Collected Musings of a Hill Wanderer

After my sampling of the Howgills the day before, the continuing run of fine if very frosty weather had me out again. This time around, I stayed local and ventured into Macclesfield’s hilly hinterland. In fact, my walk started and ended on my own doorstep and that happens from time to time. Even though my memory of them was far from photographic, the trails followed were ones that I have often trodden but that was never to dull the satisfaction from being in the outdoors, even if non-completion of pre-Christmas chores did nag a little at the back of my mind.

My first task was to make my way into the country and I left the streets behind to follow the towpath beside part of a frozen Macclesfield Canal for a little while. As it happened, I met up with a collection of characters trying to do some fishing. One spotted my walking poles and commented, jokingly I think (well, one of those with him was laughing anyway), that he could do with a loan of them for ice breaking duties. I carried on, noticing the difficulty that ducks were having on the ice, until the point where the canal towpath is shut following the collapse of a wall; there was a man out walking his dog when it happened and he attributes his not being under the rubble to his mutt’s slowing him down!

Following a now familiar itinerary, I then returned to tarmac again as I continued up towards the Macclesfield Golf Club’s clubhouse to pick up a footpath that rounded both the golf course and the hill that played host to it before dropping down to Langley; that secured my escape from the urban confines of Macc. Shutlingsloe could be seen in the distance with Sutton Common and Croker Hill bringing up the rear behind the village of Sutton. The ground was its customary winter softness at this point and an eagle eye was kept out for any wayward greasy spot that would sweep the legs from under me. The descent took me through more sheltered parts where the overnight frost remained.

A hike right through the village of Langley was needed before I found another escape from civilisation. This led me towards the Gritstone Trail but, rather than following it up to the summit of Tegg’s Nose, I opted for a different way. Picking up a bridleway that led me between Teggsnose Reservoir and Bottoms Reservoir, I continued to round yet another hill before starting on the ascent again after crossing a stream that feeds Teggsnose Reservoir, one of those that I had passed earlier. Another road crossing later and I was on to a concessionary path named Saddler’s Way for some reason. The gradient steepened and the views continued to open out until I made my way to a viewpoint at Tegg’s Nose Country Park. A host of humpy stuff with Shutlingsloe among them lay there as a feast for the eyes.

It was at this point that I started on the Gritsone Trail proper for my journey to Kerridge. As I started crossing fields again, winter started to make its presence a little more obvious with snow remaining along by stone walls. Someone had even fashioned an igloo of sorts and the structure was still very much there to see. A crossing of the A537 saw me go down a rough slope that might have offered plenty of greasy mud had it not been for the fact that it was frozen solid. After the steep descent came an equally testing ascent; appropriately a brook lay in the gash that I needed to negotiate.

That set me well on my way towards Rainow and, soon enough, the said village started to come into view. Imperfect memories of the route were refreshed as I went and the B5470 was reached without any navigational madness. The path on the other side of the road took a little finding with the signpost being a little away from the road and nestled between two houses, a combination that makes it easy to miss and goes to prove that you cannot remember everything.

Following that modicum of route finding, the last stretch of steep ascent for the day awaited and it was on frozen east-facing slopes too. If the sun had ever got over Kerridge Hill, it wasn’t managing it while I was scaling it. The reward for these exertions was a level stroll along a ridge replete with generous panoramic views. As if that is insufficient, the folly that is the White Nancy stands atop the Bollington end of the ridge. The landmark is a simple affair that has attracted its share of vandalism over the years; it is a hollow construction but can no longer be entered thanks to the attentions of some. In recent years, there was a prank that involved painting the thing pink, an act not without its amusement value even if it did put the wind up the locals.

More frozen slopes were crossed on the way down to Kerridge and at a time when it could be seen that the day was coming closer to its end. One more road crossing took me onto public footpaths that led me back on to the banks beside a different part of a partially frozen Macclesfield Canal. Light was really fading by now and I changed over to the Middlewood Way for the short distance to the well-lit streets along which I would complete my walk, with a call to a shop for provisions along the way.

Revisiting those familiar trails turned out to be a very good use of one of the cold crisp dry sunny days that can visit us at this time of year. Other folk were out and about too but they weren’t so numerous as to make the countryside feel anyhting like overcrowded; many good stretches of solitude were there too to soothe the spirit. It just goes to show that you should never overlook what can be reached from your doorstep.

It has been a weekend when the winter sunshine did its magic and I was coaxed out and about. Yesterday saw me head to the Howgill Fells for what might be termed a short spot of recce (bus times meant that I was allowed only a few hours to get a taste of what’s there) while I spent this afternoon on more familiar territory in among Cheshire’s hills. Full trip reports should follow but it is sufficient to say that I found some snow on my travels.

Update 2008-12-08: What a difference a day makes! All that wondrous winter sunshine has been replaced by greyness and dampness with day losing its fight with night earlier. It all makes me even more glad that I was able to partake of the opportunities that the weekend weather had on offer while it lasted.

Now that the leaves on the trees and well into the throes of changing colour and a chill has returned to the air, thoughts turn towards the shorter days that lie ahead of us. It is all too easy after the climax of a summer break like that which I enjoyed on Scotland’s islands (the next installment of that trip report is in the works so it should appear here soon) to hibernate, especially when the weather offers us only discouragement. So, some ideas erupted into my mind while perusing an outdoors magazine on the bus to work this morning. Local hill country always beckons when the days are shorter but there are other options too. For one thing, I haven’t been over the border in Derbyshire for a while and reaching the likes of Shropshire, Staffordshire or South Yorkshire is a possibility too; it often amazes me where the mind roves when the mood takes it. Even this loosely compiled catalog of options could come in useful should an opportunity take me by surprise. The next stage would be to add more flesh to the bones of this skeleton so that I simply could take an idea off some metaphorical shelf at a moment’s notice. It might be the difference between my getting out there and staying put at home.

Usually I write my trip reports in the order in which the trips took place but I am considering making an exception to that convention and writing up last weekend’s excursion to Cumbria before the previous weekend’s visit to Argyll. The day trek should be quicker to share and I can devote more time to telling of the various walks I did in Scotland, perhaps over a number of blog entries. All of that has had to wait because yesterday evening provided yet another distraction from sitting in front of a computer: a sunny end to a day with a wet start coaxed me out for a local trot that further broke in my Scarpas. The cornucopia of recent hikes are making the old Salomons look more and more worn so getting the new boots ready for longer outings is becoming more necessary by the day. In fact, the thought has crossed my mind that it might be sensible to get another pair of walking footwear, perhaps a pair of lightweight boots, for summer walking. However, that might be a luxury too far in the current economic climate…

After the Mayday bank holiday weekend, I promised to add a trip report for a day outing to North Wales but the combination of its being May and our having some decent weather have meant that my attention has dashed off elsewhere. It’s hard not to be tempted by the outdoors at this time of year with all of the colours that abound. In addition to the fresh verdant green of the new foliage, the list becomes a very long one. Here’s a cursory summary: the magnetic hues of the glades of bluebells, the white of hawthorn blossom and the catkins on horse chestnut trees, the yellow of the flowering gorse and the pink of the cherry blossom. There are more (that ever present invader, rhododendron, comes to mind) but what I have listed is enough to send you off somewhere when some sunshine is on offer. The result is that I have spent evenings in the outdoors near my home in Cheshire and another trek to Wales ensued. To cap it all, I have just spent a glorious weekend in Argyll and am kicking myself for not allowing an extra day for making even more of it than I did. Just catch Aktoman’s photos from his recent trek in the Cairngorms to see what I mean; it makes my exertions look minor in comparison and I wish that I had pushed the boat out more than I did. All of that means more trip reports so I’d better get cracking sometime. Of course, the trick is making the time but the weather looks to be damper over the coming days; that might allow me the time to settle the matter.