Collected Musings of a Hill Wanderer

As I start to write these words relating an outing among hills of the western Yorkshire Dales, we are in the grip of a mild end to October when there is occasional dampness and rather a lot of cloud filling the sky for much of the time. Of course, that mildness can end all of a sudden like it has done in some previous years with down jackets being quickly grabbed from where they have been for the summer. That realisation reminds me that the outer of my North Face Nuptse needs a clean but there's time for that yet.

Returning to that trot from over a week ago, I arrived in Ingleton at a decent hour when its library was still open so there was ample time for a day of walking. There were cloudy skies overhead like what those over Cheshire so far this week but I am not deterred so easily when my mind is set on a task so I ventured forth underneath the village's disused railway viaduct to seek out the horse manure soiled single track piece of road that is Oddie's Lane. The lane was quiet with only the occasional walker or Land Rover about as I ascended the gradient from the river banks of the Doe and the Twiss. It wasn't to be a day when there were enough people about to get in each other's way though we did bunch together from time to time. Most go to Ingleton for the Waterfalls Walk anyway my horizons were extended beyond that.

Staying with tarmac as long as I did might have seemed a peculiar choice when travel over softer ground was available but the OS don't seem to show the Waterfalls Walk so well and I might have ended up feeling corralled anyway. As it happened, I was to leave the tarmac for part of its route near Beezleys. A well made path was sufficient to compensate for a certain lack of signage on the roadside and Twisleton Hall was passed without a blunder. The path turned into a track that I was to leave for a bridleway taking me up the slopes of Twisleton Scar End. There were others with the same idea as myself but there was no mob so we all got along as we picked our way through the limestone pavement.

In time, we all scattered such that each had a piece to themselves so there was an opportunity to have some quality carefree time when the following of rights of way on access land could become something that fell by the wayside. All the while, I knew where I was on Scales Moor so there was no flirtation with mortal danger. At times, I was to revel in the sights of limestone pavement with Ingleborough beyond it. Being lit by the sun was a hit and miss affair with Gragareth having more luck than where I was wandering. That piece of "off piste" travel was well apparent when I joined the track down to Chapel-le-Dale and it shortened the walk a little too, taking time pressures even further out of the equation.

Chapel-le-Dale is but a small place and I was across the Low Sleights Road (B6255) in no time at all to shorten the distance to the summit of Ingleborough. My course was to have its moment of problem solving when I worked out the way around Souther Scales after a little lunch. It may have been over three years since I last trod in these parts but my memory was still up to the task of informing me that I was taking a different course from last time, at least at the start before I made out the trail that had taken me to those heady heights before.

Knowing that the way ahead was have steeper moments than that around Souther Scales meant that I opted for a steady gait through the Southerscales Scars and over any duckboards. A short break was taken at Humphrey Bottom before tackling the steep slopes that lay between me and Ingleborough's summit. The path is well pitched though some may find the way in which it has been done a little unnerving. Having gone the way before, it didn't phase me though I was conscious that other folk were after me and making good progress. The top of the steep section came in its own good time and I grabbed a chance for a little breather before scaling the final approach to Ingleborough's flat top. Others going my way needed longer to recover and more again sailed on regardless so Ingleborough attracts all sorts by the sounds of things.

With the sun staying well hidden on me, the summit of Ingleborough wasn't to be a place where I was going to linger. Still, I could see where I had been on the way from Ingleton and Whernside was an unmissable whaleback along with the distant humps of the Howgill Fells. Ingleton wasn't too far away and the next bus to Lancaster wasn't until 18:50 so I could afford to take my time. Not being in a mad rush (never a good idea on hills) meant that there was no angst on the initial part of the descent to reach a decent track. Looking ahead of me took my eyes out towards Morecambe Bay and the Irish Sea, both seemingly blest by the sun as might have been the lower reaches of the Lune Valley too. Cloud may have been over me but Scales Moor seemed to be starting to catch the sun. The prospect of low evening sun dropping beneath the cloud to liven the landscape began to intrigue me and the signs of that pleasant possibility steadily grew.

As I continued on downhill, I wondered at those who were coming against me at that hour of day and where they may have been going. Were they could have been on a similar circuit to me but with cars parked in Chapel-le-Dale instead or was Ribblehead train station in their sights? Horton-in-Ribblesdale or Clapham would be other potential destinations but they were further away. Wherever they were headed, there seemed to be a sense of purpose to all their endeavours and I am not one to intrude so I passed the time of day and left them be.

When I got as far as Fell Lane, the sun finally did drop below its cloudy obstruction to show the surrounding countryside at its best. It might have been better for my DSLR not to run out of power at this stage but a backup film SLR was there to do the honours so there was no drama. If I didn't possess the time to make what I could of what lay around me, it would have been more annoying and that's the advantage of leaving a little slack and not filing every second of it. Of course, the daylight eventually did give out but I was walking through the heart of Ingleborough as the sun disappeared below the horizon. A satisfying day was ending well and it's telling that it might have been utterly fantastic if skies were clearer. Neverthless, there were plenty of sights captivated my attention, even under cloud cover, and that really is telling. The prospect of a spot of sun might even tempt me back and there's no better way to leave anywhere than that.

Travel arrangements:

Return train journey from Macclesfield to Lancaster and return bus journey on Stagecoach Lancaster service 80 from Lancaster to Ingleton and back.

Outings beget photos and photos can beget ideas for more outings. In recent weeks, I have been sprucing up the Yorkshire Dales photo collection that I have on display for all to see on the web. Many of these were taken on negative film so new scans of old prints were attempted in order to make more of the results. Back then, I did things with my SLR that I would try to avoid now. Included among these would be a determined attempt at picture making in the middle of a hazy summer day. That's not to say that such conditions would stall play but I'd be more judicious about what I'd record. Whether it is down to the advent of digital capture or not, it does feel like I have developed more of feeling of how a scene before me will come out in a photo. The reason for my suspecting the effect of technological progress is that I may spend longer looking at my photos now than was the case when I exclusively used film. The fact that I am in total control over the entire process in the digital world may have a bearing because making prints from negatives or transparencies involves a certain amount of interpretation on the part of the printer, even if we are not talking about fine art monochrome images. In time, I may get to adding more new images but my attention has gone forth to a spot of under the bonnet work on my slide show machinery followed by giving my Isle of Skye photo collection (still under way) the same sort of attention lavished on that for the Yorkshire Dales.

For a few years, I have not been devoting so much attention to the Yorkshire Dales but that may be finding itself seeing some recompense. Last month saw me out in the midst of the gentle surroundings of lower Wharfedale while last weekend saw me out in wilder countryside. A circuit from Ingleton saw me both thrilled by limestone pavements, even under duller skies, and immersed in spacious open country. That's never to say that there was no one else about but we each could have our own corner for a little while and chilling out was well possible on the moors around Twisleton; there was none of the feelings of being in a cavalcade that entered my mind between Burnsall and Howgill in September. It was a little busier on the way up Ingleborough from Chapel-le-Dale but dropping off in the Ingleton direction wasn't long losing any semblance of crowding though there was little sign of anywhere being overrun. Bunching together became a reality on the steep approach to Ingleborough but that's always the way so it's never any real trouble so long as you don't rush things and keep an awareness of whoever is about you; we all can share a bit of countryside anyway. The day provided the sort of experience that draws me back time and again and it helps that there is more to explore too. Getting a sunny day to make photos reminiscent of those by a certain Granville Harris would be a bonus.

Photographically, it was a day of digital and film capture. Perhaps perversely, the sun found breaks in the clouds at precisely the moment when my DSLR ran out of electrical juice; being ever ready with a charged battery might have been a help but I only can own up to my own fecklessness. Then, it was over to the world of film to capture the wondrous lighting as I tramped the final miles towards the end of my hike. The instantaneous nature of digital capture may have been missed but a spot of patience is all that's needed to see how well the results of my endeavours worked out for me and to use a lab that I know to do the business for me. If I had no back up camera, I would have been kicking myself so this is no problem. In fact, the incident probably justifies my continuing to bring both a DSLR and an FSLR on walking trips, even if there is a weight penalty.

Like the film photos, the full account of Saturday's walk should follow and I need to look at those digital images and charge up that camera. A spare battery might be a sensible purchase but any excuse for a spot of film photography never can be bad. My recent exploits with old photos in Photoshop Elements using exposure correcting tools like levels, curves, hue/saturation tweaking and shadow/highlight adjustments have shown me that new life can be added to an old photo (hopefully) without overdoing things. Of course, there has to be some potential for decent results to be obtained and you always want to avoid some abomination in keeping with the punch drunk efforts using filters in the 1980's. Having a good sense of what is natural and what isn't has to help but there's a very fine line between having the right amount of colour saturation and contrast and ending up with a day-glow semi-fluorescent effort; I aim to stay on the right side of that line.

The Indian summer that we had been enjoying for a few weeks has decided to take a break from us but it looks like a session of stable weather awaits us once this weekend is over. It may be the sort of weather that brings frosts after dark that make you reach for winter warmers, especially when your toes are frozen after a bike ride. In the last week, there has been the occasional deluge locally but nothing like what other places got. Last weekend, I was grounded by a spot of furniture rearrangement but this weekend offers a chance for a bit of brain clearing if I can stop tweaking the online photo gallery for a while (more on that in another post). In the midst of this, I have gotten to turning my mind to recounting that stroll along the banks of the Wharfe at the end of September. It might have sounded a little late in the year to seeking a sun-drenched paradise anywhere in Britain, let alone Wharfedale in Yorkshire, but that’s exactly what I found.

The wondrous weather meant that many strollers were drawn out and about and I spent the section of the Dales Way between Burnsall and Howgill (yes, there is one here too) feeling a little hemmed in by those perambulating at a gentler pace. It cannot be pleasurable for anyone to have someone continually leap frogging them so that realisation meant that some of the photographic opportunities were more rushed than I would have liked. That was not the way at the start with Burnsall looking splendid in the sunshine with the only disturbance of the peace being an overly enthusiastic spaniel putting the wind up the local ducks, triggering a spot of human mirth in the process; the aberrant mutt’s owner wasn’t so pleased.

Once on my way, I sought out the Dales Way and saw that I was going to be sharing it with a goodly number undertaking shorter saunters, perhaps a circuit taking in Appletreewick. This always raises the prospect of speed mismatches and the last thing that you want to do to anyone is constantly leap frogging them so any episodes of DSLR action were curtailed in their length. I was still undecided as to whether the walk would take me all of the way back to Ilkley or whether my sole means of propulsion would start to tell me that shortening it and letting a bus carry me the rest of the way would be the most sensible choice. The plan was to see how things went and decide as I go.

Things quietened markedly after passing Howgill and I got the sense that I had more space to myself and got to relax a little more as I shortened the trail to Barden Bridge; I could see folk a field or so behind me but that was no perturbation. the scenery was pastoral too, pleasant but nothing to draw the occasional daunderer. That may have been a contributor to my increasing personal peace too and it wasn’t long before Barden Bridge was reached and I entered the Bolton Abbey estate. A convenient bench allow a chance to rest a little while before continuing forth. Barden Tower, the now ruined stronghold of the "Shepherd Lord" Thomas Clifford, remained hidden from view among the trees until an ornate aqueduct took me across the Wharfe. There were more folk about at this stage but I was past the point of caring. In fact, it was no throng and I just ambled along through Strid Wood with the sense of personal peace continuing unruffled. The shade from the afternoon sun was welcome if it did mean that it limited chances for camera usage.

My next stopping point, apart from a short rest in the woods themselves, was the Cavendish Pavilion where day trippers really had gathered. It came in useful for attending to human needs and acquiring a map that was missing from my collection and would become useful for the final stretches around by Addingham and Ilkley itself. Having a Quo print-out meant that I wasn’t dependent on finding a shop selling maps along the way but my expectation was that urban Bradford or Ilkley would have been where the gap in map collection was filled rather than rural Wharfedale. The A4 sheet would have sufficed but having the full OS article felt so much more reassuring because of being able to get a wider sense of where I was.

From the pavilion, I continued my way southwards to reach Bolton Priory, part Church of England parish church and part ruined abbey. In fact, it was this that drew my attentions to the lower reaches of Wharfedale in the first place. When those first monks selected the site all those centuries ago, they certainly knew idyll when they saw it. The human incursion really does seem to add to the mixture of rolling hills and a meandering angler-friendly river. Though there are stepping stones, I stuck with the bridge; the last thing that you want to see on such a long crossing is a lapse of common sense and someone coming the other way. As it happened, I witnessed some folk having a go, even a cane wielding pensioner (I would have thought them too far apart for someone less mobile but there’s always one…), but no mishaps of the type that I imagined. The mixture of directional sunshine, a stunning focal point and pleasurable surroundings had me engaged in photographic capture. There was plenty from which to choose and that was with a goodly number about but not so many as to be intrusive.

Pulling myself away from Bolton Priory took some effort but constant withdrawal was the answer and humanity was left to its honeypot as I continued to ply the banks. Bolton Bridge came soon enough and a handy underpass escorted me beyond the busy A59. A section of the narrow B6160 awaited me but I escaped from the passing traffic onto a path just inside a wall after Lob Wood. A little route finding and a road crossing about Lobwood House was all that was needed to stay on the straight and narrow. The only fly in the ointment was a certain feeling that I was at risk of falling out on the ground from the top step of a stone style, not a good thought at all. The outskirts of Addingham came up soon enough and I left them after me as I rounded by its parish church and old mill. Though I was approaching the A65 all the while, the Dales Way escaped back onto the turf again to shadow the river bank as it had been doing all day. Constantly changing surroundings provided reassuring confirmation of progress with views of Ilkley’s outskirts with Ilkley Moor behind them changing into the very urban surroundings within which the old bridge that marks the end of the Dales Way is located. A look at an OS map might lead one to believe that it goes beyond this point but my understanding is that they are mistaking the link trail from Leeds as part of the Dales Way proper. While U.K. walking community is to be envied when its comes to mapping, it goes to show that the OS isn’t infallible either but who is? It’s not a subject on which anyone needs to dwell for too long and neither was I as I made for Ilkley’s train station with the 18:51 to Bradford coming easily to hand after a good day spent following the course of a river.

Travel arrangements:

Train travel between Macclesfield and Ilkley with changes in Manchester and Bradford. One way bus travel from Ilkley to Burnsall.

2002 was a year when I ended up crossing the Pennines for various tasters of Yorkshire Dales scenery; it might have been that the weather was better over there that year. When figuring out where to go, a look at a weather map can either settle the issue of where I am going or cause utter confusion and I have had both happen to me! On my usual side of the Pennines, cloud has taken up residency but the days have remained dry. While not photogenic weather, it certainly does not preclude going for a walk or a cycle. However, the sight of some predicted sunshine further east drew me to Yorkshire. Perusing the Yorkshire Dales album of my photo gallery drew the mind to Wharfedale and the idea of walking along the Dales Way from Burnsall to Ilkley entered the mind. It’s picturesque countryside with pleasant adornments of human construction and they were set to add interest to the hike. In the event, I got away for a day and pulled a cracker. My route meant encountering more of humanity than is usual for me but there were less busy interludes too to give a sense of battery recharging. For now, the full story will need to wait and it’s causing my mind to journey over previous Yorkshire Dales incursions too. There are two outcomes to that rumination: another separate posting or none at all. We’ll have to wait and see.

No doubt, many news outlets are in the throes of reporting the now habitual Easter weekend exodus. My use of the word "exodus" is perhaps not inappropriate given that Jews are celebrating Passover at the moment but a later journey gave us Easter and the weekend that so many are using to their advantage. Conveniently for a blog celebrating the joys of walking in the outdoors, the Exodus was a long distance walk to freedom and safety while Easter celebrates something else that featured walking in different ways.

Returning to the here and now, past Easters have allowed me opportunities for walking escapades. Two years ago, I got to collect up walks that covered part of the Pennine Way between Gargrave and Hawes. The previous year saw me end up on the island of Arran while three years before saw me wandering the High Peak. Other Easters have not been so fruitful with last year’s being a time of clearing clutter, mental and otherwise. For me, it also has been a time for starting a new job, moving home as well as dealing with other "life events", a mixed bag really.

Those thoughts of past Easters are leading me to wonder what I am going to make of this one. The weather that is on offer this year looks like a a bit of a mixture but seeing some sun and drying between any showers would suffice; some Easters have been fabulous but this isn’t going to be one of them if the forecasts and the sight of rain falling outside my window is to be any guide. Nothing definite is planned but something may fall into place before all is over. I reckon that I need to get my thinking hat on…