Collected Musings of a Hill Wanderer

As promised earlier, here’s that trip report for a short visit to the Howgills at the start of the month. The idea of visiting these parts crossed my mind while happening to perusal a bus timetable during some dead time awaiting a train to take me to Windermere in Windermere. At any other time of year, Saturday bus connections to Sedbergh (pronounced "Sedberr", I believe) wouldn’t seem quite so appealing but the idea of a 15:50 departure on a winter’s day didn’t seem like leaving too early at all, even if that meant that my time was limited to little more than a few hours. Services on other weekdays allow a longer stay but there’s no service on Sundays, which constrains the idea of a weekend trip using public transport to get there and away.

For the perhaps overambitious, the time that I was allotted might have been enough time for an out and back romp to The Calf from Sedbergh but rushing things like this really is not my style. I go out to sample, to savour and to enjoy; good hill country deserves no less. Snow and ice abounded once a certain not so intimidating height was reached anyway so rushing about would have been the epitome of foolishness. It may not have lain everywhere but there was far more about than remained around Macclesfield by the time that I left it that morning. On arrival in Oxenholme, there was no hope of missing the white stuff and the presence of ice meant that extra care was needed when getting on the bus to Sedbergh.

That bus journey was to mean that more whiteness was to be savoured, particularly between Oxenholme and the M6. A collection of wind turbines that were passed took on an unusually ghostly aspect but continuing past the M6 meant entering countryside where a thaw was in evidence. Higher places still had the snow even if much green could be seen too. Whatever thaw there had been didn’t extend to many of the footways about the town of Sedbergh so gingerly progress along roads was in order as I made my way to open country. That didn’t take long and braved a path going by noisy tied up dogs in a farmyard and icy stretches that acted as a reminder of the need for crampons to get to higher slopes where deeper snow underfoot gave my boots something with which they could engage.

As I continued up the side of Winder, I began to meet deeper snow than any that I had ever encountered before. Across the gash cut by Settleback Gill and on the slopes of Crook, there were children playing in the winter sunshine. Beyond any green lands to the south, Whernside and its surrounding humps and bumps packed up the view. Gazing to the east led the eye towards Baugh Fell, Wild Boar Fell and Swarth Fell and all around them. In the west lay the snow-covered Lakeland fells though I couldn’t see them until I emerged from trough along which I was hiking and the same could be said for sights that lay to the north of me.

The saddle between Winder and Arant Haw held a good thick covering of snow over its grassy tussocks, enough to slow progress and make me conscious of the time. If I had ever pondered getting to The Calf, that was put of my mind as I ventured in the direction of Arant Haw. Though that hill lay within range, I decided in the end to leave it for another time so as to allow plenty of time for my descent. Instead, I continued to the top of Winder itself and lingered to take in the panoramic views. What it lacks in height, it possesses thanks in no small part to its location so a spot of photographic activity ensued by the side of one of those viewpoint installations that are there tell you what’s surrounding you (hills in this case). The sights couldn’t be more irresistible with that dusting of the white stuff.

The descent from Winder meant a return to greener ground, especially since I used its western slopes. Like a winter walk that I undertook from Ribblehead to Ingelton via Ingleborough, I saw more of a thaw on western slopes than I did on eastern ones; it must have something to do with catching the warmth of the sun. It must have been the time of day but I was seeing more folk emerging from the hills but there was no intrusion on any reverie as I enjoyed views towards the Lune gorge and its viaduct and along the western slopes of other Howgill hills.

I returned to the tarmac in safety and misgivings about making the most of the day erupted. That caused me to divert onto a public footpath that took me to Marthwaite. From there, it was road tramping to Birks before I plied along a short section of the Dales Way by the River Rawthey. More public footpath traversal took me into the heart of Sedbergh, passing by its famous school as I went to await my bus. Daylight was turning to dusk as the bus plied its way through snowy surroundings and there seemed to be a certain reminder of alpenglow to be witnessed. After an uneventful train journey, I was home again and with some extra time remaining in the day too because of the early finish.

In hindsight, I didn’t waste the opportunity that I was offered and the taste of what the Howgills have to offer has whet my appetite. It was about time that I set foot among these hills after passing them on train and coach so many times. Apart from that, the only other time that I sampled this countryside was when I reached Sedbergh after spending a hot July day walking from Ribblehead train station a few years back. More return trips beckon so long as there are windows of opportunity for my continuing to explore the area.

Travel Arrangements:

Return train trip to Oxenholme and a return bus journey using Stagecoach’s service 564 between Kendal and Kirkby Stephen.

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.

Last Saturday saw me venture out into hill country again with a trip to explore the fells near Ambleside. The last time that I was up around those parts, it struck me that I hadn’t been around Ambleside for a few years so the seeds were sown for a future outing. Being that time of year when shorter days are visited upon us, I was after a hike that I could complete in the available hours of daylight and ended up ascending Red Screes before descending to Scandale Pass and then down Scandale itself while returning to Ambleside.

My visits to Ambleside seem to alternative between grey days and those with an altogether more sunny aspect. Last Saturday was to prove to be one of those grey days as was the one when I first went to Ambleside. Then, I plied a short circular route around by High Sweden Bridge and then Low Sweden Bridge. Next time, the sunshine of a crisp clear cold February really showed the landscape at its best as I made my way up Scandale, over Scandale Pass and then back to Ambleside by way of the Kirkstone Pass and down The Struggle; I was enjoying good moonlight on the final stretch of the stroll. A mixture of greyness and sunny breaks were what greeted me while on a round of the Fairfield horseshoe with a start at Rydal to ascend Heron Pike and Great Rigg to continue to Fairfield (the summit was deserted when I reached it so it isn’t always crowded) before dropping down to Ambleside again. When a trip to North Wales proved unworkable after a train cancellation, I found my way back to Ambleside and was consoled by the delights of a sunny day and a fabulous evening as I went over and around Loughrigg Fell on a circular hike.

The sun did peep out near the end of the day last Saturday but it was frigid, breezy and bracing greyness for most of the time. There were signs of blue skies in the distance as I left Ambleside to go up the narrow Kirkstone Road. There were sufficient cars passing the way to make me appreciate the off road travel when at last I started up a public footpath traversing the often soft ground.

Eventually, that softness began to the hardness of well frozen terrain but there was a fair amount of ascent among stone walls before that transition was encountered. Apart from a momentary spot of confusion due to overestimation of progress near Snarker Pike, navigation was a straightforward affair. On lower reaches, I was sheltered from the cold biting breeze from which there was no escape once headier heights were reached and especially as the gradients eased between Snarker Pike and the summit of Red Screes. It was no day to linger on that summit and, very appropriately, it was bedecked with frozen tarns. This was hardly the time and place for conversation but I was asked by a lady where the path that I had following started out; it went too near to Ambleside for her and those with her (there is another possible way down but even Wainwright suggested that to be too steep for a descent; that might have been how they made their way up).

With the inhospitable conditions on the top of Red Screes, it should come as little surprise that I started my descent with no delay. The greyness was one limitation of photographic exploits but it was the cold that capped it all. Production of anything worthwhile was to await another day and I picked out my path down the slopes to Scandale Pass. A wall provided a useful navigational handrail and Scandale Tarn was in view too. Eventually, I was to lose that biting breeze on the return to more familiar surroundings.

The way down from Scandale Pass was easy walking and softer ground was met as I plied the banks of Scandale Beck until I reached High Sweden Bridge. It was then that sun escaped from its cloudy hideout and I got to acquire more pleasing results, to my eyes at least. That appearance of sunshine caused me to diverted around by Low Sweden Bridge but it was soon to disappear again. A goodly number was descending this way to Ambleside, including a sizeable group of students; I wonder if they were attached to the University of Cumbria, whose campus I passed also.

I was easily back in Ambleside before daylight was fade for the day. The town was chock-a-block with people, making any aspiration of having a look in outdoor gear shops utterly impractical. The mercury was really dropping by now as I made for the bus stop for my bus back to Windermere, retracing the journey made that morning by train to Windermere and bus to Ambleside. However, I was left waiting in the cold for up to an hour due to the turning on of Ambleside’s Christmas lights and its concomitant disruption of any passing bus services (I wish that I knew about this beforehand so that I could have planned accordingly). I still managed to catch my intended train from Windermere to Oxenholme only to have an hour’s delay in Oxenholme due to an incident on the line; being able to wait in the warmth of the indoors helped here. Even so, I was back home before 21:30 after a good day out that might yet be the progenitor of more like it.

The first day of November saw me make an overdue return to hill country with Cumbria’s Lake District acting as my main destination. I had a few walking locations in mind by the time that I reached Windermere train station; the railways served as my way there and away again. However, my train was late (thanks to a little Saturday morning trespassing on the line near Deansgate) so any plans for a return to Great Langdale needed to be placed on a hold and a broken down bus meant that the Coniston fells still await my footfall. That left the option of an out and back hike from the train station to the top of Yoke and my revisiting familiar terrain as I went.

I was far from disgruntled and the sights from Orrest Head should have put paid to any humbug anyway. It was its usual splendid self while I admired the views, even with a very noisy dog and her apologetic owners. The pooch had the misfortune of an aggressive appearance and an equally aggressive bark but I soon learnt to ignore her enough in order to make a few photos. The fells by now have their autumn/winter clothes on and there’s an occasional dusting of snow to be seen in places too. Panoramic views were just the balm to soothe the soul after the noisy interruptions.

Having bobbed up to Orrest Head from Windermere’s train station, I bobbed back down the other side as I made for the road near The Causeway Farm. A very short eastbound piece of tarmac bashing later, I began to cross fields again to reach Moorhowe Road where I repeated the shuffle but reaching a gravel track called Dubbs Road. Shortly after passing Dubbs Reservoir, the views over Troutbeck opened out before me and northern vistas were packed full of gloriously humpy whalebacks of hills. All of this was familiar to me from a previous circular walk from Windermere to Kentmere and a linear wander from Windermere to Staveley by way of Kentmere.

Passing a wood to my left, I emerged onto the rougher track that is Garburn Road. In so doing, I left the dodging of puddles that took up near enough to the width of the track behind me; these were there on my previous hikes too so I was unsurprised by their size. In place of those puddles, I got steeper slopes and looser surface that tested the nimbleness of my ankles. Garburn Pass was reached soon enough and, rather than descending to Kentmere as I have done on those previous visits, I left the wide track for an initially boggier one taking me higher up the slopes.

That boggy bit was to turn into a very good gravel path and it surprises me that there wasn’t a good track all of the way but I suppose that it keeps some in their place. As I went ever upward, views to my right opened out before me and the houses of Kentmere could be seen. Ever mindful of time, I continued to inch my way up Yoke with an appropriate number of photography stops. The summit wasn’t long coming, even if there was an extra cairn lurking to confuse the unwary. I was tempted by the prospect of Ill Bell but consciousness of the remaining hours of daylight and the prospect of losing a lot height before regaining it again made me see sense; the sight of an oncoming shower helped to wean me away too. That other hill can wait for another day.

I came down Yoke in the dampness and I need to admit that having pull on waterproofs did cost me some time. Given that the rain didn’t stay long, I am left wondering if it would have been better braving it but you never know with these things and it’s often better to be safe than sorry. The sun was lowering in the sky all the while as I retraced my steps and I was happy to be making progress all the while. When I made Garburn Road, I decided stick with that track rather than continuing along Dubbs Road because of the hour that it was. That meant descending on a lot of loose surface and it did begin take its toll on my patience so it was not before time that I left it for the much smoother Longmire Road, another track in spite of the name.

My plan was to return to tarmac before the light dropped too much since I wasn’t wanting to have navigational nightmares in the dusk, let alone the dark; it was an objective that was easily achieved. As it happened, I did see someone else who was going to run that gauntlet of crossing fields at dusk but I left him to it as I descended by minor roads to the A592 that would carry me onto the A591 for the final stretch back to Windermere train station. Even with failing light, the greatest challenge in all of this was one that I encountered earlier in the day: getting across the A591. Thankfully, a kind lady did me a favour for the second crossing.

It had been a great day to revisiting an old haunt but with an added twist. Ill Bell might not have been summited but hills always last more than a day and Yoke did well what was asked of it. Other plans that fell by the wayside can be kept on file for future visits. What really matters is that I enjoyed the day out and I remain hopeful of more like it.

Last Saturday was a day when I was torn between possibilities. One dilemma that I didn’t face was whether to go somewhere for a wander or not; that one was settled. It’s where I was going that was the outstanding question and the choice was been Wales and Cumbria. Even though Dolwyddelan tempted and remained a backup in the event of anything going awry on the travel front, it was Cumbria’s Lake District that was to get my vote because a walk in Borrowdale was in my head for a while and I hadn’t been to the area since last July anyway. If my time was more restricted, then my decision could have been very different.

My journey to Borrowdale was set to involve a lot of changes: Stockport, Crewe, Penrith, Keswick. With this number ahead of me, it would have been better if passengers could control themselves and police didn’t need to meet what was to be my train from Crewe. Luckily, I had a twenty minute wait in Penrith in prospect but losing ten minutes due to a delayed train soon chopped that down to size and delays can beget further delays. As it turned out, I had no cause for concern and I easily made my bus to Keswick. However, I was reminded of my connection to Borrowdale when I saw slow traffic on the A66 and more people getting on at Threlkeld than I had ever seen before. It so happened that the Borrowdale bus was late, sufficiently so that one would start to wonder if it had departed without my seeing it. Keswick bus interchange was a busy spot that day.

Following all those opportunities for groundless anxiousness, I found myself in Rosthwaite relaxed and enjoying wonderful sunshine. Eating an ice cream, I found my way onto the Cumbria Way that I was set to follow all of the way into Langdale. Being a sunny day in the Lake District, solitude was not to be expected but there were to be moments when I had a lot of space to myself. Still, it never seems to surprise me how easy it can be to lose them. Even so, Rosthwaite and Stonethwaite were hardly overrun anyway but most of those perambulating about them seem to have got nary a thought of going further afield. With the sights that were on offer, I suppose that it is hard to blame them.

Having skirted past Stonethwaite, another choice presented itself: to stick with the original plan to walk to Dungeon Ghyll or tramp over Greenup Edge to Grasmere. If things got a bit too crowded on the former, the latter was to be my plan. They didn’t and I managed to drag myself onward to leave the Grasmere option for another day. A sign for Watendlath had tempted me earlier but I managed to put that into my stash of ideas for the future too. Thus, I struck on for and through Langstrath, a wide open and empty space in keeping with its Scottish-esque name. Also in keeping with any pseudo-Scottishness, it was here were I met next to nobody but a goodly number of Herdwick sheep.

The seemingly obvious southbound exit from Langstrath is follow the valley’s beck to Angle Tarn and drop down from there by the side of Rosset Gill. This is not the way taken by the Cumbria Way though; instead, a more direct route over Stake Pass is its choice. On paper, this is a seemingly unimpressive 200-300 metres of ascent. In reality, as with a lot of slopes in these parts, that apparent "walk in the park" can be a lot more testing than those numbers might suggest. For one thing, you can guarantee steepness and erosion means that route finding involves a spot of blundering about on a maze of paths, many deviating from the "correct" one. Couple all of that with the hot and often breezeless day and you have to take it nice and slow on the ascent. A descent still offers plenty of footholds but you still need your wits about you so as not to take a more horizontal position than you would like.

On reaching the top, I soon found a spot to rest a while after my exertions. By this stage of the day, the sky was full of cloud and the sun had become well hidden. It remained pleasantly warm, though, and I enjoyed the flatter gradients before the descent that faced me. The state of the path down couldn’t be more different than the one that I used on my way up. The National Trust have been keeping an eye on things and have been doing some further work over the past few months to make things better. I might have said that it didn’t need the attention and that the path from Langstrath to Stake Pass needed it more. There is a counterpoint to this of course: the way up from the floor of Langdale is a busier trail because the proximity of such delights as the Langdale Pikes, Pike’o'Stickle and many more. The result of the attentions was that I made steady progress down a well built and pitched path that would obstructed in places with big bags of big stones.

That descent and obstacle dodging completed, the track really levelled out and, apart maybe from the deepness of the loose stone surface in parts, it was easy and undemanding walking all the way to the Old Dungeon Ghyll Hotel. If I had arrived twenty minutes earlier, I might have caught the 16:30 bus to Ambleside but the wait of over an hour, in blissful surroundings with sun attempting to get through the cloud, for the next one was no hardship. I did consider walking further along Great Langdale but reconsidered it on the grounds of time and wiled away the time on a shorter stroll instead.

When the bus did turn up, we found out that it terminated in Ambleside rather than Kendal as per the timetable. There were those who were far from happy with this state of affairs, more than likely those with ongoing connections. I suppose that anyone going south of Oxenholme would have had the limitations in late Saturday evening services on their minds. As with my travel that morning, any connection anxiety was needless since we easily made a connecting bus from Ambleside. That got me to Windermere in plenty of time for the start of railway journey home with changes in Oxenholme and Manchester. The sun was out as I was leaving; was it an effort to coax me into a return trip for those walking ideas that I had to set aside earlier that day?