Cumbria Way. Part one.

Having had a few problems in regards to my walking recently, I was beginning to harbour doubts about continuing. The confidence sort of takes a bit of a hammering when things seemingly keep cropping up. With a lot of folk heading north for the annual TGO challenge I came up with a plan. It is always good to have a plan! What I had in mind were a couple of gentle trips. The Cumbria Way was one of those.
Last Wednesday saw me setting out. Getting to the start at Ulverston was a somewhat convoluted procedure. Bus to Newcastle, train to Carlisle. Another train to Lancaster, an hours wait and yet another train to Ulverston. The travelling took the best part of a day. My intention was to get fish and chips before setting off. Horrors, despite arriving just before four in the afternoon, everything was already closing for the day. Managed a cheese roll from Greggs just as they began to do the till.
From the onset it was obvious that this first section was not going to be easy. There were no campsites in the vicinity, B&B was pricey and there was nothing else on offer.

My hope was that I could snuck the tent in somewhere for a sneaky stealth camp. Unfortunately the route went through prime farming country. Cattle, sheep and horses abounded every which way I turned.

Finally I managed to find a wee place out of sight. Water came from a seep that had formed a small pool. It looked clear and the frogs swimming in it appeared happy enough!

 Thursday looked as if it was going to a warm day and so it proved. Unfortunately I did not have my shorts, however, I was able to roll my Ronhill's up and get a bit of sun on my legs., wow!

 There was some fine walking over to Beacon Tarn. The one fly in the ointment was a dodgy stomach. A couple of pills had been taken but I was still having problems.

. Keeping an eye on the map the way led me on to Coniston Water. A long, undulating path brought me to Coniston Hall campsite. It was still early and I was not keen on the campsite despite the fact it was not crowded. However, studying the map, it looked as if camping spots beyond Coniston may prove tricky. Thus it was I booked in.

A cluster of tents near the entrance turned out to be a large group of students. In all fairness they were just a group of exuberant youngsters. At the far end of the campsite though, a large group of school girls were camped, complete with a very large communal marquee type of thing. The racket they made at times was horrendous. Talk about a group of banshees on a night out!

Next morning I headed over to Coniston with breakfast in mind. Finding a cafe open opposite two outdoor shops I headed in. An impressive breakfast it was too. Ordering scrambled egg on toast, I was asked if I wanted wholewheat bread . It was proper bread, baked next door. No messing about, a doorstop type slice of toast with a substantial amount of egg. To cap it all tea came in a pot with extra hot water if required. It was a grand breakfast at a very reasonable price. Nipping in to the artisan bakery next door, temptation abounded every which way, cakes, breads, scones, scrumptious stuff. A bath bun was my choice for lunch. It was huge, at least six inches across!

The way on from Coniston made its way steadily uphill to Tarn Hows. Some lovely walking through verdant woodlands.

Carpets of bluebells covered the woodland floor. A brief glimpse of a red squirrel. Woodpeckers drummed on trees and bird life was in full voice.

  Coming up a section of path I spotted a group of school children with their teachers just ahead of me. Putting on my best mad granny smile, I said good  morning to them. The kids dutifully stood to one side to allow me to pass and I was greeted with a chorus of  "good morning miss", Wow, amazing stuff!

Tarn Hows was busy, obviously a very popular beauty spot. However, there was a public loo and an ice cream van doing hot and cold drinks. Pausing for a quick break, I noticed a Darby and Jones  type  of couple staring in my direction. The lady tut tutted, she was dressed in a smart trouser suit, make up applied just so, blue rinse hairdo perfectly set. He was in neatly pressed slacks and blazer. Me, well, I was in scruff order, dishevelled,  trackies rolled up above the knee, sans make up and feeling hot and sweaty. She probably was no older than me, but oh my, talk of worlds apart! She gave me a withering look but I just replied with a wide grin, I was having fun!

The lady at the campsite had informed me that rain was forecast for the afternoon. Thus I hoped to at least make Chapel Stile before the onset of the rain The CW takes an odd loop before heading down to Skelwith Bridge. It heads up to High Park and then almost doubles back to head down to Skelwith Force. Coming around by Elter Water, rain began to gently fall. Footsteps quickened, my mind was made up, it would be Baysbrown campsite by Chapel Stile for the night.  The campsite is spread over a wide area. There were only a few other tents and one or two motor homes. Decent showers and loos and cheap too, impressive! Managed to get the tent up before the rain really set in. Bliss, rain drumming on the flysheet, cozy inside with the stove purring as a brew is under way.

By the morning the rain had given way to soft mizzle blown up the valley on a boisterous wind. The  tops were shrouded in dark clouds. Following the path up through the Langdales, the wind increased and the rain became heavier. Making a dash in to the loo at Old Dungeon, I stopped to take a few more pills. The car park was fast filling up as and all was all hustle and bustle as folk prepared for a day on the hill. A chappy, eyeing my full rucksack, smiled at me, "I say, you look as if you are off on a jolly ramble?" Acknowledging that I was indeed out for a few days, his smile widened, "How utterly wonderful, splendid stuff lady" He shook my hand and walked off to join his group. Noticing that the hotel did breakfasts for non residents, I wondered if a plate of scrambled egg and toast   would help settle my stomach down a bit. Unfortunately they had just stopped serving. The lass on reception took pity on me and offered to get me a bacon sandwich and a cup of tea. She did me proud, thick slices of bread with four large slices of bacon and a pot of tea as well. The rain had eased as I started off again. It was back to just wet stuff and a strong, blustery wind. A few folk were heading up the track but all seemed to be heading up Rossett Gill The path for Stake Pass  swings to the right.

The way up looks daunting, however, there is a well graded path that zigzags its way up the hill. Despite being shoved around by the wind, I actually enjoyed it! Yay, I could get used to this backpacking malarky! 

A few people could be seen high up on the ridge but there were not a lot of folk around.

It was a long descent down toward  Rosthwaite. With such lovely scenery all around how could anyone rush it? Also I needed to have a couple of rest stops.

Once again a well graded path spiralled down the hill.

The misty wet stuff continued but appeared to be easing? There is a tea shop in Rosthwaite and it gave me incentive to keep moving. A cup of tea and a slice of cake seemed an ideal prospect!

Having made the tearoom and enjoyed my tea and cake, it was just a case of pushing on for the last couple of miles to Hollows farm campsite. It was tempting to just camp in the woods out of the way. But with a dodgy stomach I opted for the campsite. It was a rather strange set up. The main camping area is next to a road and then there is another, more sloping area around the back of a small hill. The loos are there too. The showers are way up the road at the farmhouse.It would be Derwent water and Keswick in the morning.

Ettrick Hills

This was one of those last minute put together trips! Mike and I were out for a walk on the Otterburn ranges on Thursday. Talk turned to the coming bank holiday weekend. A few ideas shuffled back and forward. Some quick perusing of maps and a few e mails and it was agreed we would head for Moffat. Our aim was the Ettrick hills. Moffat was busy and it took a few circuits around the town square before securing a parking spot. Heading out, we joined up with the Southern Upland Way. Initially we had a place in mind to camp. However, we were carrying heavy packs and, spotting a likely place to camp, we made our way down to it. It was a steep descent off the forestry track down through thick heather, tangled brash and loose rock.

A bit of shuffling around and we had camp set up. This was our home for the next few nights. At least, anyone wanting to check out the tents would find it a daunting prospect!

On the Sunday we continued on up the Upland Way. There is a splendid camping spot by the sheepfold near to Selcoth burn. It was tempting to head back and bring the tents up there. The downside would be that steep climb out of the wee valley we were in. Splendid views all around.

 A spot of lunch near Park's Well. Leaving the Upland Way we headed up to the trig point at East Knowe and then carried on over West Knowe.

 The drop off back down to March Well was leg wobbly steep. A slip could have meant a very rapid descent!

After a wee break to take in the scenery! Well, it was a fine day! it was a quiet daunder back to the tents and a well deserved brew.

Monday was a quiet day. Following the forestry road up to Garrogill and the ruins of a shepherds cottage. It would make a fine bothy. A place with potential, needs, a complete update, as the estate agent would say?

The way on could be seen snaking its way high up the hillside. It was steep, awfully so in places and it was just as well there was plenty of views to admire! Getting to the bealach, I was feeling shaky and let Mike and Lucky carry on to Ewelairs Hills while I sorted myself out.

This was an out and back walk, thus we were back at the tents by early afternoon. The rest of the day was spent sitting in the sunshine, drinking tea, snoozing and reading.

Tuesday morning saw us heading out. Getting back up to the forestry road with full packs was horrendous. Fighting my way through thick, tangled brash, falling in to hidden holes and clinging to clumps of heather, I eventually hauled myself on to level ground. Lungs heaving, gasping for breath, legs painful, I lay back for a few moments to try and recover some composure. Looking around, I saw no sign  of Mike. It seems he fared little better the me?
It was mainly downhill back to Moffat and we made good time. The bank holiday rush was largely avoided. We saw all of three people. A pleasant bank holiday interlude.

Otterburn.

With the Otterburn military ranges open to the public, Mike and I agreed to a walk in that area. Setting out from Rochester, we headed up past the Roman fort. It is noticeable that many of the local dry stone walls are built with carefully dressed stone! A footpath led us up Coal Cleugh and in to the forestry. The going was rough in places but at least the footpath was reasonably signed. The Tofthouse road, marked as a bridleway, is in fact a road.

For most of our route it was largely on tarmac. The wide open views made the walking something of a pleasure. Also, we were able to maintain a steady pace.

Two young military types in a four four stopped to check on our route. They were off to a hill to blow something up. They did too, with quite a large boom!

Wide open spaces.
The wind was fairly blustery as we headed up past Bushman's Crag.

Our aim was for the trig point at Ridlees Cairn.

It was then down and around to the Dere Street Roman road. A long straight stretch. A few icy showers with beautiful rainbows, chivied us on our way.

Most of it was straightforward walking with a few tussocky bits thrown in for good measure. A good workout for the legs!

A nice days walking covering an average of 13.5 miles.

Galloway hills.

With easter looming ahead, it seemed a trip would be a good idea to spend a few days backpacking. The Galloway region was one I had been looking at for a while. Thus it was that I arrived at Sanquhar station on the Thursday afternoon. Actually reaching the hills from there would involve a longish walk in. No time was wasted in setting off. The pack felt heavy with five days food on board. The plan was relatively simple, to follow the road that ran up the glen by the Euchan water. Hopefully I would be able to snuck in somewhere on the way and camp for my first night. Well, that was the plan!

Signs restricting 'works traffic' to twenty miles per hour were vaguely noted but caused no concern. A new, wide unmetalled roadway branching off up the hill to the right, gave me pause for thought. Mind,the security chap, which I considered a little odd, stationed at the entrance to this road, was quite polite as I passed on the old road. The water works marked on the map proved to be quite new modernised buildings with several vehicles parked inside a fenced off area. Just beyond, the new roadway crossed, heading up the hill. It was for new wind farms being built high up on the ridges. These new roads have blighted and scarred the area  more than the turbines themselves.
To compound the problems,, just beyond the roadworks, extensive forestry logging was in operation. The clatter and roar of heavy machinery filled the late afternoon air. New roadways branched off left and right. An eye had to be kept on the map. More heavy machinery was parked in newly bulldozed laybys. A couple of pickup trucks passed me heading down the glen. No one challenged me as I waved and passed on, trying to act in a purposeful and confident manner?To be honest, I was not a happy bunny. Close map reading kept me on track. A quarry, marked on the map as disused, was now back in full production. There had been a few showers of rain on the way up. This was now becoming more prolonged and it was getting colder too. finding somewhere to camp for the night was difficult. After some eight and a half miles of walking I finally managed to tuck the tent in a small spot out of the way.

The rumble of traffic on the nearby track started around seven thirty in the morning. Possibly the security chappies for the quarry? More roadways had been bulldozed nearby in preparation for yet more wind farms Ice in my water container indicated how chilly the night had been. The plan for the day was quite simple, to hand rail up by the Poltalian burn and fence line upwards to Blacklorg Hill. In actual fact I  stayed on the higher ground heading up to avoid the very wet and extensive tussocks by the fence. The going was still tough though. Lines of old, narrow drainage channels indicated that at some period in time this ground had been better managed.

  Eventually I had to contour around to Magheachen Rig. Light showers of rain had been on and off all morning. Hardly enough for waterproofs, enough to make things damp! From the Rig the bog and tussocks became intensive. To be honest I was beginning to struggle. My legs were protesting strongly. It was obvious very few folk passed this way and one cannot blame them. An old fence topped with barbed wire blocked the way ahead. It was not easy getting over it. With the weather taking a turn for the worse, it meant donning full waterproofs. So much for the weather forecast of mainly dry in all areas with a few light showers?

Blacklorg Hill was a rather uninspiring top. Possibly though I am being unfair? With rain and hail bearing down on me I did not linger.

The intention had been to head down and then up to Meikledodd Hill. However, with sleet, freezing rain and hail coming in and things turning wet, I decided I had to camp.

It was difficult finding anywhere for the tent. Possibly I would have been better staying on the ridgeline and risking the wind that was picking up? As it was, I was forced to lose height and descend down toward a break in the forestry that had a burn running through it. A group of roe deer were browsing in a gap between the trees. Unfortunately they were gone before I could get the camera out. At last among the wet and rough ground I found a flat moss covered spot that felt firm underneath. It was a nice little spot for the tent. Although only a short distance covered over the course of the day, some six miles, my legs were very tired. Mind, it was very rough ground that had proved hard going!

 There was wet snow overnight and Saturday morning saw the cloud base down and with it came more sleet, hail, rain and wet snow. There was little sense in heading back onto the tops in those conditions, thus I stayed put. It cleared briefly in the afternoon, too late in the day to make a move. Conditions worsened overnight. By early morning it was snowing heavily.

A study of the map had given me an escape route and that really was my only option. As I packed up on the Sunday morning, the snow cleared, more or less. The cloud base dropped and things turned wet and not nice. My route involved another spell with the killer tussocks and quivering bogs! The plan was simple, another case of hand railing. It involved following an old fence line that bordered the block of forestry uphill and then swinging off to follow another fence downhill between a large break in the trees. This in turn would lead to a forestry track lower down. Simple in theory, not quite so in reality. For a start, the cloud base dropped. This was not just thick mist, I could barely make out the fence on my left, even though only a few feet from it. Thick, dense clag and wet with it. Occasionally the ghostly outline of the trees appeared and disappeared, spectral like, spooky in a way! Things got difficult near the top end of the forestry block.  Tree harvesting had begun. The fence had disappeared, worse, heavy machinery had churned the ground in to a quagmire. It took a bit of jiggling around to pick up the remains of the fence I wanted and establish I was on course. A long, difficult descent down the hill followed. Where possible I stuck with narrow deer tracks. A couple of times I hit really nasty boggy bits. As the ground began to level out I was certain the track was nearby. The growl of a four four and a vehicle appearing out of the gloom directly ahead of me was a pleasure to see. The startled look on the drivers face was quite amusing.
The murk was not so dense lower down and for once it was something of a pleasure to to be on a terra firma track. It was then a case of heading down and joining up with the Southern Upland Way. The rain continued unabated but at least there was some visibility! Met a mountain biker heading for a few of the forestry trails. He mentioned that a farm further down had a sign out offering tea, coffee and light refreshments. My step quickened a bit at the thought of a cuppa and slice of cake. Sure enough, at Polgown the sign was there for all to see, 'just knock'  was the instruction given. This I duly did, no answer. Knocked louder but no response. There were cars in the driveway but no one around, odd?.

Disappointed, I turned away. The route now led uphill by Cadgers Knowe and Glenmaddie Craig. It was not a difficult or steep climb, just a steady upward plod. On tired legs though it felt a long haul.

  Once over the top it was a pleasure to see ample spots to camp for the night and I was not long in setting up the tent. A testing sort of day, difficult at times. A distance of some nine miles covered.

By morning the rain had cleared away and it was a straightforward walk back to Sanquhar. Not a bad trip, although I seem to have made a bit of a meal of it. Mind, I suppose getting that wee bit older adds to the factor?