Pendle Hill revisited

I used to live within sight of Pendle Hill, and, one or two of my immediate female relatives had some rather unusual religious habits, and, some might say, powers...(oooer) - so, after several failed attempts at arranging a meeting due, I finally met up with a Manchester van driver called John in the car park in Barley, at the very foot of Pendle Hill.

John goes by the "user-name" of "Yomper" on http://www.walkingforum.co.uk/ and , following my recent policy of enjoying walks with as many different people as possible, it was through this forum that we managed to arrange this little trundle. And worra pleasant little walk it was.

I had last climbed Pendle on halloween 1975, at midnight. This seemed like a good idea at the time, but turned out to be a really bad idea as it happened. The place was a madhouse of Burnley vs Man Utd fans beating crap out of each other, druggies and drunks laying around the summit and fireworks going off in any direction other than upwards.

I also learned to ski at Pendle ski club and had the unusual experience of having a lesson cancelled due to snow...

Anyway - me and John and superdawg climbed up the slanted path that goes up to the top of Pendle, had a little brew near the top, and came down a slanted stepped path back to the foot.

The views from the top are remarkable.

Afterwards, we repaired top the Pendle Inn for a Pendle Bitter and then I Pendled off to Bleara moor for a bit of a poke around old haunts. It was a bit drizzly by then, so I didn't explore too far - I'll be back here with my brother in a while anyway.

A good day, though - I think we probably walked around 4 miles and climbed about 1100 feet altogether.

Bruno seemed to get on well with Yomper - some people do dogs, and some people don't -and some people would like to but can't get the hang... thats just the way of things with doggies....

It may have been the doggy bix he'd brought. The way to Bruno's heart has always been gastro...

One last thing - when I was about nine years old, my uncle from California visited us in Earby, and brought with him, by ship to Liverpool, an enormous American car. This proved to be disastrous because, one day he took his brothers and sisters (my aunts and uncles) and a partner or two on a drinking day in Skipton, and on the way back he crashed the car into a tree and an "uncle" was killed.

Shortly afterwards, the bend where they'd come adrift was straightened out, but, having seen the wreck of the car in the local garage, complete with family blood and hair, the bend where the crash happened and what had happened to the aunties had haunted me for a long time, possibly years.

And today, I visited the place by taking the old A56. And the tree is still damaged. Remarkable.

Thats more than fifty years. Thats a ghost laid to rest, finally.

Meeting an Adder

In the occasion of Wolsingham show, daughter Becky had a visit this weekend and we had a little walk with the dogs along a breezy and cool Waskerley Way, just above Stanhope - and we met with this little adder. The snake was very dozy due to the cool weather, but we kept the dogs out of the way just in case.

It had gone by the time we returned a while later.

Later, we repaired to the Park Head tea room, beloved by many a CtoC cyclist, and by me, as it happens.

Never pass a tea room

Quote of the week: "Just a little prick Mr Widdle" Hattie Jacques, Carry on Nurse (actually, I expect she never said this, but she should have done.....)

The Waskerley Way is mainly used by cyclists, some who are "doing" the cycling Coast to Coast route. Its part of, and links im with many miles of ex-railway line paths across Co Durham. There's miles and miles and miles of these. They're great for a good old blast at speed, but they can get just a bit dull after a few hours of left/right/left/right. Its all down hill to Sunderland from here. though, if you're on a bike.

Hadrans Wall day 5 Birdoswald to Carlisle

I think that Cumbria is in the North-West of England. Carlisle is, surely, a North-Western city. So, when the weatherman said it will be wet in North-east England, it could be argued that in Cumbria, there wouldn’t be so much rain.
Apparently not. I set off from Birdoswald at 9:00 am in chucking rain and walked for the next five and a half hours in chucking rain, and a further hour in drizzle.
A Kiwi in an unusual jacket and hat I met along the way suggested that England wouldn’t be so nice and green but for the rain. And, as for the mud? Mud? You’ve seen nothing like the mud we’ve got 176 degrees South of here, mate..
As the day continued, the mud got muddier and the fields got more flooded. In parts they were quite shallow – only a few inches. In others, things were getting serious for the worms. I considered taking off my boots and socks before they wetted out completely. Maybe I should have done. Bare feet could well have been just the thing.
Its very soft and sloppy.
I pressed ever Westwards towards the brightening sky. It was just a different colour of rain. I sheltered in a sort of garden hut in a garden at Haytongate. I made a cup of tea, considered the mars bars too expensive at a quid a go and put my money for the tea in the honesty box. I read the messages on the wall. The emperor Hadrian was, apparently complaining about the state we’d left his wall in, and various peope said thanks for the tea… Later, there was a wooden box in a grassy (slightly underwater) lane. Inside the box there were sweeties and crisps and a little dish to put your money in.
It’s a good idea, this, provided nobody nicks anything.
Was the bar at the closed pub in Walltown really an “honesty bar”. I didn’t have time to find out, I had to keep going towards Carlisle and the last bus to Birdoswald. It would be an expensive bus-miss either in terms of extra walking effort or yer actual money.
Eventually, after 18 miles of mud and rain and Himalayan balsam by the riverside – I arrived in Carlisle – and promptly got lost, passing Debenhams three times from different directions.
I caught the AD122 bus back to Birdoswald, though, with 20 minutes to spare. Possibly a close run thing.
Rain? Don’t talk to me about rain….
18 and a half miles and just 700 feet of climbing.
Probably a very nice walk on a sunny day in early September. The brambles are fruiting and the elderberries will be ready in a week or so – so if you want to make wine, there’s absolutely loads of ‘em.
And there’s sloes too….
And very depressed-looking cattle and sheep.
But what of the route – well, it’s easy again. Very easy walking, in fact. Not much uphill at all either, and its still well waymarked. And, apart from the honesty tuck shops, there’s a few pubs/hotels and a farm near Crosby on Eden which does snacks.
The archaeology gradually disappear to just a flooded ditch (maybe not always flooded!) – and then there’s a bit of lane walking, then some nice riverside paths which take the walker into Carlisle without seeing much of the city. It’s a short trundle into the City Centre.
Nearly finished this – just 14 miles to go.

Eel Crag? You jokin' innit?

Following on me and the Bro's failure to get up Eel Crag via the Shelf Route back in July, we thought we'd have another go at failing to get up Eel Crag via the Shelf Route once again.

In this , we were highly successful.

The signs were good from the start - an "improving" weather forecast from the Met office and a really duff one on the Lake District Weatherline. Good so far - contradictions.

Then there was the fog/mist travelling at 60 mph in a Easterly direction on the A66 and giving the high-siders a bit of a shaking...

And finally, when I arrived at Braithwaite, it was chucking it down.

So me and the dawg and John walked alongside the Derwent on paths and an ex-railway line to the boozah at Threlkeld ,where there's a sign outside saying "dogs welcome" - and the place had numerous dogs lurking underneath tables. Its nice to see a pub that welcomes me and my mucky dog - we usually have to drink outside. In the rain. With the wasps.

The Derwent was in full, brown spate and was fair roaring away. A couple of canoeists appeared to be dicing with a serious wetting and hurtled by sideways at one point.

After a couple of pints of Dark Mild, we retraced for a bit and then traversed the slopes and summitof the mighty Latrigg where it was a bit brighter, very breezy and then .... it rained again.

Not many pics - I didnt want top get the camera wet. At this point the other hobo Martin Banfield enquired by text from the foot of Mont Blanc as to how we'd got on. The wonders of modern communications, innit?

We'll have another go. We will get up the Shelf Route one day, some day.... The strategy (or maybe its a tactic...?) will be to plan to go somewhere else, and then, if its a nice day, we could , possibly head for Eel Crag.

Eel may mean "Evil" by the way.

But in the meantime, a highly successful failure due to rubbish weather.

The walk we did have was quite good, though - 8+ miles and about 1100 feet of uphill, two pints and two lunches....

There's a couple of vids, intended to show panoramas.

Its not evil, its a naughty hill.

As for Latgrigg - its a nice, green lump witha cracking view of Keswick and Derwentwater. the last time I was here was back in 1973 when I joined a Ramblers Association protest walk against the Keswick bypass. Ramblers to this day still refuse to use the bypass and will walk around on rights of way.... To be absolutely frank, I went on the protest because it was a day out and I'd never been up Latrigg. I think the bus from Skipton was free..... unethical, obviously.

Lets hear the Earwig Song

By the miracle of time travel, or, possibly enthusiasm, the October copy of the TGO magazine plopped into the mailbox this morning. (Its a good job it didnt come through the letterbox like the Backpackers Club magazine or superdawg would have ripped it to bits - must have a word with the new postman...)

As a result of this, I've just this minute finished the arduous task of completing the application form for the 2010 TGO Challenge.

Some readers will appreciate that should I survive till next May, AND I manage to walk the 200 miles or so across the middle of Scotland without cheating or taking my dog (who will be howling at home and ripping up Readers Digest competitions) - this will be my tenth TGO Challenge and, like John Manning and many others before me, I will be a TGO Leg End.

I will then be accepted into the Inner Chamber of the TGO Challenge wotsit thingy and be party to such arcane secrets as what happens underneath Cameron McNeish's kilt, the proper pronunciation of Feughside and how to spell Ruaigh teAicthean.... Rooooar Chearrchain... Rudiepart Challenger.. or whatever it is. And what it is about Ardbeg thats so fabby whizz...

Anyway, I also automatically get a place (I think so anyway) - so to all you non-foreigners who don't have an 18 year old Swedish disabled teenager to accompany you - Hah! You'll just have to take your chances. There's always the stand-by list for you my friends.... But not for me. No, my friends, not for me! hah! In fact (evil laugh) hah hah hah hah ha! (getting a bit manic now...)

Tommorrow Lochailort and the day..after.... probably Glenfinnan or Loch Beoraid... but eventually The World! Yes! Oh, the power of it all!!!!

But lets not provide a reasonable estimate of our weight in poultry till all the properly fertilised eggs are hatched.

But on the other hand there is cause for celebration.

So.

Earwigo earwigo earwigo

Earwigo earwigo earwigooooo