OWDBUM

big hill - small energy

2012-02-05T23:10:00.001Z

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.
The incoming dark clag did nothing to improve my melancholy mood, I decided to head off back to Sty Head down the path I'd ignored earlier. I really couldn't be bothered with Kirk Fell. I was dwelling on events and needed company.
Arriving back at the site, I had a vague notion of having something to eat before heading off to the pub for beer...but after an hours sleep in the tent, and not knowing whether anybody would be joining me as the weather forecast was shit and my mobile signal was none existent, I packed up and headed back home to fireside and slippers.
So, not as I had planned, but a start...a way back...a step in the right direction...maybe.
anyway, here's some pics...

Great Gable

on Aaron Slack, looking back to Sty Head Tarn and the Corridor route

Wastwater from Gable Summit

Pike o'Stickle, Harrison Stickle

until next time Amigos...

A life divided....

2012-01-23T15:34:00.006Z

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.

His Granddaughters were his world. No-one had ever had better Granddaughters, sometimes he made me feel as if they were the only thing I'd ever done properly. Dad was my fiercest critic, but also my staunchest ally...as he proved on many occasions over the years.
Dad never stopped working. For him 'Retirement' was something others did. This made me immensely proud, but also worried. I wanted him to enjoy his life. Dad once said "If I stop working, son, that's when I'll die..."

On Friday the 20th January 2012, Dad died.

We had lunch together. He returned to his local, said hello to his friends, sat in his favourite seat, laid out his crossword, and died.

I understand how grief works, fear, guilt, sorrow, disbelief and aching, smothering pain. It's a process. But right now, all I know is that my life is divided. The life before Dad died, and this life, after.

People tell me the pain eases...but it is so gut-wrenchingly acute, I can't imagine how it will ever go away.

Felix Anthony Mooney

1940-2012

So much to discover...

2012-01-03T21:07:00.008Z

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...

Last year I spent a two day wildcamp and wander, in and around Littondale, a sleepy, lesser visited part of the Yorkshire Dales. It was a turning point for me. It was June, and until I hit Pen-y-Ghent, I barely saw another soul...there and then I decided I needed to spend much more time exploring the Dales and possibly the Howgills...
So there you are, I've decided to follow the advice of my wise friend and spend 2012 exclusively (well...more or less) exploring the many Dales and fells, away from the honeypots, I've still yet to set foot on...

Not ground breaking I know...but important to me.

Until next time, Amigos....Happy New Year!

somebody turn it off...

2011-12-06T00:21:00.003Z

...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...

The more money I spend, the emptier I feel...it's pointless and soul destroying. I always keep to a budget, but I see others spending moolah they don't have, to feed the desires of youngsters who neither know nor care that their harassed parent has stepped into a debt vortex to ensure a brief Christmas morning smile...it's madness...but I have no solutions for them.

My wife understands my feelings and stoically works around them, she has agreed that when the kids have shipped out and are leading their own lives, we (or maybe just me?) will be spending this time of year as far south as possible.
I'll still be having Christmas dinner, but I'll eat it on the beach, wearing my trunks, with my feet in the sea...and the kids can buy their own presents...

(image courtesy of www.eatliver.com)

until next time, Amigos....erm...enjoy the snow.

almost, but...

2011-11-16T21:06:00.001Z

...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...

a bit of aimless wandering...

2011-11-08T21:03:00.002Z

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.

I found a flat, dry spot next to a tarn, pitched my tent and got a brew on the go. Sitting quietly, I looked out to the Irish sea, where the Moon hung low in the sky, like an old oil lamp. Small gangs of Wigeon and Teal were using the moon glow to whistle in to the tarns, and with a soft "peep, peep" they jinked away, obviously sensing the intruder in their midst. I've done a fair amount of duck shooting for the pot, but I had no idea these enigmatic, and tasty, little birds used these high tarns, perhaps they are merely fair weather haunts?

A slithered into my sleeping bag and after some fitful shut-eye I rose early and clambered onto the first crinkle, hoping for some good sunrise pictures. Unfortunately, there was a large bank of cloud in the east blotting out the dawning sun, so it was back down to camp for porridge and coffee.

Camp by unnamed tarn between Crinkle no.1 and Little Stand...

Breakfast, porridge and strong coffee...

Having let brekky digest a while, I hid my pack in a crack in the rock and headed off to explore Little Stand. Little Stand is a bumpy and interesting summit, I'm not sure why old Alf ignored it, it's ace. It has dozens of potential wild camp spots and amazingly, most folk just walk on by it...

Scafell Massif from Adam-a-Cove...

Scouting the route down to Lingcove Beck en route to Hardknott...

I doubled back and headed down by Swinsty gill and up onto Hardknott. I lay down on Border End and watched the gentle folk wandering around the Roman fort...I woke up about 40 minutes later, looked up at Harter fell, and decided to save it for another day. Such is the joy of having no real plan. I headed back to retrieve my pack before heading off to Great Knott. I had lunch at the summit cairn and watched dozens of walkers heading up the main path to the Crinkles. Eyes cast down to their feet, ignoring the rocky outcrops either side of them, intent on reaching Crinkle Crags and nothing else. They reminded me of ants.

Crinkle Crags and Bowfell...from Great Knott

The Langdale Pikes from Great Knott...

Great Langdale...

Pike O'Blisco...

Cold Pike...

Some old tramp having his lunch on Great Knott...

Low sun over Cold Crag from Pike O'Blisco...

Cloud spills over between Bowfell and Esk Pike...

Glaramara, with Skiddaw and Skiddaw Little Man on the horizon...

Windermere from Pike O'Blisco...

Birk Fell from Rough Crags below Cold Pike...

I wandered up onto Cold Pike, a couple of steely eyed Wainwright baggers scampered up behind me, tapped the cairn with their sticks and scampered away again. It was 1.30pm and I was looking for somewhere to camp later. A glance at the map showed a path heading off the summit in the general direction of the car. I dropped down a couple of hundred feet to Rough Crags above Wrynose Breast. Once again, I stashed the pack. Traversing the flank of Cold Pike above Red Tarn, I headed for Pike O'Blisco, I figured I could bag it and grab water before dark...
At the summit cairn, I was joined by two ladies and their friendly black lab, they were quite keen to name all the peaks visible, I've a feeling it was for my benefit, but I didn't have the heart to correct their errors as they were obviously overjoyed just to be there... I skipped back down to Red Tarn returning to my camp spot in the gloaming...
There was a handy, chair shaped rock just behind my tent, this I sat in, wrapped in my sleeping bag, drinking Bovril, my eyes alternating between the headlamps bobbing down the narrow path on West Side Edge on the other side of the valley, and the fireworks at Waterhead, there was a several second delay before the dull thud of the sky rockets hit the crags around my head.
I turned in and hardly stirred until my alarm woke me at 6.00am. After taking some slightly better sunrise pictures, I packed and sat in my rock chair drinking coffee, pondering my odd, zig-zagging day on the hills, after porridge, grudgingly, I shouldered my pack and headed down to the car...

Camp no.2 at Rough Crags, over looking Wrynose pass...

Early morning cloud inversion, Eden Valley...

Whernside...looking more like Mordor...

Sunrise between the two Yorkshire Giants...

Back at the car...

until next time, Amigos...

I was eating a...

2011-10-22T21:35:00.005+01:00

...fig roll (or 10) and I thought I'd send one (virtually) to Backpackingbongos, as a prize for this fine effort...

Backpacking the empty Nant-y-moch hills

here ya go....

until next time, Amigos...

Comment integrity...

2011-10-11T19:11:00.004+01:00

I can't speak for most other folks who blather away on blogs, but any and all comments received on my blogette (not many, I know) are published, unabridged.
If necessary, I'll reply, but I think it's important that I do not censor the thoughts of others...
I know for sure this isn't the case with some. I've noticed that some are touchy about techniques or references that I've spotted they've used, but they've given no credit for in the post, hence my comment has been binned... I won't go into detail, but with one in particular, the result was impressive, but not real....which distracted from what was in every other way, an excellent post.

perhaps it's just me...

Anyway, here's a picture of a kitten playing with a ball of wool...

(visual-photos)

Until next time, Amigos...

Hungover...and out.

2011-10-10T23:48:00.002+01:00

Rough...9 pints of XB and a large baileys rough...Never has any full English breakfast of mine been so studied, contemplated and almost abandoned, before eventually being consumed, with every mouthful being methodically chewed to death....eurgh, it took gallons of Pam's excellent coffee to get me back on my feet...and then we were gone.

Heading out to Wansfell Pike, the weather was wet and blustery and the fells had all but disappeared into the fog. Wansfell pike is only a pipsqueak at 484m but in these conditions it would still be tricky. It's a short steep 'dig-in' as my missus calls thigh burning ascents, and by the time we topped out, the howling squall was taking the feet from under us. We hid in the lee of a boundary wall, ate chocolate muffins and drank coffee. The days walk was intended to be a quick one, straight up and down again, but that meant heading back into the teeth of gale force westerly...no thanks.

Due to the gruesome conditions, only one photo was taken all day, I don't know why I'm looking so surprised, I took the pic...

Staying on the lee of the hill, we headed gradually downward, through an un-named boggy area (at least on my map) and onto the attractively named, Nanny Lane, which dropped us in Troutbeck. There are quite a few quaint looking holiday cottages along the road, I peered through the windows. At one house, an old gent peered back out at me...I gave him a thumbs up and plodded on.
We reached Robin Lane just after the post office. Robin Lane roughly follows the 200m contour line around the base of the fell leading us to High Skelghy then Skelghy Woods where we visited the view point, Jenkin Crag...I'd advise anyone that enjoys being underwhelmed to pay Jenkins Crag a visit, it really is nothing to write home about....anyway, we wandered on and as the pubs of Ambleside came into view, we realised it was beer o'clock and we'd pretty much forgotten the nausea and skull ache of just a few hours earlier...
"a pint and a half of XB, please Landlord...."

until next time, Amigos...

"don't trip over the dead cow..."

2011-10-10T13:19:00.003+01:00

...was the unusual piece of navigational advice I offered a friendly chap we met as we ascended Red Screes from Scandale Pass. He was doing the same circular route as us, but in the other direction. I needn't have warned him really, if he had any sense of smell at all, it would've alerted him to the unfortunate beasts presence long before he would come across it...
Anyway...earlier that morning we'd enjoyed a leisurely breakfast in Ambleside before making our way past High Sweden Bridge and along the length of Scandale. After a quick brew up on Scandale Pass at the head of the dale, we took a 90 degree right turn and a short, steep thigh burner onto Red Screes (776m)

We had lunch in the wind shelter, and shared our giant Dairy Milk bar with the other walkers there. After some quick photies, we headed off across a sloppy Snarker Moor down to Snarker Pike, strolling back into the village along the Kirkstone Road...the weather was mostly clag and drizzle, with no visibility above about 500m...

anyway, here's some pics...

High Sweden Bridge

Scandale

Interesting Lichen?

Brew on Scandale Pass

Red Screes Trig

Snarker Pike

Love Birds?

LoughRigg and Rydal Water

Until next time, Amigos...

no matter how bad...

2011-10-02T21:16:00.003+01:00

....weather is just, well, weather. It's the contrasts that make the difference. Yesterday was "crackin't flags" as they say around by me, it was sweaty and close.
Today brought rain and a chill wind (on top anyway) but no worries. It was Ingleborough from Ingleton, a mooch about on Simon Fell, then down to Clapham, bobbing heads in at the caves en route, with an easy 7km back to our start point, and that was that...

Until next time, Amigos...

A kerfuffle in the hen house...

2011-09-26T23:00:00.002+01:00

as regards blogs, blogging, gear and gear reviews...

umm...well, I don't know what the fuss is about but I'm sure it's very important to some...err...

anyway, life is short, best not to plan too far ahead nor get overly upset about 'stuff', you never know what's around the corner....

(props to Gary Larson for the funny)

until next time, Amigos....

For no other reason than...

2011-09-13T23:21:00.001+01:00

...I like them, here's a couple from HMHB, they are relevent....wa?...well...nope, neither is relevent to anything I suppose really...erm...

And here's t'other...

until next time, Amigos....

forget what I said before...

2011-09-02T22:57:00.004+01:00

....gear reviews can, and do, win Fig Roll Friday awards....

Bareskins Booties...

Well done Mike! You win this!

**late edit** I'll only be doing FRF award at the end of each month from now on...because I'm too lazy to do it every week....erm...

In other news, as part of my continuing quest to find the best outdoor and camping films available on Pootube, I've come across what appears to be more footage from the last TGO challenge...looks like fun!

Until next time, Amigos....

Catch up time...

2011-08-27T21:00:00.004+01:00

I arrived back from foreign shores last week, and I spent last Friday catching up on the various updates to my Blog Roll...
I perused them over a cup of tea and my newly discovered favourite food of all time...Portuguese Sardine Pate (on toast)...followed by several fig rolls.
Which brings me neatly to the winners of my 'Fig Roll Friday' awards for the weeks I've been away.

*insert drum roll here*

Fri 5th - Fri 12th August Dawn's Pages - Teesdale round Another excellent post from Dawn...

Fri 12th - Fri 19th August Sherlock tales - Armenia ups and downs More superb tales of foreign lands by this talented blogger...

Fri 19th - Fri 26th August Mark's walking blog - Bidean nam Bian & Lost Valley of Glen Coe A great post with top notch pics of an outstanding part of Scotland....

Needless to say, a gear review will never (ever) win a virtual fig roll from me...

And now that my faint tan has (already) started to fade, I'm looking at big lumps and paths to haul my ass up and over. Myself and Pen Mon are currently looking at routes for a 2 day jaunt with a night at Black Sail...that will be fun, for sure.

until next time, Amigos...

Brocken Spectator...

2011-08-16T11:49:00.002+01:00

Today I saw a Brocken Spectre...a rare sight I`m sure you´ll agree. Truth be told, I was a mere spectator, as I saw it from the window of a jet at about 26,000 feet.

Against a cotton wool cloud carpet was rendered a beautiful glowing ring with the perfect silhouette of a 737 at it´s centre...still very cool, where ever you may see one, no?

Alas no piccies as the box brownie was in the hold...

Whilst on the subject of planes, there always seems to be a screaming child and a loud mouthed man aboard whenever I fly. The former I can tolerate, I´m a father, I can 'empathise'....but the latter, well, I can feel my 'ever eager' head squeezing muscles twitch each time he opens his mouth...I'll try counting to ten.

retrospective 'fig roll friday' awards on my return.

until next time , Amigos...

Fig Roll Friday...

2011-08-05T19:51:00.006+01:00

Like most blogging types, I have a 'blog-roll' which regularly updates when someone posts a new article.
I read all new posts on my blog-roll, that said, I only skim over gear reports...I read them all while eating fig rolls and drinking tea...

So, every Friday from now onwards, whichever new bit of waffle I've enjoyed most (posted since the previous Friday) will win the all new FIG ROLL FRIDAY AWARD!

Now then, don't get too excited, whoever is the successful blogger each Friday will win a fig roll...but it will be me that eats it...the kudos acquired during their 7 day tenure as the FIG ROLL FRIDAY AWARD winner should be enough, without them getting any of my fig rolls.

And so... the inaugural winner of the FIG ROLL FRIDAY AWARD is........

Drum roll.....

Sherlock Tales

mainly because there is a picture of a fabulously impossible footbridge in Georgia (and it's a great blog)

congratulations to that blogger!

Until next time, Amigos....

small films that inspire...

2011-08-02T23:14:00.002+01:00

As a family we keep horses and other various animals and (during the season) I do a fair amount of shooting, so I get a regular 'outdoors' fix. I like to grapple, and, though laid off at the minute, this usually keeps me reasonably fit.
However, there are many times when I really need to be up high and wild somewhere, but it is not possible for multiple and varied reasons.

So, what inspires the frustrated fellwalker when he/she is not yomping out on the hills and trails around about?
Unlike some, I've always viewed 'kit' as purely functional necessity...choosing and buying a new outer shell, tent or sleeping bag is no different to me than, say, a builder eyeing up a new hammer or shovel. I may consider the various options, as the builder would, but at the end of the day, it's just a tool, I get no thrill from it, so no inspiration there.
I like my recently acquired blogging hobby, it amazes me that anyone would read my inane ramblings, but a few people do. I much prefer to read other peoples waffle though, they (nearly) all know so much more than I do, and that's inspiring.
What really makes me want to 'get out there' are well made outdoor films, especially long distance trail type stuff. I think I would like to walk a very long way and take a long time doing it...but my life has no room for such an escapade right now, so I have to make do with other peoples adventures...oh well.

I wanna do this.

And this....

watch, don't watch, whatever...

until next time, Amigos...

Gear review.

2011-07-31T21:36:00.002+01:00

At this time of year, back in the halcyon days of my childhood, the everlasting summer holidays were spent camping, running wild, pinching apples and playing 'army'...we weren't much of a footballing gang. When playing 'army' we equipped ourselves with a hotch-potch of different weapons...catapults, throwing arrows, spears, spud-guns, sling shots and dart-guns...how none of us were (seriously) hurt, I've no idea.

Anyway, I had a dart-gun, it was spring powered and fired rubber sucker darts.The dart never stuck to whatever you aimed it at, and I always lost them in the long grass...where, of course, the grass snakes lived. Mum said it was best if we didn't look for the missing missiles. Mum said grass snakes were not poisonous, but they could give you "a nasty suck"....Mum was always looking out for us....

And so to today, my nephew turned up with his new dart-gun! There's been a 35 year gap since I last held a dart-gun, so I figured it was time to review the advancements in dart-gun technology.

Long story short? Well, unfortunately, there has been no improvement in dart-guns for 35 years...they are still made of rickety plastic and the darts still refuse to adhere to anything other than a clean pane of glass...(if you're lucky)

to say I was disappointed would be an understatement...Poundland have a lot to answer for.

anyway, here are some pics.

Deadly pump action dart-gun

You got me!

until next time, Amigos...

Moral responsibility?

2011-07-18T23:57:00.002+01:00

A friend of mine was enjoying a post Kinder pint in Edale. Ensconced within the bar was a lady with a youngster roughly 8 years old, she was busily telling anyone who'd listen that she and her child were setting off that afternoon to complete the Pennine way...all 270 miles of it. The forecast for last Friday afternoon was grim to say the least. My friend enquired what her exact plans for that day were, hoping it would be to (at the very least) camp at the site and sit out the front coming in....

Alas, no...she was determined to 'get a few miles under their belts' and wild camp somewhere on Kinder. Obviously my friend and others in the bar were less than happy about this. An adult makes there own choices and it's okay to advise, but the final decision is theirs....But in this situation, there was a child involved. So, with a heavy heart he waved them off and hoped for the best.
I asked my friend if the lady appeared 'compos mentis', he thought she was, but there was no way to tell for sure. Considering the weather that blew in that evening, I can only hope they stayed off the hill or found somewhere sheltered on top....then abandoned her/their ridiculous escapade.
My friend was very unhappy at the situation, so the question is, where does a concerned bystanders responsibility begin and end?

Halton Gill, BBQ tempation, and beyond...

2011-06-28T23:37:00.002+01:00

The intention was simple; MOT the car Friday morning, shoot off to Yorkshire in the afternoon.

But, as usual the Gods of motoring had decided it was time for me to receive a holy kick in the plums...

So, one day late, complete with new tyres and fuel lines, and a serious dent in my bank account, I hit the road.
At about 18:30 I parked the 'blasted money pit' at Halton Gill in Littondale, to the east (ish) of Pen y Ghent. I've looked at Pen y Ghent many times but never bothered with it, some rave about it, but I've always thought it looks a bit like a spoil heap...covered in charadee hikers.

So, I decided to tackle it from a more unusual angle, as opposed to the usual stampede from Horton. To make it more 'interesting' I'd approach the hill from Cosh Outside, the high moor/bog at the head of Littondale via Plover hill. I was incorporating an overnight stop up at Cosh trig point, as I wanted to get fairly high, maybe catch a decent sunrise as the forecast had predicted clearing skies in the early hours.
I'd be making an early start to get Pen y Ghent done and dusted, then on along the Pennine way to Dale Head, Giants Grave, the New Bridge path towards Litton and back to Halton Gill alongside the River Skirfare...about 24km if my thread and ruler are to be believed.
I was nearly scuppered just a quarter of a mile from the car, when, as I approached the bunk house on the track to Fox Up, I caught a whiff of steaks and kebabs being barbequed by the bunk house occupants. Three gents were enjoying glasses of wine out front, after a quick chat, I was offered grub and grog with them and the rest of the 'bunkees' inside....hmmm, chicken satay and merlot or couscous and hot chocolate....no, no, temptation be gone! I thanked them and politely refused their very kind offer. As I trudged off towards Fox Up and Cosh farm, the low clag closed in, doing nothing for my melancholy mood.
At Cosh farm, I took a bearing and headed off up the pathless contours, into the clag and towards the dry stone ridge wall that would be my handrail towards the trig. Although the wet fog was dense, navigation was fairly straightforward and within a couple of hours I was settling down for the night....out of the drenching mist, the couscous was being prepared and I had my dry socks on.
I peeped out of the tent at 04:00, no change, just cold, wet fog. I turned over and had another hour in bed. I wriggled out of my bag and scoffed noodles, pepperami, flapjacks and coffee. Striking camp at around 6 ish I headed down to Cosh Outside. The sun began to burn off the mist and it very quickly became warm, the whole of the moor and Plover hill came into view. Once again I used a boundary wall as a guide towards the path down to Hull Pot sink hole. I'd decided during the night that I wasn't going to bother with boggy old Plover Hill, and I really wanted to see Hull Pot. I knew I could jump onto the Pennine Way from there, following it up and over Pen y Ghent and on to Dale Head.
The visibility was great as I crossed Cosh moor, I used faint sheep paths to avoid the wettest sections (not daft those Swaledales) and wandered on to Hull Pot where I stopped to sun myself for half an hour and take more photos.
Topping out on Pen y Ghent was straight forward and pretty uninteresting to be honest, the views of Ingleborough, Whernside and the Eastern Lakes were fine, but the hill I was on just doesn't excite me very much, maybe it's a bit too easy or its the sheer weight of visitors that irritates the miserable little loner inside me...I'm not sure, anyway, I didn't hang around and headed down to Dale head via the short scramble, which by this time, was an undulating queue of men, women, children and dogs all heading towards me...I was wishing I could go back into the fog...
I marched off back towards Littondale on tarmac, after a while I was back on trail, following the New Bridge path to Litton. Pen y Ghent looks good from here, big and strong and less...erm...disappointing? The walk alongside the River Skirfare back to Halton Gill was lovely. Peewits, Oystercatchers, Jackdaws, tits and finches of every variety swooped and darted all around, the sun shone and if I hadn't run out of water about 5 miles earlier, I would've picnicked in the shade and enjoyed the dale a while longer. As it was, I pressed on and as my bank account molesting vehicle came into view, it was back to reality....and poverty.

Anyway, here's some pics...

Looking gloomy towards Cosh farm...

home for the night...

heading across Cosh outside...

yeah...thanks for the warning (now I've crossed the 'bog')

Hull Pot sink hole...

Pen y Ghent Summit

Pennine way...

yomping towards Litton...

River Skirfare, Littondale....

until next time, Amigos....

Tarp....or tent?

2011-06-21T22:40:00.001+01:00

Well, the answer is tent....

...or is it tarp?

Oh, I don't know...the whole subject is a bit too divisive for my gentle soul.

until next time, Amigos...

All in a good cause...

2011-06-06T23:38:00.001+01:00

We decided the best way to show our support for our local MRT would be to do something we like to do a lot...namely, watch live rock bands, and drink copious amounts of head killer....loads of dosh was raised for Bolton Mountain rescue team (apparently, they're saving up for a mountain)

The line up...some great bands attended.

Bolton Mountain Rescue team,

not really saving up for a mountain,

actually, looking after numpties like me.

BMRT have done a write up on their diary page here, a good time was had by all and £540 raised.

until next time, Amigos...

This...is what I'm talking about.

2011-06-05T15:26:00.001+01:00

Thank you 55glencoe!

until next time Amigos...

TGO kit challenge?

2011-05-30T23:45:00.002+01:00

I've been having a little search to see if any TGO challengers had posted any vids onto pootube. The TGO is something I've been thinking about doing, apparently, you need to enter and then, depending whether your name has been drawn from the hat, you are allowed to do it. Which brings me to my first problem with the TGO....I may be missing something here (feel free to correct me!) and I'm well known to be a contrary sod, but isn't this a walk from one side of Scotland to the other? Well then, if my name isn't drawn, I may do it anyway. I don't want a certificate. Is there any reason I shouldn't do this?

But, as I said at the top of this waffle, I've been looking for vids that will give me a taste of what to expect...I found one contributor whos vids were worth watching...Peewiglets vids are AT style montages showing epic views, big skies and cosy camps, all very inspiring. The other vids, from this and previous years, were various serious dudes talking seriously about the seriousness of having the correct branded gear...so disappointing. I don't give a shit what these guys were wearing/using/eating/sleeping under or tweeting with. I am interested in how they found the experience and what made them attempt and (I assume) complete the TGO challenge...what trials and tribulations they encountered and any tips they may have for someone new to the TGO.
But alas, it was video after video of Rab jackets, MLD tarps, down bags, OMM rucksacks and caldera stoves. Yawn, how dull...

Loughrigg, it's not big....

2011-04-25T10:57:00.001+01:00

...but it is an interesting little lump, or lumps, for as well as the main summit with it's trig point, there are multiple secondary, lesser high points. The hill nestles in a lovely central location on the way out of Ambleside towards Great Langdale, above and to the north of Elterwater. At 340m (ish) you'll hardly suffer from altitude induced nose bleeds atop its craggy summit, but that's of no consequence, as on a fine day the view is reward enough. From the high point you're able to tick off Grasmere, Rydal Water, Windermere, and Elterwater in your little book entitled "Lakes wot I seen". Then, of course, there are the ranges that overlook these lakes. Coniston, Wetherlam, Silver How, Bowfell, The Langdale Pikes, Ullscarf and Fairfield to name but a handful...
I set off early to beat the bank holiday weekend traffic, arriving at Elterwater at around 7:45am I found the free carpark at Elterwater empty, and as it was a little early to head off up this small hill (I wanted to make a day of it) I headed on to the Great Langdale NT site to catch up with friends camped there, after a quick chat to see what they were up to (Bowfell and Esk Pike as it happens..) and drooling a bit over the sausages they were cooking, I headed back to Elterwater...

After arriving back at the carpark, I donned my day pack and set off, following the road up toward the Langdale YHA. As I passed the hostel, rather disconcertingly, I began to descend again, but this was a nice, springtime, woodland wander, and the waymarked bridleway brought me out at the first pleasant surprise of the walk, Loughrigg Terrace. The terrace is a path that traverses the fell and has viewing benches to allow you to rest-a-while and take in the vista. Despite being a mere 100m (or so) above the lake, it really is a lovely spot. The path to the summit shoots off at a 45 degree angle to the terrace path, and is paved for the most part...

On reaching the summit, I ate breakfast (elevenses?) and loitered for an hour or so. Amazingly, I had the place to myself....so, being the sensible adult I am, I decided to find an easy bit of rocky crag and pretend to be Leo Houlding for half an hour...like you do... Man, I conquered those little craggy walls...I'd go as far as to say I owned them, they were mine! I snapped back to reality when an elderly couple came into view. I hastily collected my gear and headed off towards them, I greeted the couple with a slightly coy "how do..." hoping they hadn't seen me being Leo Houlding...

There are lots of intersecting paths on this rough summit plateau, so it's important to have a map and compass, as even on this smallish hill it would be easy to become disorientated, especially in poor weather conditions. At the bottom of the fell I was at Tarnside Farm studying my map when I was approached by a friendly Irish gent and his granddaughter (I assume). They were attempting a circular walk from Elterwater, around Grasmere and back...a fair old hike in plimsoles, and without a map. They wanted to know which way to go! He had a photocopy of a rough hand drawn route, not good. I gave them directions as best I could, and off they went, with a cheery wave goodbye. I do hope they survived...

Heading down to Skelwith Bridge, I turned right and hit the trail along the River Brathay, from then on it was a very leisurely 2k stroll, passing through Kirkstone slate yard and taking in Skelwith Force (waterfall) before arriving back at Elterwater for the best Ice cream I've ever tasted...and a pint of Jennings...

Circular walk from Elterwater, taking in Loughrigg and Skelwith Bridge...highly recommended!

anyways...here are some pics...

Loughrigg Terrace

Towards Silver How from Loughrigg Terrace

Grasmere from Loughrigg Terrace.

Loughrigg summit with trig point...

a lumpy summit 'plateau'

Langdale YHA from Loughrigg

Common Cuckooflower

Skelwith Force

cooling hot feet in the River Brathay

In your dreams, son...

until next time, amigos...

Premier high level walk / giggle fest.

2011-03-29T22:45:00.001+01:00

26/03/11
Great Langdale (again)
ODG, Stool end farm, Crinkle Crags, Bowfell, Esk Pike, Esk Hause, Rossett Gyhll, Mickledon, ODG.

At the end of this tale look out for the apology.

So there we were, all 8 of us, a rag tag bunch of eager beavers. Some of us fairly experienced fell walkers, some not. We were wetting our collective whistles on the Friday evening, discussing the walk we'd planned for the next day, the beer was flowing, conversation was lively and my ribs ached from laughing. We wound things up at a reasonable time...best if the hangovers weren't too acute.
We set off at 15 minutes behind (my) scheduled start time, not bad considering all decisions were being made by committee. We were followed towards Stool End by a group of young men in shorts, each with a dog on a lead. As a group we decided these lads were the 'A.D.W.A.G.C.P' or, Ambleside Dog Walking Association for Gentlemen of a Certain Persuasion.
We passed though the farm yard and struck out towards the steep path up to Great Knott, about half way up I looked back towards the farm, I could see that the ADWAGCP, despite passing the same signs as us re: sheep worrying and the dangers of loose dogs, had let all their curs of their leads....chaos ensued as ewes where scattered o'er hill and vale in every direction. Herdwicks are a hardy, tough breed, and soon put good distance between themselves and their overweight pooch pursuers...still a stupid thing to do.
As the weather was fine and the path clear, I pressed on at my own speed, I reached the fork in the path at red tarn and as I waited for the rest of the team I took in the view, sitting on a grassy knoll under Great Knott. The Langdale Pikes stood impressive across the valley and Pike O'Blisco sat to my right, silently inviting me to run up to it's summit...but that's for another day.
The crew checked in one by one, we drank coffee and ate biscuits, before heading off towards the Crinkles. The views were becoming very impressive, the Coniston range, Great Moss, the Scafells, all came into sight. On crinkle 1 we had a 360 degree view of the Cumbrian Fells, some of the lads who'd never been this high before were suitably impressed. All agreed the sweaty hard work required to get to this point had been well worth it.
We moved on towards Long Top, and the infamous 'bad step' I'd assured some of the less nimble members of the team they could bypass the short scramble if they wished, but I was delighted to see everyone manage it, there was a fair amount of grunting and cussing, but never let it be said 'bad step' beat any of us! We had lunch at Three Tarns under Bowfell. At this point, we had previously decided anyone who'd had enough could head back to the site via the clear and relatively easy path down the band.
I was hoping 1 or 2 of them would want to carry on to Bowfell and Esk Pike with me, as it happens, I'm either poor company (true) or they were finding the call of the pub hard to resist....Whatever, as a newly christened 'Billy no mates' I set off up Bowfell alone, to be honest, I thought this was great, I could move at my own speed and had no-one to consider but myself, and as a self centered, only child, this suited me just fine.
I quickly topped out at Bowfell summit, which was just as impressive as I'd been led to believe, after pics, I moved on towards Esk Pike, which was OK, especially the views of the Scafells. I headed down over Esk Hause and back towards Angle Tarn and the Rossett Gyhll path. It's a lovely stroll along towards Rosset Pike, I passed several wild campers who were just sort of hanging around, I have heard it's as busy as a National Trust campsite around Angle Tarn when the weather is obliging.
The path down Rossett Gyhll is a stinker. It's long, steep, with large steps and tight turns...that said, I still thought it was ace...super duper even! At the foot of the path I passed what looked like glacial moraines...but I'm no geologist, so maybe not. The path along Mickledon is lovely and the view of Pike O'Stickle is excellent, it was a couple of clicks before I was back at the ODG and on to the campsite.

users of walking poles *an apology*
Previously I have dismissed the use of poles. I considered them the marker of the type of gear obsessed numpty I like least, I've also always considered myself far too macho to use sticks....and then... I received a pair of poles as a Christmas present from my sister in law.
Even so, I never intended to use them, "not for me" thought I....
Then, last week, as I eyed the Rossett Gyhll path on my map, an odd thought seeped into my mind...."why don't you test your new poles on this path?"
And so it came to pass, I used poles for the first time last weekend, and I am now semi-converted. I still do not need them for ascent or level ground walking, but when descending, from now on, I will always use poles. I felt safe, steady and moved significantly quicker with them than without. I'm not sure whether they have saved my knees any wear and tear as I rarely have knee problems anyway. So, I'm not entirely convinced of all the supposed benefits of poles, but I'm a lot less sceptical than I once was.

anyway, here's some pics, apologies for the quality, I only had my Blackberry with me, which has the shittest camera ever...

Dave looking towards the Langdale Pikes from under Great Knott

Great Knott

Obligatory Tw*t pose on Crinkle 1

Great Slab, Bowfell

Scafell Massif from Esk Pike summit

Billy No Mates on Bowfell summit

Kids on Esk Pike summit

Towards Esk Hause

Angle Tarn

Until Next time, Amigos....

thrift shop (or gift shop?)

2011-03-12T13:10:00.001Z

The boss and I had a mooch around the local thrift and charity shops recently...not something I would have done before meeting the boss (aka 'wifey') but I am now most definitely a convert, I'm even a little bit evangelical about it...as sometimes you can find hidden gems.
On this recent trip, the travel section of the bookshelf caught my eye, on closer inspection it appeared a kind donor and dropped off a job lot of walking pamphlets and such. I managed to grab four small, old, lakeland guide books, OS map OL17 (Snowdonia), a cycling map of cumbria, and the absolute jewel in the crown...a Bartholomew 1/2" scale map of the English lakes, printed in 1955.
The guide books are old but very interesting, as for the Bartolomew map...well that's going into a frame and onto the wall...it's a work of art.

total outlay?....£3.69

until next time, Amigos....

It's like having a split personality...

2011-03-07T20:56:00.001Z

I'm not sure if other fell tramps have similar mental battles as me...
There are two things in my life (apart from general family cosiness) that get me from one day to the next...
1. Fell walking in wild and remote places.
2. BJJ
The first I've no need to explain to anyone here, as it's a given, but #2 may have some folks a little perplexed. It has nothing to do with fellatio but a lot to do with addiction. It is something I've been doing for many years, and at times it pretty much blots everything else out. If you're interested there is some info about BJJ here.
The problem with loving both fell walking and BJJ is this, I've always found it hard to have interests that peacefully co-exist alongside each other. At any moment in time, one will be in charge and steering my thoughts, then the other will gain ground and become dominant...before the balance of power swings back...and so on.
Over the last couple of months, grappling has been in the ascendancy, with me working hard on my game and shifting the post Xmas gut expansion. Hence the lack of recent blog guff, apologies for that, but unless you are interested in grappling, nothing I may have written would have been of interest to you.
However, I'm starting to feel a shift in priorities. The hills are most definitely calling and I've agreed to a trip with a (large-ish) group of work mates, including my usual walking buddy M2S, and various relatively inexperienced but ever-so-eager mountain tyros. It will be fun, but I've a horrible feeling they will be looking to me for guidance and maybe even encouragement...hmmm....as M2S will happily confirm, when in my company on the hill, I expect you to carry your own pack and keep up. I really can be that much of a prick.
Anyway...we are off to Crinkle Crags and Bowfell, not massively difficult, but it may be a challenge for some of the group. They'll be happy when they're back in the pub, though...as will I.
In other news, my old dog, Jeep, passed away after a short illness, he was fifteen years old and one of the toughest and most talented people I've ever known...Yes, I thought of him as a person, such was his intelligence and personality. He was exceptionally brave and athletically gifted. If he had been a man, he would have been Usain Bolt, and I'll miss him tremendously.

apologies for the photo of his bottom, but I like the way the morning sun is falling on him...
Until next time, Amigos...

minor cable channel spits out a gem...

2011-01-03T14:36:00.001Z

To anybody who isn't aware, First Ascent, the multi award winning series of short documentaries, is being shown on the 'Extreme' channel (Virgin 527) all week starting Monday 3rd January.

Whilst I'm not a rock climber, I still found the series fascinating, mainly due to the superb cinematography and, at times, poignant back stories. For me, there is a little too much "yo, dude!" and "whoa, you rock, man!" but even so, if you love wild places, you'll enjoy this, check it out.

http://www.firstascentseries.com/index.html

until next time, Amigos

xmas?

2010-12-23T22:29:00.001Z

I'm not religious, I think I must be agnostic rather than atheist, as I'm not interested enough to class myself as a non-believer...I just don't think about it much. Anyway, I do enjoy the break from work I usually get around this time of year. I also enjoy the trimmings of this Christian festival ie; the socialising, drinking and gluttony. I dislike the materialistic side of things, but I do have 2 young daughters, so I have to indulge them. Truth be told, I love to receive gifts, but I'm as happy with a pair of socks as I am with a bottle of Talisker, it's not the gift that matters, it's the idea that someone has gone out of their way to buy / make / knit something, just for me. I'm always touched.
I work for a company where Christmas pretty much passes by without acknowledgement. Sure, the high flying sales wallahs are handsomely rewarded with prize draws and drinks parties, while us underlings below deck are pretty much ignored....but that's OK, because it's not about them, it's about me and my nearest and dearest.
So, despite being what you could easily describe as a 'mild' misanthrope, something about this time of year makes me want to be with people, for a few short days it is nice to be nice. I don't think it has anything to do with religion of any sort, I prefer to think it is more of a race memory.
In millennia past, at this time of winter solstice, perhaps our ancestors would have come together and shared their homes and supplies, maybe the only way to survive the hard winters would have been to look after each other? Who knows, but I think it's a nice idea...
The owner of my place of work is a Jewish guy, as a gift to us to celebrate a festival he doesn't, he gave us all a Yule log....which, of course, is a symbol of the pagan winter solstice/Yule festival. Perhaps I should give him Diwali lantern for Hanukka...but I doubt he'd be interested in the joke.

Anyway, best wishes to you and yours, and enjoy each others company, whatever the reason you happen to be together. In the meantime feel free to enjoy this picture of my Yule log.

Until next time, Amigos...

Great Langdale snow malarky...

2010-12-05T12:31:00.001Z

Friday 03/12/10
I set off a 5:15 in the morning, it was so cold frost was forming on the inside of the car even with the heater on full blast. The outside temperature was minus11.
The weather forecast had predicted some light snow showers over the southern lakes, with long clear spells and good visibility. I arrived at the NT site at around 7:00 am, after pitching my tent and getting a brew going, I went to book in, the girl in the office advised that the snow was due in around lunch time but it would be short lived. "better get my skates on" thought I.
My intention was to head up towards Stickle tarn and Pavey Ark, take in Sergeant Man, High Raise, Thunacar Knott, then across Martcrag Moor to catch the Cumbrian Way back down Mickleden or (weather and time permitting) on to Rossett Pike and back down the gill to Mickleden and into the pub. Erm...well it didn't work out that way. I set off from the NT car park at Stickle Barn, I know the area well no need to check maps, bearings etc, I soon caught up with a couple of lads from Lowton (not far from me) and their Jack russell, the dog seemed to be enjoying the ascent more than them. They didn't seem very well equipped for the conditions, the going underfoot was mainly compacted snow and sheet ice, which was worsening the higher we went. I stopped to put on micro spikes, they gave me more confidence and I pressed on leaving the Lowton lads behind. I had a look at Jack's Rake (G1 scramble) but it carries a lot of water which had turned to long black sheets of ice. I decided to save it for better conditions, and stick to the paths I knew. By now the weather had really closed in, and the snow began with a vengeance.
I hit the northern route onto Pavey Ark, the going was really tough as stretches of ice and leg deep crevices had quickly been hidden by snow and spin drifts. Out came the axe and stick and I prodded and poked for my foot holds all the way onto the summit. The snow was really coming down and the wind had got up and was spinning the snow all around, I could of done with ski goggles as it was difficult to look ahead without your face being lashed with snow. At the summit, I got down in the lee of rocky lump, donned the quilted gear and decided to have lunch and see if I could sit out the 'short lived' weather blip.
An hour later I had to re-plan. The weather was worsening and the visibility was down to about 20 yards. I had to make a decision, do I forget about Seargent Man, High Raise, Martcrag moor etc? They are all high and exposed to the weather with little shelter, plus the paths would have disappeared beneath a foot of snow. I was fairly sure I could micro-navigate my route but I hate micro-navigation. That idea seemed like hard work with little or no reward. Alternatively, I could head back down the way I came up. I didn't fancy that either.
As I said earlier, I know the area quite well so I decided to pop up onto Harrison Stickle then back down the path between Loft and Thorn crag which dumps you back down at the NT car park. Not exactly the long high level walk with extensive winter views I had envisaged, but enjoyable never the less.
It really was I good idea to get off the hill, as despite the earlier forecast to the contrary, the snow did not let up all day and night. In fact, I was snowed into the valley and I could only hope the road out would be ploughed and gritted the next day or I was going nowhere soon. I wasn't too worried as I had at least 4 days food with me and I was only 200 yards from the pub. I spent a warm evening in the ODG, chatting with fellow snow refugees and drinking Old Peculiar. On the way back to the site I helped push 1 camper van and 3 cars over the humpback bridge outside the ODG, this finished me off and as I climbed into my bag at 11:00 pm I went out like a light. I did not stir until 8:30 the next morning. By the time I'd had breakfast and a brew, the main road had been cleared and after digging out the car, I said my goodbyes and hit the highway.

Heading out...

Towards Lingmoor Fell

A frozen Stickle Tarn

Jacks Rake

Having a look at Jack Rake...

Pavey Ark Summit, time for lunch...

Cheeky Robin, back at camp...

Saturday morning...umm...best get a brew on.

Jim, Richard and Barclay (with shovel) fellow snow tramps...

Until next time, Amigos...

I'm not religious....but,

2010-12-02T00:12:00.001Z

A little prayer.

A winters walk, I wish to do,
Great Langdale, I'm heading to.

I love the snow, ice and frost,
despite the fog, I'm rarely lost.

ice pick, cramps and thermals stowed,
and my little tent, a warm abode.

Oh Lord, I ask not much,
do your worst, cruel winds and such.

But please, aid this pitiful fool,
in his quest, his mountain duel.

cornice, gulley, they hold no fear,
but please Lord, keep the road clear.

I love the hills all white and new,
but if the road's snowed, well, then I'm screwed.

Oh Lord, I'm sorry, I've gone on a bit,
but please God, swathe the roads in GRIT!!!!!

If this should not come to pass,
there is one more thing I ask,

A Land Rover, for Christmas please,
so as to allow me to the hills with ease.

Amen.

Skiddaw and the mysterious Welshmen.

2010-11-25T23:28:00.001Z

Me and the missus decided to have a short break in October. We packed up and headed off to Keswick for a few nights. Our B&B was adequate, the room was small, but the brekky magnificent....anyway, I digress.
We'd planned a couple of bog standard fell walks, just to get the blood pumping. First up was a mooch up Skiddaw, via Little Man. After a fry up, we set off into town to pick up supplies, the weather was overcast with drizzle, it didn't look good but we pressed on past Fitz park and the YHA place next to the river. After passing the sports centre we followed a waymarked path crossing the A66 on the footbridge, leading up towards Latrigg.
The woods around here are lovely and we stopped to watch red squirrels leaping on to the bird tables to steal nuts. We headed on up through the woods, skirting Latrigg, we found ourselves at Latrigg carpark (where the lazy buggers start) The drizzle had eased so it was off with the waterproof pants, and onwards towards Skiddaw.
Just After the carpark you can take the right hand fork in the track (Cumbrian Way-waymarked) which takes you down by Skiddaw house (I think) but we carried straight on up the clear path. The clag was breaking up and we enjoyed some good views on the ascent. Let's make one thing clear though, the ascent of Skiddaw from Latrigg carpark is not an exiting one, it's a fairly unrelenting slog. As I said to my missus, though, there are no easy 3000 footers, they are all a slog. It's just that some are more interesting than others...
Anyway, we eventually reached a gate where we had a choice to make. Do we head through the gate and straight up to Skiddaw summit, or do a left and tackle the steep ascent onto Little Man? Being the Rambo types we are, we did a left. Going up we met a guy coming down, he complained that his knees were 'bolloxed' and that he was fairly sure he would "never walk again" My missus smiled and when he was out of earshot, she pointed out to me that he was a "big mard arse"...good girl!
We dropped down onto the col between Little Man and Skiddaw ridge, then ascended towards Skiddaw summit. On arrival at the summit, there were 1/2 a dozen folk mooching about, taking in the fantastic 360 degree views that had opened up, now that the clag had lifted. Then a couple of weirdo mad bastards arrived (also known as 'fell runners') they were all steamy heads, muddy trainers and energy bars. They slurped their gluco-gels and after 30 seconds, they galloped off again like the police were after them. I think those guys must live their whole lives in 'fast forward'...
In the wind shelter, we scoffed our sandwiches and drank lucozade. We were joined by a friendly Welshman, he opened his butties and we chatted like we already knew each other. He'd walked all over but he and his mates (who followed him onto the summit soon afterwards) were more used to Snowdonia, we chatted about this and that, then his buddies shouted him (in Welsh) to join them. A protracted and slighted heated discussion followed (all in Welsh) he returned to us and advised that his friends were suffering from 'GPS rage' I thought that was very funny!
The group headed off the summit and we followed not more than 1 minute later, as we dropped towards the col between Skiddaw and Little Man, the group had disappeared...We could see a long distance in front, I also checked the paths that went off either way, no sign. It was very odd, as some people who'd left just before our Welsh friends were still visible. I've checked the maps since and I can't see any way they could have gone where they would not have been visible to us....unless anyone can provide another explanation, I have to assume they were either abducted by aliens or they did not really exist.
From there we avoided Little Man and headed back down the way we came up. Back in Keswick, we celebrated my wife's 1st 3000 footer with a few pints in the Dog and Gun.
Here's some pic's for your delectation.

Keswick in the rain...

Latrigg carpark...

Shepherds monument...

Towards Newlands round, Sail etc...

Heading towards the col between Little Man and Skiddaw...

Approaching the summit...

The mysterious Welshmen...

Keswick and Derwent water from Skiddaw...

Ummm....were have the Welshmen gone?

Until next time, Amigos...

Kirkpatrick tells it how it is...

2010-11-24T00:10:00.001Z

I don't read Trail magazine much nowadays, I prefer TGO. That said, the January edition of Trail caught my eye as there was a free magazine included, 'owtfernowt' being my lifelong philosophy, I picked it up and took it to the check out.
As usual, the magazine is packed with patronising articles 'instructing' all us dummies how to (variously) layer up for winter, go running to get fit, wear gaiters with waterproofs and ...get this...how to blow your nose if you have a 'dew drop'....fuck me.
Then I read 'Kirkpatrick on kit - Down vs Synthetic'
Everyone knows who Andy Kirkpatrick is, I often check his blog here and he confirmed in his Trail article what I have suspected for ages but never really been able put into words. Long story short, down is much better than synthetic....if you live in the arctic circle. Quite simply, we do not need down clothing in this country. It's a waste of money. Our general climate is not appropriate for fragile down clothing, it's that simple. As I said, I've never really been able to formulate my thoughts on this subject, now I don't need to, AK explains it far better than I could ever hope to, so go buy Trail this month, read the article...and see the light.
The article may upset some of the more devoted Rab/phd/northface nuthuggers, but I do hope they don't sob too hard into their Infinity jackets, because that would probably ruin them (and invalidate the guarantee)

Anyway, I popped around to a friends house the other day, he wanted to show me his new winter gear, for the first time he is considering some winter hill walking, so he's bought the appropriate down kit. I hope he doesn't forget his longjohns...

until next time Amigos...

The Antrim coast...

2010-11-18T23:56:00.002Z

....and Rathlin Island...a lovely daunder and we saw seals, which was v.cool!

An Ode to Poop

2010-11-10T19:11:00.001Z

Old Mickey 2 stoves did hanker to travel light,
a barely noticed burden, he dreamt of every night....

I lightweight little tent, to carry through the day,
was what he hoped to purchase, if possible, off Ebay....

When the parcel came, he could barely contain his delight,
A Vango Ultralite 100, it was a handsome sight...

there was a tiny problem, as it was pre-used,
it hummed a musty odour, which had to be removed....

So old Mickey 2 stoves, he did erect his tent,
and all day there he left it, allowing it to vent...

However, after lunch, he came to see his prize,
and much to his horror, he found something inside...

he'd left the door open, as you are meant to do,
but something had gained entry, and left a steaming poo...

lots of foxes round about, or so Mike had heard,
perhaps one was caught short, and so left him a turd...

always keen to help, I cast a knowing eye,
"could be fox" I impart, "they are well known to be sly..."

"but as for the reason it choose your tent, well, I really couldn't say..."
"bloody typical" moaned Mickey "my luck's always been that way..."

to make sure it was a fox, I gave a little smell,
it really had no odour, leaving one more way to tell...

I lifted aforementioned jobbie, up towards my face,
and as Mike looked on in horror, I had a little taste...

The end.

Needless to say, it wasn't fox muck, it was chocolate brownie...but Mikes face was a picture. You can't beat a good poo gag...

Scafell...

2010-11-06T01:20:00.002Z

It was early June, it was clear, and it was there....so why not?

Edale (around and about)

2010-11-02T23:19:00.002Z

Two walks over 2 days....nice place, 'picturesque' would be a apt adjective...not challenging, not massively high, but, we had lovely weather...

Ingleborough bah tat.

2010-10-17T14:53:00.001+01:00

Place: Ingleborough, Yorkshire.

Date: April 10

Conditions: Drizzle, clag, breezy, sleet, hail.

Ascent: 700+ metres (ish)

Route: Horton in Ribbledale - Sulber Nick - Ingleborough - and back again.

After parking up, me and Mickey 2 stoves, my wild camping compadre, negotiated the railway foot crossing. I really don't like crossing railway tracks. I always feel, no matter how many times I look each way and regardless of how far I can see down the track in each direction...as soon as I step out I will be obliterated by an InterCity 125 en route to the metropolis. We made it across unscathed and headed off diagonally across a pasture, skirting a peculiar looking aqua marine coloured reservoir. I hope it wasn't the drinking water for Horton, it looked like caustic soda. We trudged on towards Sulber Nick...

The most interesting feature of this neck of the woods are the Limestone pavements, apparently they are a relic of the last ice age, when ice sheets scoured off the top soil revealing the underlying limestone, which has since been weathered into cracks and crevices, quite otherworldly.

Although there are obvious paths through and around the pavements, lots of walkers like to skip along the top of them. It's actually harder than it looks and much easier to stick to the narrow path. The weather was clear at this point, and Pen-y-Ghent was clearly visible on the horizon.

Moving on we started to climb as the weather closed in dramatically, we were battered with wet hail and sleet and we stopped for a while at a ruined cottage or bothy. It seemed this was a rest point for many fell walkers over the years as they had left all their crap scattered about, tins, cans, crisp packets...wtf is wrong with some people?

As we headed up we passed a few bedraggled and tired looking youngsters, I assume they were completing the Y3P, they did not say hello. In fact, no one we met on the ascent was willing to say hello or pass the time of day. A real miserable bunch, it must be something to do with being in Yorkshire. For the record, me and M2S (which is my new acronym for Mickey 2 stoves) always say a cheery 'How do!' to everyone we meet...in fact, the more angry and fed up they look, the more likely we are to attempt to engage them in conversation. Because it's fun.

Fell runners are a tough breed. Obviously mentally ill, but tough. We met one coming down from the summit of Ingleborough as we went up....he was flying along, then he slipped, his legs went up in the air and he landed on his head, on rocks! Quick as a flash he was up again and running. As he passed me I enquired of his well-being, "I'm fine thanks" was the reply, and on he went, like a Kenyan with his pants on fire...like I said, hard as nails, but mad.

As we approached the summit the cloud cleared enough for me to be able to take these pics of the clear rock stairway onto the summit and the view back over Simon Fell..

We saw quite a few fell runners up on top, they appeared in and out of the gloom like mentally unstable, ultra fit phantoms...they made me feel a bit inadequate, me with all my winter gear, thermal underpants and hot flasks...and them all wearing what looked like ladies tights and string vests. Like I said, mad.

After performing for the inevitable twat pose at the trig point, we headed off the top to find a suitable camp spot. At this point I would point out that the walking poles in the pic are not mine, they belong to M2S. There are 2 types of people that use walking poles, boy lovers and people who's knees are made of shredded wheat. M2S falls into the second group, years of football and falling over drunk have rendered Mikes knees virtually useless, so for this reason I try to keep as strong and physically fit as I can, because I know that one day, I am going to have the give M2S a fireman's carry back down the mountain.

It started to freeze as we set up camp, so we cooked grub, made brews chatted for a bit then got our heads down, I was reading a book given to me by my Dad, it was all written in northern dialect, but despite being very northern myself, I found it tedious. So I put my earphones in and listened to Radcliffe and Marconie on Radio 2. I know both these guys are keen walkers so I thought I'd text the show and make them aware of our little adventure, amazingly, not only did we get a mention, they discussed the relative merits of each of the 3 peaks, and congratulated us on being stupid enough to be camping on a mountain in (almost) arctic conditions, Stuart Marconie sounded particularly impressed and I have decided he is my new favourite DJ.

I decided to have another brew, and so took a picture of my Trangia in action...exciting eh? I wish I hadn't had that brew, as it meant an early hours pee adventure. My least favourite activity in the whole world. Apart from that, I slept well.

We woke to freezing fog, after some breakfast grub, we broke camp and headed down. As we descended the weather went from icy cold to the more usual Yorkshire damp drizzle. We saw quite a few souls heading up as we headed down. Most would not make eye contact or answer our cheerful "good morning!" Oh well, it won't put me off, although I may alter my greeting to "f*ck you" maybe that would elicit a response...

On arrival back at Horton, I found I'd been ticketed for not paying enough into the parking meter thing. Miserable people, miserable weather, miserable parking attendants....the Yorkshire 3 M's.

Luckily, Ingleborough made it worthwhile. It's magnificent. I've camped under it's summit, and it will not be long before I return. I may even attempt the Y3P, but I'll be doing no fell running. Those guys are "away in the head" as my old Nanna used to say.

Great Moss (ear plugs optional)

2010-10-16T15:46:00.001+01:00

Place: Great Moss (upper Eskdale)

Date: Aug 09

Conditions: Cloudy, squally rain, near gale force winds.

Ascent: 500m (ish)

Route: Eskdale Hardknott Fort - Brotherilkeld Farm - upper Eskdale - Great Moss - and back again

"it says here we have to drive over Hardknott Pass" says Mickey 2 stoves, as we pootle along in my little car,

"and?" says I

"well, it's the steepest road in England" advises Mike

"so what" I replied "how bad can it be?"

hmmmm

We parked up just down from the Roman Fort, as we stepped out, we both instinctively clenched and unclenched our hands, as we both had white knuckles. I also had a job unclenching my buttocks, those hairpin bends and precipitous drops have a strange effect on the human body.

I could smell burning oil and the acrid aroma of incinerated brake pads, my old Nissan did not enjoy her first trip over the pass. We decided we'd head out towards Barrow in the morning, thus avoiding a repeat dose of the horror that is Hardknott Pass.

We got loaded up and headed off towards the small farm (Brotherilkeld) that marked the beginning of our hike onto Great Moss for an overnighter. We'd decided that if there was to be a weather window in the morning (it looked unlikely) we would do an early a.m. ascent of Scafell Pike...it was in the hands of the weather Gods.

For a couple of miles this is a very pleasant wander along side the river Esk, there are high crags either side and the walking is a gentle meander upwards. The crags offered us a modicum of shelter from the worst of the weather.

We spotted Peregrine Falcons but very few other fell walkers, this really is a place neglected by the majority of visitors to the National Park. After an hour of wandering we reached a drystone sheep shelter, here I found a very attractive G-string hanging on the gate....it would appear we were not the first to pass this way! We toyed with the idea of tying our own underpants to the gate, our version of the prayer flags you see at Everest Base camp, a sort of offering to the Gods maybe. However, had the Gods seen the state of my undercrackers after Hardknott pass, they would've thrown lightning bolts at me. So we decided against it and moved on.

Just up from the sheep shelter we crossed a small stone bridge over the river. This is when the real climb started, it's a lung busting, thigh burner that takes you up through the narrow Esk gorge where the river has cut a deep gauge in the rock over millennia, it's an eerie place and it's advisable not to get to close to the edge.

The climb levels off as you catch your first glimpse of Great Moss, following the river to the left, you are greeted by the Scafell Massive's brooding presence, overlooking the vast expanse of Great Moss. It's a wonderful place, a hanging valley, up in the air. It really is like the land that time forgot. Unfortunately, the weather was really closing in as we passed Cam Spout (see pic below)

We walked as far as the foot of Esk Hause at the head of the valley, the wind was battering us and it was getting late. We tracked back and found a decent pitch next to the river. After pitching the tents and putting a brew on, I decided to wash my feet in the stream while I waited for the water to boil. My feet were unusually sore after the days walk, dipping them in the upper Esk was a welcome relief.

You can see on the pic below, the clag was scudding in on the wind, actually, it just added to the ambience of the place...

Mikey 2 stoves (see pic below for explanation of nickname) has a tent with a square footprint, it really is a very good Vaude 2 manner, however, as Mike found out that night, it has a tendency to think it's a hovercraft when the wind gets under it. Design fault? I dunno, but Mike had to sleep all night with arms and legs spread out like a starfish, just to avoid being lifted up and smashed onto the southern flank of Bowfell. An uncomfortable night for sure, even more so with the constant noisy flapping of tent material interrupting his already fitfull sleep. And his Trangia would not work in the wind...that must be a first.

As for me, well I slept like the proverbial baby. My '£24.99 from Argos' tent took everything the storm could throw at it and did not budge, even the wind noise was defeated by my '99p for three pairs' ear plugs from Boots....so, that's today's tip from Owdbum,

foam earplugs = restful nights sleep

you heard it here first, folks.

The weather was still atrocious in the morning so we decided to have breakfast and head back down rather than attempt the beast that is England' highest mountain. At the foot of Hardknott Pass I made Mike pose for this picture in front of the signs that warn motorists about the delights that await them on the pass. I think the large exclamation mark means 'caution' or maybe 'hazard' but I like to think it means 'ohmyfuckingGodturnbacknoworyoumightdie'...it would be more accurate.

That's it for now Amigos, until next time.

"....it tastes like raisins"

2010-10-15T23:50:00.001+01:00

Place: Langdale Pikes, Lake District
Date: January 09
Conditions: fine, clear, freezing
Ascent: roughly 800m
Route: NT carpark @ New Dungeon Gill - Stickle Tarn - Pavey Ark - Harrison Stickle - Pike 'o Stickle - Loft Crag - New Dungeon Gill

The Langdale valley is a lovely place, surrounded on 3 sides by the Langdale Pikes, Pike of Blisco, Crinkle Crags and Bowfell. We found the National trust campsite, and pitched up. Mickey 2 stoves was having trouble getting his tent pegs in as the ground was like concrete, so was I. We got the tents sorted after some swearing and battering each peg to death with rocks. Here is a picture of the tent I use for base camping, it is a Vango Hydra 200+, it has got a ridiculously high spec and does not move regardless of the hoolie that may be blowing. Also, I got it for next to nothing off ebay. I don't do full price for anything.

There were maybe 20 other tents on site as we set off towards the New Dungeon Gill to start the ascent. As we headed up along side the gill, we spotted a man and woman hiding behind a large boulder, they may have been taking photographs, but I like to think they were high altitude doggers....it's more interesting.
The rocky path wound on upwards alongside the Gill, until we reached Stickle Tarn, where we stopped for lunch.

There was a slightly odd moment at this point, shortly after we started lunch. A young lad appeared wearing board shorts and a t-shirt (the temp was in the minus) he stopped for a rest at the tarn. A few yards away from him, a young couple dressed in full winter gear were walking about on the badly cracked and faulted frozen tarn...in brand new crampons!...we studied these two, and the young lad...It just goes to show there are many different ways to be an idiot.

We moved on, as we walked we toyed with the idea of attempting Jacks Rake, which is a grade 1 scramble up the face of Pavey Ark, which is the crag over looking Stickle Tarn, we wimped out. Mikey 2 stoves may have attempted Jacks Rake had his Dutch courage not leaked out of his faulty hip flask and all over his fleece on the ascent. He smelled like he'd been marinaded in Brandy, I reckon if I'd lit a match, he would have gone up like a flambéed pancake. Anyway... we headed up the rough path on the northern shoulder. It was hard going but well worth it as the views were excellent. We had a rest at the top, there were some blokes there chatting amongst themselves and wondering about the height of Harrison Stickle, they must have been impressed when I interrupted their conversion, with the exact height in metres...and feet!...They had no idea I'd just read it on my route card when they weren't looking. Sometimes I just can't help being a dick.

We moved off and took in Harrison Stickle then trekked on over to Pike o Stickle, Mike didn't fancy another scramble so I went up Pike o Stickle on my own, the views from the top are absolutely outstanding and I would recommend that everyone should make the effort, if they are in this neck of the woods.

On the descent Mike was accosted by a herdwick ram...it ignored me, but took a shine to Mickey 2 stoves. Several times Mike asked why the sheep was 'going' for him, I really had no idea, I assured him it was just being territorial, however, on reflection, I think it may have been a secret drinker, and wanted to suck his fleece....anything is possible in my head.
We made it back down to the carpark and headed back to the campsite. We were surprised to see there was only our tents and 2 other tents on site. We virtually had the place to ourselves....well... us and the rabbits, millions of the suckers... it would not have surprised me if I'd unzipped my tent to find the teletubbies in there eating toast.
After some grub, I went to wash and brush my teeth in the shower block, I left Mike mulling over which stove to cook his dinner on. After chilling for a bit, we went to the Old Dungeon Gill for a pint. The barstaff are notoriously rude here, which I found hugely entertaining. They took a particular dislike to this man...

Ok...it wasn't really Jack Douglas of 'Carry on...' fame, but he looked like him, and he had a twitch almost as annoying as his. He winked at me several times when asking me where we had walked that day....and he was from Bristol, fuck me, he had nothing going for him. Things came to a head when Jack decided to poke the fire, I thought the barman was going to tear his throat out...customers are not allowed to poke the fire in the Old Dungeon Gill, and boy did Bristol Jack find out the hard way.

After being bollocked by the barman, Jack slunk back to his seat and became involved in a discussion with a weathered old fell walker over the relative merits of hand-held torches and head torches. I find shouty, rude people hilarious, but despite us moaning to him about the price of the ale and asking if we were allowed to poke the fire, we couldn't get the angry barman going again. I think he knew we were trying to get him at it, so didn't rise to it. Oh well, never mind.

After several pints of Old Peculiar we could stand the excitement no longer, so we headed off back to camp.

Back in the tent, I decided on a night cap, hot chocolate with whisky sounded like a great idea, so on went the stove, I was pleased with the result and had the following shouted conversation with Mickey 2 stoves, who was suffering from indigestion in his tent.

"Mike!"

"what?"

"hot ch..chocolate n whishky..."

"what about it?"

"it...hmmm...tashtes like...hic...errm....RAISINS!"

"ok"

"I SAID IT TASTES LIKE...RAISINS"

"I heard you"

"I SAID RAISINS!"

"yeah, raisins..."

"DO Y'WANT SOME?"

"no"

"fuck..."

"what's up?"

"I've spilled it"

"knob..."

We left fairly early the next morning. Mikes stomach rumbled all the way home as, apparently, some birds had been in his tent and stolen his breakfast, he was very upset about this. Also, we were quite tired as a UFO woke us both up in the early hours of the morning...but that's a story for another time.

OWDBUM

big hill - small energy

A life divided....

So much to discover...

somebody turn it off...

almost, but...

a bit of aimless wandering...

I was eating a...

Comment integrity...

Hungover...and out.

"don't trip over the dead cow..."

no matter how bad...

A kerfuffle in the hen house...

For no other reason than...

forget what I said before...

Catch up time...

Brocken Spectator...

Fig Roll Friday...

small films that inspire...

Gear review.

Moral responsibility?

Halton Gill, BBQ tempation, and beyond...

Tarp....or tent?

All in a good cause...

This...is what I'm talking about.

TGO kit challenge?

Loughrigg, it's not big....

Premier high level walk / giggle fest.

thrift shop (or gift shop?)

It's like having a split personality...

minor cable channel spits out a gem...

xmas?

Great Langdale snow malarky...

I'm not religious....but,

Skiddaw and the mysterious Welshmen.

Kirkpatrick tells it how it is...

The Antrim coast...

An Ode to Poop

Scafell...

Edale (around and about)

Recommended reading for idiots ( a.k.a. winter wildcampers)

Ingleborough bah tat.

Great Moss (ear plugs optional)

"....it tastes like raisins"