Update

Rather mystified about the occurrences of my last trip I finally decided it better to check with my GP. She has suggested that it is possible I may have had a very minor heart attack. A trip to hospital and an EEG has not shown any irregularities. There are a few other checks to be made, however I am hoping to be away for a trip sometime next week? In the mean time I have been working to try and raise my fitness levels a tad. Currently I am helping out in someones allotment. This means a walk of some forty five minutes, three or four miles, each way, on a regular basis of three times a week. To make things a bit more difficult, an old rucksack has been dug out of retirement and a bladder with four litres of water has been placed  in the rucksack as a weight penalty in my walks to the allotment. There is also the added factor that my flat is on the sixth floor and I make an effort to  not use the lift and stick to the stairs. There is an old adage that the only way to get hill fit is by being on the hill. However I am hoping to make a wee bit of difference. Possibly too I may try for a a night or two away in bushcraft mode, travelling quite light and not taking the tent. On E bay there is a Rab survival zone bivi bag in green that I have my eye  on and if the bidding remains sensible I may have a try for it. My one is ancient and leaks and green ones are hard to come by.  So, currently I am sorting kit and planning a return to the Howgills.  

Jinxed ??

Thursday April 21st 11. Camped OS map OL19 GR724065.

Sometimes I feel that way. Looking at the weather  forecast for the Easter period, the indications where that it was going to remain dry and warm. A final re shuffle of the pack, a few items shed and the weight was down to just around twenty six pounds, (eleven kilo); that was inclusive of food and fuel to last over five days. The journey up to Kirkby Stephen was uneventful, connections at Leeds was fine and I arrived at eleven twenty five. Needing to top up on more fluids I nipped in to the newly added station cafe. Honestly, one pound fifty for a cuppa was steep. Road walking is not something I enjoy but the quick shuffle up the main A685 to Lane Head was quite painless. From there it was a quite pleasant amble down a minor road in warm sunshine. Obviously the sack felt heavy but not uncomfortable and I was taking my time, there was no rush. Joined up with the Coast to Coast path over limekiln hill and Smardale fell. A lot of the rock around here is red sandstone and the sheep have taken on a sort of red and off white hue. Skylarks where in abundance, insects and bees where all busy doing their own thing and the day felt pleasant. Dropping down to Smardale bridge I began to look for somewhere to camp, Although it was early there where two reasons I had decided to stop, one, I wanted a slack day just to ease in to things; secondly, there was the issue of water. Pushing on  would mean a few more hours before another suitable place to camp could be found. Water was not going to be readily available either. The scandall beck was a good water source. Finding a spot out of the way for the tent  took a bit more time. Smardale gill is a nature reserve and the viaduct was obviously a popular walk. There was a regular succession of folk walking up the old rail track bed. After much casting about I opted to pitch in the old quarry, discreet and out of the way. The only slight snag is that being a quarry floor, tent pegs are difficult to place, hence a rather slack looking tent. The warm weather had me wishing I had packed shorts, my arms where getting quite tanned. One slight worry, all afternoon I have had chronic heartburn; a couple of gaviscon tablets have eased it a little. My supper though was rather a wasted affair, I kept choking on the food and could not eat much of it..

Friday 22nd April, same map;GR 682996
An odd day, the morning was calm and still, after a restless night it was sheer bliss to sit outside the tent as the sun rose. The heartburn was as bad as ever and so it was more gaviscon. Breakfast was supposed to have been a sachet of porridge, still finding it difficult to get food down I added more water and milk powder and sort of drank it. Was underway by eight, although not indicated on the map, the old rail track bed is a regular  bridleway up as far as |Newbiggin on Lune. Delightful walking too, a lovely amble with wonderful views, peaceful. A quick dash across the main road, past Betty Beck and Sandwath and the terrain began to head upwards. My aim was for Green Bell. Following the path across Pinksey, it went from clear and easy to see to something vague and indistinct. There is a clearly defined track leading in to Pinksey Bottom, but the track indicated on the map was further over to my left. Striking off at an angle up and across the hill I found it again higher up. My pace was slow, I was deliberately pacing myself, trying to stay within my comfort zone. However, the heartburn/indigestion was worse and my chest was hurting. The sun was hot but a strong north easterly breeze was keeping temperatures down. A pause for a think at Hunthoof pike; overall I was not doing too bad; if only this heartburn would ease up I would be fine. Made Green Bell ok, marvelous views in all directions. Sauntered on, had a look for Spengill well but saw no sign of it. Randygill Top was a long time coming, nice walking, the ridge a well rounded whaleback. Paused for a break by the cairn and had a ponder over what was best; to be honest I was a tad concerned over this indigestion, my chest was hurting and I did not feel my best..My intention had been been to carry on over Kensgriff and on to Yarlside. Studying the map it looked as if the easier option was to drop down off Randygill in to the upper reaches of Bowderdale and stop there. There was an actual path leading down. Never before have I ever really struggled with a steep descent, but for whatever reasons this one proved horrendous. It felt never ending and relentless in its steepness and I had to stop several times to give myself a break. Once down my legs where like jelly and I did not feel good; all I wanted to to was drop the sack and collapse and basically that is what |I did. A couple who had been walking up the track came hurrying across, they had been watching me coming down and where rather concerned; I assured them I was ok, just winded a bit. After that I just sat for half an hour or so before getting the tent up on the first available bit of ground. This is most frustrating and I am unsure what is happening here, certainly I feel I was moving well within my capabilities, have kept to a slow steady pace, kept my pack weight down etc; I am not happy over this. Supper was soup, I am not managing food as such and even find taking liquids a bit of a hassle. The evening is a wee bit blustery but the tent is well pegged down and I am curled up in my sleeping bag listening to the sounds of the dale in the fading evening light. Sheep close by, their munching of grass clearly audible; they have their own vocabulary too, not just snuffles and coughs, but low, soft murmurs. Later, a loud snort near to the tent, a gentle whicker, ponies grazing close by.
Saturday 23rd. Same map, GR678995.
A non day, packed up this morning but felt woozy and my breathing was a bit odd. Basically I moved the tent  over to a more secluded spot in Hazel Gill and after some major faffing got the tent up, climbed in to the sleeping bag and remained there for the day.

Sunday 24th, same map, Bents camping barn.
Managed to get a brew of tea down this morning, gagged on the porridge though and gave up on it. Decisions had to be made, there was no point moping in the tent for another day. Mulling over the map, I formulated a rough plan of action. Packing up and getting the tent down was not easy; it took over an hour and I felt well out of sorts. Started off down the path that runs down through the fell; the pace was slow, very, shuffle, shuffle, pause, rest, move on. A small group of mountain bikers stopped and where rather concerned, one lad wanted to call the rescue team. To be honest, it was tempting but knowing the hassle it would cause I thanked the lads and assured them I would be fine. Gradually as I pushed on down I began to eventually perk up a bit and managed to get in to a steady pace. By the time I reached Bowderdale I felt more confident of things.A spot of road walking past Wath and on to Newbiggin  on Lune. Needing fluids I strolled in to the tea room at Bessy Beck's fish farm. Managed a couple of glasses of squash, food was out of the question though. Feeling a bit more confident I began the uphill plod to the camping barn; was quite chuffed that I was doing ok even though it was all uphill. Was at the barn by around mid afternoon; not a soul in sight, no response when I knocked on the farmhouse door, nothing. The barn was unlocked and taking a chance I dumped the sack inside and got a brew on the go. What bliss to kick off one's footwear, to settle back against a dry stone wall and just enjoy the sunshine. An old sheep came wandering over, had a look at me and then headed over to the bunkhouse. Obviously she had the place well sussed out, first she checked the door, finding it closed she moved on for a mooch around the rubbish bins. It became obvious why the lids where strapped down, the sheep carefully and methodically gave each lid a nudge, hoping to dislodge the lid, her efforts to topple the bins also failed.  With another hopeful glance at me, she finally ambled off. Speaking to the farmer later when I checked in, he was highly amused when I referred to the sheep as a 'canny yow'.He blinked and looked at me with a wide grin and asked if I understood what yows and tups where; I assured him I did; quite made his day. Fortunately the camping was quiet, two lads doing the coast to coast and |I had a dorm to myself. Eating is still problematical but I am managing plenty of  fluids.

Monday 25th. Kirkby Stephen
A quiet night, the coast to coast guys where away quite early and I had the place to myself. Plenty cups of tea and a cereal bar and I was ready to go. The morning was overcast with a chilly wind. My plan was simple, to follow the coast to coast route in to Kirkby Stephen and possibly check in somewhere.It is only a few miles from the camping barn to town and I found it a pleasant stroll. Kirkby was heaving, wall to wall with people and traffic. Checked out the local hostel and bumped in to the warden. The place was almost empty and she booked me in on the spot. Given the key code to all me entry during the day allowed me to come and go as I wanted. Got some chips from the local chippy, a mistake, managed about half the portion with plenty of fluids but that was my limit. For the rest of the day I was content to curl up on my bunk with a book. A few folk booked in early evening; all coast to coast. What struck me though was the cliquishness of the those people. In the kitchen making a brew and several folk asked the same question, 'doing the coast to coast?' As soon as I said no, they turned away; obviously, I was not one of them. Fortunately the hostel was not busy and I had a dorm to myself and I just kept out of the way. Mixed loos and showers where a tad disconcerting.
Tuesday 26th.
Waited until the majority of folk had left and headed out myself. With the train south not until twelve forty six it was just a case of killing time. Went for a walk over and around Hartley and back across toward the station. Making my over past Half Penny house I was shocked to see what had been a pleasant footpath that avoided  the main road was now a hideous scar, a track had been bulldozed right the way up to the station, ugly and brutal, nasty. Things certainly have not turned out as planned and certainly, in some respects I do feel jinxed. However, I do have a few ideas for another trip in to the Howgill fells. Possibly using the Bents farm camping barn as a first night stopover and then heading more toward Tebay and then camping high for a night or two.

Packing

Having not been away for many months my fitness levels had fallen through the floor. With medical problems currently more or less under control the decision was made; time for a few days away. Decisions, where to? The Howgills are an area of Yorkshire that I have had my eye on for sometime, it is fairly accessible and away from the busier areas of Yorkshire. A trawl through the net and to my surprise I was able  to purchase cheap train tickets for over the Easter period.The one downside of this is being tied to a fixed period of travel. This involves an early start; the 07 10am from Kings Cross. It will  mean me being up and away from the flat before the sparrows are out of their pyjamas. There is a routine to packing my rucksack, different items paced in certain parts of the bag and so forth. Also I tend to pack differently when heading out than when returning; for example, tent ready and accessible, ditto water bag and so forth on the journey out.. When coming back it is my clean change of clothes, wash gear and the likes. Routine though does not prevent the faffing around, stuff gets packed, unpacked, weight is considered, is this item too heavy, do I really need that item? April can be a tricky month weather wise; I have experienced both warm and balmy days and freezing temperatures with snow and ice. Thus clothing has to be carefully  considered. Taking a risk I am packing my lighter sleeping bag rather than my winter one. A pair of leggings can double as sleeping gear or thermal bottoms.The overall weight of my rucksack comes in at roughly 28 pounds or 12 kilo; that is with five days food and fuel on board. To be honest I am apprehensive, not having been away for so long, carrying a weighty rucksack is going to be interesting! yikes!! Mind, this is going to more of a wander than anything serious, a slack packing trip.

Uncertainty

Many months have passed since I last posted; medical problems curtailed much of my wanderings. A couple of minor ops, more tests and changes of medication seem to have eased the problems. Offered a chance of a place to stay for a couple of nights in the New forest, I accepted. In many respects I have doubts and uncertainties concerning my outdoor activities. Questions constantly buzzed around my mind, did I have the same abilities, was I still capable, was the old enjoyment and thrill still there? My time in the New Forest was split over two day walks and travelling light with just a daysack. When I first arrived in Brockenhurst early afternoon I nipped down to the local bakers to get some rolls for packed lunches. A couple of folk where queuing in front of me and so I tagged on the end of the line. A heavy nudge from behind took me by surprise, slightly annoyed I turned around to remonstrate with the person who had pushed me only to come face to face with a donkey who had nonchalantly tagged on to the end of the queue. Poor lad, he was unceremoniously shooed away. On my first walkout I followed bridleways over toward Roydon manor and Dilton farm. A light rain had changed to a steady downpour and the woods smelt fresh and pungent with the scent of wild garlic. It was surprising to see a few caravans on the campsite at Lodge heath; mind, a couple looked as if they had been there for a while. Heading over toward Ladycross Lodge the rain got heavier. Made my way over toward Stubby Copse enclosure and then swung back down through Pignal hill and back.

The following day saw me heading back and around  Pignal hill. This part of the forest is bisected with hard dirt tracks, long straight avenues; ideal traffic free cycling routes, but sore on the feet and a tad monotonous for the pedestrian. The secret is to study the map closely and follow footpaths that cut through the trees. Often muddy, however, these less used routes are often byways for the deer and is possible to see where they have been wandering. Tiny, delicate prints of muntjac deer, larger prints of roe deer and occasionally hooves prints of the  ponies.The morning had started off dank and drizzly but the day had gradually improved. My main problem was trying to settle down and relax; a bad habit of mine is to keep pushing on.  Picking a route around Denny wood I took stock of my route and decided to make my way back through Parkhill inclosure and then back toward Brockenhurst. Just a few miles of fairly gentle walking; it was difficult to slow down and enjoy my walking. Probably I will not really know how things are until I head out with a full pack and spend a few days on the hill.

Dirt under my fingernails

Folks may wonder what I have been up to recently? However, an ongoing medical problem is causing some difficulties which reflects on my lack of trips. Of late I find I am becoming more reclusive, to try and prevent myself going totally stir crazy I have been doing a few bits of wood carving, as illustrated in the photos and have a couple of other pieces I am working on. Back in the summer I was asked if I would help somebody out with their allotment; recently I have been mainly working there on my own. Some people have the idea that once the summer harvesting is over that there is little to do in the allotment. How wrong they are, recently  I have been pruning back fruit canes, there are vegetable beds to clear, grass to cut, compost bins to turn and new ones started, It is a busy time prior to the onset of winter and of course through the winter months there will be plots to add compost to and dig, tools to sort and thoughts will be turning to the spring planting. This morning I was expecting something in the post and decided to walk up to the allotment early and spend a couple of hours working before heading back for the postie. It was early when I left, earlier than I actually intended at around six o clock. There had been a heavy overnight frost and the morning felt quite chilly and I found myself walking along the early morning streets at a brisk pace to warm up, car roofs glistening in the light of the street lamps. The early morning light was just breaking when I arrived at the allotment, the ground was white with frost and everything was still, my breath steaming in the cold air. Soon the distant horizon was a fiery blaze of crimson  as the early morning sun heralded a new day. Birds gradually became more active, a woodpecker close by chattered loudly, pigeons where busy scavenging the plots for food, parakeets, birds which are becoming common in London, screeched harshly.Noisy beasts but colourful; a fox ambled by, looked at me, yawned and continued on his way.A robin hopped around following me as I worked, I forked over a bit of ground to allow him to search for his breakfast. This morning I was working in the fruit cage cutting grass with long handled shears. Much of the grass was heaped up to be added to the compost heap in stages; too much at once and it can compact and become slimy. Potato haulms,, some runner bean plants that had to cleared, a few handfuls of horse manure and and a barrowful of clippings where added to the compost heap and that was my time up.Normally I scrub my hands in the water but, however, seeing the layer of ice on the surface I decided I would wait until I got back to the flat before washing them.                                                                                                                                    

Wood carving

One of these days I will put up a complete album of my carving work. These are a few pictures of a piece of work I was asked to do. The wood is elm, with a burr, the bowl is hand carved and  measures roughly two foot long, three and a half inches deep and ten inches wide. Just as a matter of interest, my flat is tiny, which makes my wood carving difficult; also, living in a block of flats I have to consider the neighbours. Recently though I have been assisting someone with their allotment and a lot of work on this latest bowl was done there. Carrying tools back and forward each day was not too bad but working in the small potting shed when it rained was not so easy!

A baby dish from a goldfield burr

Yorkshire circuit

Before anyone says it, yes, I know, it is Yorkshire again; well for me it is fairly accessible and Kirkby provides a handy jumping off point. Much more importantly though is that I can get fairly cheap rail tickets with careful advance booking. Mind, that does commit me because cheap tickets are non refundable, so if the weather is bad so be it. Also, of course, Yorkshire does provide some fine walking.

Thus it was on the Thursday that I was heading north, arriving at Kirkby Stephen at twelve thirty. By the time I had wandered down to the town and picked up a few bits and treated myself to a packet of chips it was early afternoon when I headed out. On my last trip I had noticed the old railway track and wondered if it was feasible to follow part of its route. From what little information I could gather, it seemed there was a footpath along the old trackbed as far as Hartley, what lay beyond that I was unable to find out. Making my way over to Hartley was quite straight forward and I was encouraged to find that there was permitted access beyond there. This provided some fine fairly easy walking, the one downside was the myriad of flies that where most bothersome whenever I stopped. Unfortunately my hopes where dashed when I got as far as Rookby Scarth, Private, keep out, no access, notices where predominantly displayed. A quick check of the map and I decided to skirt around the area by following the line of the fell by Howgill. A bad mistake as it turned out, I would have done better following another track up the fell and then cutting across country. As it was I came down toward Howgill Foot which meant crossing some rough pasture on the way through; I noticed the cattle grazing in the field and saw that there was a bull with them. He was perfectly happy about me passing by and posed no problem. The trouble arose as I came in to sight of the farm, it had been extensively modernised and done up, none of the usual farmyard clutter, everything just so. My heart sank, I could sense trouble and so it proved, a woman came dashing out of the house all in a fluster. "Excuse me, where do you think you are going, you are on private land?" Her voice was modulated and bristled with indignation and hostility, no broad Yorkshire accent here. Quickly I apologised and explained that I had just come down off the fell etc. She was not mollified one bit, and proceeded to give me a lecture about trespassing and wandering through fields where there where dangerous bulls and so forth. My thought was, give me the bull any day in preference to this woman. she then escorted my through her pristine garden out to her drive, (I could just as easy have walked around the farm buildings) with instructions to proceed down her drive to Heggerscales and not to deviate off the road. So folks, if wandering anywhere near Howgill Foot, be warned, there be dragons roaming loose!. With my rough plan now thrown out of the window I still Had several miles to cover. It meant a longish walk, mainly by road, around to Wrenside farm and then around by the river Bolah and up to Fell Intake where I finally have managed to stop. That has been a long afternoon of walking and I am glad to have finally stopped.

Friday 6th August

Have stopped early because of the weather. The weather was dry this morning but a heavy dew had soaked the tent and so I had dawdled a bit to allow the worst of the wet to dry off. Following the path, which was faint at times, I made my way around by Woofer gill, Greenhope Howe and up Potter side to cross the road and then continued up and across to High Greygrits. Although not cold, a blustery wind made it feel quite chilly sitting by the trig point. Also I knew a weather front was due to come through and the thickening cloud and dark, blue black bruised sky off to the west indicated it was fast approaching. The quarry, marked as disused on the OS map, is in fact still in use for stone extraction; thankfully no one was working there today. Walked up to the track that leads up to Kettlepot Gill. The track looked newly laid and I suspected it was not the original track to the old mine workings further up. In fact I had a little difficulty in actually finding the old track and passed it before I realised , only after some careful study of the map was I able to figure out where it descended to cross the gill. In several places the old line of track is now washed away. By then thin drizzle that had started as I walked up the hill was now turning to heavier rain. Not seeing the point of continuing in worsening weather I found a spot for the tent and camped. By late afternoon the weather had briefly eased and I went off to explore the area but saw little indication of the old workings but did manage to find a rough indication of where the old path ascended the hill on the other side. The rain now is sluicing down, a pity, I wanted to photo the traps put out by keepers, poles laid out across the beck offering a bridge for any small creatures, in the middle though was an open cage, with, I suspect, some form of bait and a snap trap to catch what some game keepers consider 'vermin'; one trap had a stoat in it, dead. Why? all to do with the grouse shooting, old habits die hard and the grouse is considered the golden bird, grouse shooting being big business. It is not a case of sentimentality but it angers me.

Saturday 7th August

An odd start to the day, the rain had mainly passed, leaving only a slight drizzle. Last night I had gone over my route, there was nothing difficult in it, just a matter of heading up the hill to Cocklake Rigg and across to the path that comes around by Robert's Seat. For reasons I cannot explain, I hit a block, just did not want to do it, started up the hill, stopped, dithered but did not feel comfortable at all, totally illogical and to add to the irrationality of it all I ended up going back down to the road and followed it up to Tan Hill, very strange! Mind, it was not a bad walk, as road walks go, the drizzle had passed through and it became dry and quite pleasant. From Tan Hill I turned on to the path I originally had planned on taking, it was a lovely bit of walking too, up over Robert's Seat, with fine views and open, airy spaces. Dropped down to Ravenseat in Whitsun Dale, a farmhouse that offers coffee and scones and has a small campsite. Resisting the temptation of coffee I pushed on; the coast to coast route comes through here and is sign posted but is not marked on the OS map thus care is needed otherwise one is following the route that leads to Nine Standards. The direction I wanted was over to Birkdale, a less trodden path although easy enough to pick up. A heavy shower had me back in waterproofs; the shooting hut looked tempting and not being locked I nipped in for a quick break and to allow the rain to pass. Following the contour of the hill around above the road I made my way down the valley, the plan was to take the track that heads up through Little Sled Dale and camp high and continue on up to the ridge in the morning. So much for plans, 'Private, no access, no footpath' signs where predominantly displayed; a vehicle higher up the track dissuaded me from tresspassing. This is open fell side not agricultural land, the grouse shooting season is due to start shortly and the keepers obviously did not want folk disturbing the birds. It is not that I am anti hunting, per se, however this is not hunting but slaughter of thousands of dumb birds that are pampered exclusively for this moment. Hunting to put food on the table is another matter, as long as the animal/bird is killed cleanly, swiftly and humanely; it is a case of kill it, cook it, eat it; grouse shooting by the favoured few falls far short of that. Harbouring dark thoughts about fancy folk who take delight in such activities, I turned and headed up the hill toward Birkdale tarn. Someone by now will possibly suggest I am an inverted snob, so be it, I am working class, what you see is what you get, a peasant of the soil. Found an ideal spot to camp by the tarn, it has actually been dammed at one end and I pitched the tent close to some old workings. Looking about the workings they suggest more of mining activities than quarrying, there are some indications of at least one filled in shaft. Ambled off to wander around the tarn, not too bad close to the shore but some very boggy ground. Saw curlews, a hawk hunting overhead, raucous ducks where kicking up a rumpus out on the water, otherwise it was a tranquil spot. The area is also a favourite spot for the grouse, they have quite a wide ranging vocabulary, not just their crazy 'go back, go back' alarm calls, but a variety of soft bubbling murmurings too, at times almost cooing somewhat like wood pigeons. Came out of the tent and the demented birds exploded in all directions, total pandemonium.

Sunday 8th August.

Today was quite a long one, a heavy dew had soaked the tent overnight and the morning had dawned calm and still; this in turn meant the midges where out. Followed a track made by a farmer's buggy around the contour of the hill to the old quarry, once more marked on the map as disused, but actually still in use. Dropped down to the river Swale and followed the footpath to High bridge, another small campsite which I skirted. From there another footpath over Clumperstone Hill and down to Angram, passing through a field of frisky heifers. It had been tempting to walk in to Keld but I felt that may have meant too long a day. A strange occurrence at Angram, the footpath come out at a fork in the road with a house being extensively rebuilt, right on the junction; a guy stared at me as I stepped out on to the road, being polite I said 'good morning' to him, he just glared at me, turned around and stalked back in to the house heavily slamming the door behind him. Gosh, I know I can look a bit wild after a few days on the hill but not that bad as to scare folks, most odd! From Angram it was a quick shuffle down to Thwaite and then back up to join the Pennine Way that leads over Great Shunner Fell. Much of the route has been paved with great stone slabs, it detracts a bit from the walk, although it is understandable, the heavy usage the Way gets obviously leads to erosion. The wizard of oz kept going through my mind, follow the yellow brick road. Despite it being a long pull up it was good walking but it was good to get to the top . There is a stone built windbreak on the top, no trig point but a survey marker thingy; I was glad to take a break and have a study of the map. After some pondering it was an easy decision to follow the path and then turn off down East Side and find somewhere to camp. The pit and tips marked on the map look as if they where relics of coal mining activities; finding somewhere to pitch the tent looked problematical, I prefer to be out of sight and out of mind as it where, with forestry operation close by I was reluctant to set up camp. There are some amazing sink holes in the region, a couple looked as if they may have cave systems, it would be interesting to find out if there are any caves, certainly there must at least be water carved passageways? Finally, after a certain amount of faffing around, I came back up the hill to Humesett Crags and have found a nice little spot. Water was a bit of a problem but I found a trickle and am now a happy camper, glad to get my boots off and sit down with a cuppa. Part of my route for tomorrow has been scuppered, my intention had been to take the bridleway down to Cotterdale, however, the forestry works have closed the bridleway. Must admit, I am wearied this evening.

Monday August 9th.

Another short day, my route was a tad circuitous, first following the PW down Wensleydale toward Hardraw and then taking the path back along to Cotterdale, a lovely path providing a pleasant low level walk. From there it was a case of back along the river, the other side though and following the path across to Thwaite Bridge House. It was tempting to follow the higher old road but I do not think my body would accept it, I was running on a flat battery and felt tired and my legs where protesting a bit. There was bad weather brewing over Wild Boar Fell and it was heading my way. Reaching Yore House farm, I noticed they did camping, checked it out, very basic, a strip of grass by the river and a loo back up the drive; one camper van and tent on site. Heavy rain scudding across decided me and I opted to stay put, very unusual for me but seeing I am heading out tomorrow it is the easiest option.The farmer's wife is a nice friendly lady, which is always a bonus. Passed two bulls today and five rams no problem.

Tuesday.

Rain on and off during yesterday afternoon and through the night so I probably made the right choice. Dawdled this morning, the train from Garsdale is not until 1300hrs and it is only a quick walk up the road. Was entertained by some very low level flying both by the RAF and army helicopters. The people in the campervan where quite amused this morning to see me heading up the drive to the loo with my cook pot full of hot water for a strip wash; there is a sink in the loo but no hot water. A good scrub down and clean clothes, joy. Possibly if I head this way again it could well be the Howgill Fells?