I left Southport at around 8:30 after calling at a service station for a steak pie (for consumption during) and some full fat milk for after the walk…it’s a new variation of healthy when I walk these days! I reached the start point at around 9.30 give or take the odd minute or two and was astounded to find some of my group – Cogstar and Glyno (odd names ) and within a few minutes Karl had arrived too – this was going to be a great turn out…by ten o’clock there were eleven people in our little group – this was almost as many as the last time that I went near “The Nick” with Southport Ramblers. We set off at a lovely pace heading slightly north east along Clitheroe Road, Sabden in search of the best path to take us off to our first hill – Apronful Hill. Legend goes that there was once a giant (the UK’s hills and mountains were seemingly full of these giants at one time or another!), whom seemed to have something against Clitheroe Castle (tosser – it’s lovely!). He took a huge stone from his apron and hurled it at the castle punching a great big hole in the front! This mindless act of violence however caused the remaining rocks to fall out of said apron and onto the ground where they remain to this day. In truth, I did not see a pile of rocks en route whereby I thought to myself “Hmm I wonder how these rocks got here, what an odd place for them!”. All the same,it’s a quaint little story! The next hill to ascend was on the same overall approach to one side of Ogden Clough – Badger Wells Hill. I don’t know why the slope is named Badger Wells Hill, and from a brief google around…neither does anyone else. The summit was fairly obvious but nothing really to shout about but it did provide a minor respite…by this time we were fairly tearing up the hill metaphorically speaking!

Karl at Ogden Clough

9 of the 11, we all made it without any fuss but who is missing?

There’s always one!

After our lunch break we set off for Barley visitor centre. I pointed out another potential route for another time – the “Under Pendle traverse” which I believe to be the superior route of ascent, this is the one which I took in March on my last visit to the area and prior to that occasion took that route all the way to Under Pendle on the day of the Pendle Witch Walk in August last year – definitely a route that I shall do much more often.

Back to today and after several kissing gates and the odd little wooden footbridge we were back at the Barley Visitor Centre and I was glad to see that it still had the car park attached. Last year a campaign to get a Pendle Witch Museum / Exhibition Centre constructed at the site of the car park was launched by a passionate local historian. In my opinion this would have not been a welcome move and would impact upon the local residents as they struggled to park in their own village, the Cabin Café management as their lovely little Café went out of business and any regular visitor (myself and the likes) who would then also not be able to park in the village. In essence one of those ideas that sound okay as a thought but should never be aired! Yes a museum themed on the Pendle Witch saga would be a wonderful idea but the village of Barley is not big enough to play host to it!

I ordered and slowly consumed a Cappuccino and then we set off onto the second half of the walk…the harder section.

The eerily quiet Fell Wood

The Lower Ogden reservoir

Finally I appeared at the other side of the wood at the muddy path which skirts the eastern flank. This short path starts off innocently enough but after a few hundred feet turns into a slippery quagmire and my progress was slow. At the end of the path, opposite the minor summit of Saddlers Height we turned westward and pressed on towards Cock Dole and Driver Height. This was a romp over fairly wet grass, ordinarily this would be a “walk in the park” however after traversing Fell Wood at such breakneck speed I admit…I struggled.

There was some debate over our intended route from the wall atop Driver Height…I thought that we could follow the wall for a few yards and then essentially go over it at a style…erm no! There were no visible styles and instead we practically ran down a very marshy slope in a north, north, westerly direction until we did hit a style and turned west once moor, if we had kept to the original route of simply skirting the northern reaches of Fell Wood I doubt that we would have had to do any downhill sections! Next came the slog as we tramped our divided ways over Cock Dole, up and over Spence Moor and ultimately down over the shoulder of Badger Wells Hill. The rain held off but we were getting steadily wetter from the ground upwards as we waded (in places) our way over this desolate but somehow captivating wet moorland. The views behind to Pendle Hill were once again spectacular as it basked in sun whilst we sloshed across the ground. I don’t think I would be exaggerating if I stated that my spirits and Peter’s sank a little at the seemingly endless trudge over Spence Moor, it’s a locale to make a man of you! As we neared a style en route to Apronfull Hill I glimpsed some figures in the distance whom appeared to be sat next to a wall…as we got closer I recognised the figures as being Karl and Joe and his wife and lovely daughters who seemed to have had their camp stove running – crikey how long had we been if they had the time to make soup??? It mattered not and will be filed in my memory as “nice things to remember from Pendle walks”. From here it was quite literally all downhill as we made mincemeat of the slope down Apronfull Hill and towards the cars parked near the Pendle quarries. Not many moments later perhaps surprisingly we were passing people whom were just beginning their ascent!

We reached our cars at roughly 16:05 about six hours and five minutes after setting off. If I could have guessed before what the time might be when we returned to our cars it would have been within twenty minutes of this! This had been a fantastic walk that started off easily, got even easier then got harder and finally became a nice gentle drop in. We had walked some 9.9 miles and ascended roughly 1,650′ which although less than my last few walks was something of an achievement.

I cannot think of Pendle Hill as being ‘just an hill’, I’ve tried…and to me it will never be so. I cannot ever express my feelings towards this spectacular locale without my eyes beginning to mist over (they are now). In short; I love it here. Today I got the chance to knowingly share this wonderful hill with some other people and to do so was a genuine pleasure. I’ve done all of the walks that I had planned for Horwich’s Winter Hill…it practically holds no secrets for me now. I don’t think, don’t want, to ever be in the position to say the same of Pendle…I will return in the spring to attempt the mighty Mearley Moor route, until then…Thank you Pendle for a truly great day out.

Picture courtesy of Mr K. Holden: The lovely path through the woods to the start of the climb.

We made exceptional progress and by roughly 09:30 we had arrived, adorned wet weather walking gear and set off across the verdant  pastures which would lead us to the wood at the very start of the climb. The route through the wood was so pleasant that it put me in mind of the path we had taken a year previously through lovely little Longridge. The walk so far had been hardly a challenge at all with essentially only the rain blowing off the grass with which to contend. This scenario was about to radically change as next we set off up a cobbled path slope that filled me with dread for the return route – the rocks were dubiously polished with a coating of greasy rain. It had to be said that the slope was steep, this part of the walk for some reason set me off thinking of the walk (from 2009) that Christine and I had taken to Skelgill Bank / Catbells…it was raining then as well! This was already proving to be a somewhat reflective walk!

Thirlmere – a reservoir of excellence!

At roughly 2’400 feet the mountain changed in character…gone was the all consuming cove that had kept the majority of the bad weather off us, this was now replaced by what can only be described as open moorland, but not relatively flat and unchallenging as at the likes of Spitlers Edge and Spence Moor…this was uphill, along a pitched path that was relentlessly steep and unforgiving. I had to take many stops and at one point chose to lie down and accept my fate – if I was to die of exposure here on the side of this mountain moor…then at least it would be quick and when all things are considered…painless. Fortunately for me Karl wasn’t as selfish as me and came back down the slope to gee me up, raise my spirits and make sure that the brave volunteers at Patterdale Mountain Rescue were not called out to hoist another badly prepared walker off the mountain…I can’t feel guilty about this but I certainly learned a lesson about preparing myself in the run up to a walk. Thank you Karl.

After some hours of walking and seeing less than twenty other walkers we began to bump into other soggy mountain walkers …and runners! Incredible as it may seem there was an abundance of “Bob Graham” runners out in force but with the final two hundred feet of the summit being shrouded in mist, they were heard (or in some cases herd!) before they were seen. This definitely added to the walk. We met once more with the would-be walkers of Striding Edge whom duly informed us that there had been an interjection of common sense…Striding edge wasn’t going anywhere so it would be better to attempt it with a good chance of being alive at the end of it!

Karl bounds off to the summit cairn!

It had been our intention originally to take in the nearby summits of Nethermost Pike and Dollywaggon Pike but we both agreed that this had been enough of an odyssey for one day, we were wet enough, those two lesser summits could be postponed to another day. Amazingly the route back down the mountain was completed in a third of the time that it had taken to get up it! Given that I do not descend well – this is widely documented, I was astounded by the two factors: I didn’t fall (especially on those slippery looking cobbles) and two the rain backed off…just long enough to throw some hailstones at us! All the way down the mountain Thirlmere popped in and out of view, it had been another companion during the walk up thus so it would remain on the way down, when all the other surrounding summits vanished into the once more descending mist, Thirlmere was still locatable.

We arrived at the car something like six hours after we had left it. This had been a tough walk, on a day with better weather I do believe I too would have fared better but as it was I would remain quite stiff-legged for the majority of the next week. Karl had once more been a fantastic companion, inspirational and positive and I was glad when we called in at the Travellers’ Rest en route to home for a pint of shandy in my case and an hot chocolate and bowl of chips for Karl. What a good day!

I will go back to Helvellyn on two more occasions 1: to fulfil my walking desire to do the Striding Edge, Helvellyn, Swirral Edge, Catstycam route and 2 to walk the entire Helvellyn range from Great Dodd in the north to Dollywaggon Pike in the south…rumour has it this is one great but arduous walk and I will get into shape for this.

I have referred more than once to Helvellyn as a reflective mountain and for me it was and may always be so. The more mountains I climb in England’s beautiful Lake District the more certain ones seem to be identifiable as having personality traits…or bringing out our particular traits and characters. Scafell Pike was the gifted one, the silver spoon recipient, the one with talent whom rested on its’ laurels? Skiddaw was the mountain of rewards for hard labour, the gentle and affable giant who would see you right if you gave it your full attention and respect. Helvellyn brought out in me a will to look backwards (incidentally Pendle also does this) to analyse and decide to reflect on life…I don’t think it was a chance happening that this was the mountain where I got the biggest drenching …and was supposed to do be immersed in water with all of the symbolism that may entail.

But it’s no Pendle! Yes there may be 1,291 feet between them but to me Pendle is the “bigger” hill and it is the next destination to tick off last December’s self-promised “to-do” list as Karl and myself and hopefully another few will take the lovely moorland route from the Nick O’ Pendle to the summit, through Barley and back again in October. In between now and then I shall at one point be within range of another beloved mountain as we jet off to the Costa Brava for a week where I am sure we will have a lovely day visit to the Catalunyan giant: Montserrat. Watch this space for holiday photos…

During a weekend break in the summer(?) of 2009 at Keswick, Christine and I attempted a walk up Keswick’s giant – Skiddaw. We gave up; thanks to an indefatigable wind, turned around and did Latrigg instead! Later on in the day a storm engulfed the town and local environment and we thanked our lucky stars for having the good sense to call off the walk up Skiddaw. I vowed to one day go back. This had stayed with me for four years and after my Scafell Pike walk last month had proved to me that I could get up the 3,000′ mountains Skiddaw seemed the next natural choice. I had high expectations for this walk and the weather, the mountain and my own performance did not disappoint:

The Hawell monument…worshiped by the sheep of Skiddaw

It was at roughly 9.20 that we (Karl and I) arrived at the car park atop Ormathwaite’s Gale Road: 54.618590, -3.115052, the previous ten days had been baking hot and there was every indication that today would be no different. I had packed into my backpack roughly 4.5 litres of water and was still only fairly confident that this would be ample. There would be nothing technical to our walk – go straight up the southern face of Skiddaw and maybe take in Little Man on the way back. The views although fantastic as always were somewhat hazy and that impacted upon their clarity. The Hawell monument was the first, in fact pretty much the only landmark which we passed and today it was surrounded by curious sheep whom seemed to be paying it, not us a great deal of attention. I had seen our path from the main A66 road several miles back and was fully aware of how long and steep it was…except that we are NEVER fully aware how long and steep our paths are going to be until we have done them! This was possibly the longest and steepest path I have ever attempted. Catbells, Winter Hill, Pendle Hill and even Scafell Pike are all fine, steep hills and mountains but not one of them compares to the sheer relentless plod up Skiddaw’s southern face…and the weather was not helping. After roughly one mile I had consumed my two half-litre water bottles…or at least their contents!

Whilst the views to our south included essentially 3/4 of the rest of the Lake District, to our immediate right hand side lay the more mundane face of Lonscale Fell – a mountain which was to stay with us for pretty much most of the walk. Lonscale Fell is probably my favourite illustration in all of the late, great, Alfred Wainwright’s pocket guides and I had informed Karl of my intention to get the best photograph of it that I could…but not from this angle which was of a rather banal lump! We stopped many times, on this occasion I took many photographs…except that I didn’t – I had inadvertently flicked the macro setting onto video and thus much later would discover that I had taken 40 movie files of roughly one to three seconds each!

After some distance we were confronted by a dilemma – to detour off our track and hike up the even steeper-looking path up to Skiddaw Little Man. This mountain is also a Wainwright and has a summit height of 2,838′ putting it into my “Top 20 to do” list, and it it were Autumn then I am fairly sure that we would have gone up it…but not this day in this heat, instead at the gate we were rewarded for our endeavour with the most wonderful gentle path with a very slight downhill stretch for a good three hundred yards.

Blencathra, shrinking violet? I think not!

Some mountains are relatively quiet and unassuming in their character, Sca fell for instance sits in its’ slightly bigger brothers shade putting obstacles like Lords Rake and Foxes tarn in front of one, almost stating “Leave me alone”. Then there’s Blencathara – the ultimate opposite! Blencathra entices and allures and for the rest of our journey Blencathra would dominate the view in no unassuming way, it’s an exceedingly attractive mountain and at 2,847′ is also on the “To do” list – thankfully not today! After many more stops and the countless cairns en route we started to hit the Birkets – first came South Top with its’ mighty cairn and then our goal- Middle Top the main and highest summit with trig point ‘an’ all!

The brilliant Ullock Pike ridge

Karl taking in the wonderful view of the Ullock Pike summit and ridge.

A slight but very welcome mist had begun to descend but as our views had been pretty hazy there wasn’t a great deal to spoil…save for the entire Helvellyn range temporarily absconding from view! In my opinion the very best feature of Skiddaw is its’ very top…it is simply amazing. I don’t know whether this is down to the mist or a fleeting attack of high-altitude light-headedness, but to me the summit had a somewhat ethereal feel to it!

The Top(s) of Skiddaw

Although I aim not to eulogise about the top of Skiddaw it was a great pleasure to sit here at the top taking in the views of everything lower than us (remember Helvellyn was still under cloud), with Blencathra tempting and Munsgisdale Common apologising for looking more like a Pennine hill than a Lake District Mountain. I could have spent many moments here…eventually I stood up and started taking photographs of the other side of the ridge aiming at the spectacular Ullock Pike with The Edge and Longside Edge, Carlside and Bassenthwaite Lake, Derwentwater – the lake and the fells…

After some moments we walked across to the north top – if this was fifty yards then I would be surprised and then back to the main summit again before beginning our descent of the main path for a few hundred yards whereby we abandoned the increasingly steep and stony drop in favour of the grassy drop down towards our new target – the grassy mound of Sale How.

Sale How

With a summit height of 2,105′ above sea level, making this technically a mountain, one might be forgiven for wondering why Mr Wainwright decided to omit this from Book five…in all honesty it has no outstanding features what-so-ever and as we already have the afore mentioned Mungrisdale Common as a mountain which resembles a Pennine Hill with no outstanding features…it would appear that Sale How has been usurped by its’ less than illustrious neighbour. The drop down to Sale How was in fact harder than the walk up to it! But then if one starts at an altitude of 3,054′ most things beneath this can be taken in one’s stride.

Lonscale Fell

Valley of the giants, one side Skiddaw’s massif, the other Blencathra’s.

We strode on towards the YHA at Skiddaw House in order to pick up the Cumbrian Way path that would take us past the now ever-present Lonscale Fell which was now appearing altogether much more attractive than it previously had some hours earlier. The Cumbrian Way meandered its’ and our way alongside; then part-way up Lonscale Fell as views of Blencathra opposite completely transformed its’ mean edgy profile into one of a gentle grass-covered mound.

Whit Beck

Admittedly the waterfalls and odd cave(?) did add a lot of interest – especially on an audio level as the sound of the water cascading across the valley was simply divine – given that my own reservoir was now somewhat lacking in freshness and getting warmer all the time, this added a feeling of revitalisation that my own water supply was unable to provide! We rounded a corner and the Eastern Fells came back into view as did little old Latrigg our final walking destination for the day…still at some distance away. We were to go over Whit Beck at first and I nearly said aloud my belief that this scene was so reminiscent of many little brooks and streams in the shadow of Winter Hill – surely this would border on the sacrilegious here in the Lake District?

At 16:50 we began our ascent of Latrigg via the green grassy path after ignoring Karl’s parked car, initially the idea was to drop off our backpacks at the car but we both agreed that to do so would result in our dropping off of ourselves at the car and us not completing our mission of bagging Latrigg – this being on Karl’s second Wainwright completion list and I was not sure that on my last time up Latrigg I had actually stood at the summit. Although I had wanted to simply charge up and down the little hill weary legs do not facilitate such frivolity – although Karl seemed to be coping with the day’s challenges remarkably well! All the same we made it to the summit soon enough, had a last lingering look over the beautiful Derwentwater and headed back down the less steep low-mobility route back to the car satisified with our day’s achievements.

An email from Karl on Sunday morning lit up my world as his mapping of the previous night revealed that our walk had been 10.8 miles and 3,200′ of ascent.

I promise to return this….soon!

I can not simply ‘do Skiddaw’ once and be done with it. The mountain is too special for such a slap in the face, perhaps others will simply tick it off their list and that be an end to it..not I. I promise myself to re-visit more times that wonderful summit and drink in the gorgeous views, the sense of space and elevation being much greater than other higher summits that I have been to recently. One day – when fitness levels may be up to the task I would love to walk the Edge over Ullock Pike and up to Skiddaw, traverse the summit and take in Little Man as well…one day. But for now farewell very friendly giant and I promise to bring back the tiny piece of you that I have borrowed for illustration’s purposes!

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My thighs feel like there’s a small scale explosion going off in them, my throat feels like I’ve been trying to gargle with nitric acid, I lost a car mat and my walking trousers are history. Would I do it again? Oh yeah!

With regret I only took a very small number of photographs on both my mobile phone camera and my digital one, yesterday’s walk was about me achieving an objective, the ascent of Scafell Pike and that was all that mattered. Of course just for proof’s sake I did need a photo of two, just so that the meta data could back up my claim and they are featured below. We (Karl and me) arrived at the lay-by / car park at Wasdale Head practically by the side of Wasdale National Trust Campsite: here at roughly 10:10 a.m. and set off roughly five minutes later. The route which we followed was the most straight forward and direct one which would afford us great views of Lords Rake, Hard Rigg, Illgill Head, Lingmell…almost too many to mention or recollect.

The Big Standy thing!

The walk up was hard, no two ways about it! I had read on the Mountain Rescue main website the guideline of take regular breaks – well who was I too argue with that? I would estimate that we took twenty on the way up, poor Karl’s camera must have been stuffed to brim with photos taken whilst I had to catch my breath! I had expected to see a lot of people en route as the weather for the day just could not have been more ideal – nice and sunny but not flag-cracking hot and with a breeze that at road level was just enough to keep the air fresh without being stifling, there were lots of people but the horrible image that I had dreaded – hoards of walkers queued up like at a supermarket aisle on a Thursday night, fortunately never materialised. The slog was hard in places but the sheer drama of the surrounding countryside was easily enough (for the most part) to take one’s mind of the burning thighs. Of course on the way up I did fall over – those darned Brasher Hillmasters are simply only good for walking on snow around urban routes! At times I jokingly cursed myself for looking up…at the summit (or where the summit would be) which brought a wry (knowing) smile from Karl! Eventually Karl encouraged “You can look up now! as the summit cairn, trig point and big standy thing, all came into view. I had to do a double take, even though it had taken us just short of four hours to get up to the top I could hardly believe that we had made it!

Scafell Pike summit is surrounded by boulders, on absolutely all sides! These are hard to walk on, at various times I couldn’t be sure whether I had two ankles, none or four! We spent a few seconds admiring the all round view from the summit standy thing then made our way across a short boulder field to a much more nice and secluded sheltered roofless hut made out of stone (essentially not an hut at all!) but this was a good place to be away from jubilant fellow ascendees, take in some fluids and have a sandwich (or Southern fried chicken wrap in my case). Although I had previously toyed with the idea with taking in another fell top or perhaps even two, by now I knew that I just wasn’t up to it. We headed across the boulder field to return to the front of the big standy thing and the dreaded white stones!

Oh my word did I soon come to loathe those little white stones that slide from underneath one’s feet as soon as they are stood upon. In recollection now I do wish that I had brought one home with me! At the time however within the next half an hour I was to fall over another three times and even retorted to Karl that upon a lotto win I was going to fund a project to have the entire summit top covered in tarmac – although not quite so eloquently. In all honesty though the minor indignity of falling over in front of complete strangers that one is hardly likely to ever re-encounter (and is more than likely going to have a very similar experience, or has already had one) is a tiny price to pay for the privilege of walking up a fine rugged mountain – the highest in England, in glorious conditions with great company.

The trip (pardon the pun) back down to the car was long, really long, I slowed us down terribly because my nerve just doesn’t hold out when walking down any hill (I take my time coming down Stang Top Moor and that’s on grass!) this does not bode well for any future Striding Edge walking ambitions that I might have had, but all the while I knew two things: 1 – I had walked up to Scafell Pike and 2 There was a pint of Shandy awaiting me at the Wasdale Head Inn. We reached the car at roughly 17:30 – about seven and a quarter hours there and back was more than I could have hoped to attain as the Mountain Rescue Website had advised seven hours for fit walkers (and I am in no way a fit walker!). We drove over to the pub and had our shandy and it did taste all the better for our day’s experience! On the way home we called in at a chip shop – the name of which currently escapes me where I had a jumbo sausage and chips with gravy – a treat I thought I thoroughly deserved.

I’ve resolved to walk the top ten English Mountains and have effectively started at the top, although for four years I have wanted to walk the mighty Cross Fell – king of the Pennines in that time I have always rued the chance that I had to walk the gentle giant that is Skiddaw, as such I would want this to be the next mountain for me to ascend…so watch this space!

Time taken 7.25 hours
Distance 5.30 Miles
Altitude 3,50 feet

Where Next?

The difference in height between my last mountain walk – Whernside in 2009 and this one is a staggering 795 feet – over half a Winter Hill’s worth I know of people whom have climbed Ben Nevis and consider their walking career(?) over – well they are not going to get higher in the U.K. now are they? I am not of this mindset! For me Scafell Pike marks a beginning not an end to my walking explorations. Admittedly it might be some time before my visa is accepted by the Lake District Climate Control – it rains a lot there…and Yorkshire is no dry zone neither. We got incredibly lucky with the weather and that has not been overlooked. I would love to tackle Helvellyn – especially the airiness of Striding Edge but before killing myself in attempting to do this I have to retire my Brashers! They had me over at least four times on this route, probably even more times when I first started to wear them at Whernside in 09 (funny how that keeps cropping up today). I already have some other boots and would want to try these out on a safer – but still relatively demanding Lake District route – Skiddaw springs to mind.

In summing these are my remaining achievable walking goals ‘though not necessarily for this year:

Cumbria

Scafell Pike from Seathwaite Farm via Grains Gill
Scafell
Helvellyn via Striding Edge
Skiddaw and Skiddaw Little Man
Great End
Bowfell
Great Gable
Cross Fell
Pillar
Nethermost Pike

Rest of England

Pendle from the Nick O’ Pendle
Clougha – Grit Fell – Ward’s Stone-Wolfhole Crag
And many others…

A Distant Winter Hill

The weather was beautiful when I parked at the car park on Crookfield Road, a blue sky and a blazing sun greeted me as I began the gentle then awkward path up the side of Redmonds Edge. I had decided that today I would tackle Great Hill first as this had been the stumbling block on both previous visits. It has to be said that after my last two walks had been on flat pavement (and whatever that is on Churchtown Moss!) walking through the peat and heather today was a shin-splint-inducing procedure and I had to stop and quite literally stretch my legs a number of times.

The slabbed path up to Great Hill

Within 3/4 of an hour I was greeted by the welcome sight of the signpost atop Great Hill, the slabbed path is such a blessing as the surrounding moorland is something of a cattlewade for most of the year, without the slabbs it is unlikely that most peak baggers would give these minor summits a general miss! Whilst sat at the cross shelter talking to two lady ramblers and a male jogger I happened to catch sight of some distant smoke behind Darwen Hill. This did have a dread-filling effect on me, was this to be another walk aborted owing to fire? I soon made haste.

Path to and beyond Drinkwaters

The path down to White Coppice via the ruins of Drinkwaters is mostly an utter blessing. The views of nearby Grain Pole hill, Hurst Hill and Round Loaf offer previews of potential days out to come and the surrounding countryside is lovely. Granted the path can get a bit bumpy in places but never so bad that one’s eyes remain solely focussed on one’s feet – the effect experienced when descending the steps at Barley for example.

Great Hill aft view.

On the odd occasion I turned around to admire the view back up to Great Hill’s summit and was suitably impressed at the slope and had no desire to walk back up it again. Having previously walked up Great Hill on my own and as part of a walking forum meetup I can vouch for the steepness of the first half of the path up from White Coppice. Before long I was now at the steepest section that requires little physical effort but a rather concentrated state of mind.

The Goit

As expected lots of people were out and about on the moors and hills today, I caught sight of a few people atop Round Loaf (although my poor little Nokia 6730 phone’s camera did not pick these up) and passed a lot of people in couples whilst descending Great Hill. At White Coppice even more people were en route enjoying this rare glimpse of English good weather!

Stronstrey Bank – or Grain Pole Hill…or Hurst Hill, definition really needed here

As I passed by the image here on the right I did wonder about the possibility of my climbing it as the lush green path beginning at it’s base was very tempting. The cliffs at the top however did instil in me a degree of common sense and when I caught sight of the signing warning of a deep quarry…fear trumps curiosity!

The River Yarrow

As a budding river geek, I was looking forward to the next stretch of the walk as I would be passing over or near several different bodies of water – there is a lot of water akin to these moors. I passed over The Goit then made my way up several short sharp inclines on Moor Road, true the views did open up and get truly impressive but by goodness there are some hard uphill slogs. At one point overlooking Angelzarke Reservoir there is a truly spectacular view of Angelzarke, Upper and Lower Rivington reservoirs lined up as if somehow posing for the camera!

Jepson’s Gate

Healey Nab

After something like three hours walking with many up and downhill stretches I was beginning to notice Rivington Pike get nearer, even the Dovecote was now getting larger, but the weather was relentless, the sun continued to beat down on me and I gave up on the notion of saving my lunch stop until the Japanese gardens and had my Chicken Salad sandwiches and Mars milk by the side of the road at Sheep House Lane (that sounds far more quaint and twee than it really is!).

Distant views over to Whimberry Hill, Wilder’s Moor and Wilderswood.

The wide and spongy western path to Winter Hill.

Now came something that I was vastly unprepared for, people, lots and lots of people many of whom had with them very-reluctant-to-walk-children. Parents, if your screaming kids don’t want to walk up the side of an hill on a scorching hot spring afternoon…enough said. The march up to Rivington Pike was straight forward, my coat which was now hanging around my waist kept attempting a bid for freedom, I noticed for the first time that my water rations might just be inadequate and the people just seemed to keep appearing from all angles – whilst atop the Pike I noticed a good few attempting the spongy western path across to Winter Hill, if any day was going to be dry enough for that then it was today.

View of the Pike from outside Rivington Dog Hotel (no, honestly)

The start of the path up Crooked Edge Hill.

I must have stayed atop the Pike for ten or maybe fifteen minutes. Oddly there was scarcely any space to stretch out so I just sat upright and took lots of photographs. With an heavy heart I set off down the steepest and trickiest eastern route down over towards Brown Hill and then onto Belmont Road / Rivington Lane / whatever. Crooked Edge hill was the next leg of today’s epic trail and at times with the ever present sunshine it appeared to be getting further away from me. Every time that I have attempted this trail the sun has been an almost constant companion but never to this degree, I had to stop several times en route up what has to be said is quite a gentle slope just in order to catch my breath. At the summit cairns (or Lads!) I stopped if only because the cairn cast such great shadows. At this point I still had effectively three hills to traverse – four if I decided to go over Noon Hill but that was looking unlikely with the water crises.

The meeting of the paths.

Winter Hill summit was next to be ticked off as I walked east then due north from Crooked Edge and straight up the tarmac roadway to the T.V. transmitter building. I stopped here as this was another location that offered terrific shade. I stayed for five or ten minutes listening to some cyclists whom had taken turns overtaking both me and each other on the way up the road. At Winter Hill ordnance survey column I decided that 1: Noon Hill just was not going to happen and 2: I was going to be brave and descend the fearsome northern face as this would avoid putting on to the route yet another five hundred metres if I dropped off the hill by the lovely north western path. Fortunately enough the northern drop wasn’t anywhere near as steep on descent as i had mis-estimated, there are tricky points but by comparison Barley steps are far worse. At the bottom of the descent lies Hordern Stoops, this is a slightly downhill track but today it seemed far more arduous – once again the sun’s omnipresence just was not aiding me along. By the time I slogged across the soft peaty track I was pretty much spent! I had no water or food left – not that I could have eaten anything anyway. I crossed Rivington Road (the biker’s race track) and paused looking in trepidation at Spitlers Edge – my legs would simply not get me up it!

I spent some time chatting to a lovely couple Mike and Donna whom had been to Southport and back (oh irony!) and a biker whom donated his remaining bottle of water to my now desperately dehydrated cause. The decision was made to keep on the road (or at least by the side of it) to Belmont and then to call in at the Black Bull pub in order to re-hydrate. The walk down Rivington Road, Belmont would probably be a lovely end to a pleasant evening walk in normal circumstances, there are wonderful views on all sides to behold but I was just too wary to get the phone out and take more photographs, I will return…soon. Ultimately it was with nothing short of utter joy when I stumbled into the Black Bull and ordered a diet coke – well I was driving home later! I made a call to my dad regaling my tale of my walk and how it had gone wrong (damn weather) and how I now had over a mile worth of uphill roadside walking to do before I would get to my car…this seemed to fall on deaf ears!

After finishing my drink I turned left on to Belmont Road and walked slightly uphill for almost a mile to my car…I had survived without going into real, full-blown dehydration and had covered (I did have my Etrex with me) 14.8 miles…alas it doesn’t measure aggregate altitude! In summing the route is wonderful, on a normal spring or early autumn day it would be a joy. With company this would truly be a classic and a damn sight easier to complete. I still have not made the full route (in any direction) that takes in Great Hill, Rivington Pike, Crooked Edge Hill, Winter Hill, Spitlers Edge and Redmonds Edge…I’m not entirely sure that I ever will or am even meant to! I am due to walk the three peaks of Yorkshire in June and in all honesty I am expecting that to be easier – that peat at Crooked Edge hill and Hordern Stoops is just crippling! I aim to try this yet again (fourth time lucky?) in early autumn.

Map

Time taken :8 hours 40 minutes including many, many stops

Distance 14.8 miles

Terrain: Mixed from tarmac roads and paving, rough peaty moorland, grit and sand stone paths, heather-clad moorland Pennines terrain.

Common sense dictates that road walks should never be more than fifteen miles long, there is only so much pressure which one can subject one’s feet to endure before…they stop enduring, to mix and match road and off-road generally is okay up to about 25 miles but any more than this and the feet are really going to be in a sorry state for some time afterwards. With this in mind I decided to cut into two parts my Coast to Crops walk. On Tuesday I did the first half and here is how it unfolded:

Northern path to Marshside

I walked pretty much all the length of Leyland Road to Promenade and then crossed the road and turned right onto Fairways passing what used to be Dragon’s gymn! It was a beautiful, moderately (for this year) warm day but on Fairways the wind off the Irish Sea immediately to the west can sometimes be described as gale-like, today was not an exception. It was with some relief for my ears when I turned ninety degrees north onto Marine Drive – a road with which I have recently had a great deal of contact, having walked along most of it just over two weeks ago. On my last walk I came to loathe cyclists, as such I took the decision to climb down the slope that would take me away from the dual-lane, cycle-path that leads the entire length of Marine Drive and dropped down to the “golden” (it’s just impacted sand really) path which leads all the way up to the R.S.P.B. sanctuary at Marshside.

Pond at Marshside Golf Course

Southport Golf Links

After a little distance I crossed the main road and went onto Hesketh Road the next part of the walk would feature a slightly perilous dissection of a golf course. Two golf courses flank Hesketh Drive, the municipal one on my right hand side and the more exclusive-looking Hesketh on my left – of course it would be the one on my left that would convey my walk across glorious landscapes across to Marshside with Marshside Moss to the left of me.

Crossens Moss

Across Marshside Moss

Golfers seemed to be out en masse today but thankfully we kept out of each other’s way. At Marshside Road I crossed over on to the most northerly reaches of the Sefton Coastal Path and eventually came out onto Marine Drive once more in order to make my way onto the path through Fiddler’s Ferry having passed by the sewage works.

Parish Church Of St. Stephen

The last time that I walked along Banks Road I went South East to Waters Lane but this time I headed North East onto the interestingly named Ralph’s Wife’s Lane as I wanted to buy something to drink from the “Late Shop” on this road. At some invisible point I crossed the boundary from Fiddler’s Ferry to Banks. Banks is something of a parody: it’s full of nothingness, it’s right next to the coast that cannot be seen, its’ quiet country road plays host to some of the fastest moving traffic in the area – I love Banks!

Lambs at Hollywood Farm

Having purchased enough fluids to see me through the next five miles I then had to double back a short distance before following a winding urban road that would bring me out just next to the race track that is the A565. Fortunately enough it was not as much of an extreme sport as normal today and within a moment I was heading down Gravel Road towards Churchtown Moss. I passed these cute lambs at the fantastically named “Hollywood Farm” – no celebrities, no Holly and no trees at all come to think of it, but the sheep were cute. At the southern apex of the road instead of bearing with the road I went off-road onto a single track affair with extensive views of the local environment. Parbold and Harrock hills both appeared from the east as did Winter hill and distant glimpses of Ashust Hill – ‘though my eyes are no longer good enough to pick out the beacon! Dear old Pendle alas lay hidden in the haze!

Settlement near Nuck’s Wood

The track back through Churchtown Moss is immense, seemingly never-ending, even if one is enjoying being out in the sun (at last), in  total, from the roundabout at the A565 to the roundabout where my route would be more urban is five miles in length during which time I saw four cars – most of which gave me a lovely sandblasting as they hurtled passed me on a road that could reduce any car’s suspension to scrap metal after a couple of miles. As I reached the bend in the road where Common Lane splits into two I happened to spy an American Flag and the flags of a few other nations at what I believe is known as “Western Frontier” a theme pub in pretty much the middle of nowhere but there did seem to be a settlement with a Christian building, go on, we’ll call it a church even if the o/s doesn’t! After passing the distant Nuck’s Wood eventually I was off the wonderfully named “Long Meaneygate” and onto Moss Lane. I passed a lovely little black Shetland Pony but was unable to get a decent photo as 1 I had nothing for it to eat and 2 I was casting shadows all over the place and ruining the composition…next time.

I had worn an insect repellent with built in sun protection today but by this time the heat had begun to make my forehead sweat quite profusely – which then ran into my left eye, the pain transited from mildly irritating to “Oh my God I want to rip my eye out!” but eventually subsided. Within the hour – after I had been on the walk for almost four and an half hours I was on Hesketh Drive – my warm-up route which indicated less than a mile to go…hurray my feet were frustratingly hot!

In summing this was a very easy walk on which I regretted taking my ‘big’ camera and wished that I had taken my former ‘trusted’ smaller 5 mega-pixel one as it is a damn site easier to fit into one’s fleece pocket. The weather had almost been too kind and I had delighted once more at the subtle complexity of Southport’s water system having been passed a pumping station, several ponds, a few lakes and the clear as a bell “Sluice” as well as the Crossens and Marshside Moss’es – no wonder I was so thirsty!

Walk stats:

Distance 12.25 miles, Height gain - negligible, time taken 4 hours and twenty five minutes inclusive of two shop stops. The map can be found here.

I had posted a Walking Forum meet-up way back in January, no interest had been shown and to be honest the weather at the time had taken a turn for the wet, subsequently it never happened. Last week, after Sunday night’s snowfall it became apparent that my walk up England’s highest, Scafell Pike might just have to be moved to a warmer date also…I mentally looked around for a walk that I could do on Sunday. The Winter Hill Western route came to mind and I returned to the post on the forum to indicate that I would be going on Sunday. I had just the one positive respondent – Sheenah and at 10:50 on Sunday morning we set off from the upper car park at the Rivington Hall Barn. En route to the walk, roughly five miles from Southport I was astounded to see just how much snow was atop the Winter Hill massif, I had assumed that the rain we had been subjected to for the last 48 hours would have melted any residual snow, but how wrong I was.
The car park itself was virtually free of snow but the rest of the area had a decidedly wintry feel to it. We first headed up the bridleway to the left of the barn – which has been my normal route for every visit in the last four years, however I decided today to not head across the usual sheep-filled paddock near the northern car park akin to Moses Cocker believing it to be probably like a cattle wade given the recent weather. Instead we swung right just skirting the mixed tree plantations and made our way up a very newly laid gravel path. Ordinarily this route is a calf-warming, slippery and non-enjoyable quick bolt up the side of the hill where something in the region of 5 metres in height is gained in about 30 metres in length. The gravel really facilitated progress and before long we were on the main tourist path up to the terraced Gardens – I had promised to show Sheena the lake at the Japanese Gardens.

Lord Leverhulme’s vision

The path up to the Pike, with added snow for interest!

The gardens were looking more lovely than usual today – snow helps like that! We didn’t spend very long at the lake – it is very easy to loiter here and instead made fairly rapid progress up to Belmont Road (don’t get me started) and our first view of the day of Rivington Pike – having been warned by another walker that although the steps were clear the rest of the path up to the Pike was a bit treacherous. In actuality I didn’t find the path any harder than usual, I was surprised at the amount of people that were enjoying the morning. It was heart-warming once more to see the great British public out and about enjoying the environment.

The north western view from the Pike

The way up to the Pike via the steps seemed slightly easier for me on this day – compared to normal, at its’ apex I was not the usual hyperventilating mess and I did wonder if this had been in any part thanks to the ascension of Pendle two weeks prior to this… was I getting fitter? I think that we spent around five or maybe ten minutes atop Rivington Pike admiring the views to everywhere and naming every reservoir in the area – there are lots around here. Soon enough the time came to set off on what I knew was going to be without doubt the hardest section – the long haul over the ankle twisting, tussock-filled western path to Winter Hill. At the start of the path we encountered another duo of walkers whom I believed would be taking our route…at the last moment they shunned the entrance preferring (I imagine) to take the more easy route to Winter Hill via Crooked Edge Hill.

The aft view to Rivington Pike from Rivington Moor.

My last attempt at this route was in September 2009 and was not successful, I capitulated to the never ending grassy tussocks and the ever-present springs which seemed to appear under every footstep. I had previously stated that I wanted really cold weather for my next attempt, nature had obliged so I had no option but to put my very best effort into the traversal. Our views behind to Rivington Pike were just fantastic…with just one drawback – we couldn’t see the screens on our camera/phones owing to the dazzling white of the snow and the weird but captivating light from above. The cloud formations were at one and the same time threatening but tremendous, awesome but exciting.

The trig point at Winter Hill 456 metres above sea level.

We saw others gathering at the top of the Pike but none descended the northern route to join us, they must have thought that we were mad, brave or a special combination of the two…but we made it and without much incident, the snow had taken away that element which threatens every walker, every walk – doubt! When one cannot see the obstacles – in this case mud and many tussocks, they somehow lose their power to impede progress (within reason), we fall, trip, fail because we see what will make us fall, trip and fail. The snow had played the part of a natural equalizer here and I was very grateful and practically joyous when our feet finally met with Terra-tarmac at Winter Hill road.

The view over Belmont towards Darwen Hill.

Within five minutes we were at the ordnance survey column and the highest part of the route. As could be expected, the views across to Belmont and Great Hill with the Pennines behind, were brilliant. Pendle Hill looked simply stunning shrouded in a thick layer of snow. Alas, my camera chose not to process the photos that I had taken at this point so I will just have to wait to show this beautiful spectacle.We agreed to postpone our lunch until such time as that we were in a slightly warmer environment, in actuality this was some time later as on our descent of Smithills Moor we were so occupied by the desire not to fall over on this very uneven path that we simply forgot about food! It was with such relief we found the shooting hut formerly belonging to Colonel Ainsworth

.

Dean Brook reservoir looking stunning.

A long trek back to Winter Hill is in store for us.

All the time whilst we were dropping down the moor I was concerned as to whether I would be able to get back up it again, I consoled myself with the alternate thought of the embarrassment of the prospect of a mountain rescue – there was an helicopter circling above for the entire walk, this did the job of spurring me on! After our lunch stop we headed south east and up a short slope that would lead us to the picturesque Dean Brook Reservoir, the last time I was here the temperature would have been close to twenty five degrees, today I reckoned it was probably closer to three!  Winter Hill mast, although still a difficult object to ignore, was now appearing less imposing than before. I guessed that we now had over a mile and an half worth of ascent through snow and not for the first time my heart sank a little…

Some people need vans to get up here!

The trek back up Counting hill was a long trudge, there was much stumbling from yours truly as the snow seemed to be a little deeper on this face of the massif and the terrain was decidedly bumpier. I had no doubts that if the snow were to be washed instantly away the full pock-marked landscape would be revealed to us in all its’ acne-like glory. We soldiered on. Our immediate target was a ridge of peat hags that even when I look at the ordnance survey map today – is not highlighted as being the summit, the apex of Counting Hill. It’s summit is like others that I have encountered, unmarked, without cairn or column and pretty much indistinguishable. Nobody but a peak bagger would make Counting Hill their day’s prime objective. I was just short of euphoric when Sheena pointed our the not so distant road at Winter Hill – we had made it up the hill, dragging (what felt like) half of it with us!

Our descent off Winter Hill was fast, really fast! I don’t know if this was we could now move freely unencumbered by the combination of snow and peat or because by now it was 16:00 which left us just two hours to get back to our cars – or maybe it’s just that I walk slowly compared to others! Whatever, we opted not to go over Crooked Edge Hill and Two Lads – we’d had more than our fair share of peaty, bumpy terrain and speaking from experience it’s quite easy to lose one’s footing on the descent from Crooked Edge Hill. Instead we stuck with the road (having first taken a couple of photos of an illuminated Manchester) and deployed guesswork as to which path would lead us back to Belmont Road. At this point my right leg began to feel like the knee might never function as an independent joint as I now went stiff-legged and this was frightfully painful. The thought of a hot cup of coffee whether imminently or at home spurred me on, clumsily. I was still enjoying the walk but realised that when I would eventually get home; painkillers would be consumed!

Ultimately we merged with the Belmont Road sand and stone path and from there pretty much retraced our footsteps back into the terraced gardens, down the new gravel path, passed the mixed tree plantation and onto the lovely bridleway which we had ascended some six hours earlier. My feet were killing me by now but Sheena was coping admirably – she has a lot more distant walking experience (Yorkshire 3 Peaks, Hadrian’s Wall etc), that’s my reasoning and I’m sticking to it. At 16:50 (ish) I arrived back at my car having walked for six hours over roughly nine and an half hours and how many feet/metres I cannot yet report, but it was all definitely worth it.

Stang Top Moor trig point with Pendle Hill in the background.

I had meant to turn off and make my way over to the start of Aitken Wood but my feet just kept on going and before very long I was on the ascent towards the outdoor centre at White Hough and up a somewhat bumpy country lane which had an aroma all of its’s own and evidence that horses had been ridden down here recently. The views soon began to open out and the weather was apparently doing its’ best to put on a good show. I still couldn’t see an entrance into Aitken Wood so continued up through a sheep-filled field with an inkling that around the corner or maybe a couple of corners was the ordnance survey column at Stang Top Moor. After exchanging threatening looks with a sheep whom looked like she was ready to launch an assault I got sight of my newly coveted quarry and the column came into view. This gave me the chance to change the batteries in the camera that I had with me – it was its’ first walk and to be honest was proving to be a chest-bouncing pain in the backside (sic). At the trig point I phoned home (it is impossible to get a mobile phone signal from down in the valley at Barley and I do like to let my fiancé know that I got to my destination safe and sound.

The realisation that for the majority of the next two miles would be downhill ones all the way to the Moss reservoirs put a spring in my step and I made what felt like record progress all the way to the most attractive of the two – Upper Black Moss reservoir. At every turn there seemed to be small groups of people and it has to be said that after my solitary stroll up Stang Top Moor it was good to see other soles around. The next leg of my walk would be be no walk in the park as I walked in-between the Black Moss Reservoirs and headed via the fields – one of which allegedly had a bull in it if the sign at the other side of the field was to be believed!

Lets hope there is no bull in this field as well!

This was a hard slog, STM was hardly a breeze in itself but this was something else, having only previously walked in the opposite direction and that was downhill the path through to Higher Laithe was tougher than I had expected. Finally near Windy Harbour I had to decide between the constructed driveway to Barley Road or the concessionary path in a 120 degree direction – both would lead me to Barley Road but one was via heavy field and the other…had a sodding big tractor now chugging along it – so the field was now the only direction! As it happens the going via the field was a lot lighter than I had dared to hope and I estimate that I made it through within five or six minutes.

The alternate path up to Big End…just as hard as the steps!

Now came the start of the real deal, the main tough uncompromising section of the walk. I crossed Barley Road and headed to the area known as Pendle Side, I would not be taking on the infamous steps today…thank goodness but to just feel them next to me was like carrying a burden my route would skirt around the lower slopes of the hill and carry me over to Under Pendle and over Ogden Hill…I think, Ogden hill being one of those hills when one doesn’t really know when it has started or finished! The going was very easy if somewhat muddy and progress was only impeded every so often by me taking in the scenery – this was all a very nice reminder of Aug 18th’s Pendle Witch Walk and I was feeling nostalgic. I encountered hardly anybody on this stretch of the route, a cyclist warned me that another cyclist would soon be flying around the corner with a dog but not to worry as the dog would just carry on regardless. I commented that this was lucky as there was not much I could have done about it anyway.

My route skirting the slopes, nice and gentle…

My end to this particular path came almost too soon, the easy part was over and now for the ascent of what one woman to whom I later spoke referred to as “Whimberry Hill”. This is not featured on Bing maps or my ordnance survey map and I shall refer to the route as traversing Deep Clough Spring! After several hundred feet in distance my path merged with the alternate Barley path featured in one of the photographs above then after many stops and a good few conversations with relative strangers – I really had missed the company of others today. This joint path merged with the main one leading up from the southern ascent “Boar Clough”. All around was peat, apart from where the humans where, this was not as busy as last August’s walk but it was certainly as busy as a Halloween Pendle walk. Noticeable was that the weather had taken a turn for the cool – as is the case more often than not on Fat Goat Pendle Walks. I extended and increased my stride to get me to the trig point, my second of the day and because the weather was certainly getting too cool for comfort.

Not a “yellow brick” road! And yes that is snow on the left hand side!

The views from 1,827′ were…pretty rubbish really. The haze was well and truly down, the only summits that I could make out were: Longridge Fell, Parlick and Beacon Fell, I know that out there were Pen-y-ghent, Ingleborough, Whernside and Fair Snape Fell…but there was no supporting evidence! After taking a group photo for a pair of couples and causing a falling out between them when I lied about the men having brought then up the hill the hardest way – Barley’s steps (Worston Moor via Burst Clough is officially the hardest route!). The slabs instilled in me a certain de-ja-vous of being on the Pennine Way…the trouble is that I have never been on the Pennine Way (okay I have done the Pen-y-ghent stretch but that’s about it!), whilst it’s true to say that they were very functional – but oh how boring! Even the tiny undulations, the glimpses of what swelled of either side of them (lots and lots of sticky peat and other chemicals which one wouldn’t wish to trod over a carpet!) did not seem to outweigh the fact that this was a very boring path! I had wanted to do this path for a couple of years now…I’m done, I would rather stick to the tourists steps even though they can be absolute killers!

I crossed over Pendle Water at pretty much its’ beginning, the last few steps were taken with extreme care as this was one of the most remote sections of the route. A trip here would lead to a certain disaster…and the same could be said for the next couple of miles as I forded the minor stream and rose up to the shadow of the omni-present Spence Moor and its’ somberness! I thought that I would never hear stillness again; the wind although not tumultuous was just on-going and the path although organic…needs work as in parts it was exceptionally slippery. A number of descents had to be made and invariably this involved a sideways crab-like manner over terrain that was part-peat, part sandstone rock with the odd patch of limestone thrown in for good measure, after a good warm spell this would be a pleasure to walk upon, on my day it certainly got the adrenalin pumping. Ogden Clough was not quite the walkers’ utopia that I had expected. The beauty here was of the kind which lovers of simple moorland views rave about.

The lonely Hawthorn – Rowan!

After fording the stream another few times I hit the bottom of Boar Clough – and now it will be treated by me with a much more deserved regard – it’s so much nicer than Ogden Clough and I do always feel sorry for the poor isolated lonely Hawthorn (yes I know it is actually a Rowan tree). The path became easier to walk, the descents far less frequent and less challenging and the rain held off for the whole of the walk and after that. I considered my quandary, should I stick to my plan and at the base of the Upper Ogden reservoir head uphill towards Fell Wood and Cockdole? I spied a walker slowly making his way up the very steep slope and this made my mind up for me!

The Upper Ogden Reservoir.

There was nobody around with a gun pointed at my head! No golden ticket was being wafted from the hill to my right, thus with aching feet and legs that seemed to now hate me I took the executive decision to stay on the track that would lead me down back into Barley and save the Cockdole ascension for another day – preferably when I will be in a better shape. Sadly the weather was now getting biting cold so the camera was put back into my backpack for the umpteenth time today and this time I resolved to leave it there until I got home even though this lead to no pictures of the Lower Ogden Reservoir – the most scenic.

Pendle Hill

Finally I arrived back at Barley Visitor Car Park at 15.25 hours, five hours and ten minutes after I had set off and something like an hour earlier than I had forecasted however, if I had been with someone else then we would have probably spurred each other on into ascending Cockdole and added the other hour back onto the route. There were some utterly fantastic sights to be seen at Pendle today, the views of Pendle Hill itself on the way down from Stang Top Moor (I hope) will stay with me forever. Seeing so many people enjoying the glorious Lancashire landscape was heartwarming beyond my ability to express. My choice of path across the hill itself was a good one that gave me the opportunity to focus on the landscape – as opposed to other routes that grant one the chance to focus on just how hard the route is! I doubt that I will ever encounter Ogden Clough again, even if this is a part of the Nick O’ Pendle route – it’s just so barren and bleak, and bloody slippery. I am more than happy to have done the route today and it has acted as a severe reality check for the up and coming Yorkshire Three Peaks event.

This year, in a similar vein; I do want to state where I will be walking, but for once am going to refrain from attempting to detail every single destination in what month and just state that this year I hope to get to / do the following:

Scafell Pike – this is set for the first week in February and I have to be honest, the weather forecast isn’t looking too good! This may have to be moved a month or two forward as in my opinion it is selfish for an inexperienced snow-walker, to go up such a height in inclement conditions…and I don’t like being freezing cold! (Update done…in June from Wasdale head so the Borrowdale / Seathwaite route is still on the to-do list for some point in the future.)

The Four Peaks of Parbold in May – as I am doing this for charity then I’d better damn well do this one. For more details see here. (Update, postponed indefinitely owing to lack of support!)

The Three Peaks of Yorkshire – there’s a new path bypassing the major boggy bits and a new resolution from me to complete this epic trail over Pen-y-ghent, Whernside and Ingleborough. Part of me wants to do this on my own, but common sense dictates that I should team up with someone. (Update, postponed indefinitely owing to lack of support!) Helvellyn via Striding Edge, I am hoping that we get a few dry, sunny days this year as that is the only weather in which I will attempt this mildly dangerous walk up to England’s third highest summit. (Update, done but not Striding Edge as to do so on the day we went would have been reckless at best)

Winter Hill the western and eastern approaches. When I have done these two routes (possibly in one day) I will have conquered Winter Hill from eight compass points. (Update done…both on one day in snow).Pendle Hill via Ogden Clough – it’s taken me long enough to even find the flagged path atop Big End which should lead me back down Ogden Clough passing views of the ominous Spence Moor. After this I can begin my tick-off list of Pendle ascents having ascended by just the three (Barley steps, Barley Slope and Boar Clough) so far, the Nick O’ Pendle route should be next after this.

So that’s it! Those are the definite, must-do ones for the year and if I only did those then although I could be classed as lazy I would be happy to have ticked off two twenty five mile challenges and the highest and third highest summits of the country! Hopefully, with a bit of luck and good weather I should be able to fit in a lot more, I’d love to return to Darwen hill – in spite of it always being subject to horrendous wind and I do aim to get back to Longridge Fell as soon as possible before the hazy days eat up that fantastic view across to Bleasedale.

I started going to the gym in March and have enjoyed it, I adamantly believe that the gym visits propelled me up the hill quicker in August during my mammoth Pendle Witch walks but afterwards the drive seemed to simply abandon me and the gym visits really have backed off!

Thus as per the first paragraph, I’ve arrived at the conclusion that I once more need a target at which I can aim. In 2012 my first walk that was more than “’round the block” was Rivington Pike – and it was thoroughly enjoyable, in 2013 I shall aim to conquer another “Pike”…Scafell Pike. I have an associate via the Walking Forum who: A: Has done the “Pike” a number of times and B: is willing to put up with my rather lesser-paced approach to walking. In an ideal world there would be roughly four of us but two or three is also good. Did I mention the date? Sunday the third of February. I’m not naive, there will be more than a slight chill at that time of year but I am hopeful that the rain will hold off…although given the proximity to Borrowdale – England’s wettest locale; then I won’t be surprised if there is a soaking to be had.

Image courtesy of: http://www.wmrt.org.uk/the-easiest-way-up/the-easiest-way-up-scafell-pike/