Navigational Challenges in Eskdale Part 1.5

It was some time on Tuesday afternoon that me and the dog managed to get ourselves organised and on our way to Eskdale. And several hours later we turned up at Fisherground campsite where we met various helpful staff who were very nice about my plans to stay for five nights, but not actually be present for the whole five nights and to leave a tent and the knipemobile there whilst I went off for a wander.

I put up the akto, installed the sleeping bag and all that stuff and went off in search of the ablutions, but by some peculiar navigational oversight – probably due to a mis-read grid reference or something, I was recovering from some kind of reverie on the perimeter road - involving a female Australian pop-singer - when I suddenly found myself in the main bar of the George IV (King of Prussia) with a pint of foaming ale in my fist and a sighing dog under the table.

The next morning, it being a Wednesday, we set off in search of a small car park near Wha House (this could be misread by North-Easterners as meaning “Our House and, just to be clear, it wasn’t “Our House”, but somebody else’s, although I wouldn’t mind living there myself as it happens)  and plodded off through some steep and deep bracken up a path which leads ultimately to the top of Harter Fell. But that’s not where we were going – oh no…  The handle on the dog’s new expensive Ruffwear hearness came in handly for crossing the new fence that they’re building and we marched Southly across a dried-out bog to Target #1 for the day – Dow Crag – a small but rocky tor with a lovely view of Harter Fell which looked very steep and quite hard from where I sat.

After this delight, we threaded a way through crags up to the excessively steep and rocky Crook Crag and thence a search for the elusive Great Whinscale – another rocky top which appears to be in two or three places at once, so I visited all of them in no special order, just in case.

Broad Crag was a long way over there ----->; and reached by a bit of craggy contouring and then, when sense eventually prevailed, a vague and probably normally damp path which took us within close reach of Broad Crag. Broad crag is indeed quite broad and is ideal for enjoying a second lunch and a bit of a snooze.
We returned to the squishy path and followed it, fairly inaccurately down to Tarn Crag and the little oval of Low Birker Tarn which, I might add (in practise for next week’s Druridge Bay North-East Skinny Dip) is suddenly very deep indeed but, luckily, not specially cold. Lucky just watched. There’s Lucky isn’t it?

A traverse of more knobbly bits (of landscape) produced the final upward lurch of the day – Kepple Crag. Kepple Crag was the third Birkett of the day and the one with the finest view of Eskdale in..Eskdale.
We descended by devious ways through crags and steepenings and by some kind of peculiar but probably simple navigational transgression, I suddenly and inexplicably found myself sitting in the beer garden of the Woolpack Inn with a pint of shandy in my hand and a puzzled but very tired dog tethered to the table.
This pretty much brought the walk to an end.


Lucky likes the tent and spent the hours between doggy teatime (about half six) and doggy breakfast time (about eight the next morning) snoring and farting on a woolly blanket  and underneath my Berghaus down jacket thingy. Even opening the tent doors didn’t produce the usual dash for the outside which has been my experience with previous dogs. And I had to drag him out at 3:00 am for a pee.
Well, it was dark and I wasn’t about to go out there by myself innit?
More later – I would have put a map in this post, but I’ve just noticed that the trace of the route effectively spells the word “pillock”, albeit with only one “l”. Must have been the wanderings on Great Whinscale.

Lucky Climbs Hopegill Head in his new Ruffwear Harness

Objectives for today were – get a doggy climbing harness for Lucky for the lifting over fences and steep rocks and climb some fences and steep rocks.

The first bit was easy – go to Keswick and chuck some money at the problem. £130 (A HUNDRED AND THIRTY QUID!!!???   HOW MUCH!!!) would have resolved the issue easily  and provided some panniers for the carrying of dentastix and assorted biccies. In the end, with a bit of backpackers Club discount, £55 was more the mark in Cotswolds.

And so, we went off in search of rocks.

This was also resolved easily and relatively cheaply by first frightening an old chap on a venerable motorbike who wasn’t paying enough attention to my brake lights and wobbled off towards the hedge as opposed to smacking into my bumper (must get the dog navigating these difficult narrow roads) and parking prettily on some grass, we (me, Pup and Matt) climbed steeply up to Swinside, an unbagged Birkett just above Lorton. This included crossing a gate and a fence. The harness worked well and there was only just a little bit of wriggling.

We progressed to the sound of the tannoy at some kind of agricultural/country show going on below. Several lean and stupidly fit hounds hurtled down the hill past us, ignoring us completely. Lucky wanted to join in but was prevented by his new harness (did I mention he has a new harness which only cost me fifty five quid (FIFTY FIVE QUID>>>!?) (Gasp)

Soon, we were at the top of Ladyside Pike – not very rocky so far, but ahead, the crags of Hopegill Head loomed menacingly and fairly rockily. In the end, they were climbed easily, but the rock scenery of Hobcarton Crag was impressive. The harness wasn’t used, really.

We lunched on Hopegill Head as two Lancaster bombers passed below us in the gap between Grisedale Pike and Skiddaw and then down the long trench of Thirlmere. Apparently, it’s unusual to see two Lancasters flying together. Impressive stuff.

After lunch we traversed the narrow(ish) ridge to Whiteside and down the heathery ridge to Dodd – an easy descent, but probably horrible to climb.

 

It was here, on some steep grass that Lucky discovered a new method of descent. This involves lying flat out, all legs akimbo and sliding slowly down the grass. If it’s not quite steep enough, a little wriggle produces some downward momentum. I’ve never seen this done before. But every dog has his own little gimmicks, innit?

We couldn’t help noticing the camping spots in Hope Gill……  with a nice, clean beck for the paddling and soaking of tootsies… and brewing up….  and snoozing.

A short walk of just about five miles, 2300 feet of upness and about a quarter pound of blackberries….  There’s a map. This is an ideal walk if you’ve not got much time or, you’re not in much of a rush. If its foggy on the tops, I wouldn’t bother, frankly.

I like the harness by the way, and so does Lucky, who sees it’s fitting as a prelude to fun. Which it is.

And now, I’m off to Eskdale for several days – mainly campsite camping but, hopefully with just the one wild night (that’s camping by the way, I’m much too old for anything else….)

Cheviots – Blackdean Curr and the Border Ridge

I’ve managed to sooth the dog’s car nervousness to some extent by having him travel in the front footwell. Here , he can snuggle down with a mat and get a bit scared by the windscreen wipers (dhuhh…)

Anyway, we pointed the knipemobile up the A68 through Jedburgh and along the top side of the Cheviots to Kirk Yetholm to a small parking area by Halterburn – just where the Pennine Way finally leaves the hills for the last hugely steep killer drumlin before the end – many Pennine Wayfarers will have done a bit of swearing whilst heaving their tired limbs over this evil lump.

Which is why I parked on the other side of it.

We wandered up Halterburn on the PW low-level alternative and, at the ruins of Old Halterburn we rushed off to bag the 400 metre TuMP Latchly Hill. This was very nice.

On the way up, Lucky tried to sabotage my vet’s fees budget by scoffing what appeared to be a sheep’s tail. I should add that I spent a large number of my very own spondoolies, plus ten days of serious mopping and swilling  whilst curing Lucky’s NODS(new owner diarrhoea syndrome.)

We tarried not on Latchly Hill, but continued past a happily relaxed herd of red-coloured cattle up to the pass between Black Hag and The Curr. Here, on some comfy heather, we lunched. (I lunched, Lucky snoozed in the sun)

The next but was a little complex. A thin path leads off around The Curr and ends up on the other side. From here, a better path descends a bit, past a pen full of partridges and partridge shelters and stuff (Lucky very interested in these…) to a gate where an assault on the east face of Blackdean Curr can be made. Blackdean Curr is a rounded hill of some 501 metres and has comfy grass on the top where time can be spent scoffing chocolate and oranges (me) and Winalot biccies (the pooch)

We returned whence we came back to the The Curr/Black Hag bealach. From here, it’s a short lurch to the Pennine Way high level route which follows the border fence. It’s easy going on grass and is really quite good fun if you’re not carrying a huge pack and have just walked from Byrness, which I hadn’t, of course.

At the point where the PW starts to descend, we circumvented a large herd of black cattle by a contouring route and bagged the small but interesting Green Humbleton, a 287 metre TuMP with a  an ancient defensive double ditch system ringing the summit.

We were soon back to the knipemobile and back on the road back to England.

The walk was ten earth miles and 2800 feet of ascent.

Here’s a liddle map.

Cronkley – Scrambles and General Poking Around

This was Matt’s idea – and I discussed it with the Pup and he agreed to come along providing he could have a chew stick and a nip out of the cat when he got home.

And so it was – in a bit of drizzle and a breezy ..er….breeze that we set off from Hanging Shaw, along the riverside path for a bit and then up and over what might be a lateral moraine to the foot of Cronkley Scar – to be climbed by a  steep and shallow gully with huge lumps of dolerite scree and  a little beck in it to an airy sort of perch high above Teesdale. Quite good fun so far.

Lucky had just the one moment of indecision and was sent out onto the heather at the side to be retrieved from above. The gully is steep but without much difficulty but could be really interesting when the beck is frozen or under deep and hard snow. (Made a note of this!)

We crossed the wall and found a comfy spot on a heathery lump sheltered from the wind and spent some considerable time lunching and watching the view.

But all good things come to an end and eventually we set off to bag the trig point and find the path down to White Force where there’s an interesting waterfall in a fenced-off enclosure in a rocky amphitheatre – the fall is often dry and seems to disappear into a crack, or maybe a suspended pool – and , somewhere in there,there’s a lead mine.

The geology seems complex with a layer of shales and dolerite capped by limestone, some of which seems to have been cooked into a blue kind of marble-like rock. There was a fair amount of water coming over the fall, so explorations were confined to the foot.

A root-about in the bracken revealed the mine entrance, right at the head of the spoil heaps (where else would it be?). The entrance is small and has a metal gate a couple of yards inside and, like most other gates of a similar design, it responds to a tug at the top and swings open on a hinge. A wet crawl underneath would give access to the mine level.

On the way out, we found some large pieces of iron slag – tipped out of a rabbit hole. There was quite a lot of it. Iron smelting went on in this area in mediaeval times and a pile of stones near the wabbit holes was likely to be the remains of the bloomery, I would have thought. The slag is in large pieces and is quite heavy. I retrieved a couple of small samples as souvenirs

And so, we left and repaired to Weardale for coffee. Lucky took over a dog bed…..

The walk was about 5 miles altogether.

Its nice to go exploring sometimes – too many walks are overplanned, I think. (Lucky agrees with this by the way and I’ve not bribed him in any way at all to declare his support for my view…)

Many of the pics are Matt’s by the way. I don’t think Lucky took any pictures….

Great Close Scar and Cowside Beck (Littondale/Malham Moor)

 
Many years ago when men were men and summers were long and hot (I’m specifically referring to 1975 and 1976 here here, folks) we used to have a walking club at Airedale General Hospital that walked walks which had a pub and somewhere to swim. The water was always warm and most of the pubs allowed women (they all allowed dogs and smoking at that time, but one or two wouldn’t have ladies inside). It was during the first of these long, hot summers that we wandered over Fountains Fell, where we discovered that the tarn was too shallow for a swim, and then down by Darnbrook and into the deep, beautiful and secretive gorge of Cowside Beck. here, we discovered a naked man and a really deep and lovely pool of tea-coloured water.
This became the venue for various post-walk, post-work, post-climbing and post anything picnics and swims. Its a wonderful place, in fact. It seems that the villagers of Arncliffe also enjoyed it and often there’d already be a small party of swimmers there when we arrived.
I decided it would be a good idea to revisit.

And to make a walk out of it, there was Great Close Hill to bag – a 465 metre TuMP overlooking Malham Tarn and the Pennine Way – a hill I’d walked past on countless occasions but I’d never been to the top.

So, after cajoling the pup into the back seat of the knipemobile, we took the two-hour drive over to Arncliffe and embarked on the Monk’s Road – a popular and , probably ancient  route linking Arncliffe with Malham moor. Fountains Abbey had sheep and cattle ranches in the area before Henry VIII privatised it and it seems likely that this path linked abbey granges in Littondale with those on Malham Moor.  The Monk’s Road winds its way up through the green and lovely karst scenery and heads directly for Great Close Hill which we bagged in short order – just, in fact, as it started raining.

So, after abandoning our lunch at the cairn/shelter, we  repaired to the porch of Middle House, an abandoned farmstead, once named in TGO magazine as “Middle Ho” (arf  - Ho is the OS abbreviation for “house”. I nearly wrote in. Then I decided that if I did I’d be labelled as a twat and wouldn’t get on the TGO challenge any more. So I didn’t)

But we couldn’t stay too long and, despite the driving drizzle, we took the path which links Middle Ho Ho Ho with Darnbrook Ho Ho Ho (arf arf). This comes down the hill to Cowside Beck, the second target for today. Cowside Beck has grown a new barbed wire fence since 1976 and so, some delicate manoeuvres were required to get me and the Pup into the bit beside the beck without losing any bits of bodywork.


The path which went alongside the beck has also disappeared and so forward motion became a bit of an adventure through deep vegetation and slippery rocks. But as progress is made into the narrower parts of the gorge, the place becomes a special, beautiful, green, drippy and , best of all, a deep and secret place hidden from the world where it seems best to speak only in whispers despite the noise of the gushing stream.

And then, after scrambling over a fallen ash tree, I came to The Pool. It’s banks seemed lower than in the 1970’s and the waterfall at it’s head seemed smaller. But the deep, brown water was the same– a good ten feet deep, with a cave in the back which has been dived by cave divers for some considerable length.

Lucky spent some time digging a bed in the grass as the sun came out and the sky cleared to blue. As he snoozed away, I finished my coffee and had a little dip, for old times sake. It was bloody perishing and I got bitten by an ant. Ah yes, the memories of the freezing water (a scientific report says that the water was recorded as 13C one August at Yew Cogar Cave) and the blood-lust of some of the local insects. And I seem to remember a couple of quite big brown trout in that pool….

I crossed the fence at a gate with a “No Access” sign on it and did a rising traverse up the steep hill to the road and back to the car.
The walk was just a bit under ten miles and about 2000 feet of upness. Lucky did well again. He behaves really well on these walks. He has to be lifted over some stiles and we were lucky that the few cattle we met weren’t at all interested in us.
Here’s a map.