Come In Path 49

I got an email from Elaine at the Rights of Way Dept at Durham County Council asking if I’d like to adopt Footpath 49 in the parish of Crook, seeing as it had just been improved and it would be a good idea to keep an eye on it.
She sent a map, and Footpath 49 looked so lonely and abandoned..and unadopted, that I had to say “yes”. I’ve been thinking of doing a bit more adopt-a-path stuff anyway, and this one is not that far from Pie Towers.
So, today, I went and had a look.

Its an interesting path and is well used – I met several dog walkers and their dogs today, and the surface shows a lot of evidence of use (its a bit muddy)
It starts (or ends, depending on which way you go) at the dizzy height of 200 and a bit metres and descends gently as a fenced path to a housing estate, where it becomes a “snicket” and has tarmac – and it ends in an industrial estate between two high and spiky fences. The total distance is around 1600 metres and the height difference between the top and the bottom is about 70 metres. And its a fairly pleasant little walk.

So, I’ll be doing this “officially” twice a year, probably in February and August each year.
Any bother and ..well…there’ll be bother. Bruno will be coming with me. He likes that sort of thing.

Yay ! I’m In!

Yes guys and gals, I’m in for a bit of a re-focus.

Just been to the County Durham Voluntary rangers AGM and Bunfight and I’ve sort of volunteered (well they are voluntary) to lead some walks in the Summer programme and onwards. These have to be in County Durham. There’s a fair bit of work involved. But it’s all good, clean fun.

I’ve also been pointed towards checking some paths around Crook and Howden le Wear. There’s about ten routes altogether….

And in Teesdale, they’re after all kinds of work with the Heart of Teesdale project – for peeps interested in local landscape conservation, culture, history, messing about with weeds   er wild flowers….  and there’s something similar happening in Weardale.

And I’ve been doing a bit of writing for a new website which will appear up the ether in January. And they’re paying money…..! One article is done and has been accepted and another is in the process of being assembled just now. Others are cooking in the raging furnace that is the knipe brainmind at this very moment.  There will be cartoons, apparently. I’m not sure what more I can say about this, I don’t want to mess up any marketing strategies or anything like that. I seem to have a free rein…. It will all become either apparent or possibly  embarrassing in a bit.

So, plans for stuff in 2011 are slowly slowly germinating and finding form.

What did you think I meant I was in anyway?

Looking for Roman Altars at Bowes

My 1:25k map of the Northern Yorkshire Dales announces proudly – in the appropriate ROMAN lettering, the presence of Roman altars in a little gill on Gilmonby Moor, just South of Bowes.
Actually, this is in County Durham.
Anyway, the point is, I thought I’d take a look. I also though I’d take the dog.
Could we find any Roman Altars?
Not as such.

What we did find was some very deep heather and some bridleways that end suddenly at the County boundary (there’s a rabbit off, here…)
After not finding the Roman Altars, we plodged up the soggy moor and onto a wide and flat and soppy plain. Here we crossed into North Yorkshire and, with increasingly damp socks and trench paw, we dodderred onto the summit of Cleasby Hill – 511 metres and very flat on the top.

After this we paddled back over the County Boundary, avoiding the border guards and bagged the little drumlin-like lump of Citron Seat.


We were soon back in Bowes, very damp about the feet. Its rough stuff, this, but the sense of space is fantastic, and just the thing for the treatment of agoraphobia and the fear of smelly socks. 
It was very cold today – in one of the photo’s you can see Bruno’s breath. Its lucky you can only see it. Don’t tell him I mentioned this, eh?

Bowes, by the way, is a little village set out in the style of a medieval town with a castle at the top of the hill. This was built by somebody called Norman Keep, apparently, and is built inside the ramparts of the Roman Fort Lavatrae (snigger).
There’s also Dotheboys hall in the village, famed by Dave Dickens who wrote about it. I didn’t take a picture of it cos it had gone dark and I was more interested in scoffing my Boost bar.
10 Miles and 1400 feet of uphill through outrageously deep heather and stinking bogs full of freezing black water.
Enjoyable Pennine walking.
I met three backpackers and gave them the weather forecast – an Atlantic storm with force 8/9 gales. They were very grateful and threw socks and bits of peat at me….

Fiend’s Fell and Hartside Tramway

Continuing the dark theme of recent posts, I thought that a quick visit to Fiend’s Fell would be just the thing. Actually, I was more interested in the line of an old tramway which runs for a couple of miles roughly along the 550 metre contour, starting behind the cafe at the top of Hartside Pass.
And so I collected Brian from Nenthead and that’s where we went.
Fiend’s Fell, by the way, used to be the name applied to the whole of Cross Fell because it was thought to be the seat of a demon or fiend, possibly because it is the source of the Helm Wind, a fierce and local breeze which rips undies off drying lines in the villages at the foot of the hill. The demons were quietened by the erection of a cross (apparently – but where is it?) – hence Cross fell. Undies remain at risk in places like Langwathby, though.

The tramway is pretty easy to follow but is very wet, squishy and sloppy for much of the way. This meant wet feet early on. We stopped at the ruins of a sheepfold and abandoned the mire for an easier and drier climb up onto the ridge that runs off Cross Fell back towards the cafe.

Most of the way, this is a delight to walk on and views over the Eden valley, the lake District and the Solway Firth justify the bit of effort involved.
As it’s November (many people will probably have noticed this…), there’s not much daylight and it started to wane noticeably as we hit the ridge at about 3:00 p.m.   The light was changing all the time and was both interesting and beautiful at the same time.


The ridge is mainly pretty easy to walk on, apart from some short tussocky, peat-haggy bits. There are deep holes, though. These provide a challenge to those with short legs. Luckily, as I plunged through the turf, I was prevented from hurtling down the deep pothole by my expensively acquired beer-belly. I always knew that this was a sound investment. Let this be a lesson to all.
 
We ended the ridge back at the cafe by watching a helicopter take off. An Alston hostelry provided celebratory drinks.

This walk is just over 4 miles and 450 feet of uphill and reaches 2150 feet above sea level for not much effort but wet feet. I quick walker could do it quickly. Others will  take the opportunity to sit around and take in the view in a more civilised and relaxed manner.
The cafe will provide refreshments if required.

Border Poems #1

 I found this just now:


By Raven Burn and Carlin Tooth
She came at last by Hartshorn Pike
Then, turning East to Haggie Knowe
She rested in a rushy sike

She rested in a rushy sike
And laid her baby in the fern
And low and sad the song she sang
Beside the tumbling burn

Lie still, my sorrow, in the fern
For no man ever spoke the truth
If he were lying when we came
That day by Carlin Tooth

From Raven Burn to Carlin Tooth
He swore that he’d be true to me
And sure he’s lying dead in France
Or underneath the deep blue sea.

He’s lying neath the deep blue sea
Who lay all nicht upon my breast
Your Daddie’s lying cold and still
Lie still, my grief. Lie still and rest.


Sorry, it’s dark again. We’re waiting for a solstice. There’s more, unless you behave yourselves…..