Lucky’s Adventures in Wales (Part A)

The recent hiatus in blog-posting was the result of me and the wife and the dog nicking off to Wales for two weeks and , despite the fact that we actually took a laptop this time, I only used it to play dragontiles…  and not for blogging…

But now, we’re back…. hence , this:

Last year, I completed a round of the Hewitts with a bijoux ascent of the very lovely but foggy Rhinog Fawr, in the company of Bruno the Superdawg.  A round of Hewitts, however, leaves Nuttalls undone, and who wants to have loose Nuttalls, eh?  Before today’s walk, there were 14 loose Nuttalls to be done, one of which was Pillar Rock (oooer!) But leaving any concerns about Pillar Rock aside there was a handy and undangerous Nuttall nearby…

The nearest undone Nuttall to the Knipe caravan, in fact, was Pumlumon Fach, a small and rather undistinguished lump sticking to the side of Pumlumon. And so, on day one of the hillwalking programme – the first Sunday, in fact, me and the new dog Lucky went off to Nat-y-Moch reservoir for the bagging of it. A duff weather forecast indicated a quick bag was required unless I wanted us to get really wet. (Which we did, by the way…)

This brought us into the little soggy dale of Hengwm – a splodgy, trembling, spongy but splendidly wild sort of place previously visited on two recent enjoyable occasions by the elite Linney-Knipe backpacking team, once from Machynlleth and once from Nant yr Arian

The climb up to the summit of Pumlumon from the outdoor pursuits ex-sheep station near Maesnant was a straightforward lurch up rough grass and a final bit of steepish grass and scree

The summit was windy and cold, though, so we tarried not there but wafted off down the hill to visit the two lumps on the way down, one of which would be the Nuttall, and the other not. (I wasn’t absolutely sure which was which at this point, so we went to both.

We descended to Llyn Llygad Rheidol to read the warning signs about how deep and cold the water was and the fact that it was probably full of rat wee and that if anything untoward should happen we should dial 999. Lucky pointed out that not bringing a sufficient supply of winalot biccies probably qualified as an emergency but agreed that a swim in the black and freezing wave-ruffled waters would constitute foolishness.

So, we followed the road and then the little beck down to a copse of conifers which is where me and Dawn camped a couple of years ago. I found an old tent peg on the bit where we camped at first (we moved inside the copse eventually) and noticed that the patch outside the copse looked quite heavily used and had dried out somewhat and also that inside the copse was quite clean and tidy, which was nice – it seemed to have some significant use from yoof groups.

I also spotted a rather nice camping spot a few yards downstream from the footbridge.

Then, as the heavens opened, I abandoned my nostalgic exploration and returned to the knipemobile and, despite the short hop along the track, we got absolutely soaked. Lucky considered that this was entirely my fault and mentioned that it had better not happen again.

I saw only one other walker that day – and he was at some distance, way up Hengwm as the rain started. On the next occasion, I would meet nobody at all…

A short walk of just 5 miles and 2000 feet of up.

Thanks, by the way, go to John and Gayle for adding lumps of cash to the virgin money-giving page thingy in aid of Mind (still a while for this project to run - so  add money here! )

 

North Pennines Walking Festival: St Johns Chapel to Race Head Guided Walk

Today’s walk was my little contribution to the North Pennines Walking Festival organised by the Friends of the North Pennines.

This year, we were asked to provide walks based on local eateries and, as I already had a prepared walk based on St Johns Chapel, it wasn’t difficult to link this walk to the Chatterbox cafe which is, of course, in St John’s Chapel.

Me and Lucky did the reccy last week in warm sunshine but a sort of wind that seeks out any wardrobe chinks and freezes whatever skin is lying inside the chink.

The reccy was straightforward enough, apart from my neat parking of the knipemobile in the way of the transporters taking sheep from the St Johns Chapel auction mart away dahn sahf to places such as Gloucester. Indeed, the drivers cab door of one huge sheep bus was handing over the knipemobile’s boot. I heard  dark mutterrings of Weardale farmers….

Lucky, on the other hand, had a significant development in that for a couple of long sections of the walk, he was off the lead for the first time. Most of this time he walked to heel without being asked to do that, but he did manage a daft runabout for a bit, and at one time he hid in the grass and “ambushed” me as I got near. Wot fun.

On the day, 24 people were booked , plus me and the two stewards, but in the end there was 29 of us.

I started the day well with a bacon butty and huuuuuge pot of tea in the Chatterbox and, eventually, we all set off on the walk up by the River Wear to Wearhead and then steeply up the hill to Sedling Rake and Race Head where views weren’t quite as fine as on the reccy due to an Atlantic cold front which determined to deposit low cloud and a bit of drizzle on us.

By the time we finished the walk, the sun was shining again and about ten or so of us took refuge from the searing heat [koff] to drink tea and coffee and have civilised things such as jammy scones and teasted toecakes and so on….

Lucky couldn’t come on the guided walk bit – he’s not allowed to come with me when I’m leading walks as a County Council voluntary ranger – but when I returned, I did treat him to an hour at Crook dog club where he learned that if you get lairy with a Rotty pup, you get sloshed with cold water. He now has an incipient phobia concerning plastic water bottles. (dhuhh).

I’ll be cheering him up shortly with his nightly doggy walk up the Deerness Valley Way in his new flashing greenish yellow collar (It does quick flash, slow flash, constant glow or “off”)

After all this we are mainly going to Wales for a couple of weeks, so there’ll be little or no more blogging till I’ve climbed something Welsh.

More info about the North Pennines walking festival can be got by clicking this link: North Pennines Walking Festival

And the Chatterbox Cafe facebook page is here for anybody wandering about Weardale and needing large (or even small) quantities of tea and other sustenance, specially those wandering with a pooch because it’s a dog-friendly spot.. In fact, along with the superbly fine cakes to be had in Wolsingham which I may well have mentioned before, maybe I should do a review of Weardale cafes and tea rooms and , maybe, pubs….. 

Thanks to John for the spondoolies into the Mind fundraising account by the way…  it slowly grows….. 

 

 

Weardale Abseiling (no, really…)

Its quite a long time since I abseiled anywhere.

 However, the other afternoon, me and Lucky went off ooop Weardale, met Matt and wandered a couple of miles up by Ireshope Beck to Clints Crag. Clints Crag doesn’t show up much on OS maps, but it’s an interesting spot, full of nooks and crannies and little gorges and caves and all kinds of geological stuff.

The main crag’s abseiling potential is limited a bit by a general lack of nice, bomb-proof belays (essential if you’re out of practise) – but the main gorge – a dark and slippery place, gives a couple of slides of about 25 to 30 feet – the main waterfall being split by a large ledge which holds a  suspended pool with walls which give the same amount of grip as a lump of melting ice. I found this out on my little trip down the hole and ended up knee-deep in cold water.

We had one and a double half abseils (Matt had two, I had one) and left as the cloud began to envelop the local high tops and the Pennines began to look a bit more Pennine…..

Lucky didn’t think too much of being belayed to a rock and made to wait till we played and made lots of groaning and whining noises just to indicate boredom and disapproval.

We’re considering other spots for similar playtimes, though.

Quite good fun.

Note to self – next time take some butties….

A Durham County Council Guided Walk and Reccy in Baldersdale

I’ll mainly let the pictures do the talking. We’ve done this walk before and, I daresay, we’ll do it again (probably next March…)
Me, Matt and Lucky and Mollie did the reccy about a week before the walk – which was on Wednesday.

It was damp and foggy and just the kind of day you often get in November.
We diverted from the route to have a look at Goldsborough.

And then, on the day, 25 people turned up for the walk, including stewards Eric, Maria and Clare (no compulsory Dave this time…) and it was loverly and sunny and we stuck to the route.
Since they weren’t shooting on the Battle Hill ranges, we got into the ruins at West Loups’s (correct number of S’s here!) where we could get out of the nithering nature of the breeze and sit in the sun.
The route goes from Balderhead Reservour to Blackton Grange, Clove Lodge, South on the Pennine Way, East to Battle Hill ranges, Northish on the Bowes Loop to West Loups’s and then down to the reservoirs to follow the shorelines back to the start.
The walk is just a bit over 11 miles – me and Matt, Mollie and Lucky did 12.

Damp!

Matt and Mollie at Goldsborough

Nosey Cow

Goldsborough from the PW path to Race Yate

Cup and Ring marked rocks near West Loups’s

Heading for lunch at West Loups’s

Goldsborough from West Loups’s

Top end of Blackton Reservoir

Making a Splash at the North-East Skinny Dip

This should really be renamed as the “Great” North East Skinny Dip. Cos, it’s great, see..?

Dogless on this occasion, I parked the car prettily at the Druridge Bay visitor centre – not knowing that the parking venue had been changed, which is probably why there were no other cars there… and shouldering my pack, bimbled the couple of miles South along the bay till I came to two lasses cooking what appeared to be huge and fairly red burgers on a small campfire. I recognised this spot as the skinny dip venue and went a bit further South to some tank traps to find a place to bivi.

It was roughly at this point that it went dark…

Turned out not to be the skinny dip venue after all, but never mind – after some struggle with tent pegs that wouldn’t stay in  the soft sand, I managed to get the basha up by wrapping bungees around two tank traps – blew up the sleeping mat, rolled out the sleeping bag and bivi bag and settled down with a brew.

The night was occasionally cloudy and starlit and big waves were bashing the beach not too far away. Two or three tins of Guinness and a cheese butty later and I was in bye-bye land. I expect it was probably about nine o’clock. There’s nothing like an early night. It was a peaceful night, apart from the sand fleas which were jumping all over the place. They don’t bite, though, although they do commit suicide in your coffee.

At about four, I decided it was time for brekkies and brewed some coffee and sandfleas. Brekkies was a healthy and rather huge Bakewell cake (too big to be a tart) from Peggotty’s Cafe and Bakery in Wolsingham – a donation from my daughter who was visiting from bonnie Scotland. (I feel that I must commend Peggotty’s cakes to all those who  1) enjoy a nice cake and 2) pass through Wolsingham. They’re delicious and very generously sized….. 

Soon, a bright light appeared from the North – a lad from somewhere or other seeking the skinny dip venue. We wandered North to where I thought it was. But it wasn’t Then , seeing lights further South, we headed that way instead. And there it was.

Gradually, in the first hints of a cold and grey dawn, a silent and nervous crowd gathered.

As the light strengthened we were asked to take our places behind some stakes  containing numbers – 1 to 10. A few people stripped off at this point. And a little way away, a film crew launched their spy-in-the- sky – a sort of small helicopter with a camera on it.

And then everybody was naked and doing warm-up exercises and a count-down from ten to go and we all ran the 100 metres or so into the foaming surf.

The sea wasn’t as cold as last year, I think – but was quite rough and there were big waves and there was lots of gasping and screaming and laughing.

I think I probably managed five minutes. Others didn’t manage as long as that and yet others seemed to be in there for half an hour. I’m not sure how they do that.

I got dressed, wandered up the beach to my bivi, which turned out to be about 250 metres away, packed up and left to find notices on my car saying that the main gate was locked and detailing how to get let out and that it would re-open at 08:00. As it was 08:30 by now, I wasn’t too bothered. The gate was still locked, though.

I did get out, though, which is probably why I’m now sitting at home typing this, innit?

As an experience, this was just as fab as last year – and a bit bizarre  - I mean to say, 300 people standing around shivering on a North-Sea beach at dawn and then suddenly stripping off all clothing and rushing screaming into cold and salty – and boisterous water whilst being filmed and photographed by various meejah types (who were all very nice, by the way)  and it they’d all got their pics and reports out on internet versions of their papers by lunchtime.

For some, it’s quite routine to do this kind of thing – but for others – the brave ones – it’s a seriously major step to strip off in public and with cameras everywhere. Bless ‘em. I’m somewhere in between the two poles, I think although I do have a strong aversion to cold water specially when it rushes towards you in a big, grey wall from a host of bare bums and almost takes you away – coldly… brrrrr…

Will I do it again?

Course – but next time, I think a bivi-bag would be better than a basha.

All proceeds went to Mind and the National Trust on who’s land and beach the dip takes place.

Worralaff…

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