Howgill saunter

Uldale wild camp

Thursday June 9th. Bents camping barn
An early start this morning; was underway by five thirty. Even at that hour the tube was comparatively busy, bleary eyed folk, cleaners, domestic staff, manual workers, all part of the essential side of keeping a big city running. Throngs of people milled around the concourse of Kings Cross, all catching early trains to a myriad of destinations. Fortunately my train, the 07 05hrs  train to Leeds, was not overly busy. It was a quiet run up, a quick change at Leeds to the Settle and Carlisle train, arriving at Kirkby Stephen station just before twelve.
Wild camping is possible between KS and the Lune valley, but not easy; finding water and somewhere out of the way at the same time would be a little difficult. There is one spot I know of and even that is not the best of places. My option was for a lazy afternoon stroll over to Bents farm and the camping barn. As camping barns go, this one is quite comfy, with flush loo, an equipped kitchen and electricity on the meter; hot water bottles provided free! Did a loop around Smardale gill and the old viaduct. For June it was fairly chilly and I had my windproof smock on over my fleece.. Booked in early and settled down with a book to read. Later two guys staggered in looking for a phone. They had been doing the Coast to Coast and run into difficulties with blisters and sheer exhaustion. It was little wonder in some respects, one of the chaps admitted he was carrying around seventy pounds weight, that and his heavy duty leather boots would make most folk exhausted pretty quickly. The wanted a taxi to KS and I directed them up to the farm house; hopefully they could get themselves sorted out there?
Friday 10th. Camped OS map OL19 643003 (Approximately)
Surprisingly I had the whole camping barn to myself last night. This morning I was awake early and decided to make the most of it and was away around seven. The morning was dry and cool, almost chilly. My plan for the day was not that ambitious, but still providing a good walk. Basically I was heading down the Lune valley toward Tebay. An interesting walk too via a mixture of footpaths, bridleways and minor lanes.Coming through  one farmyard, I paused to study the map. An elderly gent approached me "Where'st tha gooing?" A quick smile and I explained I was heading for a footpath the other side of the farm. "thee's ganning wrong way woman." Showing him the map I explained I knew where I was going. "Nah nah, Bowderdale is back that way." He points back to the way I had come. Gently I explain that I am actually heading the other way and was checking the map to make sure I was heading for the footpath. Realization dawns, he pushes his flat cap back and scratches his head. "Weel woman why did thee not say so?" A rather cautious dog slinks close,  nervously approaches me with a cross between between a half hearted growl and a wuff. The old man growls at him, "Get thee down." I hunker down and allow the dog a sniff of my hand. Warily his tail gives a wave and he allows me to give him a stroke. The gent appears surprised. "does't thee like dogs then?" Another smile and I tell him that normally I get on fine with dogs. Heading over toward the stone steps I had spotted in the wall. The fellow calls after me. " Not many folk head that way woman; keep to bottom side of wall and thee'll be right." Coming by the next farm the path appears to lead through the main cattle yard, complete with a few cows milling around. Talking to them nicely I pass on through; the farmer sticks his head around the corner with a big grin and bids a cheery "Good morning"  A very nice chappy. Further on I came to a rather well to do stables that, by the big signs, stabled Icelandic ponies. There was one slight problem, the footpath went through a paddock that was ringed by two electric fences. There was no way I was prepared to tackle those; instead I cut through an open barn that flanked one side of the field and had no fences. A stallion was grazing quiet contentedly as I passed by, no problem. The map had shown a track running up to the fells from Ellergill it was not marked as a public right of way but I decided to chance it. In fact it was quite a pleasant walk up past Low Shaw farm. Where the track petered out a footpath continued onward. The scenery took me by surprise. Off to my left was Langdale, quite a narrow  valley with a fairly substantial beck flowing through. Straight ahead was Churn gill, another narrow cleft and swinging off to my right was Uldale and my intended route. Originally I had been thinking of heading up over Rispa pike but had opted for the easier option instead. Drizzly showers did nothing to dampen my enjoyment of a pleasant walk up through wonderful scenery. A more persistent shower had me thinking of an early stop. There is an abundance of places for a  wild camp, especially higher up the valley. A nice comfy spot was found, tent up, water bladder filled, boots of and a brew on the go, luxury.
Saturday 11th; same map, GR 681982.
Packed up quite early and strolled up to Blakethwaite bottom, I was surprised to find instead of a narrow valley the area opened out into a wide amphitheater, rather unusual. There was a path, though rather indistinct at times and easy to confuse with the myriad of sheep trods. Climbing higher more surprises where revealed. Steep sided narrow rocky clefts, boulder strewn with tumbling torrents coursing their way downwards. The Spout, Force Brow, names that spoke for themselves but the scenery was startling; quite awesome. This area demands more exploring; maybe another trip with the intention of spending a day or two in the area?This was delightful walking, a narrow path wending its way around steep fell sides, views out over the valley and plain below with the motorway and beyond that, the lake district. Gradually I was climbing higher, a break for a drink and a handful of my trail mix; a mixture of nuts, raisins, pumpkin seeds and jelly babies. Soon I was on a steeper slope that led up to Fell Head. A slow, steady plod, with a few stops to 'admire the scenery' and I made the top. A cold, blustery wind discouraged lingering for too long. What followed was a lovely ridge walk, Breaks Head, Height of Bush Howe, a steepish drop and the a long slow plod up to the trig point at The Calf. Two guys coming the other way said the forecast was for showers in the later afternoon and another night of low temperatures. Coming around by Bowderdale head, I stopped for a break and a long peruse of the map. Something I had been considering was dropping down to the saddle and then heading up to Yarlside. Probably most fit and active folk would not hesitate; however, my legs where tiring.There was also the fact that from there I would have to continue on to Randygill and Green Bell and the descend to find a camp spot. Bowderdale is a popular route through and setting up camp meant I was not so discreetly tucked away as I would have preferred; however, it was not a bad little spot. Showers of rain passing through but nothing substantial.
Sunday 12th. GR752944, (roughly)
Much time was spent mulling over the map last night trying to decide on the best option for today. Eventually I plumped for a plan B. A fairly long route but with nothing strenuous. My first goal of the day was to nip over to Cautley spout, an impressive series of waterfalls set in a deep gulley. An added bonus was that being there quite early I had the place to myself. Once more, stunning views looking out over the valley far below. A steady descent towards said valley. A bridge provided an easy crossing over the river. Already the car park next to the Cross Keys pub was getting busy with people heading out for a days walk. Enticing smells of food cooking and a sign advertising full breakfasts, ham and eggs and tea or coffee, was tempting. Somewhat reluctantly I hurried on. Somehow, trail mix and jelly babies where a poor alternative! A short climb on a footpath that led up towards a well established track, somewhat churned up by tractor traffic. My legs protested a bit on the uphill walk, so probably I had taken the easier option. Following the track around to the bridleway that led off it and headed over to Uldale House. (another Uldale?) A well defined rolling path that meant some pleasant walking. From Uldale House it was a different proposition. From Blea Gill bridge farm traffic had left a confusing network of tracks and close attention had to be paid to the map. Fortunately I got across to Whin Stone Gill bridge without too much hassle. Basically from there track or footpath were hard to define on the ground. Also, I was rather concerned with the weather, the wind had been steadily rising and thick clouds where building up fairly quickly. At times a hint of a path but often it was a case of steering by direct reckoning across Holm Moss. What was annoying was that for once the OS map was none too accurate. Features that could have been used as hand rails, for example I crossed three or four stone walls, not marked. More substantial was a large field barn, now derelict but still a distinct feature and a copse of trees; none of these where shown on the map. A constant check of the map slowed me down a bit but with the sky turning a dark blue black, it was case of having to find a place to stop and soon. A nasty bit of bog was crossed in a hurry, no finesse and a few times it led to going in  quite deep in quivering bog. Basically I knew where I was and where I was heading. Finding a spot for the tent before the heavens open was proving difficult. A jumble of rocks at a spot marked as ''cave' on the map was about the only option I had. Rain was starting to fall as I cast about for somewhere to get the tent up. Eventually I settled for a tiny platform just about big enough to accommodate the tent. Ironically finding water was also difficult. The trickle I found was not that healthy looking. It meant boiling it vigorously and  then straining it through a small bit of fibre material that I normally use as a wash cloth. Mucky with sediment and some algae, interesting!. It was enough for some hot food and a drink. By the time I finished brewing up, the rain and wind was really pummeling the tent and the noise was deafening. It was case of curling up in the sleeping bag and trying to doze through the storm and this is summer? There was some clean water left in the water bottle but the best treat I had was some fruit and nut chocolate that I had been hoarding. Emergency rations and subsequently a state of emergency was declared and chocolate duly devoured.
Monday 13th.
Heavy rain and wind continued through the night. A stream bed below my ledge, which the night before had been almost dry was now a foaming torrent only a couple feet from the tent. What with the drumming of rain and wind and the increasing roar of the surging water, complete with the thudding rumble of boulders being carried down the turbulent maelstrom, made for an unsettled night. Things always sound horrendous in the dark. By morning the wind and rain had eased and it was now mainly low cloud laced with moisture, enough to keep everything wet. One added bonus was that by leaving my cooking pot under the edge of the fly I had plenty of fresh water for breakfast. A strip bath in a small tent is no easy matter but I wanted to freshen up and put on a change of clothes before heading out. There was no rush to get under way, it was only a short step down to Garsdale and the train was not until one o clock. Everything packed up within the tent, a few wriggles to get in to waterproofs and out to face the day. The rain and low cloud where still swirling around. The tent was dropped and soaking wet  stowed under the lid of the rucksack. There was more of a path heading down toward Grisedale. Water was streaming off the hill and I could actually see it bubbling up out of the ground. Mud was in prominence too, thick gooey stuff. The valley was flooded, water flowing over the road in several places. Was at the station not long after twelve which allowed me to get out of wet and muddy togs and in to some more respectable travel clothing.

Not a bad trip all in all and am pleased that I managed things none too badly. Kit wise, I am going to have a serious rethink in regards to tent. Terra Nova usually turn out good quality tents, however, I think their standards fell a tad with particular model. The Solar Minor is an awkward tent, little space under the porch can make life difficult. Using a  stove under the fly is risky and there is no room for error. With heavy weather it is awful sitting out in the rain cooking. Also it is not a straight forward in pitching; there is a certain amount of faffing needed to get it set right. Not an option when a tent needs to be thrown up in a hurry. So, if anyone wants a light tent, they can make me a silly offer of around £50. In the meantime I have to work out how to get something more suitable. Currently I am trying to track down my winter tent, a Hex Three that was borrowed by someone and has not returned it.

Force Brow

Uldale

View from Cautley  spout

Cautley spout

Lower part of spout

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