Friday, September 7, 2012

...but then again, too few to mention...

I get out a fair bit, life is bold and colourful, but....

but...the hill fun I have is small potatoes in comparison to the hard-core hill spooks on my blog roll. These people I really rate. I love to read about their adventures, in places I would like to go....but....but...

but...this is not for me.

I don't mean the hills, fells, valleys, camps and sunrises, these will always be a part of me. I mean blogging. Things have happened this year the have reset my bullshit threshold. I read so much tosh from so many 'writers' it  bruises my brain. There are massively visited pages out there that are so poorly written and so inane it actually offends me. A pleasant stroll in the hills is presented as a mysterious adventure you should only ever consider after reading the authors FAQ's....and of course, his latest list of gear your must purchase, lest you die of Hypo-eVent or Cuben deficiency...

It's so very wrong when the camera goes on every trip, to get images for the blog, trips are planned with the blog in mind...horse shit, who are we doing it for? Us?...or aimless internet drifters that may or may not visit our page.
Also, dull is when a blogger, who hardly ever goes anywhere, presents them-self as an authority on the subject, in fact, you'll usually find they're also experts on just about any other fucking subject you may care to mention too...so...

I go to the hills because I like it up there. I really don't feel the need to share anymore. I generally avoid company, so it's odd that I would write up trips for others to see...so I'm not...anymore.

All of the bloggers on my blog roll I admire greatly, they do what I do and would like to do, and I'll continue to follow them (plus I haunt twitter)... If you're not on the list, you either don't have a blog or....well, draw your own conclusions.

adiós Amigos...


Saturday, June 23, 2012

Just while I'm here...

....Self Powered can have this,


for this...TGO in 40 pics ...quite marvellous, dear boy.

I'd like to post something else of interest, but I have nothing else of interest to post. Twitter wars and general spitefulness are filling my time at the minute...it's very sad, I really should try harder.

Until next time, Amigos...






Monday, April 9, 2012

Crikey!

...it's all been very inspirational.
I'm alluding to the blog-fest I've just indulged in. I've got a giant mug that holds about a pint...roughly 1/2 a litre in new money...of strong Lancashire tea. Big mug only comes out of the cupboard when a packet of fig rolls needs to be swilled into my gizzard, and I need to catch up on my reading.
So, having blitzed blogs, tea and biscuits, here are some of the recent write-ups I've really enjoyed.

Mark got my taste buds tingling with this top-notch report from Wild Boar Fell...here 

Martin and James both posted excellent reports of their recent joint trip to the Dales here and here

And as usual David came up with the goods, pictures really do paint a thousand words...here

but anyway, all too soon my figgy rolls were gone, meaning, as per usual, I only had a virtual fig roll to give away. This time PTC gets it for his enviable wordyness and lovely images...here...so there you are Pete, don't virtually scoff it all at once.



Until next time, Amigos...

Sunday, April 1, 2012

above Kentmere...

I quite like the look of Kentmere, I've observed its high fells for years and decided it was about time I headed up there. I pretty much followed this well known route (thanks to stridingedge.net) however, I extended it a bit to take in Sour Howes and Sallows to the south...which are great wild-camp spots by the way...also, I added Kidsty Pike and Adam Seat to the north and west. I'm not sure, but it was probably about 15 miles in total...

Parking on the farmers field, I set off towards Kentmere Hall, which isn't as impressive as I'd been led to believe, heading south alongside Hall wood. After maybe a mile or so, I got fed up with following the track and headed across country, startling lambs, their mums and a couple of hares before arriving at Sour Howes. I considered camping here but had daylight left so set off for Sallows, where I pitched for the night.

At Sallows...

Looking for a decent pitch in lessening light...

After a reasonably comfortable night under canvas (well, some sort of fabulous American turbo fabric) I had breakfast, struck camp and headed out towards Yoke....

Waiting for my army ration freeze dried strawberry porridge (surprisingly delicious)

Yoke from Sallows


I headed out and over Yoke and Ill Bell and was enjoying my stroll until the clag rolled in quite spectacularly as I drank tea at Thorthwaite Beacon. Up to then, the visibility had been excellent. The Scafells, Coniston range, Helvellyn, Blencathra (and everything in between) were all there, crystal clear....very impressive.
I've already mentioned, a dense bank of damp cloud came tumbling across High Street towards me. The paths around these parts are clear, so with map at hand, and after finding my way to Kidsty Pike in dense mist, I doubled back and out towards Mardale Ill Bell. After a brief visit to Adam Seat across Little Harter Fell, I'd run out of water and batteries and headed off across The Knowe, Kentmere Pike and Rough Crags and then off the fell for refreshments...incidentally, if you're hot and bothered in these parts, stop at the Spar in Stavely and treat yourself to a Chilly Willy Apple and Strawberry Ice...delicious!

Ill Bell Cairns...

 View from Thornthwaite Beacon...

Yoke, Ill Bell and Froswick...

Kentmere fells from Stile End...

More pics here...

Until next time, Amigos...

Sunday, February 5, 2012

big hill - small energy

The plan was a two day so'western lake district wander with me being joined for day two by some of the boys from work for a sprint up Scafell Pike...Recent events having knocked me sideways somewhat, I changed my mind and decided it would be a lonesome one day amble over Gable and Kirk fell then an evening in the pub with the workmates who would be arriving after their shifts, before heading for home early the next day leaving the Pike for them, I've done it before so I didn't feel I would be missing anything.
I took a pitch on the NT site at Wasdale Head and headed off. I've been away from the hills for a couple of months and on the way the Sty Head Pass my thighs were complaining. There's a path onto Gable from the stretcher box, it looked steep, ice bound and uninviting. I moved on past Sty Head tarn and after donning cramps, I headed up Aaron Slack. This brought me out at Windy gap allowing me a lovely view of Ennerdale and surrounding fells and enabled me to bag Green Gable before heading up a short scramble onto Gable. I ate some lunch and read the remembrance plaque.

Monday, January 23, 2012

A life divided....

I have never been a barfly. Dad was.
Dad was never more comfortable than when in his local, sitting in his favourite seat, playing cards with his friends. Drinking beer was just a small aspect of what was his preferred social activity...chatting, and sometimes arguing.
I loved to spend time with him. We watched football, drank pints and discussed life. Manchester United were always either the best team he'd ever seen, or the worst...depending on the final score. I would always try, and fail, to finish his crossword. Dad loved cryptic clues, he always said I was unable to think laterally enough to solve them, which disappointed him I'm sure.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

So much to discover...

I've enjoyed many an excursion in the Lakes, Peak District and Snowdonia, and over the last couple of years, one or two trips to the Dales. Whilst discussing various trips with a walking pal, I mentioned that, as there were so many places to see, it's hard to get to know any particular area really well. His answer was simplicity itself...He suggested that, provided I wasn't intending shuffle off this mortal coil any time soon, it would be an idea to spend a year concentrating on one area, before searching for pastures new... after all, the mountains aren't going anywhere.
This may seem an obvious solution to some, but I can be tiresomely thick. It was a eureka moment for numb-nuts here...

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

somebody turn it off...

...it's starting to grate on my ever more frazzled nerves. The Christmas cacophony of nonsense is more or less upon us once again. Everybody I know seems to be ramping up towards the party season, not me. I tolerate Christmas, I fulfil my family obligations, smile, make merry and welcome guests to my humble home...but it's not for me. I'm not being miserable, I don't feel miserable, I just think the whole thing sucks...

Christians, Atheists, Agnostics, Wiccans, Pagans or whatever, all must surely agree on one thing...the celebration of Christmas (or Yuletide) is not what it should be...and what it was is gone forever...

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

almost, but...

...not quite. Backpackingbongos very nearly won back to back virtual rolls (of the fig variety) for the most splendid Bothy vagabonds in the far north series...close, so very close, but...

There was one other recent write up that really twanged my tickler. A post that made my gob dribble with envy...see, I really like islands, especially if there is no-one else there. So the latest winner of a virtual figgy roll awarded intermittently as and when fabulousness presents itself,  has to be Forty eight hours on treasure island by Writes of Way...

so, there you go, don't virtually eat it all at once...


 until next time, Amigos...

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

a bit of aimless wandering...

Generally, I like to have a plan, a route, at least a vague outline of my intentions, before I set out...This time, however, my only idea was that I would 'mooch about' in behind Crinkle Crags, on the fells that rise out of Wrynose Bottom, encompassing Mosedale and Gaitscale Gill...oh, and sleep in my little tent high up somewhere.
Setting off from a late shift finish, I arrived at Wrynose Pass summit at 10.15pm, thankfully, I'd left the pouring rain back in Manchester. I donned the headlamp and wandered off into the fells, intending to camp around Red Tarn, but once there, I felt the urge to be higher, and so plodded on upwards until I reached the soggy plateau just below Crinkle Crags.