Collected Musings of a Hill Wanderer

It has been a very grey week in weather terms around where I live and I could do with seeing a spot of sun and blue skies sooner rather than later. Given the times in which we live, the grey onslaught might be seen as a case of pathetic fallacy but we could all do with something to go and cheer us up. I find that I can only take so much grey weather before needing to head off where there is some sun and, though the sun has been trying to break through today, I feel the need for something more substantive. Saying that, the recent mildness, the return of birdsong and the general feeling of spring in the air has been welcome. That’s not to say that the recent cold spell didn’t have its bright spots but the saying that a change is as good as a rest is what comes to mind.

As it has happened, my two most recent forays into hill country were under largely grey skies. The Cumbrian outing may have had its sunny interludes in the cold but the mildness of the Irish escapade came with no sun at all and it took a while for the day to brighten up with my Pentax’s metering showing how dark it thought everything was. Speaking of photography, the lack of sun does make it tricky to capture something in the way in which I would like to share with you. The result is that the occasional posting has appeared on here without any photos.

Part of the reasoning for that dates from over a decade ago when I was building the first incarnation of my online photo gallery. Then, all that any search for photos on the web yielded for me were grey day pictures that I didn’t find appealing. The result was that I vowed that sunlit scenes were to be what went on there and I have to say that, apart from the occasional departure, the same thinking rules the roost here too and that’s the way that I’d like to keep things.

That is not to say that concentrating on details found underfoot or ensconced in places where flat grey skies can be excluded will not yield anything. For instance, Torc Waterfall near Killarney in Ireland produced the goods on an otherwise damp and dreich day. The waterfall trick has worked elsewhere for me too with one cataract allowing me to illustrate a trip report for a walk from Ardlui to Butterbridge utterly devoid of sun last November. No doubt, other details that work well in such diffused light would suffice too.

Thoughts of monochrome photography have sneaked into my mind too. A day that mightn’t be one for capturing colour vistas might yield good black and white vistas. To me, the trick is to ensure that there is enough tonality to carry off the exploit and not every dull day offers that so the monochrome route is not a panacea for rescuing otherwise gloomy efforts. In fact, I recommend a look at Craig McMaster’s Elements if you want to how much better landscapes look in black and white when there is good light available. Taking colour digital images and converting them to mono like the examples that I have added below (no perfection or greatness is being claimed here) is more involved than merely clicking on the right buttons. Ideally, the photo should have been previsualised or planned as a black and white one rather than converting a few and seeing what happens. Of course, there’s no harm having a go at that in a spare moment to see what works and what doesn’t. That can only help develop your monochrome eye anyway and my impression is that there will be more misses than hits before any refinement starts to come on stream.

2009 seems to have gotten a start with long grey spells and plenty of ice and snow thrown in for good measure. That’s not to say that it hasn’t had its sunny interludes but the precedent of 2004 lingers in my memory. That year is one that I’ll always remember as being one where sunny spells were a rarity and its summer and autumn didn’t help its case, even if the deluges of 2007 and 2008 are perhaps more memorable for some though that’s not how I’ll remember those (2007 was decent up until the middle of June if I recall correctly). Let’s hope that 2009 brightens up and there’s plenty of time for it to do the deed yet. With all the doom and gloom that surrounds us, it looks like we could do with it.

Regular visitors may have seen me comment that I have never done a longer hill wandering outing in my native Éire. Last weekend, I got the chance to set that one to rights with a few hours spent walking right to the very top of the Great Sugarloaf near Kilmacanogue in Co. Wicklow, itself not far from Bray. It may not have been as long as other hill wandering excursions that I have undertaken but it was enough to be able to say that I have set my boots on an Irish hillside. That was not all but it was my first introduction to the delights of the hill country of Co. Wicklow too. The fact that the hills of mainland Britain saw a lot of me while those across the Irish Sea in the "old country" remained unexplored has irked me for a while now so I am more than happy to have consigned that disparity to the history books. Like its near neighbour, Ireland has plenty to savour too.

Even so, what I have done last weekend is to make a start. After all, I have only sampled a little of what Wicklow has to offer and then it is but one walking area out of many. Other areas where I have not been to date that come to mind are the likes of Connemara, Mayo and Donegal. Ranges of mountains and hills like the Galtees, the Ballyhouras, the Comeraghs and the Knockmealdowns all await my footfall. Looking north of the border, there is Co. down with its Mourne Mountains too. It’s all good stuff and one thing that cannot be said is that Ireland doesn’t have plenty to offer walkers, even if access remains a contentious issue in places over there. In fact, I could list so many areas that a lengthy list could result and I don’t believe in writing too many of them on here.

With my recent visit to Wicklow and my various shorter outings among the hills of Cork and Kerry, all that I can say is that I have scratched the surface so far. Those mountains and hills won’t disappear overnight so I am not going to rush about to sample everything on a single sitting, gorging myself in the process and not leaving enough time to linger and appreciate wherever I might be. Time might wait for no one but cutting down those ambitions should allow me to savour a little more of Ireland’s delights each visit without impacting on those things that are truly important in life. The full account of my Wicklow hike will appear later but this entry has lead my mind to wander all over what, in the grand scheme of things, is a small island packed full of enticing possibilities.

It’s amazing how pondering ground conditions during periods of cold weather can be a harbinger for foreboding. You get to thinking of iced-up roads and pavements that’s even before you consider how it might be at greater heights. As it turned out, there seemed to be even less snow (saying that there was no snow at all wouldn’t be such an inaccurate description) lying about at lower levels on my visit to Cumbria the Saturday before last than I encountered on a previous one in December when I went exploring the Howgill Fells. However, I didn’t have to look very far to find the white stuff with many a fell coated in it. Following various warnings and some fatalities, I stayed low to follow the Cumbria Way on a hike from the Old Dungeon Ghyll Hotel to Ambleside. Even though I was hopeful for some sun, grey clouds blocked out the sun for most of the time that I was on my hike; ironically, the sun had stayed out while I was awaiting a bus at Windermere.

To get to Langdale, I needed to run the gauntlet of some roadworks but any delays proved not to be disruptive to my scheme. In fact, when I got to Old Dungeon Ghyll, I pottered a little northeast to look up along Mickleden to gaze upon those snow-covered summits. I soon turned around to the task of passing one hotel to make progress on the way towards another. Because parts of the track along which I was going take the form of a watercourse, there were stretches of ice that commanded care and attention as I passed. Still, I was on a quiet stretch with a good few folk heading down Mickleden and others heading for the Pikes.

After getting to the New Dungeon Ghyll Hotel, a crossing of the B5453 and Great Langdale Beck took me on a journey along the other side of the valley. There were enough people around for me to wonder if I was going to stuck in a hiking convoy but that was to melt away to leave me some space within which I could enjoy my surroundings as I journeyed along the lower slopes of Lingmoor Fell. That took me a little higher for a while but terrain was to level out when I returned to the banks of the beck again. In a field near Baysbrown farm, a tractor was out muckspreading and the loading of the spreader forced me to divert from the track that it had obstructed. It was so easily avoided that there was no point in fuming over "wilful" obstruction of a public right of way. After passing an empty campsite, I skirted Chapel Style and my surroundings took on a less rural feel until the village of Elterwater was left after me.

Once past that village, it was a case of reaching the shores of Elter Water and following them around. My first sights of the lake in question were through trees but the woodland was soon exited to reveal a very idyllic setting. It’s being accessible meant that many were out and about on often muddy paths but their presence was no perturbation to me and I didn’t begrudge their presence at all. Even in the greyness, the beauty of the spot was without question with the Langdale Pikes and other fells forming a pleasing backdrop to the lake. Even with the gloom, the setting was sufficiently wondrous as to cause me to make a mental note of the idea of returning when skies are clearer, should that kind of opportunity arise.

Skelwith Bridge was the next point passed though trees obscured any view of it. As it happened, I inadvertently continued a little further along the Cumbria Way than I had intended before leaving it for the day. After shadowing the Coniston road for a little while I ventured onto it and made my way towards Skelwith Fold and Clappersgate on a mixture of minor roads and public footpaths while a spout of sunlight momentarily lit up Loughrigg Fell. From there, I made good progress along roadside footways into Ambleside to catch a bus to Windemere from where a railway journey home. It goes without saying that the outing had been a good one though it looks like a return is needed if I am to come away with the sort of pleasing photos that I would enjoy sharing with others. Hopefully, I can make the journey there on a quieter day too.

Travel Arrangements:

Return train journey to Windermere, 555 to Ambleside, 516 to Old Dungeon Ghyll Hotel and 599 from Ambleside to Windermere.

Recent entries on this blog have wandered into areas not often frequented by my thoughts so it is high time that I got the first trip report of 2009 on here. One of the causes of those thoughts darting here, there and everywhere is the current cold spell with its numerous dumps of snow. In everyday life, snow has become avoidable but, on my first trek of the year, I didn’t encounter any of the white stuff at all.

That was because I was out the day before the snow came. Weatherwise, a strong frigid southeasterly was the main encumbrance though it was possible to escape its influence in sheltered spots. That didn’t stop me taking a bus journey up to the Cat and Fiddle Inn between Macclesfield and Buxton to commence a walk back to my house again. The idea had been in my head for a while and the fact that it would only take part of a day allowed time for other things afterwards has its appeal for me.

It was sufficiently breezy about the pub in question that I invested more attention in crossing the A537, a road with a foul reputation thanks to its ability to attract bikers with its many bends. The reason for that crossing was to pick up a bridleway that was more or less due south though it does change to a more easterly direction later on its length. In November 2004, this was the start of a very muddy hike (some may have forgotten it now but the whole year was well wet and grey and that’s how I remember it) that took me to Rushton Spencer with much of route following the Dane Valley Way and passing Three Shire Heads, Gradbach and Danebridge along the way. In fact, I met up with the Gritstone Trail as I approached the A523 for a walk into Rushton to catch a bus home.

Returning to 2009, I was going nowhere near Three Shire Heads, let alone Gradbach, Danebridge or Rushton Spencer. In fact, I was wanting to pick up a path that tempted me in 2004 but thoughts of muddy feet kept me away and there is irony in the way that things turned out that way as it happened. So, I continued along the bridleway through former coal mining land until I lost sight of Shutlingsloe and Croker Hill to reach the signpost erected by the Peak and Northern Footpaths Society. Progress was set to be downhill from here as Cumberland Brook was first found and then followed. At one point, I may not have followed the path as intended but, given that it was all Open Access land anyway, I was never going to have anyone shouting at me for it. The path met a track that was to take me towards Clough House near Wildboarclough and by a delightful wood too with views of Shutlingsloe ahead of me.

There might have been a path by Clough House but I stuck with the road rather than cutting though its yard. Another path was reached without delay and I was on my way towards Shutlingsloe itself. At this stage, I was between two minds as to go around the hill or up and over. Having walked to its summit twice before, I was minded to skirt its slopes but decided to ascend it in the end. The path rounded Banktop to reach my second island of access land after leaving the first en route to Clough House. That allowed me to pick my own more gentle way to the top of the hill and it proved to be just as well with the public footpath taking a steeper line through crags. In one sense, the gentler line might have been more manageable with the strength of the wind but it could also have been that the traditional route was less exposed to it. Returning to the strength of that wind, I and those around me were to feel it more keenly the higher that we went. I have to say that this was the strongest breeze that I have ever felt and there was one that came close when it hit near the end of a hike from Horton-in-Ribblesdale to Hawes along the Pennine Way. Even standing was difficult and movement became much more of feat than usual. Nevertheless, I was so near the top that I continued inching my way forward; in another situation, I would reconsider what I was doing. Intriguingly, the wind was less strong on the  top and standing around the trig point was no problem; it can be surprising where shelter is found.

I felt the wind again on the way down along the slabbed path to Macclesfield Forest but it was no way near as intense as before. On the way into the forest, I met a gentleman who was wondering where the path along which I had come was going. I showed him where he was on his forestry visitor map and he decided on another course that kept within the forest itself; he and his young one might have been better off. Rather than dropping straight down to Trentbeck Reservoir, I chose a concessionary bridleway that took me round by Nessit Hill before dropping me on a minor road next to Ridgegate reservoir. That track was very muddy in places thanks in no small part to tree felling operations but it took nothing from my enjoyment of the walk.

From the road, I took another concessionary bridleway before making my way onto the Gritstone Trail to come out on Clarke Lane near Bottoms Reservoir. After a walk along the road through Langley, I left tarmac after me again to tramp though fields around by Macclesfield Golf Course while en route to Macclesfield Canal. Tiredness raised its profile about this time but home was near at hand and a mixture of street negotiation and canal bank strolling returned me to my doorstep. I suppose that staying upright in that strong wind had taken its toll as did the distance travelled together with the amount of ascent and descent that ws involved. It had been a good few hours walking on a dry if cold day with the sun occasionally breaking through the cloudy sky. 2009 had started well.

Travel Arrangements:

Bus service 58 between Macclesfield and the Cat and Fiddle Inn.

OS mapping has been available on the likes of Streetmap and Multimap for a good while now but Landranger 1:50000 data has been as good as it got so far. Intriguingly, a recent foray onto Multimap revealed an OS button on its interface but maximising the scale after using it revealed a surprise that had an air of familiarity about it: Explorer 1:25000 mapping. This has its uses for surveying countryside with regard to walking opportunities but does nothing to replace the full armoury that you get from a specialised digital mapping application with regard to the likes of route planning, for example. I am not sure what has happened to unleash Explorer mapping for free from an advertising-supported web service but it does raise an interesting question in my mind. Anyone who has ever used digital mapping software may have met up with the surprisingly large price differential between 1:50000 data and its 1:25000 counterpart. Drawing from my own experience, it is very striking with Anquet but far less so with Quo. The availability of 1:25000 mapping on Multimap does bring visions of cheaper 1:25000 data because, in the current economic environment, I cannot imagine that Multimap have been splashing out to that extent, even if it is now owned by Microsoft. The idea of less expensive mapping data is an appealing thought but that never means that it is destined to become reality. Even so, there is now a free alternative to splashing out and that might moderate prices if nothing else will.