We were last in the country in December 2004 when the Tsunami hit, a really sobering time.  We were one of the lucky ones as we had decided to spend Christmas in the mountains right at the last minute.  Although we did not witness the terrible events it was an upsetting time to be in the country.  Just about every Sri Lankan that we met had lost a loved one that day.

Anyway, it will be great to return to such a magical place and visit some of the beaches we had planned to visit the first time around.  We have avoided going down the package route and staying in one of those hideous resorts full of Europeans.  Instead we have booked several small guesthouses and cabanas and will travel round independently.

Better dust off those flip flops………..

7.7 miles with 420 metres ascent

The footpath down to Cliff Lane was a quagmire and it was difficult to keep upright whilst being pulled along by an enthusiastic dog.  Someone needs to invent a crampon specially designed for muddy slopes.  I quickly remembered why I rarely walk in the White Peaks during the winter.  The fields can often be impossibly muddy, especially if used by livestock.  The mud in this part of the world being particularly slippery and with the ability to stick to everything from the waist down.  Thankfully we both managed to stay upright throughout the whole day.

A short walk along Cliff Lane and we came to a path across access land that is not marked on the map, saving a longer walk along the road.  Cresting a small rise the impressive ramparts of Robin Hood’s Stride suddenly came into view.

Robin Hood’s Stride is so named because according to legend Robin strode between the tower-like stones at either end of the tor.  However we all know that Robin Hood actually hung out in Nottinghamshire.  A fact that is celebrated by the good city of Nottingham by allowing the Tales of Robin Hood to be turned into a Tesco store.  I was keen to have a bit of a scramble up the rocks, leaving Chrissie with the hounds.  The two towers are out of bounds to non crag rats so I was content to simply take in the view of the surrounding countryside instead.

Buffeted by the wind I carefully made my way back down and we set off along a path towards the impressive Cratcliff Tor.  Nestling at the base of the cliffs and hidden by yew trees is the Hermits cave which contains a 12th Century carving of a crucifix.  It’s a lovely atmospheric spot and we decided that as it was sheltered from the wind we should sit and have lunch number one.  I strongly feel that to fully enjoy a walk in the hills that there should be at least two lunch breaks, possibly three if it is a long day.  A walk is best enjoyed when sitting on your bottom.

Sadly there was no trig point for Reuben to pose on so instead he was persuaded that a rock would make a fine substitute.

It is hard to work out if the look on Dixie’s face is pure doggy love or the fact that she had to share one of her meaty sticks…….

One of the major hazards of the White Peak is the large groups of ramblers that prowl the land.  They are a peculiar species and one not to be messed with.  They tend to be found crossing the numerous stiles in this part of the world, a time-consuming process given their sheer numbers.  Thankfully we timed the stiles to perfection as we passed two such groups whilst walking the Limestone Way to the road.  The second group looked on in horror as Reuben the devil dog said hello to their dog.

Crossing the main road a gentle climb through the fields revealed a distant view of Robin Hoods Stride and the surrounding gentle countryside.

The plan had been to visit Rowtor rocks in Birchover, but somehow we passed them by without exploration.  By the time this dawned on me it was too late.  There is always another time.

Chatting away with Chrissie we were soon on Stanton Moor and being buffeted by the wind.  For Christmas my partner brought me a Kestrel 3000, a nifty device which measures information such as wind speed, wind chill, dew point etc.  A fantastically geeky product for the hiker and backpacker.  At every opportunity I could not resist whipping it out for a game of guess how windy it is.  We would both guess the wind speed and then find that we had totally over estimated it.  It was a fairly windy day and we frequently found ourselves being buffeted.  However the highest gust was only 27 mph.  I recon that much over 50 mph and you would risk being blow over.  It will be interesting to take it out into the hills over the next few months.

We passed the Cork Stone which looked much higher than last time I visited, sitting on the top with a mate drinking beer.  Chrissie tried to persuade me to climb to the top for a photo opportunity, but I resisted.

The early Bronze Age Nine Ladies stone circle is traditionally believed to depict nine ladies turned to stone as a penalty for dancing on Sunday.  Even on a cold windswept January day it was fairly busy.  It is a place to avoid during the weekend in summer as the area is popular with those seeking a party.  There are far better stone circles to visit in the Peaks that are unknown and hidden away.

Lunch number two was calling and we made our way to the Earl Grey tower on the edge of the moor.  There was one of those nifty dog stiles where you lift a post to allow the dog through.  I unleashed Reuben to allow passage and he bounded round to the other side of the tower.  I heard a shriek and ran after him to find him introducing himself to a man and a young girl eating their sandwiches.  With our chosen spot already taken we continued on for a while, finding a rocky outcrop with big views into the Derwent valley below.  Unfortunately much of the view was of Darley Dale which is pretty damn ugly, from above it looks like a large housing estate has been dumped there.  A massive industrial / quarry area on the outskirts adds to the overall grimness.  The immediate and distant surroundings however are lovely and my brain did its best to process out what it did not want to see.

Reuben and Dixie however were more interested in another meaty stick.

Walking along the edge of the moor there are plenty of rocky outcrops were you can stand and pose.

Descending from the moor we passed the campsite at Birchover.  A few years ago I was part of a stag party who rented out the camping barn there during a bank holiday weekend.  After a rather raucous night we hid whilst the groom received a good telling off following numerous complaints.

The place was deserted as we passed though to begin an assault course through several muddy fields to reach a  pleasant path through some woods.

I have to admit that things then got a little bit tricky on the navigation front.  On the map there was a sudden mass of green dotted lines, tiny field boundaries and squiggly contours.  Far too much going on in roughly a square centimetre.  In open country I feel that I am a master of a map, but often in the White Peak I am navigationally challenged.  Chrissie is an ex-mountain rescue deputy team leader , which I assume makes her a Jedi with regards to navigation.  I was therefore keen not to cock-up.  There was a bit of faffing about but the correct path was eventually located and my honour remained intact.

We were soon back in Elton and I was keen to get back to my car to see if all the windows were still intact.  This is no reflection on Elton itself but due to the fact I realised I had left my iPhone on the front seat.  Thankfully all was in order upon my return.

When we got home Reuben spent the rest of the weekend sulking in his bed, perhaps he was missing his new ‘older’ girlfriend?

I planned a 5 mile walk in with a rucksack laden with 4.5 kilos of coal and kindling, the most essential bit of kit for a winter bothy trip.  On the drive to the start of the backpack I stopped for a short walk to investigate a hut I have been thinking about as potential for an overnighter.  An hours walk through drizzle left me feeling rather disappointed.  Although unlocked the hut was a less than inviting place to spend more than a few minutes.  Finding new bothies is a bit of sport for me, I love the idea of stumbling upon a hidden gem.  That was how I came across my planned destination for later that afternoon.  Five years ago during a summers walk along a deserted valley I spotted a chimney in the distance.  Curiosity got the better of me and I went to investigate.  I’m glad that I did as I found a cracking little place.  My planned backpack was forgotten as I pitched my tent outside for a lazy day in the sun.  I was thankful for the shelter later that evening when the midges came out in their millions.

I parked the car high on a moorland road, the world around me reduced by the thick swirling mist, heavy rain and a quickly fogging windscreen.  To be honest I started to regret not staying in the comfort of my own home, it really was not very inviting outside.  Reuben however was as keen as ever so we set off along the verge of the busy road.  The track was easy to locate and the first part of the walk was spent descending over 100 metres.  In my mind there is something wrong about descending at the start of a walk, especially when you know you will soon have to reclaim what has been lost.  With the wind blowing the rain directly into my face I crossed dry-shod what can often be a tricky river.

There then followed a long uphill trudge, the swirling mist soon becoming a thick wall of grey as I gained height.  The track made a sudden swing to the left and I continued uphill on a direct line to a substantial bothy hidden somewhere on the hillside.  Walking across the featureless moor in such thick mist was unnerving and I started to wish I had got out my compass.  However the building soon loomed into view, complete with a huge caterpillar tracked earth mover parked outside.  I opened the door and found the bothy silent and empty, with just the echo of my boots and the resident ghosts scurrying into the dark corners.

Whilst walking up the track I had started to debate whether or not to spend the night in the first bothy, the thought of trudging further in the clag did not appeal.  However on further inspection I decided that it would not be a particularly cosy place to spend the night.  It was damp, cold and just a little bit spooky.  I could not bring myself to bed down on the concrete floor downstairs, whilst the upstairs rooms were covered in plaster dust.  Also having a huge machine parked outside shattered any sense of being in a remote spot.

I shouldered my pack and once more set off into the gloom.  To be honest it was a bit of a trudge and it soon got dark.  Reuben was fitted out with a red beacon on his rucksack as his camouflage means he vanishes against the heather.  I turned on my head torch and the world shrunk around me, my vision being confined to its misty beam.

The sound of a river singing and crashing below me indicated that the bothy was close.  The track ended near to the unseen waters and I turned right to follow its banks.  As the tiny building came into view I thought that I caught the whiff of wood smoke but this turned out to be my imagination as the bothy was dark and bolted from the outside.  I was soon in its welcoming interior, lighting candles and having a look around.  I was pleased to see that not much had changed in the five years since I had last been here.  Although well used it is very well cared for with no evidence of litter or damage.  With my stove slowly boiling water for coffee I set about lighting a fire with the coal I had carried across the moor.  The bothy was already well stocked with coal, kindling and logs, which apart from a couple of logs I left alone.  In such a high remote spot, leaving plentiful fuel could be a lifesaver for the shepherds for whom the bothy is designed.

I spent a happy and peaceful night in front of the fire reading and eating before bedding down for the night.  I took one of the mattresses hung from the ceiling and used it in conjunction with my thermarest to make a very comfy bed near the fire.  With Reuben curled up next to me I listened to the wind blowing outside as I drifted off to sleep.

I managed to sleep until late, the gloomy conditions outside and the bubble wrap curtains meant that not much light permeated inside.  With a cup of coffee in my hands I went outside to explore and was met by low cloud sitting on the surrounding hills, along with a fine drizzle.  I returned to the bothy and was lazy for a while, drinking several cups of coffee and eating noodles.  Sunlight suddenly filtered though the window lighting up the interior.  This was my prompt to pack my gear and sweep up, leaving the place welcoming for the next visitors.  The ash from the fire needed to be emptied and I took the ash can outside to do so.  Immediately a strong gust of wind blew down the valley leaving me covered from head to toe in a fine layer of ash.  I spent much of the day picking it out of my nose and ears!

With the sun now shining and the hills clear I headed outside and put on Reubens pack, he then pulled a rather striking pose.

The bothy itself commands a lovely spot, surrounded by the extensive North Pennine moors.  Sometimes it is easy to forget that you are in such a small and crowded country.

The nearby sheepfold doubles up as the designated bothy toilet, the set up making me smile.  I think that the following photo says more than words can!

I was reluctant to leave the bothy and its surroundings but with the weather improving it would have been a shame not to get onto the hills.  We walked a short way up the valley before climbing steadily towards a distant sheepfold.  The views back towards the now unseen bothy were fantastically empty and desolate.

The sheepfold was a good landmark to head for as the surroundings were totally featureless.  Its walls provided shelter from the cold wind whilst I started to demolish a packet of chocolate biscuits.  Reuben was soon shivering from the cold so we set off once again, climbing higher and higher onto the hills.

The area is steeped in mining history and littered with its relics.  Although not marked on the map I found a well-worn old track that happened to be going in my direction, marked by ancient cairns.  Drifts of snow hidden in gullies had managed to survive a lengthy mild spell.

On the high moorland crest I came across possibly one of the largest sheepfolds I have seen.  The walls towered above my head when I entered and I began to wonder what its purpose was.  It was big enough to shelter a few elephants, surely too elaborate to be used simply for sheep?

The high rocky moorland plateau was liberally dotted with large cairns and curricks amongst the many boggy pools.  A lonely place, silent except the constant tugging of the wind against my hood which was pulled tight against the cold.  I wandered around aimlessly for a while just taking in the atmosphere of the place.  It was like some Andy Goldsworthy art installation, although I am sure that many of the curricks were there long before he was born.

I walked further to the west to look at the panorama of Lakeland peaks.  Unfortunately they were lost amongst the haze and had just become a shadowy outline on the horizon.  Disappointed I walked back east to pick up a bridleway that would lead me back to the car.  Here I have to admit I made a navigational error even though the conditions were clear.  I thought that I had located the path and I started to follow what I thought were a line of marker cairns.  It was a while before I noticed my mistake and I cursed as I climbed back up hill and then across rough ground to the obvious path.  It was my fault for being too lazy to get the map out and check rather than ploughing on regardless.

The path followed the line of an old Roman road which takes a direct line across the high moors.  The going was now easy and I was able to move quickly downhill, keen to get out of the cold wind.  The sun began to break through the clouds giving a lovely quality to the afternoon light.

My stomach was rumbling so I decided to make the short detour to the first bothy I had come across the day before.  The earth mover was working a few hundred metres away, its rumblings disturbing the peace.  I wondered what it was doing digging away on the moors, hoping that another track was not in the process of being built.

The bothy came into view, a much more welcoming sight than the day before.  There is a real sense of space on these hills and this bothy takes advantage of that.  It’s outlook is breathtaking on such a clear day.

I entered its cold and damp interior and set about making coffee and cooking some cous cous.  Reuben took the opportunity for a snooze on a manky looking rug.  I could hear the earth mover getting closer until it was right outside the bothy where it was parked.  The driver popped in for a chat, his job involving many lonely hours on the hills.  It turned out that he was a local contractor for Natural England and he was clearing out some drainage ditches.  He said he loved working on the hills when the weather was like this, although the weather can often make his job difficult.  He soon left me to my food, driving his tractor down the long track towards home.

I packed up and left the bothy for a second time, maybe I will return with 10kg of coal and get the stove roaring.  The place needs someone to fill it with warmth and banish its ghosts and damp.  The view from the door made me smile, imagine leaving your house to a view like this each morning.

The long track back to the car was much more fun in the setting sun than on the way up in the mist.  All of the clouds eventually disappeared and a huge moon started to rise above the moors to the east.  The temperature dropped rapidly as I made the final climb up to the road by head torch, my breath swirling in front of the beam.  The car was covered in a thick layer of ice by the time I reached it, the moon reflecting off the bonnet.

If you missed it the first time round here is the video of this trip.

Once again you may have noticed that this trip report is a little cryptic as I deliberately don’t give away my exact location.  The reason for this being to protect the wonderful bothy that I visited.  Publicity usually leads to their decline and there is very little mention of this one on the internet.  Do you fancy visiting a bothy?  If you do I suggest that you join the MBA.  This is not essential but it is good to contribute if you use them, you also get a booklet with a list of every single bothy that they maintain.  But there are plenty more out there that aren’t maintained by them and these are usually hidden gems.  My tip is to explore the hills (the more remote the better) and look out for building symbols marked on the map.  You never know what you may stumble upon.

Backpackingbongos turns three………………

In the meantime here is a little bit of Bongo tv.  If you have ever had the urge to watch me mumble into the camera incoherently, then you are going to be spoilt for choice here.  I have also realised that I say ‘err’ a lot which is rather embarrassing.  However I am rather pleased at how the river crossing shot starting at 11 min 45 sec came out.  What you can’t see though is the panic on my face as Reuben nearly knocked my camera into the water……….

Plan B was hastily put together, a Bongo bothy trip to Kielder.  Therefore another map was purchased.  However the day before departure the winds increased further with gusts being forecast to exceed 60 mph over the summits.  My enthusiasm was quickly drifting away.

Thoughts turned to my favourite wild camping spot in the Peak District, a remote sheltered grassy patch hidden amongst the bogs and peat.  A text to Graham and Rae and it turned out that they had been thinking exactly the same thing.  Great minds and all that.  Therefore at midday on New Years Eve Graham’s car was being manoeuvred into a tight spot just off the Snake Pass, the vehicles already there having parked rather inconsiderately.

Rain was already being blown down the valley as we crossed the busy main road and headed into what I consider to be the best valley in the Peak District.  One of those rare spots which for some reason does not suffer the boots of the masses who walk in this part of the Peaks.  We walked slowly along the track leading to the farm, Reuben firmly leashed as we were surrounded by woollies.  Rae has spent most of this year suffering from a condition called plantar fasciitis, making it very painful to walk.  She is an avid backpacker, wild camper and lover of wild places, so a tough year as she has not been able to get out into the wilds very often.  However she was willing to have a bash at walking the five miles to our chosen camping spot after I confirmed that it was a fairly easy walk along a reasonable path.  We had a few hours of daylight left so that she could take her time and hopefully not feel pressured to rush.  Past the farm we started to look for somewhere to sit to eat our lunch.

Which left Graham cracking one of his winning smiles………………

Reuben must have also been putting on a winning smile as he successfully negotiated himself some stinky sausage.  Bellies filled we set off once more along a series of grassy paths through bogs and rushes.

After a lack of success with Reuben carrying his own pack in Scotland due to chaffing, I thought that I would give it one last go before condemning it to the back of the gear cupboard.  This time it was fitted to him loosely, the balanced weight from each bag keeping it in place.  Thankfully this worked and he got home without any discomfort or sore bits.  No more carrying stinky doggy stuff in my bag, and he looks rather fetching in it!

The valley sides soon closed in as we passed the edge of the forestry plantation.  Steep slopes plunged directly into the river making following its course difficult.  A landslide meant that we had to detour higher, the river undercutting the loose slopes.  Half way up Reuben decided to push past me on the side of the river.  One second I felt him brush my leg, the next he was gone.  I peered down to see him standing up to his armpits in the river, a look of surprise on his face (if staffies can look surprised).  He had managed to fall a good eight foot but no damage appeared to be done.

It was beginning to sink in that my recollection of this walk was not as I remembered it.  My memory had released images of an easy ramble along the river before taking to the higher slopes.  Contouring on the steep slopes was causing Rae some discomfort and there was the risk of making her condition worse.  It was decided to climb directly to the edge of the plateau and contour the valley where I knew there was a path.

It was a steep, rough and pathless haul to the top but thankfully we located the narrow path.  Reuben gave a passing pair of hikers an enthusiastic greeting, singling out a fellow staffy owner for extra attention.  There was now less than an hour before darkness fell and we had only completed just over half half of the route.  Options were discussed and everyone was happy to continue towards our chosen wild camp spot in the knowledge that we would soon be walking in the dark.  We had the river to our right as a navigational handrail and hopefully the path would not fizzle out.

The weather proceeded to get more and more gloomy with the mist beginning to settle lower on the hills.  The path was often little more than a sheep trod after we had climbed steeply out of an intersecting side valley.  In the gathering murk Reuben began to merge with the hillside, his markings a perfect camouflage among the heather and grass.  With a light attached to his rucksack he was soon a red dot moving up and down that hillside.  We continued without torches for a while, keen to preserve our night vision through the increasing mist and drizzle.  Finally we were fully enveloped in the clag and the drizzle turned to steady rain, with headtorches on our world shrunk to the few metres of each individual beam.

I found that the path would frequently disappear and then reappear as I constantly adjusted our course to follow a line where the valley merged with the moor above.  With mist and rain swirling against the beams of our torches in the darkness it was hard to get a sense of scale, even work out how far below us the river was.  What were actually small ascents would initially loom ahead of us looking much higher than they were.

I began to doubt finding the camping spot which is a piece of grass little more than the size of a couple of tents surrounded by moorland and bog.  It was more by intuition than map reading skill that I thought we should start descending towards the river.  I was correct and we located a fork, a short while later the oasis of flat cropped grass was spotted.  I felt chuffed at finding such a small spot in a big moor without getting lost!

The rain was by now heavy and persistent, being blown along on a strong breeze.  Graham and Rae had brought along a Quasar and I had my Voyager tent, both pitching inner first.  Graham was convinced that his inner would be waterproof whilst I knew that mine was not.  I was keen to get mine erected as quickly as possible to prevent the inner getting soaked.  Reuben tried to help each of us by standing on half pitched inners and generally getting in the way.  Chastised, he took himself away to curl up in the rain with a glum look on his face.

It was not a particularly sociable New Years eve as we were soon cocooned in our respective tents.  I now had to deal with a wet and muddy and not particularly happy dog.  Thankfully he curled up on his blanket and immediately went to sleep, saving the rest of my gear from getting grubby.  With dinner eaten and a small amount of alcohol drunk I laid down and pretty much immediately fell asleep.  Graham and Rae said that I had suddenly gone quiet when I woke up a little while later.  In the end we were all fast asleep well before the dawning of a new year.

The morning of the first day of 2012 brought cloudy skies, but at least it was not raining and the mist had disappeared.  I was greeted by an underwhelmed looking Graham when I went over to say good morning.

Perhaps it was a normal reaction to my wild camping attire?  Even Reuben was viewing me with suspicion.

It was a pretty relaxed morning with no one particularly eager to pack up and return back to the car.  This is my favourite spot in the entire Peak District, as wild and remote as it is possible to get.  We were only disturbed by one solitary hiker and his dog before we were finally packed up and ready to leave at around 11.30am.

Rae’s foot had survived the five mile walk in but she felt that to walk another five miles with a pack across rough terrain may be pushing it.  Therefore she and myself headed towards the road via the most direct route, with Graham marching back down the valley.

It was a gentle climb out of the grassy bowl in the hills where we had camped.  Although close to both Manchester and Sheffield these moors have a real wild feel about them.  Off of the main routes you also have them pretty much to yourself.

We were soon sheltering as best as we could near the agreed lay-by to be picked up.  The rain had started again and with a keen wind we both started to feel the cold.  It was a miserable spot next to the main road, watching the cars speed past.  Curiously it seemed to be a popular spot for people to park, waddle ten metres, take a photo and get back into the car.  After half an hour wait we were soon whisked to the Outside cafe in Hathersage for a chip butty.  A great way to spend the first day of the year.

You may have noticed that this trip report is a little more cryptic than my usual ones.  The reason for this is two-fold.  Firstly wild camping is frowned upon in the Peak district so I don’t really want to advertise the spot where we stayed.  Secondly it is my favourite spot and I don’t want to share it, I’m a selfish bugger!

I hope to put the coal to good use tomorrow night whilst staying in a remote bothy.  What could be better than a roaring fire, a good book and Reuben for company?  The goal of Sunday and Monday will simply be to walk the five miles each way to the bothy.  If anything else takes my fancy then so be it.  Sometimes it is nice to head out into the hills only for the purpose of a long sleep!

It is several years since I have been to this particular bothy after stumbling upon it one hot summers day.  There is always the risk that it is now locked or maybe inhabited by someone I would not be too keen on sharing with.  A tent is stuffed in my backpack just in case.

The dictionary definition of consultation is:  The act of discussing something with somebody or with a group of people before making a decision about it.

A pretty simply statement I would hope that you agree?

My next question is why have a consultation?  I think that we would all agree that the purpose of a consultation should be to listen to what people have to say, to receive feedback.  The questions asked and the feedback received should then be used in a way that reflects the opinions of those who were consulted.  The feedback can then be used to shape policy as a way of reflecting what the public wants.  I would define this as meaningful consultation.  I think that the word democracy could also be used.

As an Advocate for homeless and vulnerable people I help ensure that individuals get their voice heard.  Part of this role includes supporting groups and individuals who are being consulted about the services that they receive.  I think that one of the most important questions to ask any organisation carrying out a consultation is ‘why are you doing it?’.  Is it to take into consideration the views and opinions of those who use your services?  Or are you doing it as a box ticking exercise?  Sadly I often come to the conclusion that it is because of the latter.

Where are you going with this I hear you ask?  Please take the time to read the press statement that I have copied and pasted below and consider whether you feel that this is an example of meaningful consultation.  Answers can be left in the comments box below.

Cambrian Mountains Society

Press Release

Date: 4th January 2012

Public Consultation Responses on the draft TAN8
Analysed by the Cambrian Mountains Society

1. The Cambrian Mountains Society has announced the results of its comprehensive analysis of
the responses to the Welsh Government’s public consultation on the draft Technical Advice
Note 8 (TAN 8). The final version of this controversial document led to the proposals for the
establishment on the uplands of Wales of what Welsh Government consultants called
‘turbine landscapes’. As a result of their analysis the Society is calling for a new review of
TAN 8.

2. Only 10% of respondents supported the draft TAN 8 in what is thought to be the largest
number of responses to any Welsh Government consultation. 90% of the close to 1700
responders were against the whole or part of TAN 8. The responses were notable for the
number of individuals who responded, rather than organizations. 94% of these responses
were against TAN 8 in whole or part. Their views were almost wholly ignored in the final
document.

3. Despite the overwhelming opposition to the draft document the final TAN 8 was if anything
strengthened further in favour of turbine development on the Welsh uplands.

4. Many responders criticised the timing of the Consultation and local community councils who
responded complained that they were left out of the formal arrangements. The draft was
published just days before, under the Welsh Government’s own regulations, the need for a
Strategic Environmental Assessment of such a policy came into effect on 21st July 2004. Calls
for TAN 8 to be the subject of a Strategic Environmental Assessment owing to its nature and
scale were not answered by the Welsh Government.

5. Despite the views of the vast majority of responders to the Consultation, landscape quality
was not considered in the selection of areas for turbine development other than to rule out
National Parks and AONBs. Remarkably the Countryside Council for Wales (CCW) was not
involved until the public consultation stage. Thus areas which CCW as the Welsh
Government’s statutory adviser on landscape classifies as of outstanding landscape quality
are categorized in TAN8 for turbine developments and a future as ‘turbine landscapes’. Even
a prospective wind turbine developer’s response was to express unease about turbines
being proposed ‘very close to the nationally acclaimed Pumlumon range’. This has caused a
great deal of public anxiety about the policy.

6. On the important issue of grid transmission National Grid Transco expressed particular
concern that it had not been considered in the planning. The Welsh Government’s response
was that the issue had to be considered outside TAN 8. This is analogous to constructing a
reservoir without any consideration of where the main water pipes have to go. It has a direct
relevance to the problems in Mid Wales to-day and which contributed to the largest ever
demonstration outside the Welsh Assembly in Cardiff last summer.

7. Other problems arising from the current application of TAN 8 were envisaged by many of the
responders. In their responses turbine developers referred to problems of transmission and
difficulties of access on public roads.

8. The work underpinning the document was undertaken by international consultants Arup
who considered it would apply for 5-7 years. Since that report turbine heights have
increased from around 160 feet to around 450 feet, public perceptions have developed on
the issue and other technologies have developed too as well as the UK government’s energy
policy. Problems have arisen on transmission and other issues. The Cambrian Mountains
Society therefore calls for the Welsh Government to instigate a formal review of the
application of TAN 8 and to apply to it the Strategic Environmental Assessment which its
own regulations would normally require.

1. The controversial policy on establishing wind turbines and associated transmission lines in
the Welsh uplands is based on the Welsh Government’s TAN 8 (Technical Advice Note 8) the
basis of which has been recently the subject of criticism in the Welsh Assembly, in Parliament
and was the cause of this summer’s largest demonstration ever outside the Welsh Assembly
in Cardiff

2. The Cambrian Mountains Society have analysed the responses to the public consultation on
the draft Tan8 circulated in July 2004 and have produced the only numerical analysis of the
responses. The analysis was carried out by 8 analysts from the Cambrian Mountains

Society who between them examined each of close to 1700 responses to the
consultation.

3. The results of the analysis show the overwhelming opposition to TAN8 expressed in the
consultation responses. Responders’ comments are as relevant to-day as at the draft stage
of Tan8.

4. Further detail on the Cambrian Mountain Society’s analysis and pdf files containing the
responses can be viewed at

http://www.tan8.woodlander.eu

If that is not depressing enough have a quick read of this:

One of Scotland’s best wild landscapes lost on Lewis

It’s all pretty tragic eh?

I have just gone through my log book for 2011 and it turns out I have spent a grand total of 77 days out and about on the hills, mountains, moors and coast of the UK.  54 of those were spent backpacking (on15 separate trips) with a further 23 on day walks.  Although the amount of days on the hills has increased, the mileage for each day has probably decreased.  I am a committed slackpacker these days, more content to spend quality time in the hills rather than eat up the miles.  There is nothing better than perching on a rock overlooking a valley or sitting outside my tent enjoying a remote wild camp.

Anyway I thought that I would end 2011 (or start 2012) with a brief diary of the years trips.  I have basically taken one photo from each mountain jolly and put them in monthly order.  Not always the best photos but the ones for me that give a flavour of that outing.

January

The second day of the year saw me heading to the North Pennines for a wild camp on the summit of Cross Fell.  The weather was absolutely freezing and I only made it as far as the slopes of Great Dun Fell before darkness approached.  It was a struggle getting tent pegs into the frozen ground!

The following weekend Rich and myself headed to a snowy Yorkshire Dales for a wild camp.  Thankfully we were pitched next to a rather lovely bothy and spent the evening toasty in front of a roaring fire.

The third weekend of the year saw backpack number three where I met Martin Rye in the Howgills  It was a wet and stormy weekend, a complete contrast to the previous two backpacks.  We were both glad to get through the night with shelters intact, we bailed at first light becoming concerned that our vehicles may have got swept away.  The smallest of streams had turned into raging torrents, we were humbled by the power of the weather.  The photo below was taken the day before the stream burst its banks, a complete change of character.

A walk around Burbage in the Peak District was memorable for one reason, this being Reuben.  After being rescued from a shelter it was his first trip into the hills.  He appeared to relish the sights, sounds and many smells.  The beginning of his hill walking career.

The following weekend I was back out with Reuben on the Peak District hills, this time Win hill and Crookstone Knoll.  Here he began to develop his perching on a rock whilst staring wistfully into the distance pose.

February

A couple of weeks later and I was back in the Peak District with Reuben again for a good yomp along the northern edges of Kinder Scout.  A walk that every visitor to the Peaks should do at least once.

Dartmoor is an area that has been off my hiking radar for many years now.  This was corrected by a spending a week in a cottage at Postbridge.  To be honest the week was a little bit underwhelming with a thick blanket of cloud sitting on the moor for days on end.  However I did manage a cracking day where I headed for some tors via Tavy Cleave, a lovely wild valley that twists and turns deep into the bleak hills.

March

There are lots of hidden gems in the Peak District, many of them being the deep cloughs that snake onto the high plateau.  One of these is Abbey Clough which gives one of the best ways up to the rocky Back Tor.

Possibly one of my favourite moments from probably the best trip of the year.  Four days backpacking on the Isle of Rum with the excellent company of Rich and Peter Edwards.  We camped for the night at the lovely Harris bay and for once it did not rain.  A night sitting around a camp fire listening to the waves breaking on the beach.  Sublime. (Pic courtesy of Pete and for those thinking of visiting Rum you may want to get his Cicerone guidebook which will be available soon here).

April

Just west of the boundary of the Yorkshire Dales National Park there is an area of lovely steep grassy hills and the lonely Barbondale.  A great place for a backpack, I was often reminded of the nearby Howgills.  Summer had arrived early meaning one of those perfect wild camping mornings.

A late April day walk in the Peak District and I was struggling with the heat, summer most definitely peaked too early.  A walk through the wonderful Chee Dale, a landscape of rocky gorges hidden deep within the rolling hills.

May

For me the biggest backpacking challenge of the year came in the form of the TGO Challenge,  I really do need to emphasise the word Challenge!  From the start the weather was lousy and it remained so for pretty much the whole of the two weeks, ending up with hurricane strength winds on the final Monday.  I met some great people and passed through stunning scenery (viewed through a dripping hood most of the time).  At times it was an ordeal to be honest and by the end I just wanted to finish and go home.  However I plan to do it again in 2013 as surely the weather can’t be as bad?!  The photo below is of a pitch next to the river Dulnain amongst glorious scenery.  For the first time in what felt like ages the rain stopped and the sun came out, I lay in my tent feeling warm and very contented.  Probably my favourite moment of the whole crossing.

June

It’s not very often that I manage to persuade my partner to join me for a day in the hills.  Therefore a brief daunder with Corrina and Reuben through the lush green dales surrounding Alstonefield was a special day.

I met up with Martin Rye and Terrybnd high in the Pennines at Sand tarn which nestles below Wild Boar fell.  A stunning wild camp where we spent the evening watching the sun slowly set during some exceptionally still weather conditions.  The next day we headed towards the Howgills to test our thighs on the steep grassy slopes before a much damper wild camp.  A memorable weekend with good company.

The rolling hills of the Cheviots are often overlooked by those seeking their thrills on rocky mountains.  I used the Bongo as a four-wheeled bothy for a few days, parking up in a remote valley for some walking with Reuben.  Mid summer and hardly a person on the hills, just a shame that the military were blowing up the other part of the national park!

July

I often neglect the Lake District for remoter parts of the country.  However a three day backpack with Rich around Wast Water rekindled my love for this busy national park.  Scoat tarn was a cracking place for a summer wild camp.

A perfect pitch was found high on the edge of the North Pennines on a backpack around High Cup Nick.  A summers outing for the Trailstar seemed such a good idea at home, pitch high and avoid the insects.  How wrong could I have been?  Dusk brought an hour of hellish torment as I endured the onslaught of the dreaded midge.  There was nowhere to hide…………….

August

An invite from Peter Edwards and his wife saw me heading to Wales for the weekend to stay in a cottage they were looking after.  A lovely spot and we headed out for a day in the Moelwyns followed by a day in the Arenigs.  The photo below showing ‘the three boys’ posing at the trig on Arenig Fawr.  A short while later we were witness to a horrible death on the mountain.

Terrybnd took a few moments out from his alcohol induced monologues to have an afternoon nap during the Monsal Head social meet. He insisted that the ‘bottle bank’ next to his tent (unseen in this photo but it was a remarkable sight) was not all his doing.  A cracking weekend of walking during the day and sociable evenings in the pub.  I look forward to the next one.

September

The plan was to spend a few days relaxing in the sun near the sea in Pembrokeshire.  We found an amazing campsite but unfortunately the weather was not kind to us.  The coastline of this national park was stunning although I am sure we would have enjoyed it more without all the rain.  The photo below is from the summit of Carn Llidi near St Davids, a proper mini mountain.

October

Summer made a brief return at the beginning of October and I headed with Reuben to one of my favourite areas in Wales.  Three days backpacking amongst the deserted hills near Pumlumon Fawr were rather poignant as there are plans to industrialise this wonderful area.  Enjoy it whilst you can as it is simply stunning.  A wild camp on the summit of Moel y Llyn.

A whole week backpacking in the far north of Scotland at the end of October could be unpleasant if the weather turned nasty.  Therefore with the company of Peter Edwards and later his wife, three separate shorter backpacks were enjoyed.  We walked in some of the most impressive, remote and beautiful landscapes that Scotland has to offer.  It was scenery on an epic scale.  Sadly parts of the far north are being industrialised at a rather frightening pace and there were often huge spinning machines on the horizon.  Heartbreaking.  However the hospitality we received at the wonderful Crask Inn was second to none.  I hope that it wont be long before I return.

November

I met Chrissie and Dixie in a damp and misty car park in Langsett.  We walked across the moors in mist, descended to a misty Derwent valley and had a misty drive back to the starting point so I could collect my car.  Reuben posing below with his new girlfriend.

After seeing the weather forecast, common sense should have meant staying at home rather than travelling to the Yorkshire Dales to meet Martin Rye, Alan Sloman and Andy Walker.  A three day backpack taking in Ingleborough and Pen-y-ghent turned into a two dayer after Andy’s tent failed to make the first night.  It was windy and then very wet and windy.  Waterproofs were defeated and we scurried off home early.  There were a couple of hours of nice weather though as the photo below shows.

December

The mild and often wild weather so far this winter was briefly interrupted by an arctic spell.  I spent the night in a remote bothy high in the Yorkshire Dales, putting the coal I had carried to good use.  With a clear sky, bright moon and snow cover it did not really get dark that night.  The snowy sunrise the following morning will be etched in my memory forever.

Another brief dump of snow saw me heading to the Peak District to enjoy a perfect winters day walking along Bamford and Stanage edges.  A familiar landscape was transformed under a white blanket.

The final day of the year saw Reuben and I heading with a couple of mates to a remote wild camp in the Peak District.  It was damp and misty and we ended up spending an hour walking across the moor in the dark.  We were all fast asleep before 2012 came.

A big thank you to everyone who has popped by to read my waffle over the past year, an even bigger thanks to those who take the time to comment.  It is hugely appreciated.  I hope everyone has a fun filled 2012.

Arriving in Baslow the slight dusting of snow seemed to be quickly disappearing under a blanket of low cloud and drizzle.  Pulling into the car park there was a brief moment of panic where my brakes appeared not to be working.  It felt like something was wedged under the car.  I got out to investigate and promptly nearly fell on my arse.  The wet surface was hiding a lethal covering of invisible ice.  I phoned Chrissie who had been out into her village to investigate the roads and had to help push several vehicles out of the snow.  She decided that it would be wise not to drive across the roads crossing high ground to come and meet me.

I therefore set off rather cautiously towards the Snake Pass, the road itself covered in a layer of slippery slush for the final mile or so.  A large lay-by near to Cutthroat bridge being a convenient place to leave the car.

9.6 miles with 530 metres ascent

Unfortunately the powers that be don’t want you accessing the access land direct from the lay-by, the moors being firmly defended by a high barbed wire fence.  Last time I attempted to cross it there was an incident with a brand new pair of waterproof trousers.  Luckily a path has now developed on the road side of the fence and it led us safely to a stile and the track that climbs up Jarvis Clough.  Thankfully Reuben did not spot the ‘No Dogs’ sign at the start of the track as his reading skills are yet to develop.  The no dogs rule is there to protect nesting birds, my small amount of ornithological knowledge informing me that they tend not to nest in December.

The snowy track climbed through the clough, the sun shining off the snow into my eyes.  I cursed leaving my sunglasses in the car.  I spotted a narrow path climbing the hillside on the other side of the valley so crossed the stream and climbed steeply upwards.  Stanage edge came into view promising a grand snowy promenade at the end of the day.

Once levelled out the path which is not marked on the map contoured easily towards Bamford edge, the views opening out towards the west.  The first thing that caught my eye was Win hill peaking above its forested lower slopes.

Then below me I spotted Ladybower Reservoir and its road bridge carrying the Snake Pass.  The huge snowy bulk of Kinder Scout dominated the scene, still capped by a bank of cloud.

After an early start I was hungry and thirsty and found a spot sheltered from the wind just before climbing onto the main part of Bamford edge.  From my lofty perch I sat and drank coffee looking down at Yorkshire Bridge and feeling rather content with the world.  Reuben sat quivering whilst eyeing up my cheese sandwich.

The chill wind soon got me moving again and after a short climb I was walking the grand promenade of Bamford edge.  I think that it is one of the best viewpoints in the Peak District, although some may disagree.  Thankfully it is still fairly unfrequented as there is no public footpath along it, although it is access land.

I stopped for a while doing my best to get Reuben to pose for the camera, he does have a habit of moving just at the wrong time.  I then passed a couple who asked if I was trying to get my dog to pose, I had to admit that I was!

A path took me down to the snow-covered lane which was followed eastwards.  The landscape that falls slowly down into the Derwent valley is one of hidden folds and woodland with the moors rising above.  There are some lovely houses scattered around which would involve winning the lottery for most people to be able to afford to live in.

I took the path through Bole wood and found a snow free spot in the sun for a second coffee break.  Completely sheltered from the wind it actually felt rather warm.  I sat with an empty mind enjoying my surroundings whilst Reuben looked on impatiently wondering what the hold up to his walk was.

The lane towards Dennis Knowl was covered with snow and ice and a vehicle passed me as I walked towards the car park, rather them than me.

From the start of the Long Causeway, the track that leads to Stanage edge and beyond to Redmire reservoir, I could see the glint of sun off vehicle windscreens.  It looked like a convoy of 4×4 vehicles were about to attempt a descent.  I did think about another route to avoid them but could not be bothered to detour.  In the end only one vehicle passed, the others must have thought better of it.  A quad bike passed me near the top, filling the crystal clear air with exhaust fumes.  As I reached the summit there was the unwelcome sound of high-pitched angry engines as a procession of scrambler bikes sped past.  Some people have a bloody weird idea of a fun day out in the countryside………..

With silence once again restored I climbed up towards the trig point on High Neb through a couple of inches of powdery snow.  The air was the clearest I have seen for a while and the views seemingly rolled on forever.  It was a place to walk slowly to take it all in whilst my boots squeaked through the snow.

Once again Reuben declined a trig point pose (I think those days are over as he has wised up to my evil ways) and we continued along to a break in the cliffs at Crow Chin.  Once again I was transfixed by the snow clad northern moors rolling towards the horizon.

An exchange of texts with Terrybnd confirmed that he was heading towards Bamford edge to do some filming.  My plan had been to head towards the stone circle at Hordron Edge before descending back to the car.  Seeing that I enjoyed Bamford edge so much the first time I thought that it would be nice to meet up with Terry and watch the sun set from such a splendid viewpoint.  Looking back Stanage looked amazing against a totally cloudless winter sky.

I passed a couple who had been deliberating for a while over a map.  They were uncertain of their route, the right of way across Bamford moor not really existing on the ground.  After a brief chat I pointed them in the right direction and headed across the moor myself, aiming for the highest point on the skyline.  A short descent towards the edge and I spotted in the distance a man in a bright orange down jacket with a video camera, almost certainly Terry.

Indeed it was Terry, busy with his video camera.  I disturbed his work for a while and we stood on the edge chatting whilst the sun slowly sunk towards the horizon.  Terry was going to spend the night on the hills, it was evident that it was going to be a cold night, the temperature already well below freezing.

Reuben in the meantime had decided to slink off and build himself a nest in the heather in a bid to keep warm.

It was clear that Reuben was feeling the cold so I left Terry to his work and descended back towards the car, aware that it was roughly an hours walk.  Thankfully with clear skies and snow on the ground there was no need to get my torch out even though we reached the car long after sunset.

It was a shame that Chrissie and Dixie could not make it as the day turned out to be one of the best this year weather wise.  A cracking day amongst some classic Peak District scenery.