Losing It in the Howgills

A few years ago, whilst writing a Doodlecat thingy about walking in the Howgill fells,  I had occasion to follow the track from Eller Gill to Tebay – in a bit of a hurry due to a fast developing thunderstorm, I seem to remember. Any road up – on the way, I was passed by an ATV with two blokes and a couple of dogs on the back They were going quite fast and having a bit of a laugh. However, spread along the track behind them was a generous scattering of monetary shrapnel – about eight quid if I remember rightly. It was exactly the same track upon which, last Thursday, I deposited much of my meagre wealth and some well-loved 1970’s rock and roll.

I picked Dawn up at the Railway station in Kirkby Stephen at lunchtime and we retired briefly to the Junction 38 services at Tebay for a good-value and nutritious scoff before loading up the packs and setting off into the hinterland of Tebay that is the Howgill Fells.

We plodded on for some distance to a sheepfold where, just as we set off up the boggy, steeper bit, I heard Dawn remark that she’s found yet another MOD-style tin-opener and I turned around to see her displaying the two tin openers that should have been in my bum bag. A bum bag which was now virtually empty and which, when I’d set off from Tebay, had held my car keys, credit card wallet, loose change (a different eight quid), MP3 player with 1970’s rock songs and some Steeley Span and my compass and whatever else there should have been which I couldn’t bring myself to think about just now. Bum. Or , possibly, Bugger.

A retracing search took place. I quickly found some coins and my credit card wallet. Phew! A mile, or maybe less, along the track and my car key turned up. Phew again. I was willing to sacrifice the MP3 player as it was geriatric, a bit like it’s collection of music…

In view of the delay, we camped there. It rained all night. In the morning, the hills were in deep gloom and wearing a cold shroud of dark grey clag, which we avoided by a circuitous route, turning up around lunchtime where we sort of should have been the night before at Blakethwaite Bottom. We put the tents up and it started raining again. Good. A chance to snuggle in and spend hours of brewing and snoozing. This is what I did anyway. I’ve no idea what Dawn did since most of the time it was either blowing some kind of hoolie, spattering rain or I was deep in the land of nod.(where it wasn’t raining). I must say, that I quite like doing this.

And then, after a mere twenty or so hours of intermittent sleep, brewing, eating, wandering out for a wee and sipping cheap scotch, it started snowing. Only a bit – just enough to freeze the tents stiff and just enough to make the next fine,  blue, if shivery  morning an ideal one for having a walk up a hill.

So we set off with small packs, leaving the tents in situ, along the ancient route to Howgill. This is a thin and ever-so-slightly perilous path in icy conditions, passing, as it does over the head of Carlin Gill, where the contours above The Spout and Black Force get really really friendly with each other. You wouldn’t want to slip down the hill just here. (just a tip, there for you…)

Ultimately, we emerged onto more reasonable ground and headed up a ridge on to Fell Head, where it was foggy in a freezing fog kind of way. We wandered along the ridge for a bit and descended back to the sun-warmed tents via Taffergill Hill and Over Sale for a lazy afternoon.

At about four o’clock, the sunshine deserted us and it began immediately to freeze. Another long mp3-less night followed. A breeze popped up and warmed things up for a while, but by daylight, some 16 hours later, a cold, windy and frozen morning greeted us for our walk back to Tebay.

We climbed up the side of Uldale Head, into the sunshine and into the teeth of a gale which had us leaning and stumbling until, a sheltered route by the side Rispa Pike by into Eller Gill presented itself. So that’s the way we went.

Dawn found the MP3 player on the track, a few hundred metres from where the car keys had been, and the compass was all cosily tucked up in the boot of the knipemobile.

So, some things are lost and some things are found (Chrissie Hind) I‘m not sure what she meant by that, but , I believe we were in profit to the tune of one walking pole basket. We celebrated with sausage butties at the Pink Geranium cafe in Kirkby Stephen.

Qeuite a good trip, I thought. I specially enjoy the stupidly generous amounts of sleep involved in winter backpacking. But I need to get  some backpacking fitness back….  And what luck, finding all my lost stuff – moral of this story is to get a new bumbag… and not to put too much stuff in it.

In the meantime, whilst I was freezing me bits off in the Howgills (Nad losing 1.5 kg of wobbly fat (yay!!)), Superdawg was doing this:

 

Interlude Whilst I Have a Walk in the Howgills with Dawn

This is Bruno’s reaction when I told him I was going camping in January. He thought it was a bit of a joke till I told him he couldn’t come, then he bit my leg.

Yes, he’s looking  a bit more thoughtful now innit…
These are a couple of pics from a reccy of a Durham County Council guided walk that takes place next Wednesday – 15th January 2014 from Cowshill in Upper Weardale starting at 10:00.
It’s a fab walk.
In the meantime here’s a Beatles song not sung by the Beatles. Rock on Tommy.

 Back soon...

Killhope Law

This was almost a proper walk….. Superdawg pointed out that we hadn’t had a proper walk up a hill for ages and ages and that even in the foulest weather since the Archangel Gabriel appeared in Noah’s garden shed with the news that he was in for a wet summer, there is often a gap, or pause. One such pause was forecast for this morning, so I saddled up the dog a drove off to just a bit North of Allenheads for the Carriers Way route up Killhope Law a quick and easy hill  suitable for a short weather window.

The road over from Weardale had snow and ice patches and Killhope Law itself had a dusting of icy snow and a nithering Westerly breeze which entered any chinks or gaps in the clothing and, well, nithered in a typical Northumbrian kind of way…  brrrr….

But we battered our way up the hill. It’s not steep, in fact it’s fairly gentle, but, with a belly full of wobbly Christmas beer and , indeed, cheer, it was heavy going. But eventually, after much work we stood, shivering gently in the biting wind by the currick on the top. Next to the currick is a trig point, surrounded by a moat of ice, and next to this is a big stick. Its a very big stick, in  fact. It’s so big, that it has fooled the Ordnance Survey peeps into believing that it’s a radio mast, which they have duly noted on the Outdoor Leisure map of the North Pennines. It isn’t a mast. It’s a stick. I’ve no idea why its there, but , as far as I can tell, its been there a very long time. One day it will fall over… but it was there in February 1986 when I made my very first foray up Killhope Law.

We didn’t stick around. (see what I did there…) The forecast seemed to be saying that by three o’clock or so, that the next in the current apparently endless series of wafty gales* (see note 1 below) would be arriving at the edges of Northumberland and, that at height, it would probably be snow. Snow plus storm = blizzard, so it was probably a good idea to get on with the walk.

We descended northwards to the road, using a plastic track made for grouse shooters and, once at the road, we wandered off over the moor to Three Curricks, where there was shelter enough for the scoffing of an egg and tomato butty and the drinking of some Bolivian fair trade coffee.

After this, and a short snooze during which my socks were attacked by two very heavy magpies which I couldn’t shake off**  (see note 2 below), we made our way back to the road and followed this back to the knipemobile which was exactly where I’d left it.

Apart from a few snowflakes and a bit of light drizzle, the Atlantic storm failed to arrive on time.

I think it was about seven miles.

It’s a start anyway….

 

*Note 1  As opposed to a Wafty Gail, which is a Coronation Street character who’s been scoffing mushy peas.

** Note 2 I’m not sure this really happened now I think about it a bit more…. 

 

 

Everybody’s Doing the Locomotion

After getting wet right down to the undies yesterday on an extended calorie-burning doggy walk up the Deerness Valley (rain, not incontinence), I needed to go and investigate the starting point of a proposed guided walk next June (that’s right, folks, we plan ahead…)

Would the car park of the boozer at Bolam be alright, given the landlord’s reluctance to have thirty five thirsty walkers returning to his pub? For some reason best known to himself.,the answer was “no”. So I went further around the route – to the National Railway museum at Shildon aka Locomotion. Car park A is big. Not as big as car park C, though. The chap inside the museum was friendly and helpful and couldn't imagine any reason why we couldn’t use Car Park A. We do so like people who say “yes”.
Next was the Shildon bypass. How safe is it to cross? The answer is “very safe” – there’s an underpass – decorated, though by the Shildon Bad Boyz with lots of graffiti, including a few compulsory willies. They can’t spell “fuk”.  They’ll still be in bed as we pass their underpass.

And so, job done, me and the dawg went to Mickleton for a stroll on the railway path. And, as we turned around at Romaldkirk for the return trip – it chucked it down again.
Bugger.


On the upside, I found a pear tree once containing lots of small pears, which were now spread about on the ground. I tried one and it was delicious.

And Bruno found an evil stick. Apparently, this stick was so naughty that it had to be chewed up into little tiny pieces.
I’ll do a proper walk soon…
The Locomotion walk will likely be in June, 13 miles, called “Friends, Romans and Railways” and be lead by me – idea was Kathy Pagella’s who got it from the Grauniad. (It goes up a Roman road for a bit – hence the Roman bit”")

2013 – The Score on the Door

As I sit here finishing off the last few drops of Christmas Black Paw beer and waiting for the inevitable midnight watching of the telly with a nice malt (I have some Bunnahabhain saved), it’s time to spend my ever-deteriorating brain cells considering the year just about passed. As I become ever more addled, my spelling and grammar may well become even worse than usual….  here goes anyway..

Some raw stats:

In 2013 I walked 1463 miles and climbed 217000 feet of up and, as I’m sitting exactly where I began on 1 january 2013, I must have done that amount of downhill too..

I camped out for 39 nights altogether – although one of these nights was in a bothy, so, maybe it doesn’t count and 15 were on campsites, leaving 23 not on campsites. One night was spent in a snow trench with the gentle tickle of little snowflakes landing on my nose in the middle of the night.

325 people came on my Durham County Council guided walks

It was a year of mixed fortunes, though, but the main fings-wot-appened are these:

March – A few days on the hills between Abergavenny and Merthyr Tydfil. It was perishing cold, finished wetly and Dawn wasn’t very well. So it was a bit mixed..

April – A couple of TGO challenge practise walks – A small bunch enjoyed deep and soft snow walking the Herring Road from Lauder to Dunbar, finishing with a fine curry and a night in the very poshest of dosses at Spott, with comfy beds, hot showers, a kettle, a fire and a supply of vino collapso. Good practise for the TGO

Later – a few days in the Borders from Langholm with Dawn. I thought this went reasonably well and we finished miles away in Ravenstonedale.  The weather was dampish.

May – TGO Challenge. This ended in fairly dramatic fashion for Dawn who left Knoydart in a big red and white helicopter. I carried on in increasingly duff weather – actually, this has become normal weather for the TGO nowadays. Watch out for a heatwave in 2014! For me, the walk went well despite being on a personal downer for the first few days,  a fairly tough bit in the middle and a glorious march at the end. I had some long days and a couple of epic booze-ups. All normal stuff, really, apart from the helicopter…

June – me and the Dawg went to Ettrick. It was hot. Bruno didn’t do well in the heat and I developed sciatica. But the hills were fab. Mixed y’see….

July and August – Two campsite –based Hewitt-bagging trips. The second one was curtailed a bit early as it was stupidly hot. The word for the week was “horseflies”.

September – I crossed Dartmoor. It chucked it down. I bagged the Hewitt, though, in deep fog, and got wet. No, I mean really wet. Gwan , ask me how wet I got. It was a long way to go to get wet.   I seem to have lost the sciatica at some point – it just went away.

And then there was the North East Skinny Dip. Great fun, if a bit bizarre. Madness in the morning at Druridge Bay. This was probably the highlight of the year, in retrospect. People gave me £370 for it.  I was quite chuffed about that;  gruntled, even…

October – the Lleyn peninsula in a caravan This was brill. Its a very nice place. Its a very beautiful place, actually. Bagged lots of Marilyns and HuMps and Bruno ran about daft on the beach quite a lot.

November – Fight Club Hikers washout weekend in Buttermere. It was wet. Again. This time it was even wetter than before.

December – It rained. the it rained again. And it was windy. ……  and wet….  Did manage a night out above Weardale for the solstice

So – overall, not a bad year. The summer was good and the rest of the time it heaved it down.

On the minus side -

Its rained since October!

Dawn’s sudden exit from the TGO Chally and her battle against all kinds of odds which kept her off the hills till the winter time (on the plus side, sheer determination seems to be winning some battle against uncaring council staff of the one hand and Atlantic storms on the other.

Dartmoor was a disappointment. I felt a bit let-down by it somehow. I’m not going back.

On the plus side –

My 12th TGO Challenge

Taking two of my grandkids up Penyghent – the Knipe rite of passage

Completing the Hewitts in October

The skinny dip!

And all of the Welsh trips

Worrabout next year?

I have lots of plans to do more backpacking and fewer Durham County walks and I’m trying to raise charity money for Mind. This is going reasonably well so far and I have a Damart  baselayer on auction over at the walkers forum and plans for more things to do. The Damart baselayer has received a couple of bids, but is still a bargain. And it’s toasty and soft and cosy. You could regret not bidding for this. I mean, we’re in for a cold and wet late winter. Brrr….

Its now time to test the Bunnahabhain. I mean, I should really check that it’s OK. I wouldn;t want any shocks or disappointments, now would I?

Happy new Year to all Pieblog readers. And for those who do manage to get out on the hills, I’m the shambling beardy bloke being pulled along by friendly brown Cumbrian dingo - in case we meet.