Today was spent doing a high level route around Dovedale, now at home warm and well fed with my retinas still burning from a glorious winter sunset.

A full post in the next few days.

For a map of this route click here.

My backpacking plans were once again put on hold for another weekend.  A tiring day on the Friday followed by a last minute trip to the vets meant that my enthusiasm for a long drive that evening was pretty low.  I then did a check of the mountain weather for the weekend and Sunday was now showing as having 80mph winds and blizzards on the hills.  I sat on the sofa and sulked a bit.  I still had a strong urge to visit some hills so decided to get up early the next morning and head to the Peak District for a day walk instead.

As I drove towards the upper Derwent valley I noticed that Win hill had a dusting of snow, once I had turned onto the Snake Pass the snow level dropped to the valley bottom with even a bit of slushy stuff on the road.  The plan had been to park up in the layby at Birchen Clough but as I approached Alport bridge I noticed there were no cars parked.  There is room for a couple of vehicles on the verge of the track leading to the River Ashop and I got the Bongo in after a 20 point turn.

10.2 miles with 620 metres ascent

I had a rough plan for the day, this being to follow the River Alport to Grains in the Water then picking up the Pennine Way before finally walking back through the Woodlands valley.  I ended up doing a completely different route!  I followed the track up the Alport valley and through the yard of Alport farm.  The aim was to keep on following the course of the river through the entire length of this beautiful valley, my personal favourite in the Peaks.  However the snow was wet, slushy and slippery and there is a bit of scrambling and contouring of very steep slopes further up the valley.  The mist was also covering the higher slopes like a thick blanket so I decided to explore Alport castles first and if the mist lifted take the easier high level route to Grains in the Water.

From Alport farm I could see a wooden cabin up on the hillside that looked worth exploring on the way to the Castle.  So after crossing the river I took a traversing climb towards it.  Although pretty ancient it is still in good condition and provided me with some refuge from the fine cold misty drizzle that had started to fall.  There were two rooms, one complete with sleeping platforms although there are plenty of gaps in the walls to let in a few drafts.

A couple of cups of coffee later I left the hut and continued up the valley on a contouring line before doubling back on myself to pick up the right of way to Alport Castle.  As I climbed higher the snow became thicker and deeper and gave off a satisfying crunch as I walked through it.  On the negative side I also entered the mist and found myself in a monochrome world.

The Castle loomed up out of the mist but was not really worth exploring as it came and went from view, a short climb later and I was on the edge of the moorland plateau.  I now had a decision to make, head for Grains in the Water or head south to Crook hill, a route I had cobbled together whilst in the wooden cabin.  It was a no brainer for me with absolutely no point in spending the entire day in mist, I headed south following the line of a broken wall which was the only feature of note in this white misty world.

There was a moment when the sky started to turn blue just before the mist suddenly parted giving murky views down into the Alport and Woodland valleys.  My hope that the day was starting to brighten was quickly dashed when the mist returned as densely as before.

The walk towards Crook hill was disappointing in the mist as when I have done it before the views have been extensive.  Moorland was soon left behind as the path goes through soft and squelchy pastures with the twin rocky peaks of Crook hill rising ahead.

It is a short easy climb to the first rocky top and even in the grey conditions there were extensive 360 degree views.  My eye was led towards the white bulk of Kinder scout and I could also make out Lose Hill and Mam Tor, visible above the forested Hope Cross ridge.

I decided that the next slightly lower summit would be a good place for coffee and lunch as the views are slightly better, I found a comfy spot nestled between the rocks and out of the developing breeze.

I descended the ridge of the hill southwards across tussocky moorland until a stone wall marking open access land was reached, this was followed to a bridleway that descended down to the busy Snake Pass road.  I then had no choice except to follow the narrow verge for roughly a kilometre whilst wing mirrors almost brushed my elbows, definitely not a road designed for walkers or cyclists!  With relief I took a track that crosses the river at the end of Ladybower reservoir and took a succession of pleasant paths alongside the river back to Alport bridge.

Whilst the weather remains too poor for backpacking I look forward to continue exploring the Peak District on day walks.  Although unplanned, this walk had been great excercise for the body and mind.

Phew just noticed at the last minute that today was the closing date for the Buffalo jacket competition.  The question was ‘How many Munro’s have I climbed?’

The answer is 71, I originally thought that it was 72 but after climbing the Saddle above Shiel Bridge I realised that the Trig point is not the summit.  Oh well a good excuse to climb that fine hill again.

The winner therefore is Backpackbrewer who guessed 73.  I will use the supplied email address to get in contact.

Another weekend where things have not gone quite as planned.  My backpack didn’t happen once again, but I did manage to get out for a walk in the snow today.  I spent most of my time in a thick white mist but there was a moment when the clouds briefly parted giving me an atmospheric view.

Anyone guess the location?  I will do a full write up in the next few days.

The awful weather of the last few weeks has kept any plans of a backpack firmly simmering away on the backburner.  Finally there is a glimmer of hope with the weather forecast for the hilly bits ‘up north’ looking pretty positive this weekend.  All going well I should hopefully get in just one more backpack before the madness that is Christmas.  Although I have done loads of winter camping before, I very rarely venture out in the tent in November and December as it is dark not long after lunch.  A bit of maths tells me that there is currently a long 16 hours between sunset and sunrise so a big fat book and loads of podcasts should keep me entertained in the dark.  The walking to camping ratio is definitely weighted towards the camping aspect so I am determined to make that part as comfy as possible.  So I have dusted off my faithful Terra Nova Voyager tent which will give me loads of room for a long evening of faffing.  I don’t trust the Neoair to keep me toasty so will also pack my multimat to use as insulation underneath.  Add to that more food to graze on whilst staring at the stars and my pack is going to be a fair bit heavier that I am used to.  I can’t wait to slide into my new PHD sleeping bag plus I have a brand new camera to play with.

The plan is to have one last look at the weather forecast when I get home from work tomorrow and then pack my rucksack.  If I pack now someone will notice and make it rain again!  I can’t wait to set foot on those steep velvety slopes in between the Lakes and the Dales.

Fingers crossed there is the sort of weather that will make my tent look like this (although I hope it is not quite as cold as when this photo was taken!)  If the weather is good everyone get out and make the most of it……………………………..

On my write up of a recent Roaches walk I mentioned that I was looking forward to walking Kinder Scout in the snow this winter.  This jogged my memory of the day after boxing day in 2003 when a group of friends and myself climbed Kinder from the Snake Pass.  A great days outing up Fair Brook to Fairbrook Naze and along the northern edge to return by the Snake path.  A combination of snow on the ground and thick mist made it pretty atmospheric up there.  At least navigation was made easy by just simply following the edges.  What we had not really thought about was the really short winters day, which after the drive from Nottingham did not give us much time to play with.  It started to get dark as we were descending Ashop head and there was talk of getting torches out.  I was the only person in a group of four who had bothered packing one!  We managed to get three quarters of the way down in the gloom before my single beam guided us back to the car.  Not easy.

So don’t forget your torch this winter!

Fingers crossed I can get up there this year under clear blue skies with a dusting of snow…………

Last June I did a three day backpack with Rae, camping at Angle tarn on the second night.  It had been a pretty miserable evening and night with low cloud and a constant drizzly rain.  Packing up the following morning and setting off towards Patterdale we bumped into Iain Crockart, his wife Lou and dog Ned.  They were walking Wainwrights Coast to Coast, with Iain taking photographic portraits of those met along the way.  Each walker was asked to hold an empty white picture frame and close their eyes whilst the photo was taken.  It was requested that the precise quiet moment be savoured and remembered.

When Iain had completed his walk he sent each person a copy of their portrait to which they would add a set amount of words.  I have included a few here (click to enlarge):

I received my copy of the book a few weeks ago and there are some great personal accounts of the Coast to Coast walk and the challenges that it offers.

A copy of the book can be purchased at cost here.

For a map of this route click here.

I had kept a beady eye on the weather forecast throughout the previous week and unfortunately it just got worse and worse.  My planned backpack to the Howgill fells went out of the window and a bit of last minute planning had myself and Rae heading out to the Roaches for a Sunday day walk instead.

With the exception of having bleary eyes it is almost a pleasure driving at 8.00am on a Sunday morning, the roads were pretty much deserted and progress to the ‘other side’ of the Peaks was swift.  The ‘other side’ of the Peaks being the area to the west that is furthest away from Nottingham.  There was only a couple of cars at the small car park in Gradbach as we arrived but after a ten minute faff it steadily started to fill up.  It looked like it may be a busy day on the hills.

10.2 miles with 660 metres ascent

We headed though the grounds of the nearby youth hostel, which looked like it was probably no longer inhabited by youth as the car park was filled with posh looking cars.  I would much rather pay a tenner extra and stay in a cosy b&b than sleep in a room with loads of farting snoring strangers, or pay nothing and pitch a tent in the wilds.  Each to their own I suppose.  Passing various signs advertising the hire of skittles / boules/ jenga for £3.50 (yes I kid you not) we eventually found the footpath and headed towards forest wood.  It started to rain so Rae was encouraged to put on her waterproof trousers which thankfully made it stop raining.  A scenic path climbed through the woods and came to a small outcrop of rock that is not marked on the map.  A great spot to spend ten minutes or so exploring its nooks and crannies.

The path changes direction and it would be fairly easy to pass by Lud’s church if you were not looking out for it.  A deep moss dripping chasm in the hillside that we managed to time so that we had it all to ourselves for ten minutes.  It is hard to do the scale of the place justice with a photo so you will all have to go and visit yourselves, it is worth it.

Shortly after climbing out of Lud’s church whilst walking through Gradbach wood we were passed by a human train.  I did not know that it was possible for so many people to be able to go out for a walk together.  It may have been an accident and lots of individuals may have been stuck behind one another, but we passed another group of about thirty people four hours later.  Maybe I am a miserable git but that seems even weirder to me than staying in a youth hostel.  Heaven forbid they may have been walking in a group of thirty and staying in a youth hostel (shudder).  I may start up the misanthropic hill walkers club and no one else is invited!

Anyway the walk through Gradbach wood is simply lovely and at one point mist descended through the trees making it very atmospheric.

The high level road that circles the Roaches is soon met and it is then a short simple climb to the trig point at their highest point at 505 metres.  The views however get better as you start descending a little to the south and the crags on the western side get bigger.  Although a popular walk this does not distract from the scenery which on a clear day can extend across the plains to Wales.

Rather than follow the main path we continued to the southern tip of the roaches where there are views down to the isolated craggy top of Hen cloud.  A narrow path then winds its way down through the rocks with a little easy scrambling if wanted.

Neither of us had climbed Hen Cloud before so we headed up the well worn path turning round for the views back towards the Roaches.

The summit is quickly reached and the top feels more airy than the main Roaches ridge.  Some of the cliffs are pretty big as well and it was less busy with climbers, possibly due to the higher grades of climbing.  The wind throughout the day had been pretty strong so we descended a short way and found an outcrop to hide behind to eat our lunch.

Our path down completely circled the hill and led us back under the South ridge of the Roaches at Well farm.  We could see the jagged outline of our next destination Ramshaw rocks on the horizon, one of the few remaining places in the Peaks I had yet to visit.  We took a circuitous route to avoid loosing too much height whilst the crowds of the last couple of hours were left behind.  Ramshaw rocks are an interesting place to visit with most of the rocks pointing at an angle towards the east.  Peering over the edge many of the crags are overhanging and you can see the chalk marks left by climbers, some of the climbing routes look pretty tough.

Descending to a lane we passed what may have been the same group of about 30 people all strung out in a line stretching to the horizon.  A letter must have been sent out to all members requesting that red woolly socks must be worn.

Heading north past a tiny tea shop there are further interesting rock formations that remind me a bit of the Darmoor tors.  Newstones, Baldstones and Gib tor all rise from low moorland in quick succession.  Most of this landscape is within the Blackbank valley nature reserve, an area that requires a leisurely exploration.  However dusk was on its way (even though it was only 3.30pm) and dark clouds were gathering with a few spots of rain.  We were soon crossing the path below Gradbach hill and descending back to the car park just as darkness was falling.

Although a planned backpack was cancelled it was still good to get out for a day.  Even though the Peak district is very familiar I always forget how wild and rugged parts of it are.  The only downside for me is the amount of people out and about on a Sunday, you can see how it is the second most visited national park in the world.  I usually only visit on a Saturday if I go at a weekend, which for some reason is much quieter (the power of the shopping ‘experience’ and supermarkets?) but you need to grab those weather windows whenever possible.  I will definitely be visiting the Peaks more over the coming winter months.  Kinder in the snow, can’t wait!

As I write this I should be striding across the rounded shoulders of the Howgill fells.  Once again nature has conspired against me, with forecast storms it did not look like an ideal weekend for backpacking so has been placed on the back burner.  Luckily the bad weather has coincided with a cold which means postponing sleeping out in a tent even easier!

At this time of year I look forward to those all too rare calm sunny days and frosty nights.  For me there is nothing worse than walking on a cold damp winters day to then go and spend 16 hours huddled in a tiny wind blasted tent before repeating the experience the next day.  I much prefer the crunch of frost underfoot and distant views during the day and then the freezing star filled night followed by the perfect dawn.  The long nights mean that I have had a good long sleep and am often awake as the horizon is brightening and the sky is changing colour.  You can’t beat laying snuggled in a warm sleeping bag with a cup of coffee waiting for the first rays of the sun to hit the tent and melt the frost.

On my recent Scottish trip I had a magical moment whilst on Islay, opening the bothy door to an orange horizon with the calm sea and the clouds changing colour.  A few photos were taken and I feel that I should bore you with one more!

I am now keeping my fingers crossed that next weekend is calm and settled, if not I suppose there is the weekend after that.  I am determined to get out backpacking and experience the ‘perfect dawn’ as soon as possible.  Surely there must be one good weekend before Christmas?  I am lucky in that I don’t have too many weekend commitments, plus an understanding non hill walking partner who is more than happy to have the house to herself for a weekend!

A cancelled backpack however has given me the opportunity for a walk tomorrow nearer to home in the Peak District.  I have not visited for a while, so this afternoon will be spent with maps spread out trying to decide where to go.  Any suggestions?

For a map of the backpacking route click here.

Please pull up a comfy chair as I got carried away and this is a long post!

I arrived at Port Askaig just as the Jura ferry pulled in and let off a single car, this meaning an hours wait until it made the short trip back over to Jura.  There is not a lot to explore in port Askaig with there being just a hotel and a shop as well as the ferry terminal.  A short walk up to the Jura ferry just made me nervous as even in this sheltered position it was rocking about.  Looking across to the cloud shrouded Jura I could see the size of the waves that this small ferry would have to cross.

Before waving me on the ferryman came over and asked if I was planning on staying on Jura, if I was not he would not take me across.  The weather was worsening and he was not sure if he would be able to make it back.  I boarded the ferry with one other vehicle and was told to make sure my windows were closed to avoid a soaking from the waves.  Let me say that I was really glad that the crossing was only about five minutes because the whole experience was like a fairground ride.  The size of some of the waves were pretty alarming and the ferry pitched heavily from side to side.

I had booked myself a single room at the Jura hotel which is located in Craighouse, the only village on Jura.  It was only early afternoon but I was glad to be able to get out of the weather and have a shower and enjoy the comfort of a proper bed for the night.  It has to be said that the hotel bar was not exactly jumping on this Tuesday night in late October!

The forecasted break in the weather arrived the next day and I was up and out of the hotel early after a good breakfast.  Craighouse looked like an idyllic place to live with its whitewashed cottages lined up facing a sheltered bay.  The climate is obviously mild here as there was the odd palm tree scattered about the village.  My aim was to drive along the only road to the point where the public road ends at the north of the Island.  The journey along the A846 was one of the best drives that I have done, single tracked for its entire journey and in roughly 20 miles I only passed three other vehicles.  The scenery becomes pretty desolate as signs of habitation are left behind and the road becomes even narrower and rougher.

At Ardlussa the road becomes unclassified and passes through some stunning woodland which was showing off its Autumn finery.

As I passed Lealt the road becomes unsurfaced and there is a fair bit of bumping along until finally a sign is reached marking the end of the public road.  There is a small old quarry that serves as a parking spot.

The night in the hotel had given me time to sort and repack my rucksack so I was able to get moving as soon as I had parked up.  The start of my backpack was along a nice easy track for the first couple of miles.  This track eventually leads to the Isolated farmhouse of kinuachdrachd and Barnhill which is the cottage where George Orwell wrote 1984.

The track passed through a landscape of tussocky moorland and low craggy hills, to my right there were great views across to the mainland.  I started to dread the moment when I would have to leave the security of the track and risk my ankles on the very rough ground!  As I reached a small wooden hut I noticed an Argocat track heading north towards the low summit of Beul Leathad, luckily in the direction I had planned to walk.  Although not a proper track the all terrain wheels had flattened the tussocks meaning that I just had to squelch through ankle deep bog.  Progress was fairly swift and I soon had a view of Scarba across the Gulf of Corryvreckan.

The aim for today was to bag the summit of the Marilyn Cruach na Seilcheig which stands at a not very mighty 304 metres.  After crossing the boggy Gleann Dorch it was fairly easy climb up to the trig point.  I found myself stopping often to soak up the view and simply revel in the remoteness of my location.  For some reason the highest point of the hill is not the trig point but an unmarked bump about a kilometre away.  This gave awesome views along the wild and rugged west coast of the Island.

My map showed that the descent to the coast along the north west ridge would be steep but manageable.  Either my map reading needs to improve or the OS were being less than truthful with the amount of actual crags on this descent.  It also did not help that there is some writing over the bottom crag on the map, which I had not noticed.  The start of the descent was ok and I zigged zagged down the steep grassy slopes avoiding small outcrops.  As I got lower I noticed a large herd of deer and another of goats sharing the grassy shoreline.  The deer spotted me and ran whilst the goats continued grazing.  With about 100 metres of descent left to go I came to band after band of crags.  I got down one ok to find that I was on a long grassy ledge with nowhere to go.  I found a break in the cliffs and started a very wet slithery descent with black oozing water coming up to my shins, before coming properly crag bound.  Without a pack I would simply have gone down the wet mossy rocks on my bottom, but my pack was getting in the way.  There was nothing for it but to remove it and drop it a good ten feet into an oozing bog!  I slithered and slided down getting covered in black goo to retrieve my sack from the bog.  I could see that I was now less that 30 metres above the sea and felt relieved that I had got down safely.  A bit of bracken bashing and my heart sank.  A line of completely sheer crags ran the length of the hillside and into the gorge like stream bed on either side.  There appeared to be no way out.  It was at this point that the remoteness of my location really sank in, if I was to injure myself it could be weeks or maybe months before anyone else came this way.  I started to consider climbing back up the way I had come down but that was not really that appealing.  I then noticed a goat track though the bracken leading to the cliff edge, I followed it and was relieved to see that there was a narrow slanting ledge that led down to safe ground.  I gingerly followed this down to safety noticing at the bottom that my ledge was above a slight overhand on the cliffs.  The goats scattered as I approached the rocks on the sea-shore and I removed my pack, both it and myself were covered in a layer of muck from the descent.  At least now I could relax and take in my surroundings!

Shouldering my wet pack onto my wet back I started walking south out of the bay Bagh Uamh Mhor.  The coastline was as convoluted as the map shows with numerous ups and downs and small bands of cliffs to wind myself around.  My first destination was the little sandy beach in the next bay, Traigh na Garbh-airde.  With the light slowly beginning to fade at around 4.00pm this was a magical place, but I was aware that it would be dark in about an hour.

Close to the beach I came to an old sea arch that was now a good 100 metres away from the sea.  From this angle it reminds me a little bit of an elephant’s head.  I had passed a similar natural arch on Islay on the way to An Cladach bothy, but the weather had been too foul to appreciate it or take a photograph.

I sat on a rock next to the beach for a while feeling so lucky to be surrounded by such stunning remote scenery.  If it had been a warm sunny day it would have been a perfect spot for a swim, unfortunately the fading light meant that I could not linger.

Looking at my map now, it is almost impossible to trace the exact route that I took, the ground is so convoluted.  I ended up climbing above the lines of cliffs where progress was much easier.  I constantly felt like I was being watched and whenever I looked at the horizon there would be deer or goats staring back at me.

I reached a high point in the cliffs and there ahead of me lay Glengarrisdale bay with the bothy set back from the beach.  I stood there for a while amazed that an open bothy could be located in such a beautiful location.  I continued along the cliffs for a while before realising that I needed to find a way down to the sea.  Again goat tracks came to my aid and I found a series of ledges that wound their way down to sea level.

The bothy was now in full sight and I walked across the beach in low light watching various deer and goats run off into the distance.  The Glengarrisdale river was running pretty high but seeing at my feet were already soaking I simply waded across feeling my boots fill with cold water.  There was no light or smoke coming from the bothy as I reached the door, I opened it and was greeted by complete darkness, light failing to penetrate through the tiny windows.  Switching on my head torch I had a look around and decided that I would sleep in the downstairs right hand room.  In the darkness the bothy was not very homely and it was a bit damp, probably due to the fact that it had not been inhabited for a couple of weeks according to the bothy book.  A fire would cheer the place up but there were only massive pieces of driftwood left by the previous visitors, it was too dark outside to go and start hunting for wood.  I had a go at hacking up some wood with a blunt axe but gave up and resigned myself to not having a fire, at least it was mild.  As I started to cook my dinner I noticed that my clothing was crawling with ticks which I must have picked up whilst passing though all that bracken.  I stripped off and shook my clothing outside before putting on a fresh set.  That evening and the following day I removed five of the little buggers that had burrowed into various parts of my anatomy.  Every time I went outside I would manage to bring in more ticks with me, the downside of having so many deer and goats.  I was glad that I was not camping outside with them!

The morning brought a change in the weather with a strengthening wind and spots of rain.  I took a while to decide what to do with myself.  My original plan had been to walk about 8 miles down the coast and wild camp at Corpach bay.  However I knew that there were more gales and rain on the way plus I did not fancy spending a night in a potentially tick infested campsite.  I though about staying at the bothy for another night which would have been appealing if I could get a fire going.  However this and the surrounding bays were now devoid of driftwood according to the bothy book and a map on the wall.  If I stayed today I would have to cross the Island tomorrow in gale force winds and heavy rain.  I decided to head back to the van where it would be dry and comfortable.

I decided that I would walk back via another Marilyn Ben Garrisdale which is a big complex hill with many false summits (well 380 metres is pretty big for the north of Jura!).  It looked complicated on the map but I though I would be fine as long as the mist did not descend whilst I tried to find the highest summit knoll.  I climbed boggy tussocky ground and then the steep slopes of Grianan Mhor which gave good views along the coast.  However it was evident that the weather was making a turn for the worst.  As I hit the 300 metre contour the mist came down, the wind picked up and it started to hammer it down with rain.  At least the trig point was a definite point to aim for and was easily found.  Then by compass bearings I found Loch Fada Ben Garrisdale and I knew that it would be impossible to locate the highest point of the hill.  With zero visibility I knew that there was a real risk of getting myself lost, the terrain being complex enough in good visibility.  The wind was also making walking a bit of a struggle, plus it would be dark in a couple of hours.  I have never been defeated by such a small hill before!

I was pleased with my map and compass work, managing to contour round the hill and towards the smaller peak of Carn nan Gillean where I picked up another Argocat track.  I was fortunate in that this took me back to my van meaning that I could avoid some of the worse tussocks, there was even an old bridge to cross the Lealt burn.  I arrived back at the van wet and knackered even though the actual mileage for the day had been fairly low.  Jura is a tough place to backpack!

During the night the promised gales and heavy rain arrived meaning that the following day was a wash out.  I had a few short day walks planned just in case there was bad weather on this trip, however there is bad weather and completely miserable weather.  I decided to go home a day earlier instead.