Great Knoutberry Station to Station

First of all, here’s a health warning, or, I should say, a tissue warning. This blog contains material which some people might find upsetting. Have some tissues ready.

Message to the vulnerable - You know who you are. Be sensible. Don’t read the last section of this blog post if your mum is about to arrive, or you have an important job interview in the next hour or so. You don’t want to arrive looking like you’ve just been blubbering. Here’s a clue: see that dog in the pic above. Its about that dog. Its quite sad.

I did tell you!

Anyway, this is another post in the series containing fascinating details about how to climb the Yorkshire dales 2000 foot tops. Its also uses the Settle-Carlisle railway line to make a linear walk instead of a circular one, or one that looks like a vegetable …. I thought that using the train was such a good idea, I might well do some more Station to Station walks on the Settle to Carlisle line.

So, after negotiating a scarily white-coloured A66, we finally slithered into the car park at Garsdale station, where we mooched about for a bit looking at the statue of a dog (Did I mention how upsetting this is by the way?)

The signalman cam out of his signal box and signalled to me. “The train’s on time” he says. We have a conversation across the tracks. He discovers my plan to get the train to Dent and walk back again. “Nice” he says…”And you’ll probably be getting off before the conductor has managed to collect your fare….”

The train comes. I get on. I pay the conductor. He gives me a ticket. Bruno doesn’t like it. The train stops. I get off. I am at Dent Station.

My dad once had a ticket for Dent station from Chatham. Around 1944ish he had a 24 hour pass from the Royal navy and got the train to Skipton, using his ticket for Dent. This was a scam to avoid buying train tickets. I’m not certain how the scam worked. Unfortunately, he fell asleep somewhere South of Leeds and woke up in Ribblesdale, being dumped on Dent station late at night. He caught the milk train back in the morning, but his leave was at an end, so he went on to Chatham. With a new ticket.

Luckily, I managed to stay awake for the five minute journey.

We got off and walked up the road towards Garsdale, turning off on a drifted-over bridleway with expansive views from Penyghent to Scafell Pike. This bridleway is worth walking on if you do nothing else. Its brill, man….

After a while, the sun got stronger and my beard froze, so I was hot and cold all at the same time. We turned off the track and climbed up to the summit of Great Knoutberry – using our new skills of following the hard snow next to the wall and ignoring the peat hags and tussocks. At the top, a chap from Lincolnshire was having his lunch. We discussed tents and sleeping bags and the degree to which our respective offspring liked hillwalking, or not.

I continued by following the wall which forms the Yorkshire/Cumbria County boundary. This passes dangerously over the fiercely frozen Widdale fell tarn.

I was going to follow the boundary for quite a long way, but it dawned on me that it was leading me away from my parked car and not towards it, so, I turned left and did the follow-a-patch-of-snow thing across a couple of miles of peaty haggy moory stuff back to the road to Garsdale, which was under several feet of snow at this point.

This road, incidentally is know as the Coal road. The reason may seem obvious until you consider that it links two railway stations together. What’s the point of taking the coal off the train and carrying it over the fell and putting it back on a train again – I wondered. Then I thought that maybe the pits around the sides of the road were actually coal mines. Ah yes, that’s it.

Its also called “Galloway gate” or the “Galloway Road” This is perhaps just a bit older than the Coal road name and refers to Galloway cattle which were driven on high level routes from Scotland to the meat-hungry industrial Lancashire and Yorkshire. It was, in fact, turning the protein of the protein-rich North into silver and thus into carbohydrates (ie bread)

We arrived in due course back at the car.

We did 8 miles and 1250 feet of uphill. The snow is still very hard. Its not too late to go and walk on it. Do it now. Gwan… do it now.

And now.

A space.

Compose yourselves.

About this dog…..

The dog is, or, I should say, was, called “Ruswarp” This, apparently, is pronounced “Russup”

Ruswarp belonged to a chap called Graham Nuttall. Graham and Ruswarp were instrumental in keeping the Settle-Carlisle railway line open. Indeed, Ruswarp’s paw print appears on the petition. He was a familiar attender at meetings. the campaign was successful.

Shortly after the line was saved, Graham and Ruswarp went hillwalking in Wales. Graham disappeared in the Welsh hills on 20th January 1990. His body was found on 7 April 1990, some eleven winter weeks later and Ruswarp was still in attendance. He was in a bad shape, though and lived just long enough to witness Graham’s funeral. He was a quiet dog, but when the coffin passed through the crematorium curtains, it’s said that he let out a baleful howl.

Hot sweet tea and a fag, I think…..

But what of Great Knoutberry? – Easy peasy, a bit rough in parts. Cracking views, though. It doesn’t really lend itself to long walks, somehow. The train line is very useful and adds interest.

Sniff… I’m still thinking about that dog……

Restoring Barnard Castle’s Riverside Paths

A couple of weeks ago I got recruited as a volunteer by Durham County Council’s Outdoor peeps (not the official name!) to take part in a project aimed at restoring Barnard castle’s riverside paths network. (I’ve been a voluntary countryside ranger for the County Council a few years now…)

These are very popular paths for locals and visitors and their dogs and are an important resource for a bit of quiet wandering around in a nice bit of woodland next to the River Tees.

Today’s work was opening part of one of the paths out because it had become overgrown with quite a bit of scrub – lots of elder and hawthorn and brambles and raspberries, so there was a full day of pruning and sawing and dragging bits of shrubbery around.

Most locals who were passing with their doggies seemed to think it was all a really good idea but one chap enquired as to the whereabouts of his favourite elderberry tree…. (doh!)

I think there were eight or nine of us plus the County Tree Officer and an off-duty countryside ranger with a chain saw.

Well be back in a couple of weeks to do a bit of gardening and there’s some woodland to thin out.

This is quite good exercise and uses muscles other than walking ones( I’ve been sawing all day!) and a bit of positive feedback from the Barnard Castilians and the fact that you can instantly see the difference – makes it all very satisfying. (And, of course, with being a volunteer, you get treated nicely in case you don’t come back! – Its not like having a job.)

If anybody wants any logs or firewood by the way, there’s piles of it by the River Tees at Barney.

Peebles to Moffat

Many years ago, somebody bought me “The Big Walks” edited by Richard Gilbert and Ken Wilson, a coffee-table glossy pics type of thing which was very popular at the time and came in a series – including Classic Walks, Classic Climbs, The Big Climbs and so on.

Any road up, in this “Big Walks” book, there are some ridiculously long routes such as all the Fannichs in one go , The Ben Nevis and Lochaber Traverse and Marsden to Edale. Typically, many of the Scottish walks start and/or end in the middle of nowhere so you have to walk to the start and/or finish as well. They were tuff in them days, so they were….

And so, I’ve had one of these walks slowly braising in the back of my mind for many years and it is – The classic Big Walk from Peebles to Moffat. Or from Moffat to Peebles.

So I asked a few people who I thought might be interested and we have a kind of provisional arrangement to have a go at this at Easter this year. We won’t be doing this in a day, though, not on your muddy-booted nelly. No, we’ll take two and a half days. And then, some people wanted to walk back again – another two and a half days.

Final arrangements still have to be arranged finally but watch this space for further developments.

Here are the two routes: (apols for the poor quality of the maps, but I had to get the whole route on and not much space. Have a look at it in conjunction with a road map and you’ll get the idea)

Maps not to be used for navigation!

The total distance is around 73 Miles and the first part includes 3 Corbetts and a multitude of Donalds (‘Course, I’ve done all of these hills before ‘cos I’m a Donaldist intye?)

The walk, describes as starting at Peebles just for descriptive purposes goes from Peebles via Kirkhope Law 537metres – Dun Rig 742m – Black Law 698m - Fifescar Knowe 811m – Cramalt Craig 831m Broad Law 840m Hart Fell 808m – Moffat (with some interveining hills between the above) – Southern Upland Way to Ettrick Head – The Western part of the Ettrick Hills including 13 tops from 557m to 677m, Tibbie Shiels Inn, SUW again to Blackhouse, Dun Rig (again) 742m and Glenrath heights 732m – Glen sax to Peebles.

Phew.

Bouncing around Burtree Fell

Burtree Fell has it’s Scandinavian name (Burtree Fell) and its Anglian name – Middlehope Moor. Really really attentive readers may remember that a couple of weeks ago me and superdawg failed to get up Middlehope Moor due to very deep and soft snow. So, today, we had another go.

We parked up at Cowshill and followed a slippery lane up onto the Fell. And there we found some iron-hard neve. [thrusts clenched fist into air in a victorious kind of manner] Walking on this stuff is incredibly easy, and so enjoyable it ought to be banned, or taxed at least. Every now and then, about once every half a click, it lets you in, so there’s always the potential for wrenching you knee. The trick is to keep away from snow which has anything sticking out of it – for instance, grass, rushes, sedges, you get the idea.

So we fair sailed up to the summit by keeping to the deepest and whitest, crispiest and hardest snow. And it was a nice, brightish morning too. Bruno celebrated by bouncing around and digging holes. He’s not really supposed to be up here unless he’s on the invisible footpath as there are ground nesting birds (not much nesting going on today) But its OK, he’s really a cat.

We got to the summit very quickly – its usually horrendously tussocky and boggy up here and progress is often at best at a couple of km per hour. The top is marked by a shy little cairn and there’s a trig point a bit South of East.

Further speedy progress was made South East then South using a 100 metre-wide strip of hard snow which had formed on the steeper part of Sedling Fell and we soon arrived at Sedling Vein, which is a continuation of the Slit Vein of ironstone, galena and quartzy stuff which runs along most of Weardale. Its well dug up – which means there are holes and humps to sit and have your lunch on out of the fierce windchill that had sprung up.

My particular lunch lump had a fine scattering of flourspar, some of which I took a pic of for your edification. This stuff is bright purple when its wet. One of the pieces seems to have a bit of lead in it. Can you guess which one, children? No, its not the purple one. they’re all purple yer daft little sod. This is why I never went in for childrens TV. C’mere yer little brat an’ I’ll smack yer legs…!!

Clouds were building up on surrounding tops and the forecast was for rain and snow, so we progressed off Eastwards along the “Rake” which holds the remains of a water leat which used to take water down to mines on the fellside below. It was under quite a bit of snow today, in fact, at the far eastern end, there were some fair sized drifts for the dog to play on. Anybody intent of practising digging a snowhole would find ideal conditions just here.

Once on the road, which had been ploughed and cleared, we trotted off down into Weardale and followed the riverside path upstream to Wearhead, where a sign in the shop window of the Weardale Stores announced hot drinks – so I had one. This shop had been derelict for a long time , so its nice to see it operating again. I hope they do well. The coffee was good too.

Onwards and upwards by more riverside paths brought us back to Cowshill where the car was still parked.

And just then it started raining.

Missed me!

Smug mode.

The snow conditions today are pretty much what I’ve been hoping for for weeks now – good, hard snow which provides fast and easy walking. Its fab. It’ll likely be around for a few weeks yet as the slow thaw is about to end for a few days.

We did 8 Miles and about 1200 feet of ascent.

I’m off to the quiz at the King’s in Crook now. (We’ve won two weeks running, can we make it a hat-trick?)

Nan Lyle Academy

Piepeople who aren’t also TGO Challengers – and some that are will probably be aware that somebody called Nan Lyle has recently died, but may well not know much else about her.

So, just for a bit of background – Nan was a venerable TGO Challenger who came from Hawick. She’d completed nine TGO Challenges and had had a couple of goes at completing a tenth.

Nan was also, apparently, a well known figure in Scottish Scouting movement and she was a member of a group called the Borders Exploration Group. This group had been responsible for funding and building a school in a small village in Kenya – which the locals named the “Nan Lyle Academy”

Now the point of this post (we get there eventually) – is that Nan’s funeral is tomorrow in Hawick and there will be a collection of cash which will be used to maintain this school in Kenya.

I have a contact address for anybody who can’t get to Hawick and feels they’d like the remember Nan by the maintenance of this school – by donating a cuppla quid or whatever.

Its probably a bad idea to release somebody’s address on the internet, but if anybody wants to make a donation by post, email me at mike.knipe@btinternet.com and I’ll reply with an address to send cheques to.