walking | Jims Walking Journey

Great Crag and Grange Fell from Rosthwaite

Over the last few years I have become familiar with every twist and turn of the A592 and A591 as I have tramped over the Eastern and Far Eastern Fells. Today, I’m driving down the B5289 into lovely Borrowdale. Excited to be making progress I feel like an early pioneer heading slowly westwards into new territory. And road numbers aren’t the only change. I survived on mostly van meals in the more remote fells but the fleshpots of Keswick and Grasmere are already tempting me with easy access to beer and steak, coffee and cake. Like Odysseus I must resist their siren call if I’m not to finish the Central Fells heavier than when I started.

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Four Wainwright’s from Grasmere

I’ve had company over the last couple of days. A Robin arrives regularly at the van door looking for food and then repays my benevolence by demanding that I get off its territory. He needn’t worry as I’ll be gone today and he’s fatter than when I arrived. The murk of yesterday has gone and I can see today’s walk from my parking spot. The long southern ridge leading up Steel Fell, the curve around the head of Greenburn leading to Calf Crag, Gibson Knott and finally Helm Crag all look inviting in the morning sunshine. The most dangerous part will be crossing the A591.

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A walk up Tarn Crag (Easedale)

I have some personal rules which guide my journey through the Wainwright’s (here) one of these ‘I will get a view from each top’ has already entailed some return visits over the first two books. The awful weather and cancelled plans over the first months of the year have got me thinking that I may have to take more risks with the forecast if I am ever to finish my Wainwright journey before I go to rest with my ancestors. For a man who likes certainty and all his ducks in order it’s an uncomfortable prospect, but here I am, heading up Far Easedale looking up at a cloud topped Tarn Crag hoping that by the time I get there it will be clear. I can hear the roulette wheel spinning.

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A walk up High Rigg

From the campsite I can see a fair chunk of today’s walk from the van window. A short climb up through trees to a undulating ridge that eventually leads on to the summit of High Rigg. Stopping at High Bridge End gives me the rare treat of being able to walk from the campsite two days running and saves the hassle of packing the van up before setting off. In fact the Central Fells, being quite compact means I’m going to be able to do this often whilst working my way through book three. Life’s simple pleasures, or alternatively, simple things please simple minds, take your pick.

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Four Wainwright’s from Thirlmere Dam

Commitments and the never ending rain which makes planning clear summit days difficult have kept me away from the hills so far this year. But the weather seems to have finally turned and it looks like spring has arrived, soon to be merged straight into summer. As I park up at High Bridge End the sun is shining, lambs are gamboling in the fields, new life abounds and a chirpy chaffinch heralds my arrival back to Lakeland. The air is fresh and clean and the mountains green and lush. I’ve missed the reassuring presence of these hills and it’s good to be back.

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A walk along the South Rim of the Grand Canyon

‘Don’t worry Mom, I know all about cannibalism, I saw it on TV’.

Like Danny in The Shining, it’s all too easy in a world of Ultra HD, Wide Screen and 4K to think we have seen and know all about the world and its wonders because we’ve seen it on our televisions. Thankfully there are still plenty of wonders that need to be seen in the flesh to be believed and experienced in all their fullness. Places that can take our breath away and make us stand in awe in their presence, silent and humbled by our smallness and their greatness. The Grand Canyon is one of those marvellous wonders of the world.

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A walk from Rievaulx Abbey to Helmsley

‘Everywhere peace, everywhere serenity, and a marvelous freedom from the tumult of the world.’
Saint Aelred

Rievaulx Abbey sits on the slopes of a quiet valley nestled in peaceful woodland with the River Rye flowing gently past as it has done for centuries. In its heyday it was home to about 640 Cistercian monks who devoted themselves to God following a daily routine of prayer, meditation, reading and church services. They also reared sheep and diverted the river to assist with smelting iron ore. This made Rievaulx one of the wealthiest Abbey’s in England in the 13th century. It was in this hard working, simple spiritual life that Saint Aelred found his peace and freedom from the tumult of the world. Eight hundred years later his words still resonate with many in the modern world who are finding themselves increasingly busy but less fulfilled and would love to find their own peaceful corner of serenity in a ever tumultuous and uncertain world.

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Walking with giants, the coastal redwoods of northern California

Reading the news recently that there are now more redwoods in the U.K. than in California (read here) reminded me of my own encounter with these magnificent giants of the natural world on an RV tour of the seven most western states in the contiguous USA some years ago. Commitments, coughs and colds seem to be conspiring to keep me away from Lakeland at the moment so I figure now is as good a time as any to finally write up and share some of these RV experiences that have sat gathering dust in the bottom drawer…

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A walk up Carrauntoohil, Ireland’s Highest Mountain

MacGillycuddy’s Reeks may sound like a character out of a Roald Dahl book but is in fact an extensive mountain range in County Kerry, Ireland and the home to Ireland’s highest peaks including its highest, Carrauntoohil. The far south west of Ireland is a little out of the way for an Englishman but a road trip around the ‘Emerald Isle’ with some friends provides an opportunity, should the timetable and the changeable Kerry weather oblige to climb this mountain.

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Tour du Mont Blanc Day Eleven – Tré Le Champ to Refuge la Flégère

Stepping onto the wooden balcony that adjoins our room at 6am all is silent in the valley. The cool, still morning air fills my nostrils with the scent of pines and wood smoke. Dew glistens on the grass in the small camping field next to the refuge and people in the tents are stirring. I stand for a while in the stillness, looking up at Mont Blanc and reflecting on our walk so far. We have seen the mountain we are walking around from different aspects, from different countries and in different weather. It has been the central hub and ever present reminder of the reason for our journey, our very own ‘Tour du Mont Blanc‘. Today is our penultimate day and it promises to be a good one.

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Tour du Mont Blanc Day Ten – Trient to Tre Le Champ

Today we have the third and final border crossing of our Tour du Mont Blanc when we say goodbye to the forests of Switzerland and cross back into France at Col de Balme. It’s a Grand Old Duke of York walking day, a long steep walk up followed by a long steep walk down. Hill walking pared down to its simplest form, you’re going up or you’re going down, just keep putting one foot in front of the other and don’t forget to breathe. The reward for all this effort is we’ll get our first sight of Mont Blanc from the French side and we’ll also see the Chamonix valley, the end of our journey for the first time.

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Tour du Mont Blanc Day Nine – Champex to Trient

When we step outside to boot up for day nine of our Tour du Mont Blanc there are ominous dark clouds drifting through the valley. A blanket of grey covers the mountain tops and mist hangs ethereally around the pines surrounding Auberge Gîte Bon Abri. Just as we are about to start walking the heavens open and a torrential downpour sends us for cover under the giant gazebo in the grounds of the Auberge. It’s going to be one of those days.

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A walk up Puig del Vilar, Mallorca

I am back for a second attempt at walking up Puig del Vilar. My first, halfhearted and unprepared effort was abandoned after having my legs scratched by thorn bushes and my hands scraped on the serrated, sandpaper like limestone that forms the Serra de Tramuntana mountain range in Mallorca. Thrust up from the seabed by the collision of Africa 170 million years ago and never ground smooth by any ice age, walking in these rough and rugged hills can be unforgiving, especially in the blazing sunshine.

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A walk up Walla Crag and Bleaberry Fell.

It’s the second day of a settled weather pattern that has brought crisp, calm and freezing weather to Lakeland. There is not a breath of wind and the bright sun shines down from a cloudless azure sky. The air clarity is as clear as crystal. It’s pretty much perfect walking weather and I’m looking forward to my first walk in the Central Fells, a walk up Walla Crag and Bleaberry Fell.

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Beda Fell and Angletarn Pikes from Patterdale

Winter has arrived in Lakeland. Which is a day early for the Meteorological calendar and three weeks early if you’re waiting for the Astronomical calendar. But the evidence of one’s own eyes doesn’t deceive and the hard frost, frozen water and bone chilling temperature is telling me it’s time wrap up warm for the next three months. Today’s walk has an end of term feel to it as I’ll complete my journey through Wainwright’s Book Two, The Far Eastern Fells with a walk up Beda Fell and Angletarn Pikes from Patterdale.

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Tour du Mont Blanc Day Five – Rifugio Elisabetta to Courmayeur

Dawn brings with it another gloriously sunny day on the Tour du Mont Blanc. We are now in the Italian Alps and the rising sun is shining directly down Val Veny casting long shadows and turning the rivulets and pools of Lac de Combal into silver ribbons and mirrors laid out on the valley floor. Our stay at the iconic Rifugio Elisabetta has been a good one and the experience is stored in the memory for future happy recall.

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Cloudbusting in Kentmere

It’s been a while. My summer has been spent elsewhere but the seasons wait for no one and in my absence autumn has arrived. Golden yellow leaves, having enjoyed a brief summer of life are falling to become mulch and then food for leaves waiting to be born. In the cycle of the seasons the land is going to sleep, preparing and protecting itself for the cold dark months ahead. There has been rain, lots of it and the ground is sodden underfoot. Moisture hangs in the air and I can smell the scent of Lakeland on the fresh morning breeze, moss and manure, wood smoke rising from the cottages, comforting and familiar. It’s good to be back.

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Tour du Mont Blanc Day Four – Les Chapieux to Rifugio Elisabetta

The small village of Les Chapieux sits at the western most point of the Tour du Mont Blanc. Although it’s elevation is 1549m (5,082ft), far higher than any land in the U.K. it is surrounded on all sides by higher mountain ranges giving it a somewhat enclosed, protected feeling. It has a shop with attached pizzeria, two functional but not luxurious Auberges, a tourist information office and a large Aire de camping car.

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Tour du Mont Blanc Day Three – Refuge de Nant Borrant to Les Chapeiux

If day one of the Tour du Mont Blanc was an hors d’oeuvre and day two a starter, day three is the 16oz steak and chips. Today we finally enter the land of big mountains with two high cols, the Col du Bonhomme and the Col de La Croix Bonhomme to get over and one one iconic mountain hut, Refuge Col de La Croix Bonhomme to visit.

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Tour du Mont Blanc Day Two – Refuge du Fioux to Refuge de Nant Borrant

The Tour du Mont Blanc and the Alps in general are perfect for hut to hut walking. In France they are generally called Refuges, in Italy Rifugios and in Switzerland Auberges. They are often located right in the heart of the mountains among the most spectacular scenery and provide you with dinner, breakfast and a bed for the night. They also have showers, of varying degrees of efficiency. Last nights was by means of a token, which gave me maybe fifty seconds of mildly warm water before stopping altogether whilst in mid soap. We shared a room with an older German couple, the lady spoke reasonable English, the man none, which matches the extent of my German.

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