LA GOMERA – GR131 into the middle.

Vallehermoso – Chipude.

The GR131 has been recently waymarked and signposted so it is difficult to get lost, but that is what we managed within a few hundred metres in Vallehermoso. Well not lost really, we had the excellent Discovery Guide map highlighting the walking routes, unfortunately at an early junction the signing was debatable. At least we debated it, John would have gone left whereas I wanted to follow the map. Later we found I was wrong, despite the odd fading red and white flash, but we had gained height and were reluctant to turn round. Worrying private signs kept appearing but the track was good and going in the right direction ie. upwards. We eventually joined an improved track which turned out to be the 131, there had obviously been a new diversion. Ahead were heavily forested complex mountain ridges through which the path wandered with occasional views back to the valley. Mainly it was steeply up through the trees 1200m to be precise. We were walking in the Laurisilva, a type of cloud forest where the trees obtain much of their moisture from mist. Fortunately there was no mist today.

In a clearing in the mainly Myrtle trees we stopped for lunch, it was a busy spot with walkers using a short circular route. German seemed to be the prominent language. We spent time feeding crumbs to what we thought were Blue Finches but I think turned out to be Canary Island Chaffinches, different to ours. In fact when you look up birds on these islands they often seem to be a canariensis variety. One of the commonest we saw was a kestrel with dark plumage.

On the top of the plateau are several small villages so we were able partake of regular refreshments as the afternoon wore on. Between Las Hayas and El Cercado we traversed round the rim of the massive barranca leading down to Valle Gran Rey, the last time I was here in thick mist I never even realised it was there.

LA GOMERA – into the rain forest.

Las Hayas.

Called in at Maria’s bar – she still looked fairly miserable, maybe life up here is hard although she was making good money today with all the walkers.

Delightful field systems brought us on old tracks into Chipude and Sonia’s bar. All I had from Victor, the brother, was an email reply to my booking request saying OK. Beer in the sun was a perfect end to the afternoon. The room was comfy but the bath minute. For supper I chose the delicious tuna in an onion sauce – looking back had exactly the same last time I stayed. Angela the Mother is a great cook and Sonia the most efficient hostess. On the big screen watched Arsenal get the run around by Messi and his Barcelona team. We were glad of the heater in the room as it turns cold at night at 1200m.

Chipude with the ‘Fortress’ behind.

EL HIERRO – LA GOMERA, bits of the GR131.

EL HIERRO – Camino de Jinama.

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La Frontera – Valverde.

Behind La Frontera is a 3000ft wall of vegetated rock leading straight to the crest of the island, the result of a massive landslide. There didn’t appear to be any route through. The morning was brighter as we walked up through the hamlets of La Frontera to the chapel Nuestra Senora de la Candelaria with its prominent bell tower above on a volcanic cone. Here we found the sign for the Camino de Jinama, an ancient paved way linking the high plateau with the lowlands of Golfo, used to transport animals back and forth according to the seasons. We zigzagged our way up this unlikely way marvelling at the skills to construct such a path, ? a thousand or more years old, modern roads weren’t started until the middle of the last century. On our climb we had plenty of occasions to rest and take in the bird’s eye view of the coast below. The vegetation was exotic to start and then we moved into the Laurel-Silva forest with the occasional Canary Pine.

At the top, 1200m, was a small hermita and a large viewing platform, a road came up on this side so we were inundated with tourists bused up from the cruise ships which now come to the Canaries instead of Tunisia and the Eastern Med. Walled drovers’ tracks weaved through the larval rocks in a scenery reminiscent of Scotland. The fields provided meagre nourishment for cows and sheep. San Andres seemed to be the centre of everything agricultural up here , like Masham in the Dales. The local bar was doing a fantastic luncheon trade, no doubt of local meat products, we sat outside with a beer. We were now on the GR131 our original objective and it was all downhill from here. We passed wind turbines used for pumping water up to a reservoir, feeding turbines when needed thus making this island almost self sufficient in electricity. Impressive technology. Yet further on we met a farmer cutting fennel stems for salads which must have been used for centuries.

The church in Valverde at the end of the Camino de la Virgen.

In Valverde the deserted Hotel Boomerang gave us Room 101 where I tried to consign into oblivion some of John’s excess equipment. He got his own back when to avoid losing them I hid our room keys in a chair on the corridor – he came out with the classic subtle reprimand “I wouldn’t have done that” Our night on the town didn’t materialise as almost everywhere was shut. A chance find of a tiny local bar, with men playing dominoes, gave us a beer and vague instructions to a shop up the top of town. We had just about given up after much climbing and searching when the shop appeared and we emerged with all that was necessary for a supper back in our room. It was with trepidation that I, keyless, approached the hotel front door but thankfully it was open so there is no story of bivouacking in the street.

EL HIERRO – first steps.

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NO! That was the response to my simple question in the Valverde tourist information office – ‘tiene la previsión del tiempo para mañana?’ That had us off to a bad start, we were the only ones on the bus from the ferry up to the main town which at 600m was bleak, wet, cold and windy. More like the Falklands than the Canaries.

Approaching El Hierro.

‘Caneros’ an ancient figure in sheepskins – more friendly than the Tourist Information office.

Until 1885 the Punta de Orchilla cape marked the Zero Meridian and was used in most 16th and 17th Century maps. Today the island is still known as the Meridian Isle. John and I were back to follow the GR131 footpath across the high spine of EL HIERRO which starts at that point and incorporates the Camino de La Virgen. Every four years islanders carry a sacred statue from a shrine to the church in Valverde to commemorate the miraculous ending of a drought in 1614.

We based ourselves in the friendly little town of La Frontera and had arranged a taxi to take us to the start of the GR the next morning, however the mist stayed down and the cold rain continued. Apparently there had been a few days of unseasonal weather. I think I’ve had enough days in the hills when I’ve seen nothing all day so when the taxi arrived we opted for a low level walk from the coast at Pozo de la Salud back to La Frontera. The village of Sabinosa appeared deserted but we heard later that the Saturday carnival went on till morning despite most residents being over 75years. The land in this area, the Gulf of El Golfo, is mainly agricultural with bananas, vines and pineapples, though there is evidence of old walled enclosures where animals used to be kept. Call it a cop out if you want but despite the wind we enjoyed ourselves and the mountain tops remained in cloud.

Pozo de La Salud.

Gulf El Golfo.

Pineapples.

HUMPHREY HEAD.

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“the ascent is a barefoot stroll”

At 53m we are not talking fell here and we are outside the Lake District National Park but this hill is included in AW’s Outlying Fells – which underlies his idiosyncratic nature. I’ve been before; climbing on the rather stiff limestone cliffs but today I’m here because the weather deteriorated whilst I was in the fells to the north.

I strolled up, in boots I may add, from near the outdoor centre. The trig point gives views across the Kent Estuary, across to Heysham Power Station and across miles of treacherous sands. The trees are bent double from the sea gales. I continued down to where this spit of limestone dips into the sea but was unable to walk back on the western side because the tide was already in. So back over the top.

A good quickie and the weather never really worsened.

BIGLAND BARROW and beyond.

We should know better – Wainwright wanderings.

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Coniston vista early in the day.

The day was quickly passing when we [Sir Hugh and I] arrived on top of Carron Crag poking out of Grizedale Forest. We had not come the usual way from the the forest centre’s car park. No we had already traversed virtually pathless [and boggy and rough and confusing] ground across Bethecar Moor visiting rocky Brockbarrow, Low and High Light Haw and Top o’ Selside. The day had been perfect – sunny, clear, cool and calm. The latter adjectives can’t be applied to the next hour’s floundering through ‘open’ forest on a supposedly direct route west to our escape path. Tripping over tree roots, falling into bogs, frequent changes of direction, much under the breath cursing – surely not Sir Hugh? Who was leading who? There are tellingly few photos of our plight as the tension increased regarding our emergence. That word is scaringly similar to emergency! We should have known better from a combined experience of over a hundred years.

Top o’Selside from High Light Haw.

Carron Crag in our sights.

Carron Crag.

Panopticon company on Carron crag.

Miraculously the forest opened for us like the Red Sea and we were soon waltzing along the delightful bridleway high above Coniston Water back to Nibthwaite. Highlights were constant views of Dow Crag hiding shyly behind the Coniston Fells and the passing of the remote Low Parkamoor house. If you fancy an ‘eco’ getaway including a well with indoor pump, paraffin lamps and wood burning range and the luxury hip bath [they don’t mention how many kettle’s full of hot water] book it through their website.

Salvation.

Dow Crag and Coniston Old Man.

Low Parkamoor- your ideal retreat.

Low Parkamoor.

We were just happy to arrive back at the car with the promise of central heating, a hot bath and maybe a take-away.

Gone with the wind.

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Giggleswick Scar, Dead Man’s Cave, the Celtic Wall and more.

The ‘pieman’ and I have postponed several recent meetings because of bad forecasts, it was no different for today but we said “what the hell”. And so we found ourselves being battered by 50 mph winds on the limestone pavements above Giggleswick. Wainwright’s Walks In Limestone Country gave me some ideas, always dangerous, and I wanted to visit some of the out of the way features. I cannibalised three of his walks into one rough itinerary. Living in Skipton I presumed the ‘pieman’ would have up to date maps of the area around Settle, but no – so we had to make do with Alfred’s drawings, as good as any map I would say. The only problem being my copy was from 1970 and not all the wall gaps still exist so we had some fairly hairy up and overs, no walls were damaged on this walk!

First off was Schoolboy Cairn, above that big quarry, maybe had something to do with Giggleswick School down below. A high level promenade above the bypass road gave us a gale battered but splendid bird’s eye section above the South Craven Fault. The floods in the Ribble Valley below were all to obvious. We clambered up to the conspicuous Wall Cave, the wall seems to have gone, from where we had a view across the golf course. apparently there was previously a tarn here. There are lots of strange features in this limestone area. Below us somewhere are the popular bolted climbs on the steep scar.

Spurning other caves we marched along to Buckhaw Brow, the garage and cafe of Wainwright’s era have long since gone. Without giving any secrets away we arrived at Dead Man’s Cave and were glad of its shelter for lunch as the gale blew past. The bodiless sanctuary gave us chance to think and talk, previously these had been impossible. Guess what the ‘pieman’ dined on. The odd drip on our heads was of no consequence. My next new rendezvous was the so called Celtic Wall on the hillside above, we could not really miss it. 20m long and 2m wide and constructed of massive blocks it stood in splendid isolation. 2000 years old and possibly a burial site – who knows?

In front of us across a valley was the escarpment of Pot Scar [previously a regular climbing venue of mine until it became too polished for comfort. Climbers have a skewed take on places – Cannabis, Nirvana, LSD, Addiction, The Pusher and A Touch Of Grass were all popular lines.] and next to it Smearsett Scar. We had not knowingly been to the latter’s summit so a direct assault was commenced. We had to cling to its trig point to avoid being blown away. Views to Ingleborough, Penyghent, Fountains Fell and Pendle were glimpsed but photography was almost impossible. We spied a way off which we followed to Little Stainforth, the famous packhorse bridge above the falls and then along the Ribble to finish.

Schoolboys’ Cairn with Pendle in the background.

Looking out from Wall Cave.

Giggleswick Scar.

Dead Man’s Cave.

The Celtic Wall.

Pot and Smearsett Scars above.

The isolated Celtic wall.

Distant Penyghent.

Stainforth bridge and falls.

By the way despite the forecast we didn’t have a drop of rain, the sun shone briefly, it was great to meet up with the ‘pieman’ and a first class day’s walk was grasped from nothing.

Memo as usual – buy some up to date maps.

SIMPLY SCHOOL KNOTT and BRANT FELL.

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I was just recovering from a delayed late flight back from Gran Canaria when Sir Hugh suggested that tomorrow, Wednesday, is the only good day in all this awful weather. [I’m a few days behind] So on a bright and cool morning we are parked above Windermere and setting off on a simple circuit of School Knott hills and Brant Fell. Knott is a Cumbrian word simply meaning hill. This morning this area seemed very popular mainly, or rather exclusively, with dog walkers. On the first summit overlooking Windermere, School Knott 232m, we met a local dog walker very proud of his area and yet he had never been to our second summit 1/2 a mile away. We did however and Grandsire, 251m, was a splendid rocky perch with views up into snowy Coniston, Langdale, the Helvellyn and the High Street ranges. We cut back to Cleabarrow Hill 247m and climbed a wall to the highest rocky point. Retracing our steps we picked up the Dales Way, which I walked in Nov. 1981. This took us via several small tarns, not marked on my ancient map, through the well-kept estate of Matson Ground. All the properties being painted blue. We gained the open hillside and climbed to Brant Fell, 192m. On top of this prominence are the remnants of a summer house! Some iron railings and stone gate posts are all that survive. What a great lunch spot in the sun overlooking Windermere. Then we dropped down to the inferior Post Knott viewpoint, the bench was occupied! Paths on the edge of Bowness soon brought us back to the car. Sir Hugh was right this was the best day of the week if not the year.

Windermere and Langdale Pikes from School Knott.

Grandfather striding out to Grandsire.

Onwards to Cleabarrow.

Manicured Matson.

Lower reaches of Windermere from Brant Fell.

Post Knott.

Not the GR131 GRAN CANARIA – Festival time.

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Hoya Pineda – Galdar and onwards.

As you can imagine we had a slow leisurely start to the day, dragging ourselves away from the Hostel we climbed back up into the village and contoured round the west side of the mountain. Walking through the village dump we found a path under steep basalt cliffs and height was slowly lost. Over to the west were the steep Tamadaba hills and ahead the volcanic cone above Galdar.

Lanes were met and led us past dog infested houses to St.Maria de Guia, a pleasant little town with supposedly an area of historic houses. We were sidetracked by a car rally in the plaza. The narrow streets, cobbled with black volcanic rock, and old houses in the higher part of town were explored. What struck us most was the height of the doors in proportion to the properties. Why? The area is also famous for its Queso de Flor de Guia made mainly from sheep’s milk curdled with Cardoon [thistle] flowers. We found ourselves in the courtyard of a house selling this and opted for a taster of three cheeses and wine. The cheese was salty and served with a biscuit like bread, I wasn’t that impressed. However the olives we ate were some of the tastiest I’ve ever had and the ambience in the hot sun perfect.

Galdar is a stone’s throw away across the motorway. Some of its houses seem precariously built on the side of the volcanic cone. We found our way to the Santiago church and walked into the local festival, marching bands, fancy dress, dancing troops and a very loud pop concert. It was a couple of blocks away before we found a quiet café for a drink.

Galdar.

Santiago Church.

The Guagua [local bus] soon had us into the capital, Las Palmas, for a couple of days relaxation exploring the old town with more festivities, unusual modern art galleries, tropical gardens, lovely beach, fish restaurants, local backstreet bars…………… All a distant memory now we are back in the good old UK.

Not the GR131 GRAN CANARIA – downhill all the way?

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Tunte – Hoya de Pinata.

Today we left the northern part of the GR131 which we had previously walked and continued on our pilgrim route across the Island. We set off in cold mist and despite my assertion that we would be walking downhill all the way spent an hour climbing steeply towards Moriscos. Out of the mist appeared our friend the runner, now with followers in tow, we will check how he performs in the grand run in March. This wet weather is due to the trade winds from the NE which had brought Christopher Columbus to the Island and established it as a trading post in the Atlantic. We bypassed Mt. Moriscos and Mt.Negro, the latter a perfect ash cone and arrived at the view point into Caldera de Pinos. That was quite impressive and ‘only’ 3000 years old. Nearby were some Canarian Pines 300 years old.

Mt.Negro.

Caldera de Pinos.

Steep descending on ash through the pines brought us out into rolling green countryside with grazing sheep, Tagasaste plantations [used for animal feed] and flowering almond trees. Quite a contrast to the higher areas of the Island. A door admitted us into a small bar for a Tropical beer and bocadillos once we had pronounced them correctly. The local police stopped by for a drink and a chat. We emerged into hot sunshine and carried on down lanes past farmsteads and barking dogs. Over to our left the Tamadaba hills seemed impressive in profile, we had climbed them last November. The village of El Saucillo was next and in our endeavours to support the local economy coffee was taken in the café. Despite the fact that there were only three people at the bar the volume of conversation was off the decibel scale, I’m sure it was all very friendly. Our onward route was identified on the road signs. A little peace and quiet followed as we strolled down the lanes and into Hoya Pinada. Our hostel for the night, the Camino Art Hostel, was the last house in the village after the church, on the very edge of the wild barranca. Beata, a Hungarian girl, made us very welcome and proudly showed us round her gardens and property. The girl sharing our dorm was Ukrainian and others staying there are Polish and Spanish. As the wine was cheap we stayed put for an evening of International discussions.

https://caminoarthostel.wordpress.com/

Hoya Pineda, Camimo Hostel salmon coloured house right middle above barranca.

Hoya Pineda, with Camino Hostel, salmon coloured house right middle above barranca.

NEXT.

GR131 GRAN CANARIA – to be a pilgrim.

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Tunte – Cruz Tejeda.

In Tunte there is a church dedicated to Santiago [St. James] and one in Galdar at the North end of the Island, between them is one of the ancient Camino Reales which has been recovered by the Cabildo Insular [Regional Government]. A pilgrimage route has been established along this although the route itself is pre Spanish Conquest and Christianity. So today we can complete our GR131 and start a pilgrimage after our obligatory coffee in Plaza Santiago, I still haven’t got used to the taste of the local Canarian coffee, don’t know what they put in it. We spend the next 4 hours climbing up into the centre of the Island. Initially on a steep made up path through pines to the road at Cruz Grande and a rest whilst looking over Tunte and further to the East coast. Across the road is the start of a magnificent cobbled track zigzagging through steep volcanic scenery. At the top the path goes across bare rock, and we stop for a snack [tuna again] as runners pass through. The day is passing, and we don’t seem to have gone far on the map, but the ground levels out through a pine forest growing out of the ash and magma below the highest point of the Island, Pico de Las Nieves 1949 m, which being military is out of bounds.

At Garanon there is a youth camp, and we can get a coffee from a machine, the huts have an appearance of a concentration camp, so I hope the kids survive.

Suddenly we are on a balcony path looking out to all the famous landmarks of Gran Canaria – Roques El Fraile, Nublo, Bentayga, Mt. Altavista and distant Mt. Teide on Tenerife. Some scenery and we are just in time as the mist starts to role in. Onwards to Cruz de Tejeda and a warm welcome back at El Refugio for the night. It is surprising how quickly the temperature drops up here once in mist, and we are glad of heating in the rooms. Later we are treated to a spectacular sunset over Mt.Teide.

NEXT,

GR131 GRAN CANARIA – the empty quarter.

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Ayagaures – Tunte.

Déjà vu at Ayagaures as the taxi dropped us off the next morning, but this time we were heading north on the GR131. Crossing the dam above Ayagaures led to small houses with surrounding Garden of Eden plots. Hard work had created fruit and veg that anyone would be proud of. From there we climbed a clear path into a scattered pine forest looking out for elusive Blue Chaffinch as we went, no luck.

As height was gained we seemed to be heading for a pass, but we continued traversing above it into a more and more remote area with views back down to the coast. Some mountain bikers sped fearlessly downhill past us and low and behold that hill runner nonchalantly trotted by. Lost valleys appeared below. The original route has been closed due to a landslide and the volcanic rocks hereabouts looked friable. Lunch was taken before we reached the col at Manzanilla. I was so impressed by the feeling of spaciousness up here.

Two curiosities en route –

Giant dandelions, 3ft high, growing everywhere; you should see the size of the rabbits!

– and water on tap out of the rock.

So eventually over the top and onto an ancient looping track down to Tunte. We were chasing the 14.30 bus but on arrival at the stop found the timetable had changed, we didn’t fancy a three-hour wait for the next. The ploy is to go into a bar and ask for a taxi knowing full well there isn’t one, this usually finds an ‘hombre’ willing to do the job. The helpful lady in our bar of choice did just that and before long we were on the way again in an unlicensed car with a driver who would probably fail even the most lenient of alcohol tests.

Choose your driver.

We arrived safely and reflected on a yet another brilliant day’s walking in a beautiful and remote area of the Island.

NEXT.

GR131 GRAN CANARIA – Barranco de los Vicentillos.

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Ayagaures – Maspalomas.

Virtually within an hour of landing at Gran Canaria airport I was in the pool of our cheap bungalow complex at Maspalomas, with an air temperature of 25 degrees. It is January, we had just spent 5 euros on a decent bottle of wine, nuts and olives, and are relaxing before a trip to one of the good fish restaurants for supper. When John had asked me back in England just over a week ago if I fancied a return trip here I readily agreed – we had unfinished business. https://bowlandclimber.com/2015/11/15/gr131-gran-canaria-change-of-plans/

The GR131 through this Island is not waymarked as such, the Cicerone walking guide gives a version of what may transpire. Their last section [N-S] follows a road all the way from Ayaguares to Maspalomas,18k, surely there must be a better alternative. This is where Barranco de los Vicentillos comes in, it looked an obvious route, but paths on the map were marked intermittently – there was only one way to find out. The taxi dropped us off in the virtually deserted village of Ayaguares at 9.15, the bar didn’t open till maybe 10, so we just set off walking. A winding lane took us steeply up and over the intervening ridge where we could look down into the Barranco, it did look inhospitable. However, paths led down to the dry river bed, and we then could follow the rough stony ‘trail’ through reedy vegetation. After heavy rain this would be impossible, but today we enjoyed blue skies and increasing temperatures.

John became preoccupied with plans to convert the stout reeds into trekking poles thus avoiding the hefty aircraft charges for hold luggage containing our own ‘weapons’. His schemes probably still need refining, so Ryanair needn’t worry about loss of revenues just yet. The Barranco was quite deep in parts with ‘Swiss Cheese’ volcanic rock on either side. A wide selection of plants and shrubs were encountered, the prickly pears were particularly vicious. We only met one person down there, an awesomely fit hill runner preparing for an Island race later in the year. Eventually we emerged under the motorway into the outskirts of Maspalomas and a welcome coffee at a kiosk outside the health clinic. We had previously followed the tracks onwards down to Faro lighthouse at the coast, so we took a shortcut back to our bungalow.

For anybody following the GR131 I would highly recommend this route for the last stage to the coast.

NEXT.

Never been here before….

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The ‘plastic bag’ man* and I have walked together in Lancashire for years, I’ve stopped counting. Today on a short walk in the hills and vales of central Lancashire our most used phrase was the title of this post. OK so we did get lost within a mile of the start but allowing for that we seemed to visit parts of OS sheet 287 where we had ‘never been here before‘. I didn’t have time for a full day out and he is coaxing his knees back into running, or rather walking, order. So the plan was a fairly level walk on lanes and canals, chatting however lost us in sodden fields of agricultural s…! Back on track we walked through the reclusive and no doubt exclusive properties of Ollerton Fold and onto the towpath of the Leeds – Liverpool Canal, nothing much stirred in the early morning. The above mentioned OS map has a large chunk taken out by its explanatory panel and that is where we struggled for the second time today. The man whom we asked for directions to Heapey happened to live there so we were soon on the correct way. A hidden valley with horses, old mills, industrial workings, rail lines and footballers’ houses was a pleasant diversion. There were signs of recent flood damage and there is still a lot of water about. We magically arrived back at the car by the millpond in Brinscall. This whole area is worth further exploration.

* A term of endearment.

The map gives some clue as to our whereabouts…

Longridge Fell – better late than never.

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I don’t like to admit to many deadly sins, or virtues for that matter, but SLOTH was on the list today. I hadn’t got round to arranging a walk in the Lakes or in Yorkshire with friends and sloth set in whilst I was having my morning coffee back in bed. One voice said get up and going, the other persuaded me to linger listening to the radio. The morning evaporated whilst the sun shone outside. Something stirred in me and after a quick brunch I was parked up on Longridge Fell. I stopped to take a photo of rubbish dumped in the car park, picked some up later, and noticed the passenger door of the red car next to me was wide open with lots of articles on the front seat. Not daring to touch anything I closed the door and hoped no opportunistic thieves were about.

I have written about Longridge Fell many times, so what was new today? Some more large chunks of trees have been felled whether because of the Ramorum fungus affecting the Larch or routine forestry work. There are forest roads which give good walking but I can’t come up here without visiting the trig. point, Spire Hill 350m. This diversion involves muddy tracks which today were semi frozen allowing one to break unexpectedly through the crust into the icy depths. Haziness over the Bowland Fells and Pendle precluded decent photography. Once I was back on the main forest track I strode out to Kemple End, I don’t normally go this far as it entails road walking back to the car but today I fancied the extra few miles. Sun glasses would have been useful against the low sun in the west. I caught up with a sprightly walker, he had been out all day having caught the bus from Preston and done a circuit of Longridge Fell and the Hodder. At the age of 75 he was out regularly and knew the Bowland area intimately, a true fell wanderer. He obviously declined my offer of a lift into Longridge. Wish I had got his name.

At the end of my walk I came through the small bouldering venue of Crowshaw Quarry and I’m itching to get back on some of the problems in Spring. Talking of itching my friend John phoned me last week suggesting a trip back to Gran Canaria where we have unfinished business on the GR13. Needless to say flights are booked.

PS The red car had gone – hope all OK.

A perfect Lakeland miniature.

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Shapely mountains, Lakeland tarns, winding paths, rocky volcanic crags, slate quarries, rushing becks and expansive views – what more could you wish for in a day out in the Lake District. The three of us, The Rockman, Sir Hugh and BC, enthused over this relatively unknown outlying area, the true Dunnerdale. That was before the snow came and we were in true winter conditions. The forecast had been optimistic for the day, cold and bright, but Dianne is not always right.

The afternoon was arctic with snow showers and slippery conditions underfoot, on the steep ground micro crampons proved useful. Dianne’s 6-inch stilettos could have been of some help. Not many people had ventured out. We wandered from one shapely peak to another on the rough ground finding paths from time to time between the tarns and crags. By the time we were eating lunch, the last of the Xmas cake, the distant views had gone. We omitted an optional climb up Fox Haw, 385m, Wainwright in his idiosyncratic way had ignored it. We just followed our noses along the last ridge and found a steep way of the end into lanes back to Broughton Mills.

Near the end, we passed the delightfully plain Holy Innocents Church and on entering I was impressed with the striking stained glass window above the altar. Unfortunately, my photo didn’t focus well.

We reflected on the quality of this miniature fell walk as we trudged through the falling snow back to the car, appropriately named for a day like this …

I was inwardly having nagging doubts about that missed summit, but I’m digressing now

For the record an approximate outline of our wanderings over Great Stickle, Tarn Hill x2, Stickle Pike, Nameless Summit and The Knott…..

THREE IN ONE – Outlying Fells.

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Despite not winning the Lottery Jackpot of X million I woke to a new dawn bringing in colder weather with thankfully less rain.

Are you inspired by the familiar or the unknown? On our most recent trip, Sir Hugh and I were soon faced with the above sign. To avoid arrest or worse I shan’t go into full details of today’s walk. The virtual views from the summit included an alpine Langdale Pikes.

We had originally planned a full days walk further north but on seeing the latest forecast I suggested a shorter morning’s stroll visiting Williamson’s Monument on High Knott. This has an interesting history – ‘the cairn was erected by the Rev T Williamson in memory of his father who used to climb up to High Knott every day before breakfast’ The tablet in the cairn states In memory of Thomas Williamson of Height, in Hugil, gent who died Feb 13th 1797. Aged 66 years. Erected 1803. Why is there no official access to this monument?

Once we were up here Sir Hugh was charged to cut across pastures new to a couple of nearby fells, Hugill and Reston. I had to follow him through bogs and over fortified walls, we should not be doing this. We were rewarded with unusual views down into Kentmere from the first and into Staveley and the busy road at Ings to Windermere from the second.

At 12 o’clock when the rain arrived on schedule we were sitting in the porch of Staveley Church enjoying a hot flask. it was then a short walk back to the car.

Croasdale – but not as we know it.

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I think it rained another couple of inches last night, the forecast was average and I was prepared for a lazy day to recover from my duty as a removal man. But no, Mike phoned with an improving forecast and was keen for some exercise. Where to go – all the field paths round here are waterlogged or flooded. It’s times like this when at short notice you fall back on the memory bank, “I’ll take you up Croasdale, it will be dry” . He had not been there.

Getting there via Chipping wasn’t that easy with more flooding of the lanes and then land slips at Whitewell. We made it through but will come back a different way.

The hills were white with snow, the lane into Croasdale more like a river and painful hailstones welcomed us. I have memories of this lane being a sheet of ice on sunny winter days when Alan and I first started exploring Bullstones as a Bouldering venue, we were super keen. But even better recollections of sunny days on the heathery hillsides watching the Hen Harriers, will they return? The Roman road was dry, despite the full streams, as was most of the fellside so that part of the plan worked. The white bollard with poems we passed reminded me of The Lancashire Witches Way, a 50 mile walk planned from Barrowford to Lancaster, maybe spring would be better. There was no bouldering today, the rocks snow covered and a freezing wind keeping us well wrapped up and moving. Following the rim of rocks I found that wonderful stone trough hewn from a boulder, Mike was impressed. Not lingering we found the tracks down to the ford but were of course confronted by a dangerous raging stream and it took us some time to find a way across to safety. A wild and exhilarating few hours. The only casualty of the day being one of my [cheap] ski sticks which I managed to snap in a slip.

For normal conditions check out –

Bouldering and diversions in Croasdale.

Heart of Bowland – Croasdale. Bullstones bouldering.

BULLSTONES BOULDERING GUIDE.

BEACON FELL – off the beaten track.

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Lonely fells.

Whilst the weather has been poor I’ve been at the climbing walls – mainly bouldering, I did have my rope out in earnest yesterday whilst helping my son move house. This involved me belaying as we roped a heavy washing machine and trolley, Laurel and Hardy style, down his steep cellar steps, no casualties of either machine or man. So I have been busy in Manchester for the last few days but he’s established now. Hence the reason for the delayed posting of a dry and sunny day’s excursion last week with Sir Hugh. He had remembered a running circuit used several years ago based on Beacon Fell below Coniston Water and lured me in by promising six Outlying Wainwright’s. The bait was cast.

“When you see someone putting on his Big Boots, you can be pretty sure an Adventure is going to happen.” A. A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh.

We parked in Woodland which consisted of a church, two houses and a postbox in the middle of nowhere. This a secluded part of the Lakes with a maze of quiet narrow lanes. The postbox gets a quirky mention by Wainwright as where he “posted his 1972-3 tax return”

Green tracks through the thankfully dead bracken soon had us by the modern cairn on Yew Bank, 207m, and then a more ancient doughnut-shaped cairn to the East. We had fun plotting Imaginary paths along the ridge to Fisher High and then down into bog before a surprisingly steep climb up to Beacon Fell, 255m. There was a pleasant lady in-situ at the cairn, she was on a mission to check on their holiday caravan after the storms but couldn’t resist a quick fell top. Sign of a true walker.

Summit of Beacon Fell with Coniston Water below.

Dow Crag and Coniston Old Man in the distance.

Striding towards Beacon Tarn, Wool Knott and Blawith Knott.

Lunch spot.

Throughout the morning we’ve had hazy views of the Coniston Fells and Water, and southwards to Morecambe Bay. Lunch was taken by the beach on Beacon Tarn. To complete our circuit over Wool Knot, Tottlebank Height and Blawith Knott more inspired use of sheep trods was needed. On the last summit, it was increasingly cold and the light was fading so we dropped to Lang Tarn and took a compass bearing straight down a troublesome hillside to Woodland, each man for himself.

Arduous tramping.

Looking back to Beacon Fell.

We both agreed this was a perfect and remote miniature Fell walk, a great little adventure, though I think Sir Hugh was itching to run it again. Apart from Beacon Fell, I suspect few people venture into these fells which is a shame, 6.5 miles and 700m ascent.