Collected Musings of a Hill Wanderer

St. Patrick's Day was a few days ago and it seems to have heralded a sustained onset of spring this year with birds singing their hearts out and daffodils attempting to take over from snowdrops on the roadsides. A work colleague took to his bike for the first time this year on Monday after having being prevented from doing so by his asthma acting up when his lungs are hit by the cold air that has stayed with us for so much of this year. Needless to say, it's his legs that are now making him pay for his exertions after that long lay off.

Speaking of lay offs, I haven't been out walking in hill country for a while now and the general springiness has set me to considering the possibility of such an escapade. That hiatus doesn't mean that I have been inactive because I have been commuting on my bike for much of the last few weeks and even fitted in a Sunday ride to Northwich by way of Gawsworth, Astbury, Goostrey and Davenham. Much of the time, I was on quiet country lanes while following NCN 73 after a fashion so I got to enjoying the sunlit ambience of the rolling Cheshire countryside. A missed train (it might have been asking too much of me to cycle back from Northwich to Macclesfield again) afforded a chance to find my way around the town of Northwich itself, a potential source of confusion for anyone who hadn't been there before, before exploring a little of its nearby wetlands and woodlands. One of the disadvantages of a cycling excursion is that you are sharing roads with other users who travel much faster than you do and have other things on their minds too. Fellow cyclists are not a problem at all but you need to keep your wits about you when it comes to motorised traffic.

While cycling along quieter country lanes does burn off tensions piled on you by the world, there is something special about going for a walk in the countryside that makes switching off the pressures of life and tuning on the theatre of the skull so much easier. For much of the time, it's only the matters of navigation, weather and the time that is available that you need to consider. Since most of us don't fancy road walking and tend to avoid it, motorised traffic becomes removed to a world far away while we really are immersed in remote countryside.

That mention of road traffic brings up another point: discovering route ideas for a day out on a bike that keep you away from busy roads as much as possible. In these traffic congested days, they take some finding and, even then, you could find yourself on a confusing rat's nest of small roads that forbid you from going into autopilot (not that it's a sensible thing to be doing, by the way). In the brief amount of time that I have spent perusing cycling magazines at a newsagent, none really have grabbed me when it came to route ideas. Whether that is because the ones that kept coming to hand contained more about mechanicals and other matters that didn't interest me so much is another question; even with hillwalking, outdoors gear is very much a functional interest for me and I very nearly stop looking when what I have satisfies me. That's not to say that there aren't guide books out there and I already have a few that I should consult more often but it feels as if I could end up with an entire cycling library if I'm not careful.

Thinking about it now, I am inclined to wonder if I need to work out what sort of cycling I'd like to do. Pure mountain biking might sound as if it tallies with my love of hill country but I cannot say that I enjoy the thoughts of careering downhill completely dependent on the effectiveness of cantilever or disk brakes for stopping me. That still leaves open the idea of a cycle into a Scottish glen for commencing a walk but a walking magazine might cover that possibility anyway; whatever else you have to say about it, Trail magazine has been known to feature the occasional route like this. Leaving that aside, I am led into the exploration of those quiet lanes and the countryside that surrounds them. Of course, I first have to find them…

Even with this uncertainty of thinking, I went and joined the CTC, an organisation pondering changing its status from club to charity. With what has been going on with The Ramblers and the forthcoming demise of the Nevis Partnership, I can see how arguments about the CTC Trust being a government contractor can come into being. However, that's all in the background and the bimonthly Cycle magazine might have a role in letting me in on ideas for excursions and where I want to take this cycling thing. Naturally, any organisation representing cyclists will cover everything from the realities of everyday commuting though to cycle touring and bicycle maintenance but a little broadening of horizons never hurt anyone.

Of course, all this talk of cycling doesn't mean that the hiking is about to stop. In fact, I have just such an excursion in mind for the coming weekend to break up any semblance of a rut that might be forming. For now, I'll say no more but hope to let you know what happened afterwards.

Apparently, my late Uncle Jim had a fascination for exploring the byways of his local stomping ground and I am left wondering if my own inclinations come from the same gene pool. For instance, an unexpectedly Sunday morning from more than a week ago was the cause of dragging me out on my bike for a local run when the enticement failed to take me further afield. At the time, the main attraction was the prospect of having another go at making a photo of Little Moreton Hall. After a bright start, the day did progressively cloud over but that didn't make my visit to the old pile an unprofitable venture. As it happened, I came away satisfied and it didn't cost me a penny either because the National Trust hadn't opened up the place to the visiting public. That reminds me of Irish forest parks in the low season when it is possible to get in without paying. In the case of Little Moreton Hall, I may have had to stay on the outside of its walls and its gardens but I was temporarily ensconced on its front lawn all the same.

On the way there, I took diversions to stop off at Gawsworth and Astbury. Photographic endeavours of either weren't to better previous efforts but there were compensations too. Quite a lot of the fish pool in front of Gawsworth's Old Hall was frozen, confining squabbling ducks to the end near the church and they amused me for a few minutes before I carried on down the A536. It looks as if Astbury will be providing me with another reason for going past Congleton on the A34 but it may facilitate another outing that takes me somewhere new too.

The journey that I took back from Little Moreton Hall was the main cause of my travelling around 37 miles in total. Apart from those aforementioned deviations, the outward journey followed the A536/A34 as if to make a bee line for the antiquity. Once there, I was lured towards Holmes Chapel with quieter lanes conveying me towards Rode Heath and the A50 taking me the rest of the way. The wideness of the road ensured that any traffic wasn't in conflict with me nor I with it, a useful state of affairs when part of me began to complain about the time spent on the saddle; small conurbations like Arclid and Brereton Green were useful punctuations that made the distance feel shorter as I completed bypassed Sandbach, spot not without its own attractions. It was after Holmes Chapel that my legs began to fatigue so I left a busy A535 at Twemlow Green to pick my way along much quieter lanes around by Goostrey and Over Peover until I reached Chelford. After all, busy twisty undulating roads and tiring cyclists never make a good match. A stop in Chelford allowed for some rest and a spot of refreshment too before I followed the A537 back to Macclesfield for a longer recuperation, a direct end to a good day's cycling.

The whole jaunt has thrown other ideas into sharp focus, especially those pertaining to exploring the middle of Cheshire by bicycle. Even the thought of a cycle through to Chester has come to me though I'd be catching a train back if i was to do something like that; the prospect of doing the most of a hundred miles in a single day sounds excessive. Nevertheless, there are places around the likes of Northwich and Delamere that I wouldn't mind savouring from a saddle rather than a train like what happened one Sunday last November. With that in mind, I acquired a copy of Cycling in the UK from SUSTRANS. As a sample of what the U.K. has to offer, it's good appetiser to have on a coffee table but I fancy having something more relevant to Cheshire. Nevertheless, it has caused me to ponder escapades like cycling from Barmouth to Porthmadog, all in Wales and all within sight of hills too. What really seals the deal for this one is that it would mean shadowing a railway line, a more than acceptable fallback if something went awry with the bike. While on the thread of dafter schemes, acquiring a Brompton folding bicycle is another that has entered an untethered head. After all, who knows what that might cause? Even with all these mental escapades, I am not planning to stop walking though hill country at all (I know that it is tales of those exploits that draw so many of you here) though I do need to admit some excitement at the prospect of exploring more places by bike too. Is this what could make 2010 different from other years?

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.