Sunshine in the Lakes

Attempting to find cheap, basic accommodation for two people plus one dog in the Lake District proved to be a major hassle. Camping barns seemed the obvious choice. However the majority were adamant, bring a dog and one is expected to pay for the rental of the whole place. This on average, would cost one hundred pound per night. Several phone calls were made to verify this. After many hours of searching we eventually settled for a room at the Sykeside bunk barn. The usual criteria applied, bring everything bar the tent. There was a camping gaz burner at fifty pence per thirty minutes. However, we had brought our own cooking stuff.
On the way across to the Lakes we diverted slightly to Greystokes, ( No-one swinging through the trees!)  Mike and Lucky were keen on visiting a couple of wee hills. Our room at Sikeside may be described as bijou. With all our kit, cooking stuff and bits and pieces, it was very much a case of one person at a time moving around.

Thursday morning was a cold, frosty start. However, the sky was a clear blue and the rising sun offered the promise of a glorious day. A nice, circular route had been proposed and agreed on. Starting out from the car park at Hartsop, it was noticeable how quickly it was filling up. Good weather was encouraging many folk to head for the hills. It was a somewhat brutal start to the day. Our way was up, steeply so, climbing the brow of the hill to Hartsop Dodd.

 The morning was beautiful though and there was no rush, the views were excellent and offered a good enough reason to pause occasionally to admire them. Once over the Dodd the going was easier.

Lunch was had at Stony Cove Pike.. Despite a cold edge to the light breeze, it was sheer bliss to be able to stretch out and luxuriate in the sunshine.

It was a steep descent down through Threshthwaite crag.. A chap coming up looked as if he was suffering!

The photo below may give and indication of the steepness. Note the three figures to the right of centre.

If the descent had been steep, the way up to the cairn atThornthwaite Crag was even more of a challenge. Not only was it steep but the path threaded its way up through loose shale and rock. Being a grand day though offered plenty of opportunities to stop and admire the views!

The beacon at Thornthwaite, note blue sky and folk in tee shirts.
The going became easier going as we headed up across to the trig point on High Street.

Our way on led us around by the Knott, bagged by Mike and Lucky. It was then the long descent down and back to the car park. A day to be savoured, the weather was most noteworthy.
Friday saw the tops shrouded in cloud. However, both Mike and myself were happy to opt for a more gentle day. Mind, Lucky was as full of beans as ever! Our plan was simple, to walk around by Brothers Water.

From there over to Hartstop to have a wee explore around the remains of the mine and mill.

From Hartstop we followed bridleways and paths down to Patterdale and back. A picnic lunch enjoyed all the more as the clouds parted and the sun shone through once more.
On our way back on the Saturday we took another wee top. An excellent weekend. The one negative downside is the sheer expense of things in the Lake District.
Distance wise we covered an average of twenty five miles over three days. Mind, I am a little suspicious of my Fitbit's accuracy.

A wee wander along the wall.

A week or two back Mike and had planned to be away for a few days backpacking. This one had been on the cards for a while. All the bits and pieces that make up a trip had been sorted and basically we were ready to go. However, a week or so before the assigned set off day, I had ended up with severe back pain. Locked muscles in the lower back was the diagnoses. A course of strong pain killers  alleviated the problem eventually. Mind, they sent me somewhat doolally, losing track of time and place. It meant a cancellation of the trip. Very disappointing and in many respects a feeling that I had let the side down!
Mike had proposed a gentle walk down through the gorge of Allen Banks. However, due to severe weather damage it was closed to the public. Thus we re jigged the walk and headed for Hadrian's Wall.

It was a circular walk starting from the Peel Crags car park. A beautiful day, chilly but fine and dry. This part of the wall is a regular switchback with much up and down. A stop for a spot of lunch and then on up over Hotbank Crags. Underfoot the ground was largely frozen. However, the Pennine Way did manage to lead us through some wet, boggy bits.

Some lovely walking around by Greenlee lough and back to the car park.

A pleasant day of walking in good company. On the way back we nipped up a wee hill Mike wanted to tick and spotted a tawny owl.
 According to Mike's map measury thing we did eight miles. My wee fit bit says ten. Which ever way, the walk was a good one.

Dunnerdale

Mike and I, plus Lucky the dog, set out with the best of intentions. Mike had picked me up on the Sunday morning and we were soon heading westward for the Lakes. Dunnerdale was our destination. For once we had opted for a day or two of luxury. With character references duly given for Lucky, we had booked ourselves in to the camping barn at High Wallabarrow for three nights. Compared to some camping barns I have previously stayed at, this one was luxurious. Electricity, an electric cooker, toaster, kettle and fridge.A wood burning stove, complete with a huge basket of wood if required, to sit in front of in the evening, was most welcome and put to good use.

The local weather forecast for Monday was not encouraging. Rain,  strong winds and low cloud levels on the tops. A hastily revised plan was made and we decided to keep to the lower levels. A walk through the woods to Seathwaite. From there it was a stroll up the road.
. A bash through bracken and tussocks and a steep bit of uphill brought us to a knobbly crag by the name of Pen. A spot of early lunch in the rain and a peruse of the map.

With the rain increasing and a rising wind we opted to carry on up the road to a bridge over the river Duddon. It was then a case off following footpaths back down through the valley. Forestry work initially made the going difficult.

Coming down through the Wallabarrow gorge needed care. The path wound over and through a large boulder field. The rocks were slick and greasy in the wet. Leg breaking stuff. Not many miles, roughly seven, but an interesting walk.

.Back at the barn waterproofs were shed, wetness was everywhere. With rain gear  hung up and dripping steadily, Mike soon had the stove lit and before long a good blaze was roaring away.

Lucky appreciates a good fire!
Tuesday morning saw the wind roaring and the rain lashing down. Having already been out a few times to the loo, I was aware of how bad things were out. Mike, heeding my warning, donned full waterproofs to take Lucky out for his morning constitutional. He arrived back streaming with water and looking a little wild eyed. His immediate remark was, "We are not going anywhere in that!"  The local radio was giving warnings of heavy rain, winds gusting to seventy miles an hour, with force nine gales on the coast, gusting to storm force ten. Several flood warnings were in place. Thus it was we stayed in the barn all morning drinking tea and coffee.

 By early afternoon the worst of the storm had passed and we ventured out for a wee wander. That, really, was the sum of our three days in Dunnerdale. We left on the Wednesday morning with yet another storm front coming in. A grand total of roughly ten miles was achieved. We did though discover an excellent camping barn. Drank lots of tea and coffee and lazed before a blazing fire.

One for Alan.

Coastal toddle

Mike had originally proposed a different walk but given conditions underfoot we opted for a gentle walk from Craster. The village was in winter mode, no throngs of touristy types, no smell of smoking kippers, just a few hardy dog walkers.

Dunstanburgh castle was closed. Quite an impressive pile though! A meander along the coast flanking the local golf links. An investigation of a ww2 bunker complete with murder hole and then on to Dunstan Steads. Lunch was had in a drafty barn while sheltering from a heavy sleety shower.

A gentle stroll brought us on to Dunstan Square, deep puddles, much to Lucky's displeasure. A very slutchy bit of track and then across fields back to Craster. A distance of five miles.

Gales, mud and flood, Part two.

With the gale gradually gaining in strength, accompanied by rain, there was a pressing need to hunker down somewhere. It was just as I was about to head down to the beach by Little Gruinard that a car stopped and backed up. The driver was spending a few days driving around the coast. The offer of a lift was too good to refuse. A night in B&B had become an attractive proposition. Thus it was that I ended up at Camusnagaul, where I was already booked in for the Tuesday night. Mrs Ross is one of the few B&B's open in the winter months in that area, one I would recommend too.

 By morning the worst of the weather had passed. It was to be an easy day though, my legs were tired. The path leading up by the Allt Airdeasaidh looking interesting. The river cuts down the hillside in a series of waterfalls.

Geologically they are rather fascinating. It appears as if the river is moving slightly across the hillside as well as downward. There were places where it was obvious that the river had cut a new channel

to one side of the old waterfall, leaving the original dry. At one point, as I was making my up the hillside, I walked toward a few trees growing on the edge of a gully. It was a bit unnerving to find there was a sheer drop off the edge with the river hundred of feet below in a narrow chasm. Good size trees were growing down there. Once again the river has carved a deep channel in what must be weaker rock.

It was a steady plod up the hill with water flowing in all directions. Up toward the bealach there were fine views in to the Fisherfield

It would have been quite straight forward to push on up to Sail Mhor. The river might have been a problem to cross, beside which I was content to potter. It had been dry all morning but once more the wind was rising and ominous dark clouds were slowly building up.

It was another night of heavy storm. An early breakfast had been arranged for the Wednesday morning. The one and only bus up from Gairloch was due through at approximately eight forty five. The landlady assured me the bus would stop at the end of her drive. There was enough space there  for the bus to pull in. Thus it was I was out by the road not long after half past eight. There was still a strong wind blowing and  torrential rain was sheeting down the glen. At ten to nine I was getting a wee bit worried. Just after, Mrs Ross gave me a shout. Noticing me still waiting, she had rung the bus company. Bad news, a landslip at Garve had closed the road. Apparently this has happened a few times recently and it is normally cleared quite quickly. However, the bus had been cancelled. Worse, there was not another bus until Saturday morning. Despite a minimal amount of traffic on the road, there was little option but to thumb it. The cost of new train tickets would have been pricey. My hope was I could at least get as far as Garve. The Kyle line runs through there and maybe there was bus replacement service?

More than hour later standing in the lashing rain, a food delivery truck stopped for me. The driver was heading for Inverness and he had been monitoring traffic reports. There was a single lane open through the landslip. The storm continued all the way down to Inverness. Wind regularly buffeted the truck. There was standing water on the roads. In places deeper water and streams flowing off the hill  sweeping across the road.

The truck driver kindly dropped me off at Inverness train station. A lot of the information boards were showing trains cancelled. Fleets of rail replacement buses were on standby. Hence a quick cup of coffee and on to a coach for Perth. Again, the road conditions were awful. The driver remarked he had never seen things quite as bad. In the many years I have been travelling up and down the area I have never seen things as bad either. Flooding was extensive. For example, by Kingussie, Ryvoan barracks was a moated island. The main road, a causeway across an inland sea. Every river, it seemed, had burst its banks.

Reaching Perth, station staff were busy directing the milling crowds. Passengers for Edinburgh were directed 'over the bridge, platform two, change at Stirling and you need to hurry, the train is waiting'. It is most undignified for an old girl like me to have to leg it! The train was packed, as was to be expected. Finally made Edinburgh and eventually Newcastle, arriving back more than twelve hours after setting out.

Not an easy trip, with nine days food and fuel in the rucksack. My intention originally had been for a day or two of leaving the tent in one spot and doing day walks. With continuous bands of storms blowing in from the south and west, bringing high winds and heavy rain, I had to revise that idea. It had been remarkably mild too. The short lulls between the storms actually allowed brief spells of sunshine. Spare clothing in case of it turning cold were carried but not used.