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.
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.
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.
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.
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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