Easter Monday 22 April - Peel Fell (NY625997; 603m)

As I climbed out of bed this morning there were protests from certain of my muscles, unaccustomed as they have become to rough terrain and hills. That wasn't a problem, as today was down as a travelling and chores day, not a walking day...

...but the weather is so good just now. And it's a bank holiday, which suggested that forestry operations were unlikely to be active. And we were going to be driving past Peel Fell anyway. And it wasn't too big an outing.

So, I went up Peel Fell.

Unburying my bicycle from Bertie's boot was quite an endeavour, but it's one that Mick kindly undertook whilst I faffed around indoors and tried to convince my weary body that nipping up a hill really was a better option than having a mid-afternoon kip.

My route. Light red was by bike, bold red on foot.

It was gone ten past three by the time I pedalled off up the road, discovering after a couple of hundred metres that there was a layby right opposite the forest track I was to take. Ne'er mind. I'm sure the extra few pedal strokes did me good.

My objective. I stopped lower down in the forest to take a snap from a much better vantage point, but got distracted faffing with other things and completely forgot my reason for stopping

It's always a joy when an outing turns out to be significantly easier than expected, and this was one of those days.

The bike ride (my first time on my bike since Marilyn-bagging in Scotland last May) was a sufficiently gentle reintroduction to the activity, with only one short section of track causing me to click my way into the easiest gear.

Once I'd abandoned the bike at the track end, I expected a tussocky yomp. I certainly didn't anticipate a trodden line, with regular waymarkers, but that's what I got.

It may not qualify as a good path to most people, but it's a definite trodden line, making the going much easier than expected.

Another hazy day puts most of the hills behind me out of view.

Getting back down was a retracing of steps, and I'm afraid that in order to get back to my bicycle I had to break the rules:

Talking of getting back to my bicycle: on my way there I spotted another bike leaning against a cut tree trunk. "How odd!" I thought, as I hadn't seen anyone else on the hill. Where could they have been walking? And how fit must they be to have tackled the path beyond the track end? Then I noticed the track just a few yards away from the bike and realised that it was, in fact, mine. Idiot!

The stats: 2.5 miles each way on the bike and a few yards under 1 mile each way on foot. Around 190m ascent on the bike and 220m on foot.

Easter Weekend Backpack - Day 2

It's a few days more than two years since I last spent a night in a backpacking tent, and that was only a one-nighter. My last 'proper' backpacking trip was on the GR10 in the summer of 2016. It's a bit like riding a bike, though, in that I found I hadn't forgotten how to pitch a tent, prepare an evening meal or any of the other tasks required for a comfortable night on a hillside. There was just one 'how to' that had apparently fallen out of my memory: sleep.

The upside of a wakeful night was that we got an early start. Everything was packed, the tent stowed and breakfast had in the bothy (I did peer through the windows first to ensure it hadn't become occupied during the night; a late arrival wouldn't have appreciated us clattering in just after 6am!).

Well fed and watered and with our packs feeling light (even though we were carrying almost everything we'll need for the TGO Challenge - we didn't repack to remove stuff unneeded on a one-nighter in excellent weather), out of the building we strode whereupon a decision had to be made: left or right.

The plan had been to return by following the track towards Garrigil, then skirting back around Cross Fell. The whim that took us when faced with the decision was to go back over Cross Fell. It's taken me 11 years to get around to visiting its summit, so why not do it twice in 13 hours?

Mick on Cross Fell, with the sun in the east

In contrast to Saturday, when I scampered over the hills seemingly effortlessly, even with the pack on my back, on Sunday morning I felt positively sluggish and my legs protested at the reascent. I drew on the recollection of many mid-trip-weary Marilyn-bagging days when, during my first ascent of the day, I felt like I couldn't possibly do another X hills that day. So it proved to be. By the time we were on our way up the next lump on the ridge (Little Dun Fell), my legs had come to accept my expectations of them.

It was in between Little Dun Fell and Great Dun Fell that we passed the tent of a couple we'd spoken to on the other side Great Dun Fell on Saturday. We'd wondered what had become of them.

Our retracing of Saturday's steps only lasted as far as Knock Old Man, where we shunned the Pennine Way in favour of what could be described as 'good TGO Challenge training' as we set off across tussocks (fortunately no bogs to speak of in the current dry conditions) towards the old mine track above Great Rundale Beck.

By the time we made our way down the steep grassy slopes to the track below, the day had warmed back up to 'shorts and t-shirt' level. Being the weekend (indeed, Easter Sunday), we soon started meeting families walking up towards us and could see people making their way up and down the SE ridge of Dufton Pike.

My plan for Dufton Pike had been to head straight up its east side, visit its summit and descend the path down its SE ridge. Then Mick said he wasn't joining me on this little side trip, which meant I could stick with the plan, or walk slightly further, adding on a bit of descent/re-ascent, in order to take the side trip without my pack. I opted for the latter.

It's a steep ascent even on the path, but the ground was packed hard and was relatively smooth so I was able to make good time* and Mick wasn't waiting for long. Save for two people just finishing their ascent as I set off, I was lucky enough to have the hill to myself.

Happy to be there

It was then just a matter of following the track into Dufton and retracing our steps back to Brampton, where we arrived just over 23 hours after setting off, having covered a total of around 22 miles with (for me) around 4700' of ascent (3000 on Saturday, 1700 on Sunday).

A successful shake-down trip, except for the small matter of sleep. I'm wondering whether we can manage the logistics of another overnighter next week so I have the opportunity of practising that aspect of backpacking one more time before embarking on a longer trip.

^{(* I reached the top in 13 minutes and trotted down in 5. Later in the evening I saw that the route I took (0.35 mile with 170m ascent) is a Strava segment. Admittedly the entries on that list will have been running it, but their times made my times look very leisurely.)}

Easter Weekend Backpack - Day 1

It was only a few days before we set out on our current trip that it occurred to me that Easter hadn't yet happened and with April marching on apace, it had to be coming soon. That led us to realise that our timing was poor; we wouldn't usually set out on the roads, to visit tourist hotspots, on the day before a sunny 4-day bank holiday weekend. Plans were too far advanced by then to change them radically and I'm pleased to say that everything has worked out just fine (excepting the mile-long queue of vehicles trying to get onto the M6 or into the Lake District, which held us up when we were on our way to see Conrad).

A slightly meandering journey over the course of two and a half days, brought us to Brampton, just outside of Appleby-in-Westmorland, yesterday (Saturday) lunchtime. We soon had Bertie settled onto a pitch at the small campsite here and after lunch and a bit of faffing, we hoisted packs onto our backs and joined the footpath that runs straight through the campsite about 5m away from Bertie's door.

Making our way across fields to pick up a green lane that would take us into Dufton, the hills we were to visit on this trip were set out before us, albeit under a heavy haze. Such was the temperature that I don't think we'd made it a mile before I had to pause to remove the legs of my trousers - it turned out to be the warmest day of the year.

Behind Dufton Pike, all other detail is lost in the haze

Beyond Dufton the Pennine Way became our route, where we almost immediately met an obstacle in the form of cows who had decided that faced with the options of a stony green lane or a field full of lush grass, they preferred to loiter in the lane.

The last time I walked this section of the Pennine Way was in 2008, when we were on our way to John o'Groats. The main thing I remember of the first half of that day is that I had opted for glasses, rather than contact lenses, because the day was forecast dry. The reality was a driving mizzle that kept my view fogged up throughout. Perhaps that's why so little of the ascent rang any bells in my memory.

Nearly at the top of Knock Old Man, with the 'golf ball' of Great Dun Fell just above my head.

When we passed over Great Dun Fell in 2008 visibility was so poor that, from this same vantage point, we could make out the mushrooms but not the golf ball.

Cross Fell was the real purpose of this walk, (given the weather in 2008, we couldn't see any point in going over the summit, so skirted it) and at 1815 we had it all to ourselves, although I'm sure it had seen plenty of visitors during the day.

Photo of the day! I got a new phone last week and we both need to get used to the position of the camera lens; eight of the photos taken in the last 24 hours have a finger across the lens.

Our day ended half an hour later when we arrived at Greg's Hut - a location we had expected to be inhabited, if not busy, on such a sunny bank holiday weekend. Incredibly it was empty, although we still opted to pitch the tent and use the building only for cooking and eating.

If I'd taken this snap when we pitched the tent, rather than at bedtime, it would have been a bit lighter!

Catch-up

All went quiet on this blog after my last post on 1 March, at which time we were in the south-westerly corner of Portugal. Here's a very brief catch-up on what has gone on since:

We stayed in Iberia for another couple of weeks before journeying up through France and back to the UK. Other than general ambling around looking at stuff and places, there was no other walking in that time. That's not because we were overcome with laziness, but because every time we saw an alluring walking route, we opted to run it.

The day after my last post, I ran from the southwesterly tip of Portugal that is more south than west to the southwesterly tip that is more west than south.

On the west coast a lovely circuit was all on road (around 50% dirt road), hence we decided it lent itself more to a run than a walk.

Once home we were unusually busy. In amongst other things, we had a relatively short window to get ourselves organised for the TGO Challenge. Food was cooked and dehydrated, other supplies bought, parcels packed, and maps printed. All reasonable travel options up to Scotland were contemplated, with the result that Bertie was booked into secure storage for the two weeks of the Challenge, thus giving us an excuse to extend a 2-week trip into a 5-week trip.

With the number of things on the to-do list our intention to go out for an overnight backpacking shake-down trip didn't get squeezed in. We did, however, start the process of re-acquainting our bodies with load carrying, with four separate walks from our front door. After trying a new route for the first walk, we reverted to an old favourite, and just walked circuits of the lumpiest bit of land we have within easy reach.

Taken in March 2018 (L) and March 2019 (R). If there was a mud season this year, we missed it.

Ooof! All those cans of chopped tomatoes wrapped in bath towels were heavy! It turns out we walked our training walks carrying more weight than we will for the Challenge itself.

In a flurry of activity last week, Bertie was packed and off we set northwards. Never has his boot been so full! It seemed a bit of a squeeze the last couple of years with just Mick's backpack and resupply parcels in there. This year that's all multiplied by two, alongside the gear for the Marilyn-bagging we'll be doing over the next couple of weeks.

We haven't gone straight to Scotland ... but more about that in my next post.