Collected Musings of a Hill Wanderer

That trip report that was promised last week has been delayed by my main home PC developing the computing equivalent of engine trouble. The remedy is the computing equivalent of the putting in a new engine into a car and that’s as far as I am planning to go with the technical description on here. Suffice it to say that progress hasn’t been as smooth as I might have liked and I am getting to wonder if I somehow have managed to acquire an inverse Midas touch. An older machine has been pressed into service as an alternative and I have been grabbing bits and pieces like most of my digital photos, a process that involved mucking around with computer hardware using a screw driver. Now that I have decamped to some sort of stability, my mind can turn to crafting blog posts accompanied with photos and other more pleasant stuff. After all, there’s a bank holiday weekend ahead of us and who knows what it might offer. From the various fiorecasts, it’s unlikely to be as fantastic as it was in Scotland around the same time last year so it’ll be a matter of taking whatever chances are available. Last weekend was no stunner either and it allowed me to sort out a few things while popping for a local stroll round by Prestbury and Tytherington and continue the running in of my Meindls.

While the weather was nowhere near as unpleasant as predicted around my neck of the woods, I nevertheless stayed at home to resolve some other bits and pieces. That a muscle in back started to "sing" to me only helped to ensure that rucksack haulage lost its appeal. Saying that, it proved to be nothing that a spot of Deep Heat couldn’t banish and I have been keeping an eye on things ever since. The twinge started to make its presence felt after excursion undertaken during the preceding (bank holiday) weekend that took me to Appleby-in-Westmorland for some ambling around the Upper Eden Valley and in the vicinity of High Cup Nick. However it got caused is a mystery because I don’t remember doing anything out of the ordinary while wandering through that part of the world. The only thing that I can suggest is some muscles were being put to use that were accustomed to a more sedentary existence and that they got stiff when rested, something that I have seen with those in my legs from time to time. Anyway, that’s enough talk of ailments for now and I’ll try to bring to bring you a fuller report of a good walk on a day with weather not dissimilar to what we have been enjoying today and yesterday. If that hasn’t been enough to cheer the spirit in this time of lush growth, I don’t know what does.

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.

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.

While out on a trot from Langdale to Ambleside on Saturday, I spotted a stark notice on a gate. It was on a path leading towards the Langdale Pikes and issuing a strong message that ice axe and crampons were needed above 300 metres in height; I myself was staying low with plenty of hillside bereft of snow while the white stuff made itself plain to see at higher altitudes. Of course, there have been fatalities on the "Pikes" so the strong wording was not without good cause. It was also reminder of similar unfortunate outcomes in Wales and Scotland. I can’t say that I have heard of anything like this from Ireland but something tells that full winter conditions must be blanketing those hills too.

The trouble with official warnings is that we have seen so many that could be termed an overreaction that heretical thoughts begin to percolate into your consciousness not long after you have seen the warnings. Some issue shrill warnings without they being truly needed, acting in a manner akin to the shepherd boy who cried "Wolf!" in the Aesop’s fable. This time around, I am inclined to think that the "wolf" is real and have gotten to moderating my usual questioning. This is for a number of reasons. First, the warnings are coming from mountain rescue folk and they didn’t overreact to events around the time of the OMM in Cumbria when a deluge came from the heavens and caused raging roads to turn into rivers. The other chastening observation in support of that suspension is that there have been those serious accidents and fatalities.

Another factor in all of this is that we have been spoilt with the milder winters of late. Apart from the shorter days, the occasional spell of snow and ice or a storm, winter walking became perhaps no less accessible than at any other time of year. In contrast, this winter is a sharp reminder that what we have enjoyed of late isn’t always the case and preparedness for winter walking can be another matter entirely. The whiteness is attractive but there’s a certain "here be dragons" element lurking too, particularly with inexperienced folk being drawn out to enjoy the prettiness. That could be the reason behind the advice given by the head of the Lake District National Park last weekend, particularly with the school half-term holidays and their bringing more folk with many perhaps without the requisite equipment, knowledge, skills and experience (the LDNP is between a rock and a hard place: in these trying times, they need the visitors but safety remains vital too).

Speaking of experience, assessment of conditions is a big part of it and any disparity between those on high and those in the lowlands makes it tricky unless you have some experience of being up high in the first place. For instance, snow coverings among the hill country lining the Cheshire-Derbyshire boundary are measured in feet while those on the Cheshire plain are inches in thickness if they lie at all. Increasing the height differential can only exacerbate that sort of difference and entrap the unwary. Saying that, it doesn’t take much to realise that whitened hills look very different to the green valley bottoms with their icy patches due to paths having turned into stream beds; that was very typical of the Langdale that I encountered on Saturday. Mountains and hills do make their own weather and it seems that winter conditions bring that into sharp relief.

The warnings and the fatalities can make one feel that they are on the outside of a different world looking into it. They certainly challenge any perception of readiness for winter conditions and set you to thinking, particularly about those who have been left behind by those deaths. That certainly is the case for me but barriers should be overcome carefully rather than allowed to stop you in your tracks. Even so, the mountains won’t melt away overnight even if the snow does.

Update 2009-02-10: It now appears that winter conditions have gripped some of Ireland’s hills too. In fact, the Irish public service broadcaster RTÉ has a report on two men lost on Lugnaquila, Wicklow’s highest mountain with a height of above 3000 feet, after dropping their map in foggy condtions. They have been out all night and mountain rescue teams are searching for them but there is a glimmer of good news: mobile phone contact has been maintained throughout. Let’s hope it all ends well.