Never did like this place. There light coming through a hole in the roof showing up as an odd shape in one of the windows. I’ve cut it out and blown it up a bit.
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr………. Who fancies spending all hallows eve here?
The Awful Hand trip being ill-fated and causing pains, strains, disease and discomfort across the United Kingdom (these things hardly ever work out on the first attempt) I determined to go camping and bag a few Marilyns that had been on my list-of-Marilyns-to-bag-in-Galloway list for a while.
The first victim to the ticking pencil was on Friday afternoon – one Hightown Hill, an 820 foot lump of grass with cows on it somewhere slightly to the left of Dumfries. I was going to bag a hill next to it but didn’t because a) I couldn’t remember where it was and b) I didn’t have the map with it on and c) I couldn’t think of a third excuse. This went well and a walk of just under two miles set me up for a celebratory pint of Black Sheep in the Ken Bridge Hotel where I was camping.
The KB Hotel was occupied mainly by hunters and fishers, the hunters being in camouflage and (whisper this) I noticed that over the three days, whilst I wetted out two pairs of boots and covered them in muck, their shoes were always shiny. I took this to mean that, despite all pretence, they actually hadn’t been anywhere at all…..
And so, soon afterwards, it was Saturday. I took the knipemobile over to Glen Trool and parked near the old Caldons campsite where the caldons used to camp. I followed the Southern Upland Way and a cycle route in a roughly Easterly direction, passing through the battlesite of Glentrool where, after watching a spider for a bit, Robert de Brus and 300 rock-hurling Ayrshirites and a few cavalry trounced a force of 1500 English troops under de Clifford – the Lord of Skipton castle no less.
I continued to the watershed and turned off over grassless cow-churned mud and, higher, to heather and tussocks, and higher to beautiful slabs of granite to the summit of Craig Lee, perched on a little tor. Then followed what can only be described as a joyful romp over the twists and rocky turns of the Rig of the Jarkness. What is a Jarkness, and how much do they eat…? This ridge is pure delight, with rocky tors and slabs and little tarns and ends with an unpleasant steep pile of tussocks to a ford and a sloppy path down to Bruce’s Stone. I completed with a road walk back to the start, although there seems to be shoreline alternatives.
On returning to the Ken Bridge Hotel, I celebrated with a little guinness and some scotch and drifted off into Kylieland in short order.
Soon, it was Sunday and the two cock robins who I’d been feeding each time they whistled finally had me trained to showfield standard. I left them a snack on a tree stump and went off in search of a parking spot close enough to Craignell to make a short day, for I heard that rain was on its way for the afternoon and would “set in”.
I parked by the Black Loch, between a wild goat park and a deer range and, not finding the “stepping stones” marked on my map, took a turn around the Loch with it’s strange conical sculpture thingy. I had to cross the burn to get to the “Old Edinburgh Road” which used to go to Old Edinburgh and I followed this to an obscure turn-off into the deep forest. This went further than it said on my map, which is what I wanted. At it’s end, I could see open hillside some way above, but I chose the wrong forest ride and ended up floundering in huge tussocks with deep water in between and, eventually, after an hour or so of toil, came to a dead-end of impenetrable sitka spruce. I decided to call the whole thing off in favour of a paddle and a picnic next to a waterfall I’d spotted. I retraced awkwardly and a bit grumpily through the same floundering-ground.
Then, I thought I’d just investigate the other ride. This was steep, but easy under foot and I was soon out on the hillside, albeit onto outrageously steep heather. I battled up this, grateful that I’d forgotten to take my beta-blockers and wondering how the air ambulance would find me.
Craignell is steep and rough but the top is a great place to be providing it hasn’t just started raining. So I bailed out for a celebratory pint back at Ken Bridge. Some sheepfarmers were in tonight. No idea what they were talking about, though I did catch the word “Gimmer”…
Then the hunters came in. Boots still shiny. What had they been doing all day?
Today I came home. I had soaked two pairs of boots and three pairs of socks so there was little motivation to put them on again. And I’d eaten all the bacon and the robins are resting smug, feet up, little robin slippers on, being too fat to fly just now.
Cracking hills, though.
As far as the leaky boots are concerned – I can feel something in the air which will sort out the problem – hopefuly before the weekend cos I’m off to Wales.
I’ve been out rangering today up at Blanchland and Edmundbyers. I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again, so I expect that you may be bored with this kind of thing. So instead, I’ll explain the concept of Jinkie’s Challenge, something wot I thought of whilst marching through the heather without a map again. I’ll illustrate this with pics from today’s walking.
The other thing is that I’ve applied for the TGO Challenge next year and there’s always a chance that I won’t make the cut, so a Plan B is always a good idea. (Mr Manning should not read this blog post as I wouldn’t want him getting the idea that a person with a Plan B would be a choice candidate for the stand-by list…)
So the Jinkie Challenge is to visit the three highest public bars in England. These are (as far as I know, but I’m willing to be disabused) The Cat and Fiddle, The Tan Hill Inn and the Kirkstone Pass Inn. This should normally take about two weeks, I would have thought. And a route not completely up the Pennine Way could be made from the Cat to Tan Hill – and, it’s a long-established long distance walk, and a high level route to Kirkstone Pass could be made from tan Hill over Nine Standards, The Howgill Fells and the Shap Fells. I
I considered calling this walk the Three Pubs Challenge, but it seems to me that its more than likely that a lot more than three pubs could be visited between the three targets . So, why not go the whole hog and visit as many as possible? I thought up some rules:
1) The route is not fixed and using the Pennine Way all the way up the Pennines would lose the walker Jinkie Points.
2) The start can be any of the three pubs.
3) A proper boozing session should be had at all three of the three highest pubs.
4) Extra Jinkie Points can be earned by visiting as many pubs as possible in between the other two although there’s no requirement to go mad on the beer at each one. On a rough route I thought up, there are a minimum of twenty other pubs. There could be more since I haven’t looked at a map.
5) Even more extra Jinkie points can be earned for each summit over 400 metres bagged on the way.
This could be the hardest pub crawl in England.
Or not.
In any case, this is my Plan B for TGO challenge time, or I may just do it anyway.
On the rangering, I did 15 miles, got wet twice, found two fallen trees and a bit of duff shoring and they’ve mended a stile that’s been rejecting me. I also found that the Blanchland village deli does a nice cornish pasty.
Jinkie, by the way is a childish word that I use to get Bruno to have a drink from a stream on a hot day – in case there’s no more water for a long way ahead, and may also be an exclamation on spotting a distant pub on a warm and thirsty day.
This is a reminder to all would-be writists to write a blog post of up to 1000 words , possibly with some pretty pictures in order to win this fantastic rucksack.
This fab bit of kit is a Gelert Nimbus 35 litre rucksack and is supplied by Outdoor Look - See more outdoor clothing and all kinds of gear at www.outdoorlook.co.uk
Your blog post can be about anything at all linked to the outdoors. Have a rant. Pontificate about something… Tell us about your latest adventure in the hills…. Whatever you want.
As I seem to be on holiday at the original closing date (there’s planning for you…) _ I’ve extended the cut-off for entries to 20 October 2011.
Get writing - Its nearly Christmas…..
After a bit of a lay-off from the walking due to various family stuff and some writing stuff, Superdawg pointed out, whilst taking a break from chewing the cat, that we hadn’t been doing a vast amount of nice walkies recently.
So, pausing only to pick up essentials, such as butties, coffee, a banana and a poet, we set off for Westgate for a brief encounter with all of the interesting stuff in Slitt Wood.
Most of these interesting things will be well known to regular pieblog readers, but just to repeat information given in previous postings from my apparent obsession with the Slitt Vein, the main things are these:
An old mill/fortified house with wheel pit
Lots of nice waterfalls and pools
Wild flowers
A lead mine with Bargain steads, wheel pit, mountings for an Armstrong Hydraulic Engine, an excavated smithy with rock drill testing/proving holes, a damn great shaft, the Slitt vein itself
A tramway
A bench with in memorium leather boots with wooden soles
A wet level
Spoil heaps
A reservoir
Some meadows
Nice views.
All in all, quite a lot squeezed in to a couple of miles.
It rained a bit. Jules the pote pointed at things whilst having his photo taken, and wrote at least one poem (he knocks them out like a Birmingham car factory). We paddled up the wet level till we got scared, wearing the Bareskin booties (not wanting to get wet socks). Bruno stuck his tongue out and made rude signs at a small herd or gang of cattle doing some cud-chewing on the other side of the beck (they didn;t seem too bothered) and we collected a few pretty stones.
Later, we crossed the beck and slithered up a lane trashed into deep ruts by 4WD drivers.
And then we went home.
I think we did about four miles.
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