Collected Musings of a Hill Wanderer

It's amazing where a moment of curiosity might take you. The weekend before saw me checking out the travel possibilities for Keswick while pondering the reality of a day outing to Dyffryn Ardudwy was what was to follow it. The trouble with the latter is that the last train back is often at around 16:30 and that constrains the amount of time available for exploring the nearby hills. However, an 18:30 return journey made things a little more interesting, even if it added a late finish to an early start. That extra time available made reaching the top of Diffwys a possibility.

It wouldn't have been the first time that I ever thought of reaching Diffwys. Various forays around Dolgellau may have sown the seeds when northern hills looked better lit than the clag attractor that is Cadair Idris. A Spring Bank Holiday weekend stay in the area was when the prospect really came to mind an out and back walk from Barmouth wasn't going to happen in the time that was available to me on a gloriously sunny Sunday. That reality may have been the cause of extending my explorations to the north with some recce around Harlech of a sunny December day when low cloud hogged the Rhinogau. Next up was a wet weather walk from Tal-y-bont to Dyffryn Ardudwy via Pont-Scethin at the end of the following June. That wasn't what I intended but I left the train a (request) stop too early and needed to make the best of the wilder surroundings that were new to me. Last February saw me drop in with notions of reaching the summit of Moelfre but low cloud discouraged me and a circular hike around the hill was what ensued.

In many ways, the route for last weekend's stroll echo that of a year before. Starting from the (right) train station, I headed for the nearby burial chambers and passed them on a right of way that took me onto Fford Gors. Road walking conveyed me towards and past Cors y Geddl Hall to reach a gravel track that has seen my footfall a few times already. Moelfre loomed ahead of me and there were ample views along the coast of the hills to the north. In fact, I'd venture that Snowdon itself could be seen, stained with streaks of winter whiteness. More hilly humps lay to the west of it and took the eye out the Llyn Peninsula.

While I didn't rush along, I didn't dawdle either as I walked closer to the foot of Moelfre until I picked up the boggy track down to Pont-Scethin. The bridge itself is a well maintained specimen but it looks a little out of place with the rutted tracks that feed it. Having passed the bridge, I checked my map and two mountain bikers passed me. Every time I saw them ahead of me, they seemed to be walking more than cycling but the ascent was steep so it was understandable. I too made my way up the steepest incline of my day with views of Y Llether, Moelfre, Rhinog Fawr and more giving me excuses for rest breaks on the ascent. After all, with no one following me, it was not as if I was holding up anyone else.

When the gradients levelled off, I found the wall that I was to shadow on the way to Diffwys. Time consciousness was creeping into the fray yet again but the out and back walk to the top of Diffwys didn't look to be too far away. Of course, that didn't mean that it was quick hop there and boggy conditions underfoot along with undulations such as an unnamed 642 metre high top meant that patience was of the essence. However, there were views over towards a dark looking Cadair Idris and many other hills such as the Arans to savour and the shelf containing Llyn Dulyn was coming into sight too. 360º panoramic vistas were going to be my lot and I was able to pick out the Mawddach estuary too.

Some residual streaks of snow lay on the ground as I carried on higher but the only time that the white stuff intruded on my progress was when I made for the stile that took me across the wall to Diffwys' trig point. In truth, I reached it a little later than I would have liked but the knowledge that I'd be retracing steps kept my head level and I took a short break and enjoyed the surrounding scenery. Diffwys may not be the highest of hills but it is well placed and you can see for miles around it on a clear day, an occasional happenstance if my experiences are typical.

Going to the top of any hill is only half the battle because you have to get back down again and that's when things can go awry. Having a train to catch and running later than was ideal wasn't the most compatible of situations then but I didn't suffer any misfortune on its account. In fact, good progress was the essence of the return journey to Dyffryn Ardudwy's train station. Even so, it amazed me how long it took to get down by Llawlech and leave the sight of Llyn Erddyn behind me. With that out of the way, I managed to get from Pont-Scethin to the train station with ten minutes to spare, a satisfactory outcome. In the latter stages, a head torch was pressed into service until I was under street lights and was another of the contingencies that allowed me to make as much use of the day as I did. Even at 18:30, there was some some colour in the sky but it was far from enough to ward off the darkness that encroached at the end of what had been a glorious day's walking.

Travel Arrangements:

Return train journey from Macclesfield to Dyffryn Ardudwy with a change in Wolverhampton.

With the weather promised ahead of the last weekend in January, I really didn't want to be leaving an opportunity unused or even underused. In the midst of mulling over the possibilities, Keswick dropped into mind and transport arrangements fell into place so that's where I was headed. Just because a destination was in mind didn't mean that I had my walk fully planned though. For me, there were two drawbacks to a day trip in Keswick on a short winter's day: getting into the hills eats up time and it is somewhere of which I have seen a lot. Nevertheless, I had a working plan in the form of a trot to the Back o' Skiddaw.

All of that thinking got dismissed after reaching Penrith when I realised that I was in time for a bus to Patterdale and that the last one back allowed for a good spell around there. After all, my visits to Cumbria have gravitated towards the fells surrounding Windermere and Derwentwater so that left Patterdale ripe for exploration. If you explore the annals on this online outpost, you might discover previous outings that finished up in Patterdale. In the main, these have been hikes from Grasmere that variously took in Grisedale Tarn, Grisedale and Fairfield. St. Sunday's Crag remains unfinished business and emptier quarters like Martindale and Haweswater's surroundings have yet to see my footfall. Then, there's Helvellyn and its attendant fells to be sampled with a trot from Glenridding to Thirlspot sounding attractive. With all that on offer, I shouldn't be short of walking ideas and a multi-day stay may be in order.

Returning to the day itself, I plotted my course in between seeing why so many praise Ullswater as my bus journeyed to the end of its route. It was very much a case of cutting my cloth to my measure and a walk over Place Fell and back to Patterdale along the shores of Ullswater was my choice for the day. With all the cold weather that has come our over this winter, I was concerned about any ice or lying around in higher places. After all, Helvellyn was well coated with the white stuff. Reassuringly, Place Fell looked reasonably clear of any such threats.

So, from the bus route terminus at the car park across the road from the Patterdale Hotel, it was a case of making my way back along the road to pick up a right of way leading to Side Farm and then getting over with the steep incline up to Boredale Hause. Though I was conscious of others following me after their puppy deciding to make friends with me (I stayed put until they got him back again and then set off again), there were plenty of stops to take the feast that was laid on for my eyes. The low sun meant that aiming a camera towards Brothers Water was unlikely to yield pleasing photos so I stuck with the snow-covered fells to the west and north.

After Boredale Hause, those followers were lost and I took my time ascending Steel Edge and Round How. There were patches of hard snow on the ground but these were either avoidable or passable with care. That's not to say that I left all humanity after me and I did encounter someone else trying to identify the fells in front of him as he faced south; the sun was moving to the west so looking in that direction had become easier on the eyes. I imagined that I could pick out Stony Cove Pike and Threshthwaite Mouth, both places that I passed last June, so the likes of High Street and High Raise (the latter never announced itself to me but I now know better) could be identified. Taking leave of my fellow hill starer, I set off for the trig point at Place Fell, a precariously constructed example atop a crag. For the sake of completeness, I clambered over to it but it makes me wonder how surveyors coped with placing their instruments upon the thing.

After gingerly making my way off the crag, I continued over Hart Crag towards High Dodd and into parts away from human attention by the looks of things. All the while, the sun was lowering in the sky and the lighting on the fells growing ever more golden. High Dodd was rounded and Sleet Fell crossed before I made a steep descent near Sandwick. That meant overcoming quivering pins on the way down; it's enough to have your mind concentrated by gradients without your legs joining in too. Steadily, I got myself down to the track that was to carry back to Patterdale by the shore of Ullswater.

The sun's descent behind the hills was a potent reminder of the time and may have over-egged my impatient with an undulating track. After the day that I had enjoyed, that momentary frustration was out of order and I later reproached myself for it. Tired legs may have had something to do with it too but good progress was being made on my way back to Side Farm again. Retracing my steps meant that any anxiety at the prospect of missing the last bus of the weekend could be dispelled and I was back at the bus stop with between 10 and 20 minutes to spare, a preferable state of affairs.

A few days later, I discovered a route similar to the one that I followed in a copy of Cumbria magazine left in a dentist's waiting room for patients' perusal. While I was preoccupied with thoughts of the treatment that my teeth needed, happy memories of a good day out were a useful distraction. After that, giving Patterdale a bit more of my time is in order but we'll have to see how that one goes.

Travel arrangements:

Return train journey from Macclesfield to Penrith with bus service 108 taking me to Patterdale and back.

On Saturday, I was walking towards the top of a Welsh hill dressed in a manner more appropriate to a day in April. Since then, it has not been possible to put away the down jackets just yet and that is set to stay for the course of the week by the appearance of things. It was if I got a sneak preview of spring before it became established and it added to the pleasure of reaching the top of Diffwys after having it in mind for a few years. Looking at the two proper hill country outings that I have enjoyed so far this year, a pattern of picking a hill and heading towards its top seems to be falling into place.

In that vein, the idea of mounting nearby Y Llethr has entered my head and I suppose that there is something to the practice of using hills as fulcrums about which to lever myself out into those places that allow time and space for recharging of the spirit. Could this be a defining feature of 2010? That isn't a question that I can answer yet but it might put a stop to all sorts of floundering and give sense of purpose to my endeavours. Saying that, I am not about to engage in soul-less hill bagging because that isn't why I gravitate towards hills. After all, it's experiences like the eery silence that I met on the summit of Diffwys and the sight of sunlight dancing on the surrounding hillsides that do it for me. They may be all that endures when a favoured summit remains out of bounds on the day.

Once a certain life event is out of the way, I must get to saying more about last Saturday's Welsh wander and the previous weekend's exertions in Cumbria too. On both occasions, I came away with pleasing photos so time needs to be set aside to pick the best to share on here with you. It's not the easiest of tasks but good fortune can be met only with gratitude and never with grumbling. That you don't always meet the hills in the best of conditions only adds to the enjoyment when you do.

This morning, I got up and peered out my window not to see sunshine but falling snow instead. After that prolonged cold spell earlier in the month, I'd thought that we'd to wait a while before seeing another white covering and that was even with light snow showers being forecast. Even so, I wasn't expecting much to come of them if anything at all and that made the snowy spell that we got a even bigger surprise. In the event, it was sufficiently heavy to leave quite an accumulation on the ground. Not having subsequent falls left that white covering vulnerable to trampling into slush and roads began to hold standing water. Thoughts of what happens when slush freezes was the cause of my going clearing the pavement outside my house in the afternoon and some of what I was removing was partially frozen by the time that I got to it!

With the clearing skies and emerging sun, I was lured into taking the bike out for short run around by Prestbury. That roads that I used were clear so there was little change of I coming off in an inappropriate place. Though the late afternoon light was fading, I still got to testing what a spot of photographic activity would produce; at time of writing, I have not had a good look at the results just yet.

That cycling wasn't the only burst of outdoor activity this weekend with yesterday taking me up to Cumbria. More specifically, I ended up opting for a circular walk that took in Place Fell in Patterdale. The outing may have left me with aching legs but that's a small price to pay for the delights that were enjoyed. Beyond that, I won't say any more for now but that a full account is to follow.

All in all, January is ending on a high note and could be month that many will remember for those spells of colder weather that brought us both delights and disturbances. February looks to be getting going with an Atlantic run of weather so anyone who enjoyed this weekend might be very glad of it. Of course, wet weather never goes on forever so something more attractive should come to draw us out in the open from time to time and we are in 2010's early days yet.

Last weekend's greyness did nothing to coax me out of doors and other things took up whatever spare time was available. With a promising forecast for the coming one, I am minded to make use of what goodness comes the way though it will mean preparation for colder temperatures and mindfulness of the threat of snow showers too. The shadow of winter hasn't left us just yet but the thought of crossing frozen moorland does sound tempting. It's too soon to say where the first full hillwalking trip of 2010 will take me but I hope to make a get away soon, even if only for a day.

On of the things that I got to doing last weekend was to see what more sympathetic processing would do for older photos brought away after outings among the hills of Kerry over in Ireland. Apart from the now customary thoughts about returning to see more or to do better photographic justice to the place, I got to being amazed by how proud of their surroundings and shapely even low sized hills can appear. Taking a look in the photo below might show you what I mean because the more obvious summits barely break above 300 or 400 metres above sea level.

That observation propels my brain to another point: that steeper flanked humps can deceive. Well, they certainly can tire as I discovered along a stretch of the West Highland Way between Balmaha and Rowardennan. None of the humps rose much above 100 metres in height but the constant up and down action wasn't kind either. Hillocks don't just possess the party trick of feeling higher than they are but they can look it too. That observation takes me to Loch Seaforth (Loch Shìphoirt) on Harris where Seaforth Island (Eileann Shìphoirt) has a high point not exceeding 200 metres in height but it doesn't rise out of the water by half when seen from Ardvourlie (Aird a' Mhulaidh). I suppose that everything looks higher when seen from next to sea level and you have to wonder how Ben More on Mull presents itself to someone walking in from the coast to reach its summit too.

Those smaller isolated hills might have their uses though, especially when they offer vistas featuring summits. It is for that reason that Diamond Hill near Letterfrack in Connemara has taken my fancy after seeing it featured in a Walking World Ireland route. If I ever manage to make to that part of County Galway, I'd have in mind for that first ever visit. Ben Tianavaig on the Isle of Skye fulfilled a similar role with views of the Red Hills, the Cuillin, Raasay and the Trotternish all on offer in a 360º panorama on an evening that mixed bright sunshine with spells of rain. Orrest Head in Cumbria is another such delectable picking and illustrates that being deceived into expending energy to reach a lesser top is not foolishness at all. There are enough of the same kind that I risk making a big long list when only a few examples will do. The steep sides to any of these is a hint that any panoramas need work but who can complain with the rewards on offer?