: Emmelie De Forest – Drunk Tonight

Whilst I will one day complete without incident, the great round of Anderton, (nobody else will ever understand that description!) this is the route starting at Crookfields, Great Hill – White Coppice – Moor Road – Rivington Pike – Winter Hill – Hordern Stoops – Spitlers Edge – Redmonds Edge – Crookfields. I would have loved to do that route yesterday, but was aware that (as always) time was an issue, I had to be back to pick up Chris at 5.00; and given that the route described above is NEVER without incident, it pays to be a bit conservative and to stick with what one knows one can achieve within the given time (about five hours of walking). Incidentally, how posh is my writing? (Well, until this part!). More on this later.

As a distraction to the walking text, I did call in to a service station in Horwich on route whereby I was greeted by a woman with a lovely west country accent (I am something of a fan of all English accents, but the west country dialect holds a particularly special place in my heart). Her accent was of Gloucestershire decent, she mockingly referred to it as sounding halfway between ‘Pirate’ and ‘Farmer’. I found it rather endearing, in the last few months I have met women from Somerset, Gloucestershire and of course my friend from Wiltshire. Anyway, I digress.

I arrived at the long driveway at Rivington Lane at around 09:00 and by 09:16 was on route, pausing every few steps to retrieve my water bottle which seemed to be making a regular bid for freedom. As this was somewhat irritating, I decided to leave it in the bag and only to retrieve it from the bag when I was gasping for a drink. I set off on the same route which I last did a good few months back, via the Pinetum (funny, the spell checker queried that word last time). This time, I opted to stick to very obvious, wide tracks, the one that I used last time was narrow and steep, a lot steeper than for what I had bargained. So, today’s option to stick to long gradual paths was well received…until I went off piste once more. Yes, folks (Karl, stop laughing) I thought I had taken the well trodden path which would lead me to the southern entrance to the Japanese lake. In all honesty I do not know where that path was in comparison to where I was. All the same, some more positive thinking – well the tower atop the pike is hard to miss, it made sense to me simply to aim for the tower, safe in the knowledge that sooner or later I would arrive at Belmont Road. Suffice to say, I did!

Some time ago, I set myself the on-going challenge to always attempt to make it from the gate opposite the old toilet block (it’s never open, why not just knock it down?) to the tower at the top of the Pike, via the steps (so no cheating and taking the wheelchair route) without stopping. I am pleased to announce, that even though my heart sounded like a David Guetta remix track, I made it to the top, without stopping, in something like five minutes. I was very happy to reach the top and even happier to stop, my fitness is improving, but as the views were a little bit restricted I stayed for just a few minutes before setting off towards Two Lads…

However, it is time for me to confess something, I just don’t like the route up to Two Lads via path at the side of the Rivington Dog Hotel. I find it to be a tedious slog, and the last time that I used it, I did run into a condescending woman who told me to stay safe! Associations assist us when we’re grudge building! I would also like to add that I don’t care much for Two Lads in itself, it’s a boring bump on the long rise up to Winter Hill. As an alternative, I decided to follow Belmont Road all the way down to near where it changes name to Georges Lane and beyond. I kept on the road until the left hand turn to Winter Hill (the road) appeared, then took this gently winding road for well over a mile up to the summit of Winter Hill.

On route I must have passed around ten to fifteen people, I was keeping a count but then got kind of side-tracked when I saw a unicyclist heading towards me. There’s always something weird on one of my walks!

Next I tapped the trig point atop Winter Hill, as a youngish man was describing to a youngish woman what purpose these concrete pillars once served. I took my lunch break (all of five minutes of it) at the other side of the fence and scoured the immediate environment for the path down, which had appeared to have vanished. Eventually I found the errant path and gingerly made my way down the north face of the hill, falling twice! My next immediate destination was the relatively unknown “Will Narr”. I know where it is, I’ve walked over it a good number of times, but to the rest of the world I imagine it’s something of an unknown. I’ll shed some light on this, it’s essentially the start of the River Yarrow – okay, that’s not exactly earth shattering news, but they’re proud of their rivers in these parts and there is a plaque indicating the ‘official’ source of the ‘Yarrow’. Incidentally, in Croston, there is even a little café named after the Yarrow. To each their own I suppose.

Will Narr is a pig to navigate on the ground. The path that I needed essentially to transport me over towards Alance Bridge (eventually) is something of a tumble in very long grass. It’s not fun at all and I fell over a number of times. Eventually I ended up on the rather boring path which would take me passed Old Rachel’s and Simms. It seemed to last forever, I passed a fifty-something lady, then I forced myself to have a sit down and a gulp of water, and she passed me back. Even she had little praise for this ‘boring’ path, admittedly, there are not many Striding Edge’s or Sharp Edge’s or even Moses Trod’s, I don’t know what could be done to liven up this path…evidently, it has yet to be done. It was a relief when I finally made it to Alance Bridge. A right turn, a few hundred feet, then a left turn would take me along side the Yarrow reservoir, for most of its’ length until the body of water swapped sides as I now distantly passed the ‘Rivington’ reservoirs. One more final push and I was in ‘Go Ape’ territory as I could hear the rope and slide enthusiasts zip down their respecting guy wires, all in the name of fun…I expect you have to experience it for yourself.

And that was that! I’m no longer a fan of walking on my own, unless it’s Pendle, and even then company is always more appreciated than no-company. This walk served as a good leg stretcher in preparation of next week’s Yorkshire Three Peaks in Reverse (which potentially won’t be in reverse if it’s raining!). The sliding down Hordern Stoops and Will Narr was not as much fun as I would have hoped that it would be.

With the exception of the odd occasional Coastal Road expedition, this may well be my last ever solo walk, at the moment my latent auto phobia is having a surge and solitude does not help. Some people (famously the late, great, Alfred Wainwright) crave the serenity of being alone outside, the prospect of this quite often terrifies me, and for a walker, that’s quite a major revelation.

Until next time, (there will be one, I can almost assure you!)

Song of the walk: Art Garfunkel – Bright Eyes

For over a year now I have been attempting to garner support for my bid to walk the famous Fairfield Horseshoe in the Eastern Lakes. I missed out on the opportunity to do the Kentmere Horseshoe on the 7th of June owing to recovering from my successful Yorkshire Three Peaks bid, the day before. (Who had the second paragraph before I mentioned that?)

So when Karl texted me to ask if I fancied doing this on Saturday the 4th of July, well I very nearly ripped his arm off. A colleague who had done the walk last year warned me of the possibility of a sudden mist-out (my phrase, not hers, she can speak English). When I left the house at the somewhat later-than-my-o.c.d.-would normally let me leave: 06:30 the weather seemed a tad overcast but nothing to worry about. Once I had arrived at 07:45 at Darwen (so I know it’s possible to do it in an hour and a quarter, but will that stop me from setting off ridiculously early again? Hell, no!) it was looking a bit gloomy there too.

Karl informed me that we were going in Sue’s car and that there would be another person joining us, the delightful Lynn – no it was me that labelled her as delightful, just now, not him. (Forgive me, I woke up this morning at 3.00) We got to our set-off point for roughly nine twenty and were all booted up and ready for nine thirty – ace!

The first few steps were wonderful, we had set off from Rydal Road (yup, making that name up!) and headed straight uphill. Oh my God, did it go uphill. We are not talking the steepness of Frodo’s steps at Ingleborough here or even ‘The Middle Way’ at Pendle, but by crikey was it steep and unrelenting. I started off in the lead but by about three quarters up Nab Scar I’ll admit it, I was flagging like a flagger on national flag day.

We reached the summit – one of them, in roughly an hour, maybe even less. The question was posed ‘does anyone want to stop here?’ I said that if I did I might never start again and thus we continued to the next peak…Heron Pike which at 2008′ was technically a mountain, oh goodie! And climbing up it bloomin’ well felt like one too! At this juncture I invented the new verb, To whernside, its’ definition: to drudge up the side of a hill which apparently has no summit, or if it does have a summit then it can also magically move away from you! Obviously, this is hyperbole, we did get to the summit, but it seemed to take an eternity. The mist was now properly down, whilst for the others this had the ‘oh bugger’ effect, for me it was almost homely as Pendle is almost always shrouded in mist so I felt all snug and not in the least bit bothered by the fact that we were walking over two thousand feet with visibility down to around twenty feet! Every so often ‘The Nothing’ would leave its summer house at ‘the never ending story’ and visit us, offering us spectacular views of white abyss’s (what is the plural of abyss?) at the edge of the path. Chris (partner of Fat Goat) hates me standing at the Edge of these things…so I took a few photos, they really don’t deliver the shocking effect which I was after – so they’re not pinching my drive space!

The next scheduled peak was Great Rigg, I found this a little bit alarming, as ‘Great’ anything, in the West Pennines, is no big deal, in the Lakes it usually stands for ‘Ha! Take that!’. Luckily enough for us, we’d already gone over 612 metres, so we only had another hundred and fifty four to go – that’s about 500′ – so I thought of it in metres instead, smart huh? It was a little bit of a pull, in the same way that an elephant is a bit grey and the dinosaurs are a bit extinct! We made it though, to be honest, there was no alternative, I would not fancy turning back here as in altitude we were over half way there! Great Rigg is where I had my tiny lunch of two chicken and sweet chilli wraps, with all the calorific value of…not much, about 400Kcal which when one is climbing over 3,250′ over ten and a half miles is a little under-fuelling.

We were all set now, Fairfield was our next destination, and all the folklore about it being a bit confusing in mist could be appreciated…apart from Karl had his little box of tricks with him in the form of a GPS-thingy – sorry, didn’t want to get all techie then! (and how I succeeded!) The wind shelters looked as if they might be of use…to anyone under three feet tall! Don’t get me wrong I loved this summit as much as Cross Fell, it was pretty much the same scene – minus the trig point. We walked to the highest cairn, then Karl used some kind of Jedi mind trick to communicate with the higher beings and got us back onto the right part of the curved part of the horseshoe route.

Next was a little bit of a tricky descent. It was made all the more tricky by the appearance and then disappearance, and then re-appearance (you get where I’m going here, don’t you?) of the simply stunning Deepdale Valley. You have to see it to believe it, then you still wouldn’t believe it! It had me eulogising – and that’s not even easy for me to spell, let alone do! The wind would blow the mist off the valley, the sun would beat down and illuminate the peaks, then the mist would rapidly creep back in once more. It were gorgeous, as we say in Bolton…when we’ve abandoned the concept of conjugating verbs correctly!

Whilst the other three co-walkers were busy taking photos of Deepdale, I busied myself with taking stock of our route up Hart Crag – it was alluring, steep, but alluring all the same. to be honest, the mist was playing all kinds of mind games with us/me! Everything seemed to appear bigger than it was, even the gaps between where we were and an object seemed to have the object much further away than it really was. This was hard not to like, when one believes that the next peak is half a mile away and it’s revealed that it’s only really about fifty yards. The clues could have been the giants on the tops of the peaks, these were in fact regularly sized people, just nearer than perceived, you get the picture.

We took a nice stumbly path down off Hart Crag and made our way across boulder-fields to Dove Crag. At 2,598 it felt all kinds of wrong to be walking down to a summit which was nearly two hundred feet higher than Whernside, but by this time it was a very rewarding experience. At the summit the others had the remainder of their lunch, I had nothing so contented myself with a bit of stood-up Yoga – essentially I simply stood and waited in the wind vortex that had set upon us. I didn’t really want to sit down here as I might have never got up again. They seemed to be eating in slow motion, or was I just bloomin’ freezing? Eventually we got going again. Somewhere on route we passed the summit of High Pike – I don’t remember it but Sue and Karl assure me that we did pass over it – result!

As far as the ascents go, well now there was just the one left and this would have only weighed in at around seventy-five feet, give or take a foot or ten! Low Pike is a stunning little top – you can’t class this as a hill, mountain or anything, it’s an outcrop at best. It is gorgeous though! Funnily enough I was way ahead of the others, I tend to descend really bloomin’ quickly these days and spent a good few minutes gazing up at the cuteness of Low Pike, Karl, Sue and Lynn all caught up to me – Karl having first likened me to a pipe-less Wainwright. Guess what? After me being the first within its’ shadow (so to speak) I was the last one to ascend Low Pike. We spent another few minutes having a break, the sun had come out! Then it was something of a gentle, seemingly never-ending amble back to Rydal something-or-other café for a Latté, a glass of milk and a slice of cake which was delicious.

Sue checked her logging software that reported we had climbed over three thousand, two hundred feet and a distance of ten and a half miles – I was disappointed, I’d read it was twelve!

Gushing Summary

This is a classic deserving of the name! I for one, would hate to do the route in reverse – or at least the reverse of how we went as I feel it would be such a trudge. Our way was infinitely better, I’m miming tipping my hat to Karl here for not getting us lost (wonders, never, cease, will – re-arrange the preceding into a well-known phrase or expression!). I loved Fairfield’s summit, I’d heard that it was a favourite for many people and now I can concur. I’d still have to say that standing on the col of Fairfield and Hart Crag was my highlight as all around was beauty, a certain craggy beauty in some cases agreed, but beauty all the same. I was expecting the round to be tough all the way through, it wasn’t, but then how tough can it get once the highest point has been reached? Ask a Yorkshire Three Peaker I guess (oh look; you found one!). I would love to do this round again, and it really did not bother me that we spent so long in the mist. There are other ‘horseshoe’ routes in the Lake District and I would like to achieve all of them – the Mosedale one sounds really tough! So, it might be a while before I hit Fairfield once more. Adios you great big friendly giant.

Y Adios tambien a todo, por ahora, mi atención se vuelve hacia Cataluña, hacia dónde vamos para nuestras vacaciones. Un andar a de la poderosa Montserrat, tal vez? Quién sabe?

Some things are not meant to be eternal or even none-changing for a while. So From Friday it’s goodbye to the 07:50 385 bus to Ormskirk, just for a while…