A Personal Record of my Walks around the World
It’s a promising morning, the sun is shining and blue sky is all around. As I set off from Sykeside campsite I notice a band of cloud lingering over the higher fells. I figure however that the sun will have long burned this off by the time I get up there. My intention today is to walk up Gray Crag, Thornthwaite Crag, Stony Cove Pike and finish on Hartsop Dodd.
Continue reading “A walk up Gray Crag and Thornthwaite Crag”
My wife and I have very different interests and hobbies. She is a creative, an artist. Part of an online Art Journaling community that collaborate and create elaborate pieces of Scrapbooking art. I on the other hand prefer the silence, solitude and simplicity of putting one foot in front of the other in the great outdoors, the sky above me and the earth below me. Occasionally, we venture into the other’s territory. I will go to the ballet where I will understand nothing of the subtle storytelling conveyed without words through the medium of dance. And she will join me in a walk up a hill, so long as it is not too big a hill, or too steep a climb.
Continue reading “A short walk up Hallin Fell”
When I leave my warm sleeping bag and look at the thermometer it tells me that the inside of the van is -4°c. I knew it was getting cold in the middle of the night as my ears started to ache and I had to put my sleeping bag hood over my head. This is something I’ve only ever done a few times before, when sleeping in a tent at 15,000ft, you can read about those occasions here and here if you want to. When I check the outside temperature it’s -10°c so I know it’s going to be a cold walk up my designated hills of the day, Sour Howes and Sallows.
Continue reading “A freezing walk up Sour Howes and Sallows”
I knew that I had to get away before Christmas otherwise the festive season with its activities, indulgences and its unique ability to warp time so you lose track of what day of the week it is would arrive and it would be New Year before normal life resumed. Thankfully, a period of very cold but dry and settled weather was forecast and I took advantage of it to head north, arriving at Troutbeck just as the last rays of watery sunshine were vanishing over the western horizon and the temperature started to plummet. When darkness fell, the clear star studded night sky sucked the last vestiges of any heat out of the ground.
Continue reading “A walk up Wansfell and Wansfell Pike”
It’s the second day of my stay in the little hamlet of Sadgill and I had another silent and restful nights sleep in the van. Yesterday afternoon I walked down Gatescarth pass and this morning I’ll be retracing my steps as I make my way to Harter fell. From there I’ll essentially be walking along eastern section of the Kentmere horseshoe taking in Kentmere Pike and Shipman Knotts before following the old cart track back to Sadgill.
Continue reading “A Harter Fell Round from Sadgill”
I arrive at the little hamlet of Sadgill at the far end of Longsleddale just before the sun sets and have the parking area to myself. This long, picturesque valley is situated right on the fringes of Lakeland. Remote, unfrequented and unspoiled there are none of the usual tourist trappings that attract thousands to the honey pots not that far away across the hills. No cafés or gift shops, no zip wires or yurts, no phone signal, just sheep and peace and quiet. And I’m pretty sure the residents like and want to keep it that way. Just before I turn in, I step out of the van and am greeted by total silence and a blackness I have rarely, if ever encountered in this country. Above a cloudless sky all the stars of the heavens were twinkling and the Milky Way stretched from one horizon to the other.
Continue reading “Grey Crag and Tarn Crag from Sadgill”
The low morning sun is glistening off the still waters of Haweswater and the bright green evergreens, standing tall like soldiers on a parade ground are reflecting on the water and forming a green sandwich filling between the dark blue of the lake below and the light blue of the cloudless skies above. All was peaceful in my little camper spot last night, I had it to myself, drinking cold beer as I watched the sun go down over Kidsty Pike, which happens to be the first objective of today’s walk. It’s going to be a long one, a circular walk taking in Kidsty Pike, High Raise, Rampsgill Head, The Knott, High Street and finally Mardale Ill Bell. Six tops on what is forecast to be a hot day, so I pack plenty of liquid.
Continue reading “A High Street Round”
Endings and Beginnings are, as Mufasa might say all part of the great circle of life. My journey through Book One, The Eastern Fells is over, a great experience with memories to last a lifetime and today, I begin my journey through Book Two, The Far Eastern fells. I’ve been looking forward to walking these hills, tucked away on the edge of Lakeland, far away from the honey pots that attract many visitors. Quiet, peaceful, with unfrequented and unworn paths, maybe even grass to walk on and a deer to see. I have thirty six hills to enjoy and I am looking forward to it.
Continue reading “Selside Pike and Branstree”
It’s the Queens Platinum Jubilee Weekend and Seventy years of Her Majesty on the Throne is being marked by street parties up and down the land and a double Bank Holiday. Even the weather is paying homage with warmth and sunshine. Not one for street parties, or pomp and circumstance I have managed to squeeze into Gillside campsite in Glenridding, the perfect starting point to climb the remaining two hills of Book One, Birkhouse Moor and Catstyecam and bring my journey through Book One, The Eastern Fells Fells to its conclusion.
Continue reading “Birkhouse Moor and Catstyecam”
Gazing out at the glorious views of Lakeland from the summit of Great Rigg I feel a little melancholic. This is my first mountain summit since turning sixty. I remember well my first trip to the Lake District. In 1983, aged twenty one, a mate and I drove over from Yorkshire where I was stationed at the time. We were with a couple of girls we fancied in a very old VW Beetle owned by one the girls. We walked around Keswick before heading up to Watendlath for a dip in the tarn and then a walk up High Tove. On the way back to Yorkshire the Beetle broke down several times and had to be coaxed back to life with a bit of WD40. When you’re 21 thinking about being 60, well you may as well be thinking about being dead. But here I am, very much alive, still climbing hills 39 years later.
Continue reading “Great Rigg, Heron Pike and Nab Scar”
