A Walk Across Cumbria Day 1 Silecroft

Monday 10 August.

The first day. The objective was just to get established some way up the Southern slopes of Black Combe and, originally, the plan had been to get the train to Millom and walk the eight miles or so to the hill, put up the tent and pick my toes for the next ten hours.
But No! Once on the train out of Carlisle, I discovered (from the guard’s announcement) that the train stopped on request at various places, one of which was a little station called “Silecroft” Now Silecroft had been the planned original starting point for this walk, mainly because it has a beach and the first “real” hill in the Lake District if you’re looking at it from the South. And, as this was a South-North walk up the high bits of the Lakes, Silecroft would be a much better start.
So I informed the patient train guard (about four times, just to be sure) that I would get off the train at Silecroft, which I did, and, thereby cut my first day’s walking down to a paltry (not poultry, which is chickens), two miles. Yes folks, that’s a full two of your Queen’s miles. I fully expected this to be achievable, which it was. There was quite a bit of uphill, though, just to make it a bit energetic.
My first camping spot, on a broad grassy platform with a fab view of the sea and the Isle of Man, was much too windy. So I plodded uphill and found a less windy one with a good water supply about 150feet down the hill.
And so, in drizzle and a hurtling gale, I got into the sleeping bag, had dinner (more of which somewhere later, possibly…) and drifted off to have yet another tussle with Kylie’s bra strap.
At some point, I became aware that the tent had lit up in a bright and orange kind of way and it occurred to me that a sunset might be going on outside.
And it was.
Apologies to the lady runner who appeared suddenly out of the mist to find a barefoot and half-clad eejit ooo-ing at the sun having a final pink sizzle into the Irish sea.
The rest of the night passed flappily and with the occasional hiss of light drizzle.
Day 1 2 Miles and 1200 feet of uphill (including visits to a spring for water)

Perhaps not the most energetic start.

Silecroft has a beach, a campsite, a pub and a railway station, though, so it’s a good place to start a walk such as this.

I should have started at Millom but didn’t (Quick note by the way to those who use the word “of” in this context – as in “I should of started at Millom” Look guys, use the verb. Its “I should have, You should have, He should have, We should have, You should have, they should have.” You should of made a note have this by now. Don’t do it again, has you it?

Mud Pie Spectre Not seen In Lead Mine - Latest

Working on a rumour that one of the lesser-known holes in the ground in South Tynedale was haunted by the spirit of “t’owd man”* or , possibly some kind of underground demonic trog of the kind that used to have hit records back in the sixties. We determined to go and investigate and report our findings to Derek Acorah (apparently all of this chap’s ghosties have Scotty road accents…)
But, this spirit, or sprite sits in a far distant cavern and chucks mud pies at passing explorers. Then it follows the hapless cavers down the passage as they make their escape, growling and muttering curses; something about being accused of cheating at a World Mud Pie Chucking Contest back in the days men were men and mud was muddier than it is now, and Z Cars was on the telly.
This underground spirit is supposed to be wearing a pointed hat and ski-goggles , which, I agree with you, is unlikely in the extreme. But never mind, we explored for a kilometre or so of, sometimes shaky passage with an open mind. Not a good idea to be going poking metal poles at the roof in some spots inside this hole… as if anybody would….
As you can see from the photos, absolutely nothing was found. Each of the photos taken is, as you would expect, completely blank. The pic taken at the entrance is peculiarly blank
I don’t believe in stuff like that anyway….
Intelligent people aren’t supposed to be able to see anything anyway, it’s only supposed to appear to “special” people.
But we had a good time. The water in the mine is specially chilly and has unfortunate effects once it gets up around the waist. There’s also a hundred metres or so of very soft and deep mud. Lovely stuff, but it effectively removes your boots. Good exercise, though. The hole ends after about a kilometre in a small cavern with some kind of tank full of water in it.
At various points there are also shafts going up into the ceiling and/or down into the ground, one of which has a stream of daylight. (Unless you go down there at night. If you do this, though, you will need a torch.)
We finished off by paddling up Ash Gill. We would have swum up, but the water was perishing cold.
We repaired to the Miners Arms at Nenthead for a sip of tepid water and the lickings of a crisp packet.

* T’owd man (The old man) is the term usually used to refer to lead miners of old in a kind of generic way. You are always reminded of their presence in the past by their industry and, sometimes their graffiti or bits and pieces they left behind.

Planning a long distance walk part quatro, er quarter..Four...

This is probably the last “Long Distance Walk Planning” post before I set off on my long distance walk up Cumbria.
Since the previous post about this, I’ve defined the route a bit better and decided, roughly, the general area where I should be camping each night.
I’ve also diverted the walk to visit Grasmere for the chips, beer and ice-cream and I’ve by-passed Blencathra on the grounds that I am an old man and my arms are weak, my legs are bent and my sight is thin and, apart from that, there were far too many closely packed contours, quite frankly.
The bag is still packed from the Grey Nag trip the other day.
So, the only thing to do now is to sort out the scoff. I’ve got all this dried stuff but there’s a number of breakfasts and “trail” food for during the day – which won’t amount to much. I just have to fill in the gaps and buy more gas, all of which I’ll do on Saturday.

I'll also haev to weigh the bag, then unpack it and take out all the stuff I won't need, if there is anything.

The kit list, though, is fairly well honed by now.
On Sunday, I’m likely to be doing something over by Nenthead or Garrigill which may or may not involve quite a lot of lovely, sticky, mucky, sloppy mud.
Or it might not.
I must say that I’m not specially confident about the chances of success for this long walk, though. It looks tough, even on paper (for an old man with bent eyes and weak legs and sticky arms….)
But faint heart never flicked a bogey at a policeman, as they say in Rio.
Completely irrelevant pic shows Skelfhill Pen near Galashiels. More people should visit this place, really. And there's just one more Bonzo Dog song, cos its Thursday

Hadrians Wall Day 3 St Oswalds's Day to Housesteads

I parked the “newer” knipemobile (I bought a new one) at Corbridge once again and found a nice path by the River Tyne and then back on the same lanes as last time to Turret 23b, which is where I left Hadrians Wall on the previous occasion. I believe I referred to it mistakenly as “Milecastle 23b” Which is wrong. Milecastles are bigger than turrets and formed control points where locals could cross the wall – and are numbered 1,2,3 etc. Turrets are small and have 1a, 1b etc.
Anyway, the walk continued in much the same vein as it had before – alongside the noisy B6133. But then, I noticed that the view to the North had improved quite a bit. You could see a long way up to the Cheviots.
Fast progress was interrupted by a short intermission at St Oswald’s tea room where a cup of tea and a toasted teacake were sacrificed to the god of broccoli – more of which later. I didn’t know that St Oswald had, in fact opened a tea room here and, this was confirmed a few hundred yards later where I came upon a big wooden cross and a chapel of St Oswald on the very site of the Battle of Heavenfield in 685, which, according to the decimal clock, is just before breakfast. Apparently, St Oswald, who was known locally as King Oswald at the time, and was a Christian, was faced with the warband of the vicious unwashed Pagan gansta Cadwallader, who had come all the way from Llandudno to have a bit of a ruck with our Ozzie. The night before the battle, Ozzie stuck a wooden cross in the ground (not the same one) and heard a voice which said “Divvent fret yersel bonny lad, ye’ll be orl right, they all had a pie off the coach last neet in a chippie in Wrexham and they might not be too weel termorrah, like.”
And so it came to pass that Cadwallader was more than a bit cut-up with the outcome of the next morning’s scrummage and so, the goodies won and the baddies, well, they didn’t.
And, on top of all of this, today was St Oswald’s day – August 5th – and there were even Christians sitting about in the grass by the chapel with guitars and stuff having a bit of a St Oswald celebration. Bit of a coincidence, that, I thought. The chapel is very nice and ideal for Hadrians Wall walkers who feel like a bit of a chat with a Higher Authority and/or a read of the interesting interpretation boards inside.
And so, onwards and Eastwards, down the hill to Chollerford. This part is actually on the road and the stupidly pointless diversion is on the road as well. I just got it over with. There’s another tearoom, a campsite and a hotel at Chollerford.
Yet more roadwalking followed up the hill to Walwick, then it was back to the path running alongside the road. But the views were getting much better, and, occasionally there were bits of wall and milecastles – and, always the enormous ditch that protected the Northern side of the wall.
Here, I came across a family of Dutch walkers, complete with gurgling, squeaking baby. As we all arrived at Brocolitia, where there was a chap serving hot coffee and hot chocolate out of the back of a catering van, I stopped and had a chat with them whilst enjoying a coffee. It would seem that the baby squeaks in English and knows three Dutch words. I know just six Dutch words and these are really useful if ever you want to tell them that they can't smoke here..
But what of Broccolitia? It’s a big infantry fort for 500 auxiliary troops and has the unearthed remains of a temple dedicated to Mithras. Mithras was an Iranian god who slew a bull in a cave, and the temple was small and dark inside to resemble a cave. On this occasion it was also flooded, so very cave-like.
Apparently, they used to sacrifice stuff, which upset the local Christians who didn’t like that kind of thing at all.
Broccolitia was also famous for that famous delicacy, the cheese and broccoli flan, which is how it got its name, obviously. Note that I use the word “flan” here. This is because the word “quiche” is just, well, a bit camp…. I note that there is a Roman marching camp nearby and I suspect this is more a style of walking than an actual place. I understand that some of the Roman soldiers weren’t averse to a bit of quiche, whilst hunkered down in their turrets of a cold January night. I’m not sure if the Romans actually worshiped broccoli or not, though.
Easy walking at a pace lead me, eventually, to Sewingshields Crag which has all the bits that a walk on Hadrians wall should have – i.e4. Some actual wall, a bit of “other” archaeology and some contours. Rather a lot of contours , as it happens.
But anyway, I was soon in the crowds at Housesteads fort. This is a cavalry fort where they had horses and eating quiche was frowned upon. It is here, too, that the AD122 bus appears at, roughly, Five past Five and whisks one back to Corbridge, which was closed, so I went home.
I did 18 miles today and 2150 feet of climbing, and I’ve now done 38 miles of Hadrians Wall. And this part is much better than the previous day’s walking. Much better views – today, ranging from Cross fell to the Cheviots, no shortage of tea rooms and tourist accommodation.
The countryside is also quite beautiful here. And there are contours and the walking is easy and the walk is well waymarked and almost impossible to lose. And the bus services are good.
On the downside, there’s that bloody road. And cows – mainly suckler cows…. I’m not really very keen on cows, specially as most of the time I have a dog with me.
Its also very popular. Some people might not like this. I don’t mind, really, in fact, I think it makes things even more interesting. I think that’s a plus.

Finally - The summer is getting old. They were haymaking in the fields today and the lapwings have gone on their holidays to the Solway and Redcar. And the air is full of floating fluffy white seeds.

August Howgills in Doodlecat

I just had an email from Lord Elpus to say that the absolute final episode of the Howgills sago has now been repainted, vaccuumed out, polished up and de-greased and is now appearing over at http://www.doodlecat.com/howgills/12aug.html

This is, no doubt, some great relief to Phil and, he appears to have celebrated the fact by installing a new kitchen, thus earning a great big pile of Good Boy Points.

I hope he spends them wisely, I really do.

Just one thing about the August edition. It has more than one walk in it. Don't stop reading after the first, unless you are asleep or in a Howgill-induced catatonic ..er..thing. Carry on bravely till the very end.

There will be a test at the end of term. Anybody who gets less than 25% will have to visit my rooms for a thrashing with my pet plimsole, Ronny.

Anyway. its finished. Over. Ended.

Phew.

To celebrate, and by way of distraction, I've included here a short video which has fluffy kittens and some pigs and stuff.