Tag Archives: The Howgills

UNDER THE HOWGILLS.

19 Replies

More of the Lune. 

  November 1981. Day four of our Dales Way walk. We had started in Ilkley as a threesome, but by the time we arrived, via a long day to Grassington, into Kettlewell, we were down to two. An excessive night at the George in Hubberholme, when we couldn’t find the tent, didn’t slow us up. I can’t recall where we camped in Dent. The next afternoon, we diverted into Sedbergh for beer and chips before joining the Lune. I remember well our camp later that day in the meadows just before the Crook of Lune Bridge.  Our sleeping bags weren’t up to the freezing temperatures we experienced that night.

We made it to Windermere. But I don’t remember walking under the Lowgill Viaduct. I’m back here today for a walk down the Lune and beyond.

*

    The journey up the motorway goes well, I am trying to make the most of a rare good January day. The Howgills look even more attractive than usual in the low sunshine as I swish down the road past the ‘Black Horse’ towards Sedbergh. But today I take the lane signed Waterside and Firbank up the Lune Valley. I stop to take photos of the Waterside viaduct, which carried the Ingleton Branch railway line.

I eventually park under the Lowgill Viaduct, which carried the same line. onwards to Tebay, where it merged with what is now the Main West Coast Line.

The Ingleton to Tebay line, the Ingleton Branch, was built in the early 1860s by the North Western Railway as a link for them to Scotland. This never worked, and it remained a quiet branch line linking towns and villages in the Lune Valley.   It finally closed in 1964, but its structures and trackbed are still very visible in the valley today.

I’m inspired by the eleven-arched viaduct above me. What a climbing wall could be established on one of those stone arches.

  I walk down the lane, past the attractive Pool House, to the Crook of Lune Bridge. Not be confused with the Crook of Lune bridge painted by Turner further down the river at Caton. The one I cross today is a narrow, arched C16th stone bridge. Oh, and by the way, this Lowgill shouldn’t be confused with the one at the base of the Tatham Fells.

From the bridge, I look upstream towards the shapely Howgills, and downstream with Firbank Fell in the background, I will be up the latter on my return leg. It’s a day of views despite not really climbing anything higher than 1000ft.

That’s a slow start, but I’m soon in the fields bordering the River Lune, where we camped all those years ago. How come I don’t remember the viaduct?

The Dales Way is a popular route, and the path is clear, though rougher than I expected. This may be due to erosion from flooding; there is a section where the narrow trod has been bolstered with wooden boarding.

I’m walking into the low sun, so some of my photos are looking back. In places, the river rushes along, but in others it seems to be at a standstill, which I notice has a very calming effect upon me. One can imagine sitting here quietly for hours.

I arrive at Hole House with its joining arch, which I’ve been through not that long ago. *

Time for the obligatory snowdrop and catkin photos.

Leaving the Dales Way, the river is crossed via a wooden footbridge and begin a steep 700ft climb up the otherside.

Stopping for breath at the abandoned rail track of the Ingleton Branch. I wonder whether one could follow it back to Lowgill. Wouldn’t it make a wonderful cycleway from Sedbergh?

My next rest stop is at Goodies Farmhouse, where I reach the road. The views back to the Howgills are becoming more impressive as height is gained.

There is more height to be climbed along the semi-enclosed bridleway, then onto open moorland.

At last, the top road is reached, and the stile is used as my picnic bench.

Just along the road in the wrong direction is Fox’s Pulpit and a small graveyard. I visited here a couple of years ago. *  Then the Howgills were in cloud, but today are spread out in full Cinemascope.

The lane leads to my highest point of the day, a mere 304m, a smidgem under 1000ft, but exhilarating in the windless blue sky. I walk on, soaking up the views. The M6 motorway and the main railway line can be seen sneaking through the gap to Tebay.

The Lakeland hills are over there somewhere beyond the Tebay Borrowdale. Kidsty Pike is always the prominent one in the East.

 

 

A slanty sign shows the way down the fields. Some awkward stiles to be surmounted. After crossing this one, I slide off the boards into the stream, fortunately staying upright.

The path eventually drops steeply down towards Lowgill, offering a bird’s-eye view of the valley.

I finish on the road alongside those eleven arches.

A grand five mikes.

*

  Several drone videos of the viaduct are available online.

*

*

  I noticed a small turreted church by the roadside as I drove in this morning. I have time to stop and look around on the way home. St John the Evangelist’s Church, Firbank, built in 1842.

It looks as though a spring visit is called for…

 

 

A NEW YEAR – A NEW WALK AT LAST.

16 Replies

Slow walking in Uldale.

  Driving up the M6 from Preston is always busy and often an accident blackspot, but suddenly, after junction 36, the road empties and all is peaceful with fewer lorries. I’m heading for junction 37, the one with an abrupt stop up the hill and no roundabout. This junction gives access to the Western part of the Lakes, as well as to the Howgills and the hills around Dent, now called the Western Yorkshire Dales National Park, even though they are now mainly in Cumbria. Historically, both Sedbergh and Dent were in the West Riding of Yorkshire until 1974, so maybe there is some logic in the naming. Dent certainly feels like a Yorkshire Dales village. The road winds down to Sedbergh and gives an intimate view into the heart of the Howgills, which sets the pulse going.

  Since some friends of mine moved into Dentdale a few years ago, this has been a regular trip for me, particularly in the last three years when we were busy developing a climbing area, Blackbed Scar, on Wild Boar Fell. Today I have a gentler walk in mind, the first of the year, really, due to other circumstances. I’ve read about the waterfalls on the River Rawthey in hidden Uldale, but never explored them. A good enough reason to travel north to the hills, but stay low on a dry day with cold winds. I find that Metcheck often gives the more accurate local forecast. *

  I’ve taken a book off my shelves for another appraisal—52 WAYS TO WALK, by Annabel Streets.

  Each week, it suggests, one week at a time, different themes and ideas to keep your walks varied. There is a lot of dubious science incorporated, which is probably why it was relegated to my shelves. But we all recognise the physical and mental benefits of walking, so there is no harm in varying our routines. Time to start a new year with a weekly chapter from the book. We are already into the 4th week of 2026, so I can skip the first three chapters: Walk in the Cold, Improve Your Gait. and Walk, Smile, Greet. I feel I have covered those in my daily walk around the corner to the shops. So this week’s chapter comes up with Just One Slow Walk. She controversially suggests that long, slow walks are more beneficial than short, high-intensity periods. Soon to be contradicted in her week 7 chapter – Take a Twelve-Minute Walk. Whatever, I am happy to go along with the slow theme today, having been out hardly at all this year. The main reason, anyhow, is always to reduce your time sitting. 

*

  So I find myself parked up at Rawthey Bridge, just north of Cautley, where the river branches off into Uldale. That forecast is partially correct: the air temperature is about 7, but with stronger winds than expected, it feels freezing,  hat and gloves from the set off. 

  There is no path up the initial section of the gorge, so I pick up an unmarked bridleway into the low hills, Bluecaster, to the south west of the river.

  The map shows several fords along the way; I’m expecting wet feet. That doesn’t take long in the waterlogged ground.

  Of course, one tends to visit waterfalls for their full effect after rain, so I can’t complain. Height is gained, and then the valley traversed high above the river, hidden in the wooded depths. All around are familiar fells, Cautley Spout cradled by the Howgills, the back of Wild Boar and distant Nine Standards.

  The sun is in my eyes, ensuring that I manage to step onto as many unseen deep bogs as possible. The theme of Slow is easily followed. 

  In parts, there are signs of stone culverts and banking, suggesting packhorse use long ago. 

  Shake holes remind me I am in Limestone country.

 

  At last, the now vague path levels alongside the rushing river at a footbridge, which gives good views of the first falls upstream. I do wonder what the length of water downstream in the wooded gorge that I have bypassed would have revealed. I am sure someone will have canyoned the whole length. I could cross the bridge and complete my modest circular walk back down the opposite side of the valley, but a faint path continues on this side. The map shows a path that extends another half mile or so to an abandoned quarry, which was no doubt its raison d’être.

  Treading carefully on the slippery limestone, I follow the river past a series of falls over tilted strata. There seem to be some good deep swimming pools along the way.

  My video aims to give a sense of the sounds and sights of the falls. All very dramatic in this lonely valley.

  Reaching the quarry area, the eroded path is forced onto a lip directly above the water. It looks tricky, so I make my excuses and decide, probably sensibly, to turn around and retreat. Further on, the river levels out and then disappears around the corner to more unseen falls. In drier weather and with companions, I would have gone on.

  Later, YouTube shows the gorge becoming inaccessible and drones being used to view the taller falls, so today I made the right decision. But the thought of a summer’s direct exploration up the waters is at the back of my mind.  Of course, Mark Richards has been there more than once.

  Back at the bridge.

I cross over, climb up, bypass Uldale House and wander slowly back along the deserted lanes. 

   The only traffic is the red postie’s van.

  There are some lonely sheep farms up here; at one time, their lives probably didn’t stretch much further than Sedbergh every few weeks.

   This was previously a school, which closed in 1940.

  Dropping back down to Rawthey Bridge, I can trace the boggy start of the walk on the low hillside opposite with Cautley Crag in the background.

  I finish the afternoon warming up and chatting over a pot of tea at my friends’ Dentdale house. Here’s to more slow walking. 

*

AT LAST. THE QUAKERS AROUND SEDBERGH.

26 Replies

P1040903

This post has been two weeks in the writing, not that that makes it any better.

It’s been a strange time. Monday, having my haircut with Phil, a traditional barber, we all come out with the same style, fine by me. Most of our conversation was about mutual friends who have or who are shortly to depart our presence. With a humorous twist I can’t go into details here.

After my recent soaking on Longridge Fell I decided on some indoor culture for Tuesday. There were some interesting exhibitions at Abbots Hall Gallery in Kendal. I drove up in horrendous wet conditions on the motorway, found somewhere to park, £3.50, and walked to the hall only to find it only opens Thursday to Saturday at this time of year! Why didn’t I check? I phoned Sir Hugh in Arnside hoping for some sympathy and coffee, but ironically he was in Preston shopping. Drove back down the motorway in horrendous wet conditions.

Then on the Friday drove down to Manchester to visit my longtime friend, since university days, who is suffering with Pancreatic Cancer. It was a joyous occasion as we dutifully reminisced our days in various flats in London; beer, curries, girls, music and football. He showed me around his local park, John Leigh. What a wonderful space cared for by wonderful volunteers, a blue print for community parks anywhere.  

The sun shone on Saturday, Sunday and Monday but I was ill, another humorous incident I can’t recall here. The tablets were working so I hoped to take advantage of a good forecast and  complete a walk I have had in mind for some time – The Sedbergh Quaker Trail. It was not to be, three close friends died this week and I was quite depressed. I missed the good weather. 

Preparations were underway for all my family visiting at the weekend for my birthday. I awoke in the night and found that my electricity had tripped. At 3am I was paddling about in my dressing gown trying to find the problem. I isolated it to the kitchen and disconnected everything in there, but it still tripped. Into the garage for extension cables to at least keep my freezer and fridge working. The birthday dinner must be saved., not sure how I will cook it. An early phone call, Saturday morning, to our community electricians and within an an hour Paul is prowling around the kitchen with his magic electric probe. “The problem is between these sockets and the dishwasher” Visions of the walls coming down. But as both of us lie on the floor peering into the dark of that forgotten space behind the kickboard below the units the evidence is clear – a mouse has been nibbling at the wires. Within a short time he has rewired it and all is go. I’m keeping the space open until a few mice have been humanely caught and deported.

The birthday meal was a huge success. 

All of this has nothing to do with Sedbergh and the Quakers but may explain my tardiness.  

***

Historians mark 1652 as the beginning of the Quaker movement.   In that year on Pendle Hill  George Fox, (1624-1691)  is said to have had a vision commanding him to “sound the day of the Lord” to a great gathering of people.  I have written about Fox’s Well.

In June1652, fresh from his vision on Pendle Hill, George Fox arrived in Sedbergh. He did not preach in St. Andrew’s church there but the next day he was encouraged to attend a large gathering of ‘Seekers’ and other nonconformists in and around the small chapel on Firbank Fell a few miles from Sedbergh. 

Fox wouldn’t go into the chapel to preach but instead spoke for three hours to the gathered crowd from the top of a nearby crag – this is now known as Fox’s Pulpit. Many Seekers were convinced by Fox on the Fell that day and added their weight of  missionary zeal to his and what became the Society of Friends, or ‘Quakers’ – after Fox told a Derby judge to “tremble at the word of the Lord”  By 1660, there were 50,000 followers.

Meeting houses for silent prayer and contemplation, such as Swarthmoor near Ulverston, and Brigflatts near Sedbergh, were subsequently built. Brigflatts,1675, in Cumbria, is one of the most famous Quaker meeting houses, known and loved by Friends all over the world. It is acknowledged for all the simplicity of its lime-washed stone walls and interior woodwork — panelling, columns and balustrading — as one of England’s vernacular gems. For many, the peace and tranquillity of the Meeting House at Brigflatts leave a lasting impression. (information from their website.)

People of all faiths can admire the Quakers’ respect for all humans, their tolerance and belief in peace without the need for churches, rituals, holy days, or sacraments, to practice religion. Rather religion should be something one lived and acted out every day. These ideas were radical in a period where the established church held great political power, and many early Quakers were imprisoned and oppressed for these beliefs. Quakers were conscientious objectors in both world wars. Because Quakers were barred from universities and many professions, one natural outlet for them was in business.  A large number of British businesses were founded by Quakers, including such household names as Barclays, Lloyds, Carr’s, Clarks, Cadbury, Reckitt’s, Rowntree, Fry and Terry’s. The football team In Darlington that I supported as a teenager was nicknamed The Quakers from the links within the town. 

***

This Tuesday the forecast is good, Despite a bit of faffing I am parked in Sedbergh by 10 am. Too soon to pick up a leaflet from the Tourist Information Office describing this walk. I’ll just have to do it from the map and follow my nose, I think I am pretty good at that.

I pay a visit to St. Andrew’s church. Once through the cemetery I’m on a quiet lane to Birks, a hamlet of farming cottages, a brief flirtation with the River Rawthey.  P1040883 P1040884

P1040888

Through muddy fields to visit Brigflatts Meeting House. What a beautiful peaceful place. Built in the style of a Cumbrian farm house, it has open doors for visitors. The porch with its ?original studded door leads into the main room. A place for prayer or contemplation. Alongside was another room used as a library of relevant books and a place to sit and have a brew. All very inclusive. P1040895P1040900P1040896P1040899

P1040902

I move on, suitably refreshed in mind and body. I think I miss a turn to Ingmire Hall but find myself on The Dales Way for the first time in 40 years. It is a little disappointing following the road verge for some while. Some rather complicated navigating through  The Oaks, holiday lets now, and I’m on the banks of the Lune for a short stretch to the strangely named Lincoln’s Inn Bridge. The adjacent farm had been an in  at one time.

P1040927P1040931

I leave the Dales Way until rejoining it later in the day, and find a way up into the mixed woodlands which will be resplendent with bluebells in a few weeks time. For photos of them have a look at John Bainbridge’s  post from 2022. P1040941P1040947

Emerging onto a narrow moorland lane at New Field.

Onwards and upwards I reach the highest point and there on the right is the rock or pulpit from where Fox is said to have preached way back in 1652. An isolated spot as you could find. P1040954P1040957P1040965

P1040963

The plaque affixed to the rock reads –

Here or near this rock George Fox preached to about one thousand seekers for three hours on Sunday, June 13, 1652. Great power inspired his message and the meeting proved of first importance in gathering the Society of Friends known as Quakers. Many men and women convinced of the truth on this fell and in other parts of the northern counties went forth through the land and over the seas with the living word of the Lord enduring great hardships and winning multitudes to Christ.

I sit atop of the rock eating my sandwich, nobody about to hear my words. The chapel mentioned up here fell into disrepair and has vanished but there is an abandoned graveyard with one lone standing gravestone.

I choose a nearby squelchy, but well signed, bridleway to take me back down the valley. The Howgills are spread out in front of me, but unfortunately the summits are cloud covered.P1040973P1040975

P1040982

Half way down past Goodies Farm I cross the bed of an old railway. This was from Ingleton, via Kirkby Lonsdale and Sedbergh. to join the main line at Tebay. It opened in 1861 and the rails were finally lifted in 1967, twelve years after it had closed to passengers. I had previously passed below it near Brigflatts and seen in the distance the Waterside Viaduct. P1040992

I cross the River Lune on a recently rebuilt footbridge and back onto the Dales Way but now going in the opposite direction. P1040995P1040996P1040997

A series of farms and fields take me south. The farmer at Hole House complains about the wet weather causing problems at lambing time. At Nether Bainbridge most is falling down. 

Along the track a farmer is repairing his drystone wall. I get the whole history of the area. A magic conversation. P1050014

I leave the Dales Way at Bramaskew and walk on to High Branthwaite, taking the farm lane up to Howgill Lane which I can follow all the way back to Sedbergh. The alternative was to walk along the higher fellside of Winder Hill on open access land. After nine miles I was happy to use the traffic free lane. All the time looking at the surrounding fells. The Howgills, Baugh Fell and Dentdale with time to spot a few early flowers. The area is mostly neglected by hiking community who go elsewhere to the honey pots. I’ve not met a single walker all day on my ten mile round.P1050026

Back in Sedbergh the village is buzzing with visitors mostly decked out in the latest walking garb. The, no doubt otherwise helpful, Tourist Information closed at 4pm so I never acquired that walk leaflet.

P1090554

***

Screenshot 2024-03-26 205003

UP THE SPOUT. CARLIN GILL IN THE HOWGILLS.

19 Replies

A walk of two halves, coming with a health warning.

I’ve tagged this post ‘Lake District’ which is not correct but the motorway skirting the Lakes gives most people their only view of The Howgills and that’s as far as it goes for the majority. I would imagine for every thousand walkers setting foot in the Lakes there will be barely one in The Howgills. That view from the motorway shows extensive rounded hills with deeply divided valleys, long fingery ridges radiating from the central mass. The Lune Valley and Mainline Railway share that Western Boundary with the motorway, there is one particularly conspicuous, twisting deep valley leading intriguingly into hidden depths – this is the Carlin Gill.  Photo above.

I arrange a walk with Sir Hugh and suggest The Howgills for somewhere different, he says he has always wanted to explore Carlin Gill. The die is cast.

I have vague memories of walking up the gill to take a look at Black Force and The Spout, two hidden waterfalls. Out comes Wainwright’s ‘Walks on the Howgill Fells’ for guidance,  a few chapters cover parts of our intended route.

Carlin Gill – “The walk cannot be done if the beck is in flood. A half-mile section is a battle against nature in the raw and ends in a desperate scramble. Nonagenarians should think twice before attempting it.”

Part one.

Having parked up by the Gill we are not certain whether ‘the beck is in flood‘ or not, there seems a lot of water in it after recent heavy rain. We set off debating which side we should be on, the best path often on the other bank and sufficient water to deter wading. Sheep trods are followed with slippery rock encountered on steep obstructions. But progress is made, we marvel at the sunny weather, our solitude and surroundings.

The start of Carlin Gill.

The way ahead.

Easy going…

Deeper into the valley we are forced alongside the beck where care is needed to avoid a slip. Soon [it was over an hour] we are alongside the impressive Black Force, a waterfall tumbling down a gully opposite.

 

Getting awkward.

Don’t slip now.

Approaching Black Force.

 

 

 

 

Black Force.

We do not like the look of the scramble up it which is one of our escape routes! So we persist up the gill a few more hundred yards until stood under The Spout, the 30ft waterfall blocking our exit. An impressive place to be. I’m pleased we penetrated so far and would be happy to return the way we came but there are primitive stirrings from Sir Hugh to climb out ‘now we are here’.

Onwards.

In the beck.

Let’s look round the corner.

Wow!

 

 

The Spout.

Wainwright says to climb a crack in the rib to easier ground above the fall, a steep scramble. Neither of us likes the look of the slippery crack or the steep ground above it. The other side of the gill looks as steep. Curiously we don’t think of retreat but convince ourselves of a better way just to the left of Wainwright’s option, some steep grassy rakes avoiding the loose rock. It is only when 15ft up with Sir Hugh clinging to grassy handholds and feet skidding on wet moss that I have a change of heart – “Why don’t we go down?”    “I can’t”  came the reply.

 

Grassy rakes.

Getting steeper.

“I can’t go back.”

Fast forward and I’ve coaxed Sir Hugh back to relative safety and we progress to better handholds – heather rather than moss. The angle eases and we have time to sit and have a team talk about further progress.  Soon we are traversing on sheep tracks above an ever-increasing drop and then it is all over as we arrive at Blakethwaite Bottom a boggy basin.

As exposed as it looks.

Easier ground.

Part Two.

Having defied death all was plain sailing from now on except that we were only halfway up onto the tops. A vague track led up to a vague col where we turned right and were able to stroll alongside each other, discussing the day so far, onto Docker Knott. The views were staggering particularly to the north. Undulations led to Wind Scarth where we had to be careful to keep right avoiding a well-trodden track to The Calf. There are no walls, fences and few cairns up here to help navigation but that is one of the attractions of these open fellsides. An upwards path heads towards a visible cairn on Fell Head at  623m the highest point on the Western Howgills. A couple of fell walkers passed us on the ridge without any conversation, the only people we saw all day. At the cairn, we sat and had some lunch and took in the 360-degree views. Everywhere was clear Morecambe Bay, The Lakeland Fells, distant Galloway, Cross Fell and the Northern Pennines, the Three Peaks, Bowland Hills and possibly far away Snowdonia. Sir Hugh was having a great time with his long zoom lens.

Upwards on Docker Fell.

Looking north.

The Calf.

Heading for Fell Head.

Fell Head looking south to Morecambe Bay.

West towards the Lakes.

Yorkshire Three Peaks.

Careful compass work made sure we were on our way towards the lesser top of Linghaw and onwards over Back Balk with the motorway in the background to arrive back directly to the car parked ironically on Gibbet Hill, we had escaped the gallows on this memorable day’s walk.

Heading down.

The Lune Valley and our car insight.

Well done Sir Hugh, mission accomplished – it will be less steep in The Broads next week!  Check out his post for further photos.

I am now keen to return to the Howgills and explore further but perhaps not in Carlin Gill.

A footnote.

I didn’t mention that a tree at the base of the spout was festooned with Tibetan Prayer flags and strangely a climbing helmet. There were also some ashes scattered on the rocks. Our imaginations ran wild  – was this someone’s favourite retreat or was somebody fatally injured on these rocks?

I’ve just ‘googled’ Carlin Gill Accident without a lot of success except for one accident that happened to Sir Hugh, who had posted that he slipped heavily on a patch of ice near the bridge at the start of the Gill whilst on a simple walk along the lane in winter January 2017. https://conradwalks.blogspot.com/2017/01/tebat-sedbergh-road.html

*****

*****