Monday on the Chase

The weather was once again obliging with clear skies as we set out from our usual car park onto Cannock Chase to walk the same 15 mile circuit as last weekend.

What a lovely day to be out!

In the interests of carrying a reasonable amount of weight in my pack without having to carry my actual backpacking gear, in amongst the bath towels, bars of chocolate and snacks I had secreted a flask of water.

It was about 5 miles in, at the high point of that area of the Chase that we stopped at a convenient bench for chocolate and coffee. With the views extending out before us, it was a fine way to be spending a Monday morning. I gave a fleeting thought to my past life of sitting in an office at such times of day!

More quiet trails (we encountered a few dog walkers but otherwise it was uncommonly quiet) led us another few miles later to the Visitor Centre where we had stopped last weekend.

It was lunchtime and I was hungry enough to eat a scabby dog. I had oatcakes and mushroom pate in my bag. The Visitor Centre sells baked potatoes, cake and very large mugs of tea, all at reasonable prices.

It was no contest. We had a hot lunch in the warm café, before setting out just after the only group of ramblers that we encountered all day. I’m sure that the food had sunk straight to my legs, because it took them a while after the stop to accept that I really was going to carry on walking for quite a while yet!

A five minute violent shower of hail gave an unexpected interlude in a day that was otherwise a clear skied day, and it was the weather that accompanied us over to what I find to be the ugliest part of the Chase.

It shouldn’t be ugly. However, there is one particular track in this area that seems to be the fly-tipping capital of the Chase. Rubbish, and particularly tyres, abound completely ruining what should be part of a pleasant walk. It’s probably why we only venture over to that area when we’re really on a training mission.


It's bad and it's ugly

With everywhere being so incredibly quiet we felt safe venturing again into the mountain biking area; we made it through unscathed, with the only biker we saw being dismounted.


Arriving back at the car it was nice to note that I felt much fresher and fitter than I had at the same point last weekend (thanks in part to the footwear, mayhaps?). A quick time/distance calculation told me that we had set an unnecessarily fast pace and I again forewarned Husband that I will not be keeping such a pace up for our LEJOG!

We set off for home having walked 26.5 miles in 26.5 hours. Tuesday was to be a relatively lazy day…

Training Walks: Last Week and This

I’ve not mentioned a training walk for a couple of weeks, but rest assured that we have been making a bit of an effort.

A week last Sunday we set out onto Cannock Chase with the aim of completing 15 miles with our loaded packs.

We didn’t do anything novel or exciting, but then a training walk doesn’t demand those traits (call me lazy, but a walk that doesn’t require any navigation is fine by me for such purposes).

The first five miles were part of one of our regular circuits but we deviated to continue along the Heart of England Way where we usually would have turned off. Then we wandered over to what in my mind is ‘the other side of the Chase’, that being a particular area that we don’t often visit.

For the first hour or so of our walk the weather had been fine and I was ruing my decision (based on the forecast and how the day looked) to wear full Paramo. My, I was hot! Then, as we stopped for snacks at Stepping Stones it was as if someone had turned off the lights and the heating with it. The early afternoon suddenly looked deceptively like sundown and with remarkable speed all of the families and dog walkers disappeared.

Not long afterwards, the rain started. It stayed with us on and off for the rest of the day. Given the fall in temperature that accompanied the rain I was, on balance, most pleased to have selected the Paramo ensemble.

A special treat was had as we passed one of the Visitor Centres: tea and fruit cake. It was almost enough to put a spring into my step as we set back out into the rain!

A modest circuit was completed on ‘the other side of the Chase’, including an accidental passing into an area reserved for kamikaze mountain bikers. Big signs warned us that bikers were liable to emerge onto the path from both sides without warning and at speed. Having seen some of the trails and jumps, I’m glad that it was quiet as we swiftly passed through.

The route delivered us back to the car just before dusk having walked 14.5 miles with a surprising 2000 feet of ascent.
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For this Sunday’s walk we went for the environmentally friendly option of walking from the house (admittedly that was largely dictated by the late hour at which we became free to set out and not wanting to waste daylight by travelling anywhere).

It was one of our usual circuits of farmland about which I often struggle to make any new observations. Today’s notable point was when, crossing fields on which we have never before seen a single person, we found ourselves with a hoard of 20 or so Ramblers heading in our direction. “Hello”, “Hello”, “Yes, lovely isn’t it”, “Hello” was the theme for a while there.

Otherwise things were pretty much as they usually are.

The stats were 12 miles with no ascent worthy of mention, but completed in lovely weather.

We had good intentions to build on this, with our sights set on a 15-miler today. Details to follow.

Blisters

I’m sure that we all have our various ways of dealing with blisters if they strike. Personally I try to avoid them, but if they do strike then I’m a fan of Compeed Plisters*. Other people think that Compeed are the work of the devil and swear by other remedies, be they simple or proprietary.

What was the common remedy before plasters though?

In the recent exercise of clearing out my late Mother’s house, we came across a book that gave an insight into the 19th century cure for the malady. It was a book that neither I nor my sister had previously seen, entitled ‘Wesley’s Primative Physic’ (published in London in 1848).

According to the inscription in the front it was given to my Father and belonged to his Great-Grandfather.

The first half of the book is dedicated to giving remedies for various ailments, both common and otherwise. The one that caught our eye was that for blisters (although there are plenty of other gems in there too).

The advice given in this 1848 work was thus:

'Blisters:
On the feet, occasioned by walking, are cured by drawing a needle full of worsted through them; clip it off at both ends and leave it till the skin peels off.’

I’m sure that it’s sound advice, but all the same I think that I’ll stick with the Compeed rather than seeking out some good old worsted…'

(*Most people would probably call them 'Blister Plasters', but to me they're 'Plisters')

PHD Minim 300 Sleeping Bag

You may recall that on 21 February I ordered a Minim 300 sleeping bag in the PHD sale. I’d ummed and ahhed about it a bit and finally came to the conclusion that I may as well order one so that I could have a look and a feel.

Today it arrived.

Five minutes later, completely forgetting that I was supposed to be cleaning the house, I was lying inside of it on the living room floor. At first sight it had seemed too small for my 5’5” height, even though the short size says it’s good to 5’7”. It turns out that it fits me perfectly (bonus: no carrying around an unnecessary chunk of bag!).

Then I went and dug out Husband’s Rab Quantum 250 for comparison purposes.

Then I stuffed it into the stuff sack. Then I weighed it (566g without stuff sack).

The result of all that was that it has made a very favourable impression and I will be keeping it.

Comparing it with our other sleeping bags (for the record, in the down department, I’ve got a Marmot Angel Fire and a Rab Quantum 400W; Husband has a Marmot Helium and the aforementioned Rab Quantum 250) it seems to me that it should be warmer than its rating.

Obviously the proof of the pudding will be in the eating, but I see no reason why it won’t be eminently suitable for a walk from April through July.

My only complaint (okay, maybe niggle is a better word because the solution is simple) is the stuff sack. All over PHD’s website they say: we make our stuff sacs big enough to allow fairly easy stuffing rather than reducing the bag to the tightest minimum. What air is left in the packed item will easily be compressed out of it, if you are squashing it into a small space in your rucsack. Tiny stuff sacs look impressive: but unless you are a sac-wrestling fan, fighting the gear into them day after day can be an unncecessary chore.

So, why did my sleeping bag come with the exact same size as stuff-sack as they sent me with my Minim down jacket? I did manage to squeeze the sleeping bag into it, but it was definitely a bag-wrestling experience.


Next to the Rab Quantum 250 my new PHD Minim 300 looks baby sized!

LEJOG Fundraising

We decided quite a while ago that in doing our LEJOG walk we would try to raise a bit of money for MacMillan Cancer Support.

Although there may appear to be a particular personal link here, with both of my parents having died of cancer in the last four years (aged 59 and 61) and two other members of my close family having been diagnosed with cancer in the last year (my sister aged just 36), the reality is that none of them has directly used the services of a cancer charity, although undoubtedly they have all benefited indirectly from their work.

Rather my reason for choosing a cancer charity is that statistics say that 1 in 3 people will develop cancer during their lifetime. So, the sad fact is that if you don’t already know someone who has benefited from the work of a cancer charity, you probably will sometime soon. With the disease affecting so many people, a charity that makes life better for a lot of those people seems to me to be a worthy cause.

Last Wednesday we had a very useful meeting with the Fundraising Manager at our local MacMillan office, who will be publicising our walk on our behalf and who has given us lots of useful advice. We came away with a collection bucket and shaker tin (which will not be accompanying us on the walk for obvious reasons, but may come in handy beforehand), as well as t-shirts and polythene ponchos that are so light that we both involuntarily went ‘ooh’ as we picked them up!

I’m now in the midst of designing a panel to go on the back of our backpacks to further advertise the fundraising cause.

Finally, I’ve now set up our justgiving fundraising page, which you’ll find at www.justgiving.com/walkingbritain.

I’d be most pleased if any of you has a few spare coins that you’d like to donate to the cause.

And just as a cliffhanger, there is one more thing that I will be doing before (but related to) this walk which is sponsorship worthy … but for now I’m going to keep that under my hat … oooh, the suspense!

LEJOG Preparation - Progress Report

Countdown
It’s now just 51 days until we set out from Land’s End! Excitement and trepidation are growing.

Food
The dehydrator has been whirring almost non-stop. I even got up at 2.30am on two consecutive mornings just to move things around in the machine. Yesterday morning I cooked a stew before breakfast time so that it would be dried by the end of the day. My life is being consumed by food and the drying thereof.

The outcome of this effort is that we now have 40 meals dehydrated (2 got eaten in the last week and two more new recipes need testing out of the current total). 70-80 to go…

Kit
Last week saw us indulge in a bit of pre-LEJOG gear shopping in Keswick and Ambleside (Husband was rather embarrassed that the shopping trip involve me repeatedly whipping out a set of digital scales and weighing various things; seems like a perfectly reasonable thing to do to me!). Here are the headlines in brief. For the gear-freaks amongst you I’ll try to elaborate on some of these separately sometime soon:

Feet: We now both have new boots (phew!), but for me socks have been causing a bit of unexpected trouble.

Legs: I finally have new waterproof trousers (Berghaus Paclite, which in my size weigh a miniscule 190g). I actually ordered these over t’internet as although I tried them on in Gaynor Sports in Ambleside, they sell them for 10% cheaper (even when taking P&P into account) if you order online than if you buy in store. Seems a bit silly to me, but it was no trouble to order them when I got home, so that’s what I did.

I’m still umming and aahing at some length over my non-waterproof-trouser strategy.

Top: Husband now has one of the superlight Icebreaker merino short sleeved t-shirts. These 150g/m ones seem to be thin enough not to overheat in summer. For my sake, I’m hoping that it will prove to be as smell-free as the thicker ones; it’s got to be an improvement on a smelly-Helly!

Pack: For the last couple of years I’ve been using the same orange plastic rucksack liner that weighs about 75g and cost £1.99. It’s not showing any hints of wearing out, ripping or holing, but it just doesn’t seem right to set out on such a long outing using such a low-tech waterproofing solution inside of my pack (particularly with the lack of a closure mechanism). So, I finally bit the bullet and bought a lightweight waterproof sil-nylon liner. It also weighs 75g, but has the (apparent) advantage of being tougher; moreover, it has a roll-top closure. There’s not much more that can be said about a liner is there?

Sleeping Bag: I blame a chap (chapess?) by the name of Trentham Walker, who left a comment on my blog telling me to stay strong and resist the PHD Minim 300 bag. The confession that he (she?) owns 4 down bags and 1 synthetic didn’t help me to stay strong. You see, I only own two down bags at the moment (plus three synthetic, but for various reasons, they don’t count). Suddenly I felt deficient in the down bag department!

Okay, so in reality there was rather more to my decision than that, but this week I did succumb and order a short Drishell Minim 300 (the main justification being the Drishell outer). I’m not yet entirely convinced that I’ll keep it, but having talked to PHD I thought that it was at least worth a look and a feel.

Maps
Things were going well with printing out the maps for the Scottish section of our walk. Alas, then the printer ran out of ink (more precisely, it ran out of blue, which is a bit of an impediment when printing maps, particularly of the wetter parts of Scotland). The ink situation has now been rectified, and printing has re-commenced. I may even get it finished this weekend – then I will start marking on the location of campsites.

Wendy's Third Outing

Glossary: For those who aren't already acquainted with her, Wendy is our Stephenson’s Warmlite 2R; a very lightweight and very sturdy tent.

Recap: Wendy’s first outing was on a campsite in North Yorkshire on a very cold and still night. Her performance was not assisted by a bad bit of pitching (well, it was her first outing and she needed practice at getting herself right) and by morning the inside was running with condensation, both on the single and double skin sections. We conceded that it wasn’t a very fair test as in the exceptionally still conditions most tents would have struggled to remain dry.

Her second outing was on a weekend of wet and stormy weather in Wales. We were jolly impressed at her stability and condensation was not a problem on this occasion. In fact, the only problem was that we had pitched in an incredibly bad position (the pitch having turned into a pond overnight) leading to us waking up in a pool of water. As much as I cursed Wendy when the water was first discovered, she was soon forgiven when the cause was discovered.

Latest Test: Her third outing was once again in very cold and quite calm conditions on 13/14 February. This time we chose a good pitch and we pitched her well (she’s getting used to the process now) and then we did everything we could to minimise condensation: we cooked well away from her and we sat outside until late in the evening when the cold got the better of us and chased us inside.

A breeze picked up overnight (although I’m not sure whether ventilation was affected by having pitched head to the wind).

In the morning I was disappointed to find that despite having done nothing in the tent that may have led to an excess of water vapour (no cooking and certainly no sweating as it was jolly cold; all we did was breathe) the double-skin section was once again damp with condensation.

I know that Alan Sloman has had excellent results with Wanda, his Warmlite 2C and the only explanation that I can give for the variance of results is that he uses Wanda solo whilst there are two of us in Wendy. I firmly believe that Wendy would cope just fine, even on a still night, with one person breathing, however, in cold conditions with two people it seems that she can’t quite cope.

That raises the question as to what will happen when it’s raining out and we have no option but to use the stove inside of her. Alan found that this wasn’t a problem, but again he was only producing enough hot water for food and drink for one person. We will have to double those quantities, which will put twice the water vapour into the confined space.

To date Wendy has not dripped on us. The condensation only causes a problem when we brush against it in our down sleeping bags or down jackets. Again, if there was only one person in the tent the space would be so vast that one could manoeuvre without touching the sides. With two people it’s difficult not to touch the sides.

All that may seem like doom and gloom, but I’ve still not given up on Wendy. The difference I see between our LEJOG and the test-runs to date is that (hopefully, at least) on our LEJOG the weather will be rather warmer. Hopefully those few degrees of warmth will be enough to stave off the condensation that we’ve seen to date.

The test period continues…

High Seat and Bleaberry Fell

As is so often the case, the main purpose of a flying visit to the Lakes was a shopping trip. There were a few items that we needed to buy for our rapidly-approaching LEJOG walk (just minor items; boots and that sort of thing).

However, even though our visit was fleeting, I was determined to squeeze a walk in.

We had travelled up to Great Langdale on Sunday afternoon and following a chilly night (minus five was the lowest thermometer reading I saw) we headed off to Keswick on Monday morning.

With great expedience, we were finished in the shops before 11am and a quick cup of tea in a café gave us the opportunity to give some consideration to a map and choose a place to walk.

Given the hour of day, our criteria was: 1) short and 2) reasonably local to Keswick (in order to save time wasted by travelling).

Various options were briefly debated whilst hot tea was hastily drunk, with the final decision being that we would pop up High Seat and thence over to Bleaberry Fell from the car park a few yards up the road from Ashness Bridge.

Somehow time had marched on to just after noon (the realisation that the entire 2 litre contents of my water reservoir had leaked over the boot of the car and the de-labelling of new boots may have contributed to the delay) by the time we set out up the hill.

Despite the frozen beck and the icy grass, the sun was beating down on us and by the time we had gained a couple of hundred feet of height I was down to a baselayer and wishing that I was wearing shorts. It’s really not right to be so hot out walking in February!

A slight detour (and a rushed one at that) was made on our way to High Seat to try to photograph two aircraft flying along the valley below us, and then off we went to the summit.

Click for the big version of this picture to spot the two planes in the valley

We had it to ourselves for about three minutes, before we were joined by eight or so members of the Tyne & Wear Fire Service.

We didn’t mind the intrusion, mind, as I had other things to occupy myself. In the name of ‘loaded backpack’ training, I had been walking with the stove, a pan, a can of soup and half a loaf of bread in my pack (amongst many other items that were unreasonably heavy for a day-pack). The summit saw me break out the stove and the soup, followed by much slurping and satisfied dunking.


Husband takes control of the camera as I concentrate on heating soup

With such a stunningly sunny day, the top of Bleaberry Fell was perfectly visible to us as we stood at the trig point on High Seat, as was the trodden path that led there. It’s a bit incomprehensible how, in such conditions, and having pointed at and discussed our objective, we managed to wander off the top in the wrong direction and without either of us noticing the error (in fact, I’m sure that we’d have made a better job of it had visibility been bad; at least then we would have paid attention).

We’d gone about a kilometre before we realised that something was amiss. The map came out. We scratched our heads. We beat ourselves about the head for our stupidity. Then we indulged in some ‘good and proper training’ by heading directly back towards where we had intended to be. By the time we got back on track my mind was made up that I’ve done enough tramping through heather for one week.

The mid-afternoon hour at which we arrived at Bleaberry Fell meant that we were bringing up the rear of the people heading back down to the valley, giving us peace and quiet to enjoy the surroundings.

The entire outing lasted less than four hours and was somewhere in the region of 4.5 miles*.

Another night was spent in Langdale (along with a tent of chaps whose inconsiderate use of high volume voices and forced laughter late at night and early in the morning reminded me nicely as to why wild-camping is so good); once again with significantly low temperatures. It was cold enough that the gas really didn’t want to play on Tuesday morning; it required a good hug multiple times in the process of making tea and porridge, but we got there in the end.

That was our trip over. Far too short, but squeezed into an available window.

(*I’m trying not to seem too sad, particularly as the day was so still, but I did have the anemometer with me and on the top of High Seat during our lunch stop I recorded a top wind speed of 7.2mph).


Gt Langdale campsite on Tuesday morning: Is it just me, but if the temperature is -5 degrees and you've got a spare duvet with you, wouldn't you use it inside of the tent?

Beddgelert Day 2

We awoke to a lightening sky and I soon managed to stir myself to face the worst part of any cold-weather camping trip: getting out of the cosy sleeping bag to bare one’s skin and get dressed in cold clothes.

With that chore over with (and it never is as bad as I think it will be), I ventured out to the convenient flat rock that was serving as a kitchen to brew up the obligatory morning cup of tea. I’d realised the night before that the gas canister I’d picked up was less full than I’d thought. What I hadn’t expected was for it to expire at such a key moment as ‘morning cup of tea time’.

Before I went in search of more wood for the Bushbuddy, I shook the canister and concluded it was just being hampered by the cold. After hugging it for a minute and by placing it on my foam sit mat, it obliged us with enough heat to get the water boiling.

I’m not sure how it took us an hour and a half to get ourselves ready to get moving, but it was eight thirty by the time we were ready to go, by which time the sun was up and the breeze had completely disappeared, leaving us with perfect reflections in the llyn and gorgeous sunny glows playing on the surrounding hills.


Paying far too little attention to the map and not even considering the compass we wandered off in what we approximated to be the right direction. Initially we took faint paths through the heather, then took a rather direct route over the next lump in the ground, bashing our way through thigh deep heather.

Finally, when the llyns for which we were heading didn’t materialise we resorted to looking at the map properly, which a few minutes later led us successfully to arrive at one of the Llynnau Cerrig-y-Myllt.

Well - wow. What a spectacular sight; a sight that we tried unsuccessfully to capture via a video clip.

Immediately in front of us was the llyn, again with a mirror smooth surface reflecting the surrounding terrain. It also reflected the peak of Snowdon which was across the valley ahead of us.

Below the summit of Snowdon but just visible above the terrain on our side of the valley was a thin band of cloud.

All of that was spectacular enough, but what was really impressive was how we could see the cloud absolutely pouring down a hillside to our right and into the valley.

We tarried a while drinking it in, before heading off to cross over a stream and heading directly down hill to the large stream (small river?) that led us down to a road.

It was as we approached the road that we met a chap; he was the first person we had seen out walking since leaving the river within the first hour of setting out the day before.
We met quite a few more people from that point until our return to Beddgelert, one of whom commented that they hadn’t expected the day to turn out well. Whereas our day had been accompanied by clear blue skies throughout, down in the valley their day had had a cloudy start. We felt duly smug.

Although we had enjoyed clear skies, we were seldom in the sun on our descent from the hills, across farmland and along the side of Llyn Dinas back to Beddgelert, and my goodness, it was a bit nippy!

Contrasted with the 30 degrees reading on my thermometer the day before, on Thursday morning that reading was between 3 and 5 degrees. I was glad for my winter trouser selection, even if I had roasted the previous afternoon.

The entire return route was nothing less than pleasant and it was just gone noon when we ambled back into a reasonably busy Beddgelert.

It was a short trip, with a total mileage of under 10 miles, but its right up there as one of the most spectacularly good backpacking trips that I’ve been on. It was just a shame that we hadn’t thrown an extra day’s food into our bags, as the temptation was great to ignore the other business we had to attend to in Wales and instead spend an extra night in the hills.

Beddgelert - Day 1

Just as we were enjoying the frozen delights of the Langdale Valley the week before Christmas, v-g of v-g.me.uk were out in the Beddgelert area. Reading their excellent trip report, it got me thinking about a trip to that area.

It must be four years since I walked along the river at Beddgelert, and more years since we ventured up onto the hills behind it.

So, I looked at a map and came up with a route, with the intention (shamelessly stolen from the v-g trip report) of camping up by Llyn yr Arddu.

Our customary level of faffing before leaving home, plus the journey time, saw us setting off from the free car park in Beddgelert (contrasted with the one on the other side of the river at which a £3/day fee applies; I know not why the difference as both seem to be council car parks) at just a few minutes after 1pm.

Under stunningly gin-clear skies, off we set along the river, where I met with a bit of a surprise.

I know that there has been talk for many years of re-opening the railway that used to run along this route (the old track-bed of which formed part of the highly accessible footpath along the river). What I didn’t expect as we got to the second bridge over the river was to find a railway line running across the footpath.

My first thought on seeing the narrow-gauge tracks was that the tunnel, which has been closed for at least eight years for safety reasons, must have been repaired. Then I realised that with a railway now running through it, the footpath would not go that way in any case.

My second thought was correct, and the path still takes the route of the old ‘fisherman’s path’ along the very edge of the river of this part of the route were proved.

This ‘path’ used to be a perilous route around a rocky outcrop, using only natural footholds. For passage along it, the iron handles that are tied into the rock were a handy aid.

About four years ago a path was built around the outcrop, giving a good and easy path in place of the previous clamber. The old iron handles now look superfluous, but I guess that it was easier to leave them in place than to remove them.

After leaving the river, we made along lanes and across farmland, still revelling in the unseasonably warm weather. I couldn’t believe when I looked at the little thermometer hanging off the back of my pack (which admittedly in direct sunlight) to find that it read 30 degrees! In mid-February, I ask you! No wonder I was hot, even though I was wearing a thin baselayer and had my trousers hitched up into highly unsexy make-shift shorts.

The crossing of a lane marked the end of the low lying farm-land, and the start of the ascent up Yr Arddu, which is initially through woodland at the top of which we paused to collect fuel for the Bushbuddy.

A deviation was taken from the line of the right of way marked on the map (the RoW seemingly not being passable), and upon reaching a stream we opted not to try to rejoin the right of way, but instead to follow the stream up – or at least that’s what we did until I made the incredibly bad judgement call (with the benefit of hindsight) and decided that a route to our left looked easier than going straight up over boulders.

An arduous period of heather-bashing, interspersed with quiet cursing, saw us get back to the stream just before Llyn Yr Arddu came into view.

A pitch by the outlet stream looked feasible, which would give us the evening sun – but it wouldn’t give us the best of the views (and my goodness the views were good up here), nor would it give us morning sun (in the unlikely event that we were still there when the sun made it high enough to come over the hills).

Snowdon comes into view, as we climb up to Llyn yr Arddu

So, we made our way to the far side of the llyn, where we found an excellent flat pitch with fine views, with Snowdon dominating immediately to the north. (Just before I started typing this I thought I would see how our outing compared with v-g’s, as although I completely stole their idea, I didn’t actually look in detail where they’d gone. The answer was that our trip was remarkably similar, and it amused me to see in one of their photos that we had pitched on the exact same spot as had they; obviously the best choice of the terrain!)

Taking advantage of the last sunshine of the day, our bags were ditched by our chosen pitch and we quickly made our way unburdened up to the top of Yr Arddu, from where we drank in the magnificent views, with Snowdon to the north, Cnict to the east and the sea a way away to the south west.

A poorly composed photo, but a well pitched tent!

With the tent pitched, the evening was spent feeding the Bushbuddy as we made tea, then our evening meals, followed by more tea, whilst watching darkness fall with a good play of light on the surrounding tops.

Husband played with various settings on the camera, so we have lots of versions of this photo. This one came out the best (perhaps unsurprisingly, using the 'sunset' setting)

By the time we got as far as putting the food on to heat the stars were a-twinkling. By the time we got to our post-meal cup of tea, we had a fine night sky in which the view of the stars was only marred by the amount of light being provided by the moon.

Finally, with the temperature having plummeted and with feet going numb we retired to the tent, looking forward to yet more fine sunshine and outstanding views the following morning.

A Quick Taster

Our trip into the hills this week was a very short one: we were out for just 24 hours. However, it was a truly fantastic outing, for which award the stunning weather had to help.

More about it later, but for now here are a couple of photos:



Looking at Snowdon beyond one of the perfectly still Llynnau Cerrig y Myllt, with a nice bit of low lying cloud to complete the picture



Looking at the full-size version of this blurred one I immediately spotted what appears to be a ghostly backpacker just left of centre (see it?). Husband came up with the perfectly logical explanation for the image, but I still think that it's a bit spooky.

Found It!

Yep, I finally found the head torch that I thought that I had lost on the Pumlumon hills on the first weekend of December.

I’ve harked on and on about having lost it and yet had managed to procrastinate at great length about replacing it, for despite having searched seemingly everywhere in the house and car, I still harboured secret hopes that it would turn up.

On Tuesday night I packed my pack for our first backpacking trip of the year.

I had, of course, checked my pack at least six times in the Big Hunt for the Headtorch.

Thinking through many times the circumstances when I had last had it (about five minutes away from our pitch in the Pumlumon area, I had realised that I was still wearing it; I took it off and stowed it) I concluded that the only pocket available to me at that time (what with my backpack being on my back) was the pouch pocket of my Velez.

What I had overlooked was the hip-belt pockets on my Osprey Aura.

So, as I went to put the camera in the hip-belt pocket just before we set off on Wednesday morning, there I found the long lost head torch.

My second thought (after running through the house shouting ‘I’ve found it!’) was ‘That’s £30 saved that I could put towards that PHD Minim sleeping bag’! Oh dear. I am a hopeless case.

Random Thoughts of the Day

Another New Sleeping Bag (because 4 just isn’t enough?)
In PHD’s last sale I bought a Minimus down jacket. I’ve been impressed with it’s snuggly warmth for very little weight.

Thanks once again to Darren’s heads-up, I saw that PHD has another sale that started a few days ago. I tried to avert my eyes, but accidentally saw that they are offering a Minim 300 sleeping bag at the remarkably small price of £109.

At 570g, it’s 300g lighter than my girl’s model Rab 400, which is a pleasing prospect for a long walk, so I’ve ummed and arrhed at some length. I won’t bore you with all of my thought processes on whether to buy or not!

If I was still a gainfully employed person with money at my disposal, I don’t think that I would hesitate in buying one of these to try it out. Given that I’m now officially a housewife to a retired husband, a little more justification has to be made.

As nice as it would be potentially to cut 300g off my LEJOG pack weight, I’m not sufficiently convinced that this is a bag with which I would be comfortable. So, thus far, I’ve managed to talk myself out of buying one (being female, however, I do reserve the right to change my mind on a whim!).

Training
We’re off to Wales for the rest of this week. It seems rude to spend a few days in the Principality without spending at least one night camped on a hill-side in an unlawful manner, so that’s exactly what we intend to do.

Everything is packed ready to go; all we now have to do is decide exactly where it is that we’re going to walk (I have a pretty good idea, I just need to look at a map).

Of course, a trip of this nature is going to eat (quite literally) a little into the pile of dehydrated meals that we’ve been amassing, but on the plus side it will also serve as a good test of a couple of new recipes. There are some things that just don’t look like they will rehydrate properly, and my ‘Chick Pea Stewy Thing’ is one of those meals. Tomorrow night will be the moment of truth when I will be sitting on a moon-lit hillside either tucking into something tasty or wading my way through something that didn’t quite work. After the hideous biryani experience last year, I sincerely hope that it’s the former!

(As an aside, in undertaking this trip, I’m turning a blind eye to the fact that my car has failed me three times in the last week (impressively, for three completely unrelated faults), and have my fingers crossed that it will now behave itself for another few thousand miles - or at the very least until the middle of next week!)

Head Torch
It’s to be our first camping trip of the year; nearly two and a half months since I lost my head torch in the Pumlumon Hills: and still I have not bought a replacement.

That gives me two choices for this week: 1) take advantage that Father Christmas brought Husband a Petzl e+lite to go with his existing Tikka Plus, and use one of those; or 2) make do with the Alpkit model, which is great for the money but does leave a little to be desired.

Whichever I go with, I will have a torch with me – but I really must stop procrastinating and sort myself out with a new Petzl Tikka Plus ASAP.

The National Memorial Arboretum

Variety being the spice of life, we thought that for today’s walk we would vary from our usual local circuit of paths over local fields.

My first thought on seeing the fantastic weather forecast was that we should venture into the Peak District or into the Shropshire Hills, but those thoughts were soon countered with how busy both locations would be on a sunny Sunday.

The next plan was that we should pop over to the National Memorial Arboretum at Alrewas, which we had been intending to visit for a while - and what better way to get there than on foot?

As we set out, I felt a little self-conscious walking through the village in trousers and shoes absolutely caked with mud from Wednesday’s walk (oops didn't get round to cleaning either), but we were soon on the canal and then on fields beyond, heading rapidly in the direction of Alrewas.

I pose nonchalantly at a bridge over the River Trent

Looking over the River to Alrewas; What a glorious sunny day!

The A38 proved to be a bit of an impediment to our progress. Last year or the year before, the crash barriers in the middle of the A38 were replaced, and they were replaced with substantial new barriers somewhat taller than the standard model. Alas, when they placed the new barriers, they didn’t leave a gap at the point where the right of way that we were following crosses the road. So, not only did we have to dice with death in negotiating the busy dual carriageway, but we also had to clamber over two sets of barriers.

The next impediment was the impassable overgrown undergrowth about a hundred yards further along the right of way (I got the distinct impression that not many people pass this way!). A small backtrack and a minor diversion (not to mention the negotiation of a barbed wire fence) brought us back on track, only then to find that a huge, partially burnt rubbish heap lay in path of the right of way.

Over it we clambered, to then find that the tunnel under the railway track, which is marked on the OS map, doesn’t actually exist, but two good stiles and a sign telling us to stop look and listen for trains gave us comfort that we weren’t trespassing on the railway track as we crossed it.

A few paces further and we found ourselves on the outskirts of the arboretum.

We stopped to read a few of the memorials in the ‘death by motorcar’ section, a few in the ‘stillbirths’ section and a few of the Armed Forces memorials. Passing the RNLI memorial garden, we then started heading towards the crowds at the huge new Armed Forces Memorial.

This new national memorial consists of an obelisk, two semi-circular walls (with a gap in between which forms the central walk-way) and two straight walls, one running just inside each semi-circular wall. (for those saying ‘eh’ just now, some photos on this page probably describe it better.)

Engraved on the walls of the Memorial are the names of all of those in the British Armed Forces who have lost their lives in the course of duty since the second world war.

There are an awful lot of names on those walls. Worse, there’s an awful lot of blank wall space that will yet be filled.

Husband sought out and found the names of ex-colleagues of his that he knew would be there and we spent a while looking around.

The last set of names on the wall, from 2006; amongst them ex-colleagues of Husband.

Because of the rapidly approaching rugby kick-off (or, perhaps more precisely, because of the late hour at which we had set out) we didn’t stick to my plan of walking a circuitous route home. Instead we retraced our steps, battling again with the blocked paths and with the traffic on the A38.

In the name of training, this walk was completed with backpacks. I’m glad that no-one asked us what we were carrying (something that happens to us every now and then when we’re walking places where you don’t usually see backpack-toting, mud-adorned people), because I would have had to confess that both of our packs primarily contained rolled up bath towels! My pack, weighing in at a modest 5.5 kilos, gave me no bother.

The stats were 9.75 miles, with (wait for it…) around 300 feet of ascent.

Peewiglet's Coast to Coast 2007

For those of you who may not have already noticed (because I don't know how far behind the times I am here), Peewiglet has posted the next section of her 2007 C2C account. Patterdale to Shap.

For those who haven't before read one of Peewiglet's walk diaries, get over there and have a look.

LEJOG Preparation: Review of the Week

Training
Two training walks this week.

Last Saturday was 11.5 miles over our usual range of local field paths, and along the canal. The only interesting features were the presence of a vague dusting of snow on the ground and the number of people that we saw. I attribute the latter to the former. We’ve walked variations on this route a lot over the last couple of years and have never before met another person on those fields; on Saturday we met four different sets of people. It was either freak coincidence, or everyone saw the snow and thought ‘how pretty; best go for a walk’.

The second was a 9.5 miler on Wednesday morning. Weather was great. Ground was very muddy indeed. It set my mind a-whirring once again on the subject of footwear … but that’s a different subject.

Food
For reasons related partially to budget and partially to having something that I know that I can and will eat, I came up with the (madcap?) plan of dehydrating most of the evening meals that we will consume on our LEJOG. Other meals (or at least the makings for those other meals) will be bought en-route.

I’ve finally (and once again rather belatedly) decided that it’s time to get moving on cooking and dehydrating. I’m reckoning on preparing around 100-120 meals (‘Is the girl mad?’ I hear you cry). With 66 days to go until we set off for Cornwall, the dehydrator’s going to be working overtime.

So, this week’s food tally is: 9x meat chilli; 3x veggie chilli; 3x veggie pasta sauce; 2x turkey green curry. 17 down. 103 to go…

Kit
I still have no headtorch. I still have no waterproof trousers (although that’s just a matter of finding out what size I need). More alarmingly, I still have no boots. However, we do now have a spare battery for the camera, plus and two spare memory cards on their way to us. Oh, and one of the underwear issues has been sorted (subject to test drive-comfort test). So that’s a few things knocked off the ‘to buy’ list.

LEJOG - Clothing and Gear

Two days ago Mr. Sloman kindly pointed out that it is only 76 days until Husband and I set off on our LEJOG adventure. That’s a calculation that I’d been avoiding for fear of sending myself into blind panic.

Whilst I had been avoiding the precise calculation, Alan’s countdown did come the day after I had started compiling a ‘to do’ list of all the things that need to be completed before we go. To start with it all looked achievable; since then I’ve added to it quite comprehensively.

One area where you may think that I would be quite prepared would be in clothing and equipment – after all, walking and backpacking are things that we do on a reasonably regular basis and theoretically we won’t need anything special for LEJOG that we don’t use on our normal sorts of trips.

That’s all well in theory, but the reality is that I’m horribly ill-prepared.

Tonight I did a quick mental run through of what I need to sort out clothing-wise and shocked myself with the result. Starting with my feet and working up, this is how it looks:

- Footwear: I have both boots and fell-runners that I’m happy to wear for short trips, but nothing yet that I’m overly happy with for a longer venture. It’s a subject about which I will blog separately, but boots are definitely top priority to sort out.

- Socks: I’ve plenty of socks and plenty of those are perfectly comfortable – but they’re all getting rather old so multiple new pairs will be required.

- Trousers: I have two pairs of summer trousers, but the fly zip has failed on one of those causing a bit too much ventilation not to mention a touch of indecency. I’m still umming and arring about what trouser strategy to go with.

- Waterproof overtrousers: my previous pair died in December and still need to be replaced.

- Underwear: I could venture into ‘too much information’ territory here and make myself blush, being the shy little being that I am!

- Sun hat: I need one that will protect my neck as well as my face (just on the off chance that we get some sun at some point).

Or to put that another way, except for shoes, socks, trousers, overtrousers, bra and hat I’m all set in the clothing department…

I feel another ‘eeek’ moment coming on.

At least the equipment department is looking better, where the only item that I can think that I need (well, except for a mobile blogging device, but I’m working on that) is a head-torch to replace the one that I carelessly lost back in December.

Wild Camping: The Legalities

I already mentioned below that Weird Darren is championing a petition requesting that wild camping be made legal in England and Wales.

What I’m going to do now is to dredge through the depths of my memory and consult a couple of my out-of-date texts on the subject and explore the legal position as regards access and wild camping in England and Wales (i.e. not Scotland, where the position is entirely different).

(I warn you now that I’m about to witter on at great length and congratulate in advance anyone who trudges all the way to the end!)

Access On Foot
Firstly, let’s start off with the public right to pass on foot over land. Until the implementation of the Countryside and Rights of Way Act 2000 (CRoW (which was not fully implemented until the end of 2005)), the only legal right one had to pass over a third party’s land was conferred via Public Rights of Way. This was a limited right, in that it only permitted passage along the line of the Right of Way and nowhere else. To stray from the line of the Right of Way would have constituted a trespass to land.

CRoW greatly improved that position as it gave the right to walk freely over designated areas of land. Straying off a Public Right of Way in such areas no longer constituted a trespass.

Access to Camp
The significant limitation (for people like me, at least) of CRoW was that the access granted specifically excluded the right to camp. As such, to pitch a tent or throw down your bivvy bag and spend a night without permission on someone else’s land still constitutes a trespass to land.

The Legal Position
So what does that mean in practical terms?

Well firstly, trespass is a civil wrong, not a criminal offence*. As such although wild-camping is not permitted by law, it is not illegal (a subtle distinction), so you are unlikely to gain a criminal record by pitching your tent on a mountainside*.

As a civil offence, the worst that is likely to happen if a person in possession of land (being not necessarily the owner) finds you unlawfully on his land (i.e. camping without his permission) is that he will ask you to leave.

You have three options at that point. You can negotiate terms for a pitch for the night, you can say ‘No I won’t. Go ahead and sue me’, or you can be polite, adhere to wild-camping etiquette and comply.

If you refuse to leave, then according to a precedent set at common law in the 1750’s, the land owner has the right to use reasonable force to make you leave. Whilst ‘reasonable’ is from a legal point of view an objective term, I wouldn’t like to test what is reasonable in this context!

Legal Remedies
Supposing, however, that you stick to your guns and the person asking you to leave doesn’t choose to force you off his land: what is the worst that can happen to you then? He can sue you**. To do so successfully does not require him to establish that you have caused any damage whatsoever. Trespass is actionable in and of itself.

Now it’s unlikely that any of us wants to be dragged through the courts and it’s extremely unlikely that anyone would go to such trouble just because someone has pitched on their land for a night or two, but let’s say that this scenario did occur: what then would be the cost to the trespasser?

For a civil wrong, a plaintiff is only able to claim damages to compensate him for the harm he has suffered. So, if a wild camper has caused no damage or nuisance, then the land possessor is somewhat limited in what he can claim. Just for the plaintiff establishing that the trespass occurred, a court would likely award nominal damages of a few pounds. In addition, the plaintiff would be entitled to claim the reasonable charge that he could have been levied for a licence to reside on the land for a night (i.e. pitch fees), which again would amount to a few pounds.

My guess (i.e. I’ve not looked for any precedent on this point) is that the courts would regard such an action against a trespasser on wild land, where no damage has been caused, as being frivolous and as such would be unlikely to award costs against the wild camper***. As such, even in the unlikely scenario of a land owner suing a peaceful wild camper and being successful in such action, I doubt that the cost to the wild camper who was willing to represent himself would be great (although undoubtedly the inconvenience to both sides would be significant).

So, What’s The Fuss About?
With it being the case that the remedies against a wild camper are limited to the extent that they are unlikely to be pursued, you may ask why I (and plenty of others by the looks of it) want to be granted a right at law to be able to camp in this manner.

I can only answer for myself, but personally I don’t like to act in a manner that is contrary to the law, whether the act is a civil or a criminal offence. I would hate to be challenged when I know that I’m in the wrong. When wild camping I avoid being seen by anyone else unless they are also wild camping (which antagonises Husband no end when I refuse to put the tent up until I’m happy that the very last person has left a hillside). For me, I want the right to be able to camp peacefully, without leaving any trace, in any reasonable place without being in fear of being challenged for doing that.

Footnotes:
* Just for completeness, there are circumstances where trespass is a criminal offence, for example via Sections 6-10 of the Criminal Law Act 1977 (so be careful of wild camping with a pen knife unless you can justify having that pen knife in your possession!). See also Section 39 of the Public Order Act 1986, which makes it a crime if you have refused to move on and have also used ‘abusive or insulting words’ towards the occupier of that land – but interestingly this one only applies if there are two or more of you.

** Technically he could sue you even if you did comply with a request to leave, as you’ve already committed the wrong at that point.

*** Actually, if the small claims procedure was followed, I can’t think how you’d avoid paying the costs, but in that case they'd be relatively low in any case.

Disclaimer:
It’s a long time since I studied this subject and I’ve had no call to keep up with any developments since that time. My textbooks on the subject are also long out of date – so it’s possible that I’ve said something above which is no longer true. If you know that I’ve said something untrue then let me know – I can soon remedy it by deleting the post!

Wild Camping: Time For A Change

I'm sure that many of us give passing thoughts to things that we think should be changed in the world, but so often we fail to do anything to try to effect that change.

Fortunately, in the case of the change that many of us wild-campers would like to see to access laws (a subject about which I will blog separately; I'm doing this rather out of sequence), Weird Darren has taken the bull by the horns and has organised a petition on the 10 Downing Street website calling for a change in the law.

Another of the Outdoor Bloggers, Blogpacker, wisely suggested that to highlight this issue further those who have an interest in this subject should write to their MPs.

So, I have drafted a letter to send to my MP. As far as I recall, this is the first time that I've ever written to an MP.

Here's the draft that I intend to use. If anyone spots any wild inaccuracy or has any comments on it, please let me know.

Dear Sir,

I would like to bring to your attention an e-petition that is requesting a legislative change to make wild-camping in England and Wales legal. The e-petition can be found on the 10 Downing Street website at http://petitions.pm.gov.uk/wildcamp/#detail.

As the law currently stands, the position regarding wild-camping is inconsistent between England and Wales when compared to Scotland. By virtue of the Land Reform (Scotland) Act 2003, which granted wide-ranging access rights in Scotland, it was made legal to wild-camp (within certain remits) north of the border.

Although the Countryside and Rights of Way Act 2000 greatly improved access rights in England and Wales when compared to the previous position at law, it specifically excluded the activity of camping from the access granted.

As is evidenced by the number of people who have signed this petition within the first few days and without any media coverage of which I am aware, the need to bring the position in England and Wales into line with the position in Scotland is well supported.

I would make clear to you that the right being requested by this petition is not to allow people to pull up at road-sides in their cars and camp willy-nilly on farm land.

The right being requested, as is already encapsulated in the law that applies in Scotland, is for people who are accessing the hills and countryside on foot to have a right at law to be able to pitch their tent or lie out their bivvy bag for the night, strictly following the ‘leave no trace’ principles.

If enacted in the same manner as applies in Scotland, anyone abusing this right by causing damage, litter or nuisance would be acting outside of the right permitted at law and thus the position of the land owners would be protected.

Would you please support this initiative to effect this change in the law?

Yours faithfully


If anyone else also feels moved to write to their MP on this issue, please feel free to copy all or any part of this letter.

LEJOG - Train Tickets Purchased

Some months ago I looked at train ticket options to get to Penzance, from where we can get a bus to start our LEJOG walk. I found that as long as I ordered far enough in advance I could get a single ticket for £16, which seemed like a bit of a bargain. I duly made a vague mental note to buy tickets three months in advance.

Alas, buying train tickets was not in the forefront of my mind two weeks ago. It took until today for me to realise that time was pressing on and that transport needed to be arranged.

So, I have this afternoon had a lengthy battle with thetrainline.

As much as I’m grateful for the internet having given the ability to book travel tickets at a time that suits without leaving the comfort of my armchair, thetrainline really does have the ability to vex me.

Only in thetrainline’s world does a single ticket exist that can only be purchased if you also buy the single ticket for the return leg at the same time (is that still the case? It was something that I encountered a few years ago) and only in the world of rail pricing can the same journey be bought cheaper by either splitting the tickets or by buying a ticket for a longer journey than the one you intend to make.

Whereas air travel websites tend to give you not just the result of the exact search you made but also similar options which are cheaper, on thetrainline you have to spend hours searching every reasonable journey you can think of to find one that comes in at a sensible price.

My first search today told me that it would cost us £182 to travel to Penzance: somewhat more than the £32 that should have been available by booking three months in advance and not a price that I was willing to pay (particularly when I could have hired a car one way for £65!)

With even the National Express coach option coming in at more than I was prepared to pay (in fact, still more than the one way car hire), I started being more inventive with my search for cheap train tickets.

To make the same journey but to buy separate tickets (one set of tickets to Bristol and another set from Bristol to Penzance) more than halved the headline price, bringing it down to £90 for the two of us – even though it involved the same journey as the default option!

As a more extreme option, to go via London brought the price down to £52 (Midlands to London: £11 each; from London to Penzance: £15 each). How silly is that?

Search after search gave various options. It took me a while to find the solution, and in the end it was a simple one. By delaying our start date by just a day (leaving LE on Tuesday 15th April rather than Monday 14th), the £16 train tickets are still available.

So another tick on the preparedness checklist: the train tickets are bought.

Let The LEJOG Training Commence!

I’m feeling immensely unfit. A bit of a hip problem has caused me not to have run since October and the couple of hours I’ve spent walking over local footpaths each week has not been anywhere near enough to maintain fitness. A bit of pre-LEJOG training is well overdue.

So, this afternoon, to start the campaign, we set out for a slightly longer walk over local fields and along the river/canal. It’s a route with which we are familiar, having been featured in our Keswick to Barrow training over the last two years.

Today the weather was kind to us and the fields were not as muddy as I had expected (although it was apparent from the position of the ‘tide marks’ that some of the paths by the river would have been impassable a short time ago).

Everything was going swimmingly well until about two-thirds of the way round, when we got to fields that usually contains cows. We entered the field just as the herd, which had been in the top field, decided to move en-mass down to the bottom field, across the path and to the pond beyond.

Cows scare me (along with horses and dogs; I’m really not well suited to walking in the country!), so I was hanging back a bit to see where the herd was going, when I noticed the bull. For no rational reason (I’ve heard in the news of many people trampled by cows; I don’t recall having heard about a bull attack) bulls scare me more than cows.

After a bit of dithering, I decided that with the bull occupied in the pond with his lady friends, I could make my way gingerly across the field. Alas, when half way across the herd decided that they’d had enough of the water and started making their way back towards us. With visions of being trampled, I gave scant thought to standing my ground, then made haste back towards the stile from where we had come, mentally scratching my head for a way around to avoid this field.

As it went, the herd soon ambled back up to the top field, leaving the bottom field empty for us to pass by unscathed. Phew!

A few fields later it was sheep. A non-scary animal, but noteworthy today for it seems that it’s been a bad week for sheep in our neck of the woods. We saw three lying dead in the field, and that was just in the vicinity of the path. Surely that’s not normal?

A bit of National Forest (one of the two-foot-high-seemingly-dead-twig plantations) and a crop field (I’m afraid that I exercised my right to follow the line of the ROW, even though it had been cropped over) led us to a golf course, where fortunately Husband was paying attention. Left to my own devices I probably would have been hit by a ball.

The last couple of miles, from the canal (the tow-path of which was comparatively teeming with people), made me realise quite how unfit I am. Okay, so we’d walked at a reasonable pace and without stopping, but it was a bit disconcerting to be feeling that ‘exercised’ after the distance we had covered.

The house came into view not a moment too soon and I’m pleased to say that a sit down with a cup of tea worked wonders; it nearly made me think that I could go out and walk the same route again!

The stats for the day:
Distance: 9.25 miles
Ascent: Under 400 feet
Max Wind Speed Measured: 25.1mph

LEJOG - The Big Picture

With a few hours at my disposal with scant little to fill them, I sprawled on the floor with a 1:800k map of the whole of the UK, a pen and a pile of little dot-stickers.

The stickers were used to mark the start point of each day of our planned walk, each one sequentially numbered, giving a dot-to-dot of our route.

I’m pleased to say that having looked at the finished ‘big picture’ it looks to be mainly sensible. There is the day on the Pennine Way which ends three miles further south than it started, which (as I’ve commented before (see here and here)) just feels wrong on a south to north walk. Also, there are a couple of places in Scotland where we seem to be taking a less than intuitive direction, but that’s mainly due to a lack of obvious paths taking a more direct route.

The main result of the exercise, however, was to make me go ‘eeek!’. It looks an awful long way when you look at it on a single piece of paper like that!

My Mom

My Mom.

13 September 1946 – 18 January 2008

So that’s now both my mom and my dad bravely battled and been taken by cancer in the space of four years.

The other two remaining members of my immediate family, who were both also diagnosed with the disease in 2007 seem to be winning their battles. Fingers crossed, touching wood and doing all other similar superstitious things that bring luck (because surely but surely we’re due some luck now?) they will both be fine.

Believe it or not, I’m now going to make the outdoors link that this blog demands. You see, without my mother, this blog would not be here – and I don’t mean that in the simple ‘without my mother I wouldn’t be here’ way.

My mother was not an outdoorsy sort of person by nature. She was quite happy camping, but given the choice between camping somewhere hot next to a beach or camping somewhere by hills and walking in them, her underlying preference would always have been for the beach.

Fortunately (for me, that is; my sister is less enthusiastic on the subject) my parents reached a happy compromise. The summer holiday would be camping somewhere in the vicinity of a beach and where the weather would likely be warm. The early and late holidays of the year would be spent walking.

And so it was that before I could even walk I was being taken up mountains and gaining a love for the great outdoors.

Whilst it remained that walking may not have been my mother’s first choice of activity, I do believe that she did enjoy it – although a hint of a precipice scared her silly. The words ‘Will you get away from that edge Gayle!’ still ring in my head if I get close to a cliff edge and I do recall her telling me that she had a great debate with my father at the foot of Swirrel Edge telling him that it was far too dangerous for me and my sister (later admitting that she just didn’t fancy it herself); she conceded the debate when she saw some other children coming down it, chiding herself that if children could do it, she could do it.

In recent years, mother often commented that Husband and I must be mad to go out in the weather conditions that we often encounter. After our December trip to the Lakes, when telling her that the temperature was -4 degrees for a good chunk of our short stay, she shook her head and asked where we got this streak of madness from, as she felt that it couldn’t possibly have been from her.

Then I reminded her of the camping holiday in the New Forest when I was about nine or ten. I distinctly remember that for more than one night we all slept wearing big jumpers over our night-clothes and with wool balaclavas on our heads and then woke in the morning to find the gas was too cold to use and the water had frozen. She conceded at that point that maybe she may have had some small influence!

Yesterday I very quickly sought out a couple of her old photo albums and flicked through for some appropriate photos. I didn’t find the one that I had in mind, but here are a couple of old pics of my mother in action.

May 1982 on top of Helvellyn. You’ll note that Mother is wearing the highly appropriate apparel of shorts and a bikini top (although she does have walking boots on). I’m the one sitting on the trig point (aged seven).


January 1988 on the Roman Steps in the Rhinogau. Ma’s the one in the orange caggie; I don’t think that I should admit to being the one wearing red socks over my trousers!; Sister is in her usual place on such walks, bringing up the rear and looking none too happy about the whole outing. I know not why me and ma were looking so intently down at the ice between the slabs!

LEJOG - We Have A Plan!

When I first sat down at the computer, with maps and various notes written on bits of paper surrounding me, I put a finger in the air and guessed that our route from Land’s End, via Lizard and Dunnet Head, to John O’Groats would be about 1200 miles long.

Working on that basis I calculated that we needed to aim at an average daily mileage of 16 miles.

I have now completed the first cut of the route planning (and am just dancing a jig by way of celebration; it’s been quite trying at times!).

The total distance has come out at 1252 miles. If we discount the last day (which is John O’Groats to Duncansby Head, at only 2.3 miles long; it doesn’t really come within the ‘LEJOG’ description, but we will walk it for completeness) then we will walk on 78 days, giving a daily average of a tiny smidge over 16 miles.

So, this is the plan:
DAY *** FROM/TO *** DISTANCE IN MILES (CUMULATIVE)
1 *** Land's End to Marazion *** 17 ( 17.0 )
2 *** Marazion to Mullion Cove *** 17.8 ( 34.8 )
3 *** Mullion Cove to Garras *** 14.75 ( 49.6 )
4 *** Garras to Carnon Downs *** 18.75 ( 68.3 )
5 *** Carnon Downs to Shortlanesend *** 6.3 ( 74.6 )
6 *** Shortlanesend to St Columb Major *** 16 ( 90.6 )
7 *** St Columb Major to St Mabyn *** 16 ( 106.6 )
8 *** St Mabyn to Alturnun *** 16.1 ( 122.7 )
9 *** Alturnun to Launceston *** 9.7 ( 132.4 )
10 *** Launceston to Sourton *** 19.7 ( 152.1 )
11 *** Sourton to Crediton *** 21.25 ( 173.4 )
12 *** Crediton to Tiverton *** 16.25 ( 189.6 )
13 *** Tiverton to Sampton Peverell *** 6.5 ( 196.1 )
14 *** Sampton Peverell to Taunton *** 18.75 ( 214.9 )
15 *** Taunton to Bridgwater *** 16 ( 230.9 )
16 *** Bridgwater to Cheddar *** 15 ( 245.9 )
17 *** Cheddar to Cheddar *** 0 ( 245.9 )
18 *** Cheddar to Gourdano *** 23.75 ( 269.6 )
19 *** Gourdano to Chepstow *** 18 ( 287.6 )
20 *** Chepstow to Monmouth *** 18.75 ( 306.4 )
21 *** Monmouth to Pandy *** 15.75 ( 322.1 )
22 *** Pandy to Hay on Wye *** 17 ( 339.1 )
23 *** Hay on Wye to Hay on Wye *** 0 ( 339.1 )
24 *** Hay on Wye to Kington *** 15.5 ( 354.6 )
25 *** Kington to Knighton *** 14.25 ( 368.9 )
26 *** Knighton to Mellington Hall *** 13.65 ( 382.5 )
27 *** Mellington Hall to Buttington *** 13 ( 395.5 )
28 *** Buttington to Llanymynech *** 10.5 ( 406.0 )
29 *** Llanymynech to Bronygarth *** 14.15 ( 420.2 )
30 *** Bronygarth to Hanmer *** 16.1 ( 436.3 )
31 *** Hanmer to Whitchurch *** 11 ( 447.3 )
32 *** Whitchurch to Whitchurch *** 0 ( 447.3 )
33 *** Whitchurch to Weston *** 18.8 ( 466.1 )
34 *** Weston to Congleton *** 17.5 ( 483.6 )
35 *** Congleton to Horwich End *** 17.8 ( 501.4 )
36 *** Horwich End to Edale *** 8.6 ( 510.0 )
37 *** Edale to Crowden *** 16.2 ( 526.2 )
38 *** Crowden to Marsden *** 12.5 ( 538.7 )
39 *** Marsden to Hebden Bridge *** 17.5 ( 556.2 )
40 *** Hebden Bridge to Hebden Bridge *** 0 ( 556.2 )
41 *** Hebden Bridge to Lothersdale *** 17.8 ( 574.0 )
42 *** Lothersdale to Malham *** 15 ( 589.0 )
43 *** Malham to Horton in Ribblesdale *** 14.7 ( 603.7 )
44 *** Horton in Ribblesdale to Hawes *** 14 ( 617.7 )
45 *** Hawes to Keld *** 12.9 ( 630.6 )
46 *** Keld to Baldersdale *** 12.25 ( 642.8 )
47 *** Baldersdale to Langdon Beck *** 14.1 ( 656.9 )
48 *** Langdon Beck to Dufton *** 12.7 ( 669.6 )
49 *** Dufton to Alston *** 19.3 ( 688.9 )
50 *** Alston to Greenhead *** 16.3 ( 705.2 )
51 *** Greenhead to Once Brewed *** 6.84 ( 712.0 )
52 *** Once Brewed to Bellingham *** 16.1 ( 728.1 )
53 *** Bellingham to Byrness *** 13.9 ( 742.0 )
54 *** Byrness to Refuge Hut *** 19 ( 761.0 )
55 *** Refuge Hut to Morebattle *** 13 ( 774.0 )
56 *** Morebattle to Lilliardsedge Park *** 12.4 ( 786.4 )
57 *** Lilliardsedge Park to Hog Hill *** 16.7 ( 803.1 )
58 *** Hog Hill to Peebles *** 21 ( 824.1 )
59 *** Peebles to Pentland Hills *** 18.4 ( 842.5 )
60 *** Pentland Hills to Linlithgow *** 21.7 ( 864.2 )
61 *** Linlithgow to Kilsyth *** 22 ( 886.2 )
62 *** Kilsyth to Kippen *** 15 ( 901.2 )
63 *** Kippen to Beyond Brig of Turk *** 18 ( 919.2 )
64 *** Beyond Brig of Turk to Killin *** 22 ( 941.2 )
65 *** Killin to Meall nan Sac *** 16.5 ( 957.7 )
66 *** Meall nan Sac to Loch Erich *** 16 ( 973.7 )
67 *** Loch Erich to Garva Bridge *** 22.5 ( 996.2 )
68 *** Garva Bridge to Fort Augustus *** 15.8 ( 1012.0 )
69 *** Fort Augustus to Cannich *** 24.25 ( 1036.3 )
70 *** Cannich to Loch Monar *** 19 ( 1055.3 )
71 *** Loch Monar to just after Craig *** 14.8 ( 1070.1 )
72 *** just after Craig to Kinlochewe *** 8.9 ( 1079.0 )
73 *** Kinlochewe to After Loch An Nid *** 14.8 ( 1093.8 )
74 *** After Loch An Nid to Beyond Inverlael *** 17 ( 1110.8 )
75 *** Beyond Inverlael to Oykel Bridge *** 13.25 ( 1124.0 )
76 *** Oykel Bridge to Lairg *** 17.8 ( 1141.8 )
77 *** Lairg to Loch Choire *** 17.6 ( 1159.4 )
78 *** Loch Choire to Kinbrace *** 18.15 ( 1177.6 )
79 *** Kinbrace to Sron Dubh *** 15.9 ( 1193.5 )
80 *** Sron Dubh to Watten *** 21 ( 1214.5 )
81 *** Watten to Dunnet *** 14 ( 1228.5 )
82 *** Dunnet to John O'Groats *** 21 ( 1249.5 )
83 *** John O'Groats to Duncansby Head *** 2.3 ( 1251.8 )


I’ve only scheduled in four rest days, which is not to say that we will only take four. Those that I have scheduled in have been for a purpose (in three cases we have family/friends accommodation nearby, in the case of Cheddar we just want a look around the area). Other rest days will be taken as and when we want or need them.

Next in the planning process is to print out the final 28 days-worth of maps and check that they look sensible, then I’ll be checking out the accommodation (most of which I’ve noted as I’ve gone along), then I’ll turn my thoughts to resupply.

LEJOG Planning Passes 1000 Mile Mark

Things have been quiet on the LEJOG planning front for a while. Having sped through England and Wales in a matter of weeks, Scotland has been taking me somewhat longer, partially because it’s been more difficult to plan but mainly because I’ve just not been dedicating enough time to it (and it wasn’t helped by operator error which saw me have to undo an entire afternoon’s work; three days forward, three days back, all in the space of a day).

However, tonight the planning reached Fort Augustus (via the fifth option that I described here), which takes the cumulative mileage to 1012 miles – which feels like a significant number.

Theoretically a few more days of battling with Anquet mapping should see the first cut of the mapping complete (the first cut may be the final cut, or I may tinker a little). The only fly in that optimistic ointment is that now that I look at the maps and books again, I have no idea how it was that I intended to proceed from Fort Augustus to Glen Affric, and why I thought that that was a good direction to take. Hopefully after a bit more staring at the maps and books and a bit more head-scratching it will all flood back to me.

Wind and Rain?

I awoke this morning to the sound of rain hitting the windows and wind whistling through the trees. My thoughts turned to my new Paramo Cascada Trews and my new anemometer, both of which are begging for a test run in suitable conditions.

Out of bed I sprang to go for a quick yomp around the local footpaths.

As is so often the case, I excelled in the faffing department, so it was an hour later by the time I came to the leave the house – by which time the sky was clear blue and the sun was shining – but I suppose that I shouldn’t really complain about having to walk in sunshine should I? (but I am going to complain, because if I’d known that I wasn’t going to get wet I would have worn my Rab VR trousers which were already covered in mud; now I have two sets of mud-adorned legwear to wash!)

However, there was still a bit of a breeze blowing for anemometer testing purposes (and, of course, even without new things to test, it’s always nice to stretch the legs and fill the lungs).

So, the (entirely underwhelming) stats were:

Distance: Just 4.25 miles
Ascent: Under 300 feet (did I ever mention that it’s pretty flat around here?)
Wind speed: around 12-15mph, maximum speed recorded: 19.6mph.

A Frivilous New Toy

I can’t defend this new toy as being even remotely necessary. It was entirely a frivolous purchase, but in my defence, it was purchased with money given to me as a Christmas gift and I think that that demands that something other than just mundane items be bought (although perhaps a head torch would have been the more sensible option, all things considered).

The background was that a few weeks ago, standing on top of a windy hillside on which I was struggling to remain on my feet, I commented to Husband that I’d really like to borrow an anemometer off someone. It’s not something that I would want long-term, but I thought that it would be nice to know (purely from a curiosity point of view) what different wind-speeds feel like (particularly what the wind-speed needs to be to knock me sideways).

I had assumed at this point that anemometers were dreadfully expensive items.

A Google search just after Christmas proved that you can actually buy a cheap model for a mere £20.

I had also assumed that they would be heavy and cumbersome devices that you wouldn’t want to carry on more than a handful of day-trips.

It turns out that a cheap model is smaller than my Nokia mobile phone and weighs (according to my not-calibrated balance scales) a tiny 45g. At that size and weight I’d happily throw it into my daysack on a regular basis, so I bought one.

I actually went for the model that does temperature and wind-chill as well as windspeed (it also shows current windspeed, average and maximum in any one session) purely because that one was in stock whereas the basic model wasn’t.

It arrived yesterday. Prior to using it in anger, the good points seem to be that it is very small and light and looks to be easy to use. On the down-side, it doesn’t look very rugged at all (but then I’m sure that that’s a function of price, and this was the bottom end of the range); hopefully I’ll manage not to sit on it or bash it against a rock before I’ve fulfilled my purpose with it.

Bring on the windy-day walks…

Cannock Chase and Dovedale

Yesterday saw us take our first walk of the year. It was not long, nor particularly interesting, but it fitted nicely into a spare hour and a half that we had available to us.

There’s really not much to say about it. The location was Cannock Chase. The route was almost our usual 7.5 mile circuit, except that half an hour into it I realised that, even with the ridiculous pace that we were setting, it would be difficult to fit the distance into the time. So, we wandered onto paths that we’ve not before trodden and ended up completing a very brisk 5 miles (which just about qualifies it to go in my mileage log).

Today we had more of a plan and more time available to us. The chosen location was Dovedale.

Friends had suggested a walk there a couple of months ago, but knowing that it gets ridiculously busy on a weekend, we’d plumped for somewhere slightly less obvious on that occasion, leaving Dovedale for a weekday. Today looked a pretty good choice to avoid crowds - a weekday with temperatures forecast not to rise above freezing and with snow threatened.

There were a few cars in the car park just outside Thorpe when we arrived, and off we set along the east side of Dovedale.

The few people pottering around had petered out within half a mile and for the next mile or so we enjoyed solitude in which to appreciate the surroundings and the birdlife.
Pity I didn't take a photo that showed the true nature of these rock features.

A half-hour interlude was had when we came across a stray, young dog and made endeavours (successful) to reunite it with its owner (who turned out to be a local farmer). Alas, despite sitting next to Dovedale Holes for that half an hour, I completely failed to take any photos of them!

Husband in his element (he *really* wants a dog)

Towards Milldale, we started meeting people again, but we were soon by ourselves again as we left the valley and set off across farmland.

‘It’s snowing’ I said to Husband - but you really had to concentrate very hard to catch sight of the miniscule flakes that were occasionally falling. It was hardly the ‘blanket of white’ that had been forecast (now there’s a surprise).

My goodness, it was cold, mind! Particularly when we gained the higher ground (where I’m sure that the views would have been fine, had the day been a clear one) and got the full benefit of that -7 wind-chill. I was certainly ruing my failure to take a buff or scarf with me to save my frozen chin!

Plenty of fields, that would have been very muddy in places had the ground not been frozen solid, led us to a lane, where we were to pick up the Limestone Way, which would take us back to Thorpe. It's not a good photo at all, but anyone know what that structure is?

I obviously hadn’t paid too much attention when I planned this route, because I completely failed to notice until we hit the Limestone Way that we’d walked this section before, albeit in the other direction, back in 2006.

A thousand gap stiles (and very narrow gaps at that) led us back to Thorpe, where to avoid the road we headed back, around the conical looking Thorpe Cloud, to Stepping Stones, from where it was but a hop skip and a jump along a now remarkably busy riverside path, back to the rather-busier-now car park.

It was a jolly pleasant 8 miles on a jolly cold-feeling day.

Found It!

Unfortunately, it is not my head torch that is now found. That is still worryingly missing.

However, I have finally found the hill that is responsible for a small scar on my forehead.

I don’t recall the incident, but apparently when I was a very wee girl I was being carried up a hill in a child-carrier on my father’s back. All was going fine until my father tripped and fell, catapulting me out of the carrier. Having flown a short distance, my rapid descent was halted when my head hit a rock. I’m told that I screamed a lot – and I still have a tiny scar.

What I didn’t know until tonight was where I was when this incident happened. My mother told me (or at least what I heard, perhaps incorrectly) was that it was on Gunner’s Howe, but she couldn’t tell me where that was. A search on Anquet didn’t help and neither did Google.

Then tonight, whilst browsing various Mountain Rescue Team incident reports (as I do on a regular basis – the LAMRT ones can be particularly entertaining), I came across a reference to Gummer’s How.

It’s a small thing, but it’s nice to finally know where it was that I got that scar.
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Whilst I’m on the subject of head torches and Mountain Rescue Teams (which I sort of was), it’s apparent from the MRT incident reports (again, particularly LAMRT) that a lack of torches and/or lack of navigational equipment/ability are an increasing problem.

Broken legs and ankle injuries are currently outnumbered by people who forget that it gets dark quite early at this time of year, or who can’t quite see the path and aren’t prepared to end up in the wrong place.

Back in October, LAMRT put it quite bluntly thus:
This is the 3rd incident recently and the nth of many, where the victims went up a mountain without any realistic possibility of getting back down without assistance.

This is entirely preventable with sensible and simple preparation.

Don't be too ambitious, set off early enough to complete the route before dark, take a torch, learn to navigate, and to quote Gordon Ramsey, 'get some balls'.

There aren't many hills in the Lakes that don't have a simple valley route down from, that in turn, won't lead you to a road, village or town. It might not be where you parked your car, but that's a minor inconvenience compared to the inconvenience of 18 team members giving up 3 hours of their lives to sort you out!

This may seem harsh, but the problem is getting worse, and will almost certainly continue to do so.

Unfortunately, the people they rescue are not generally people who read their website (or at least I assume not, because surely if you did read their reports you would have a torch in your bag or make absolutely sure that you were off the hill before dark?).

Since that warning was given 16 of their 27 call-outs have involved lost or benighted walkers. Quite obviously, and understandably, they’re getting rather fed up of this trend, so yet more good advice was given in yesterday’s rescue report:

Two men were unable to find their way off Red Screes after taking longer to complete their walk than planned, and became stuck in the dark. They were located by team members and escorted down. All returned to base in time for 2008. If you've still got any money left, and didn't get a headtorch for Christmas, go and buy one tomorrow.

Given where this post started, I think I’m going to have to fork out for a new headtorch, aren’t I?