It was that time of year, time for the annual May Day gathering of the old Manchester University Class of 86/78 etc and accompanying families. The Tartan was washed, old stories dusted down and rehearsed and we were ready to go. After last years epic weekend it was a done deal that we were to return to Chapel Stile in Nether Wasdale. As lovely a “proper” campsite as you can get and as it’s slightly away from the main walking areas, reasonably quiet and unspoilt. To be honest I wasn’t looking forward to it as much as usual. The weather the previous few weeks had been so appalling that I wasn’t really enthused with the idea of spending a weekend cooped up in a tent with some grumpy kids (and a grumpy Jane). I need not have worried, whilst it was unseasonably cold at night with frosts there was plenty of sunshine on hand and little rain. The kids as always disappeared off to play and I barely saw them all weekend. Gave me a chance for some proper Lake District walking.

I’d seen a blog post recently about the High Level Traverse on Pillar – I’d not been up that way for several years so I thought it was time for a revisit

8.1 miles, 3,900 feet of ascent

After a leisurely breakfast and extended period of faffing about we were ready to set off. We convinced ED that he should join us although having been out of action for the past few months with a damaged Achilles he wan’t suer he could keep up. In the end he was in fine shape and only a daft and unnecessary steep descent caused him any grief. The eponymous Uncle Fester also joined us together with GM and S to make a happy gang of 5 setting of at the early hour of 11:30

Kirk Fell & Great Gable

Mosedale Beck

We parked up just south of the Wasdale Head and enjoyed the first stroll along the river under blue skies but a keen and cold wind. Me and GM decided it was time to air the winter whites of our legs which makes the weather look somewhat warmer than in fact it was. Still it was great to feel the sun after weeks of rain and we lapped up the delights of Mosedale in the morning – sorry, afternoon – warmth.

Mosedale, Scafell behind

As we approached Black Sail pass the path crosses the stream and makes an ideal first lunch stop. I took out my little Jetboil for a brew while ED assembled his portable range cooker. I didn’t know gas burners came that big! As always lunch was an epic affair – we just don’t believe in a basic fuel stop. Out of the wind it was warm so make the most I say.

Lunch over time to move on

As always there were hills – well, hill to be climbed. Nice thing about Black Sail pass is the ascent is gradual with no steep slopes so you can plod upwards, chat and take in the views. On reaching the pass the views north and west were stunning, across to the Buttermere Fells and Ennerdale and Skiddaw and around to Hellvellyn.

High Stile from Black Sail

From here a broad ridge climbs steadily to the summit of Pillar but we had a different objective. After climbing a short distance up the ridge a cairn marks the spot where the famous Pillar High Level Traverse leads off. A stunning narrow path that weaves amongst the northern crags of the mountain.

Start of the high level traverse

UF, Great Gable behind

The first few hundred yards are pretty eroded but it’s passable with care and eventually becomes a glorious easy walk amongst stupendous rock scenery. We did at one point lose the path that involved a greasy slimy down scramble for those too lazy to re-trace steps with the downside of a soggy bottom balanced by finding a nice icicle to play with (cue the usual SnS comment that Bruce Willis once killed someone with an icicle in a Die Hard movie)

“…..and then he stabbed him like this”

The path continues to the prominent Robinson’s Cairn where the hardy are treated to one of Lakelands treasure views – Pillar Rock. Set in amongst dramatic crags it’s a fabulous place, almost feels manufactured for perfection.

Pillar Rock from Robinsons Cairn

The sun was out and we were out of the wind, only one thing to do.

” Lunch II – this time they mean business!”

I brewed up while ED launched the Space Shuttle and we settled down for another long stop. We were slighty bewildered by a couple of walkers deep in conversation who walked pretty much right through us almost treading on my sandwiches without so much as a “Hi” – where does this rate in hill etiquette I wonder. Onward and upward, we left our new friends behind with a slightly OTT cheery ta-ta (their turn to look slightly bewildered) and heading into the magnificent rock amphitheatre that holds Pillar rock.

ED & UF on the traverse to Pillar Rock

The path traverses a broad rocky ledge that gives a real mountaineering flavour without ever being difficult, to reach the narrow neck between the rock and the crags behind.

The ledge

GM gave us all some sport by climbing the little fore-peak of Pisgah while we tried to spot the famous Slab and Notch route to the top without success.

GM showing off

From here its a steep walk/scramble to the top with some superb situations and views emerging dramatically on the vast summit plateau with a spread of grass large enough play a footy match on (your turn to fetch the ball).

GM nearing the summit

S on the skyline

The views were magnificent with the Isle of Man holding centre stage like a battleship ready for war in the Irish Sea.

S poses on the summit

Isle of Man

We didn’t linger as it was busy – Pillar is one of Lakelands finest and unsurprisingly popular – and as it was 4:30pm (we’d promised to be back by 4pm) we though we’d better head off. The day finished with a pleasant stroll along Pillars west ridge and an unecessary descent of some ludicrously steep grass to cut off the corner as alluded to earlier. The walk back along Mosedale in the evening sun was enchanting as we picked out wild camping spots.

Back to the campsite for that peculiarly British occupation of BBQ outdoors even though it’s freezing cold as we’ve bloody well brought the stuff so were going to enjoy it – right!

“In the summer-time, when the weathers fine……”

You can read ED’s account of the day here and there are more Wasdale adventures to follow in the next post. For now enjoy the musical photo ensemble

Time to play blog catch-up again! This one is from several weeks back. Sitting in the current heat wave planning a sunny afternoon around the BBQ its kind of hard to recall that this walk was in the middle of the spell of horrendous wet weather in April. I had the day to myself while Jane took the kids to a party and although it was sunny when I got up by the time I was ready to go the storm clouds were gathering.

I was heading for a large group of hills tucked away to the north of the Brecons and Black Mountains. I’d noticed them on the map and seen a few references to them on the blogs I read but as they are all less than 2000 feet they get little attention in guidebooks and the like. It looks like there are several days worth of walking but for today I’d chosen a walk around Aberedw onto Llandeilo Hill and back along the river.

10.7 Miles, 2,000 feet of ascent

As I drove west the weather was appalling, dark clouds and heavy rain and little sign of an improvement. I figured if didn’t change I could just do a short explore of crags of Aberedw Rocks and head down early. As I reached Aberedw and parked up the rain stopped and there was some semblance of brightness. As it turned out my general good luck with the weather of late stayed with me and I only had one light shower all day with all the dark stormy stuff hugging the higher mountains.

Looking NE from Aberedw Rocks

The walk up to the crags is supposed to take you past Llewellyns cave but I never found it. Once up on the top its a wide open common heathland landscape with several tiers of slate edges and small tarns, really quite charming and a great place for a summer evening stroll.

Aberedw Rocks

Llandeilo Hill

Today it was cold and windy with masses of dark brooding storm clouds all around but I was in a clear spot. There didn’t seem to anyone about so it felt as if I had the whole area to myself which is always nice.

Stormy Weather

The walk along Llandeilo Hill was on a green path at a steady angle that makes for superb easy strolling and I could just eat up the miles taking in the expansive views of these hills. There seemed to be hills and valleys everywhere and more routes than you could shake a stick at. It’s my favourite past-time while out walking, looking at possible routes, dragging the map out, checking the possible paths and access.

Tarn on Llandeilo Hill

Across the Aberedw Valley

The time just flew by as I strode onwards to Cradle Rocks. It was tempting just to carry on but I needed some lunch and whilst it was still bright it was cold and windy. I decided to head on the long traversing, gently downhill, path towards the road.

Traversing descent path

Looking towards Gilwern and Gwaunceste Hills

I eventually found a sheltered spot for a brew of tea and some lunch which unfortunately coincided with the only heavy shower of the day – with a bit of hail mixed in. I hurried to pack up and get moving and as I’m sure you’ve guessed, within seconds the rain/hail stopped and the sun came out!

My map showed a right of way pretty much all along the valley floor on the north bank. It wasn’t signed from the road and true to form there was no sign of a path or any stiles to cross the many fences although the few hundred sheep that followed me across the first field seemed confident in my route finding abilities. It was a pleasant amble across the fields and barbed wire but I always felt I was one wrong move from an angry farmers gun.

Aberedw valley

I reached the small chapel at road junction and decided to use the road for the next section. As I wandered down the road (not much of a hardship as there wasn’t any traffic) I could see the path on the other side well-marked and with stiles over all the walls and fences. Frustrated I noted a bridge over the river a couple of miles along where I could cross and pick up the last stretch of path back to Aberedw. En-route the road passes through a broad grassy area by the river which is perfect for a summer picnic.

Picnic spot by the river

When I reached the spot where the bridge was supposed to be some kind person had built a rather nice house over the access road and demolished it! I had no choice but to finish the rest of walk along the road back into Aberedw. Just my luck to walk the section with no trace of a path and miss out the section that was well-marked.

Still it was a great day and a fine first visit to these little known hills and ultimately quite a long walk. A little care is required in picking a route but well worth the effort, the views are expansive the walking on the tops at least is easy and rewarding. Enjoy my usual musical photo extravaganza

Oh dear, a long way behind with my blog again. Lots to catch up on with a little trip into the little known hills west of Builth Wells, a trip to Wasdale and an ascent of Pillar and cracking birthday weekend in Snowdonia. While I get around to editing some slide shows and writing up the thrills and spills here’s a few photos, words and a little Flickr slide show of a recent family trip up Coppet Hill near Goodrich.

It’s a stunning little hill perched above a massive meander in the river Wye between Goodrich and Symonds Yat. The latter is a busy tourist fleshpot but this hill is mercifully quiet and unspoilt with expansive views over the Herefordshire countryside.

Coppet Hill and Herefordshire countryside

Kerne Bridge

It’s a fine place for a family stroll across the open ridge and down through woods which we hoped would be carpeted with bluebells but it was just a little early. You descend sharply down to the sharp-point of the meander before returning along the fields at the bottom of the hill.

On the banks of the Wye

Across the meadows

The last time I’d been here with D on a summer walk the Wye was high and chocolate-brown. This time it looked as if you could almost wade across. This was to prove the calm before the storms as over the next week the river rose to bursting point in the latter half of April and has only just returned to normal.

We managed to find a sheltered spot in the grass for a customary brew, watching the kayakers on the river (must get round to a canoe trip with the kids on my local river sometime) before heading home.

Afternoon tea

A fine walk on a cold spring day close to home, a little stocking filler between the adventure on Rum and the walks to follow

It was time to head home after a cracking few days. We had an idea on the previous evening to set off early and climb some hills but we stayed in character and got up late. After packing up we intended to walk back along the track to Kinloch. GM suggested heading back over the Bealach Bairc Mheall but I wasn’t convinced about hauling the pack over the wild ground. However the weather looked to be improving so pretty much on a whim we changed direction and started heading up into Glen Harris towards Atlantic Corrie.

Return to Kinloch via Coire Dubh, 8 miles, 2,000 feet of ascent

It was a master-stroke of an idea. The going while a little squelchy was pretty easy with numerous sheep and deer tracks to follow.

Glen Harris

Trollaval

Barkeval

Normally when hiking with GM all I get to see is him disappearing into the distance while I tag along at the back. Today the roles were reversed and I managed to get a burst of energy from god knows where and set a blistering pace, granola power perhaps. More likely it was the joy of the wild, dark and brooding corrie that lifted me. Atlantic Corrie is quite magnificent with Trollaval rising to the south, Barkeval to the north, summits still shrouded in cloud but with a hint of possibility of clearing to drive me on.

Atlantic Corrie, Hallival, Askival

GM finally overtook me when I left one of my poles behind and had to go back for it. As we hit the bealach we were greeted with a sunny view across north Rum towards the Isle of Skye.

Harris Bay

Skye from the Bealach

We both grinned our satisfaction to the Sky(e) having made it to the Col in less than 2 hours. We now had plenty of time to climb one of summits and went for Barkeval as it would give us a view over Harris Bay if it cleared. We dumped the sacks and headed up. Always amazing the spring in your step you get when dropping a backpack to climb a summit. Almost feels like you could run up and we made short work to the top. We hung around in the mist waiting for it to clear. Just when we’d given up we were treated to a few glimpses of sunny coast and islands before it closed in again.

GM on Barkeval summit

Satisfied with that we started to head down – we had a ferry to catch. As we descended the summit cleared properly and the views were breathtaking.

Harris Bay

Hallival, Askival

Shafts of sunlight lighting up some of dark summits of the ridge, framing the Isle of Muck, and clear sunny views across to Skye, Canna, the mainland and the Outer Hebrides. Again we felt extremely lucky that in such an unsettled spell of weather we’d been treated to such classic coastal views. Rum was laid out beneath us and a mighty fine island it is. The lower northern hills and bays need a visit and the shapely little peak of Fionchra caught the eye. We toyed with the idea of running up Hallival but thought we might be pushing our luck with the time. Instead we settled for a short descent into Coire Dubh for extended lunch stop in the sunshine.

Skye and Loch Scresort

As we ate we watched the ferry on its first visit of the day before heading off to Canna and back to pick us up. With blue sky and sunshine lighting up the small isles it was just a fantastic way to be ending the trip. Coire Dubh itself is pretty special with an alpine style meadow just below the ridge.

Coire Dubh

It’s very wet and boggy but if you could find a place to throw a tent up it would be an epic site to spend the night. The walk along the stream and down into the forest back to Kinloch was just a pleasure and despite my soggy feet I enjoyed every step.

GM on the walk home

As we walked down it became clear that the mountains of Knoydart back on the mainland had a cap of snow which seemed surprising as it didn’t seem especially cold.

Across to distant Knoydart

In fact as I waited for GM to catch up at Kinloch, I sat on the picnic table by the castle in shirtsleeves and sunhat such was the warmth. Reluctantly we headed off to catch the ferry in bright sunshine and it looked like we would escape from Rum without the need for a helicopter.

Kinloch Castle

Loch Scresort

Waiting for my ship to come in

The ferry journey itself was pretty amazing with some stunning views back to Rum and across to Eigg that was hiding under a massive black cloud and the boat was drenched as it passed though the shower en-route to pick up the day-trippers on the island.

Askival and Hallival

Eigg

The views of An Sgurr as we headed on the final leg back to Mallaig were as good as I remembered from the last trip and as we steamed into port the views back to Rum, itself now thunderously dark were just magnificent.

An Sgurr, Eigg

Eigg and Rum

After an adventure like this the only fitting finale was fish and chips from the station chippy eaten on the wall of the car park overlooking the small isles we’d just come rom.

Fish and Chips with a view

I’m not sure if it was the quality of the food, the view, or the fact I’d been living on dried food and pigeon loft scrapings for 3 days, but they were best fish and chips I’ve eaten in many a year. The perfect end to another Easter adventure.

A brief little postette. On our final evening we decided to head down to the goat latrine that is the small square path of grass down by the beach and have ourselves a little bonfire.

Playing with fire

View south from the beach

We thought about moving the tent down here but as our stuff was dry and we are a couple of lazy gits we decided not to bother. There was already a fire pit with a collection of wood plus a lifetimes supply on the beach so with a judicious input of firelighters and meths we soon had a roaring blaze going.

"Needs more wood"

Can you feel the warmth?

Must be encoded in our DNA strands but I’m yet to meet a bloke who doesn’t love playing with fire in one form or another be it a beach fire, a BBQ or in EDs case setting fire to someone’s newspaper while they are still reading it!

Dying embers

No better way to finish off the day than messing about on the beach picking up driftwood and then sitting in front of the fire while it burns down and watching the stars appear. I was as happy as a pig (or goat more appropriately) in muck and was even able to dry out my socks and boots a bit so they were ready for a fresh supply of water the next day.

Warm dry feet for the first time in 2 days

This is real living

Wood doesn’t burn for long so once we’d burnt of what we’d collected and completely incinerated our rubbish we headed back up to the tent for the usual late warming brew to prepare for the walk out the next day.

Sunset over the mausoleum

Lovely final evening at Harris Bay celebrated with a little video of the event – I’ve edited out my attempt to sing for the sake of everyone who appreciates good music

After the excitement of the previous day the weather took pity on us and gave us a grey and dreary day so we could have a lie in. After the usual routine of breakfast (I’m still struggling with the best backpacking breakfast – I hate muesli and now I’ve decided I hate granola as well) and a couple of brews eventually the inevitable calls of nature force you out of the tent.

Looking west

I know these as zawns (Cornish)

It wasn’t half bad so we went for a pre-lunch stroll along the coast to the north, taking in the Bullough family Mausoleum. It really is a very odd thing to find in a such a remote site but it’s quite atmospheric in a macabre sort of way.

Down among the dead men, women and children

Things you don't expect to find

The cliffs are superb but I was surprised not to see any nesting seabirds. Rum does have a large colony of Manx Shearwaters but they nest up on the slopes of Askival and Hallaval on the main ridge. As we walked the views opened out and we kept climbing enjoying vistas up the coast and back across Harris Bay.

Looking north

We thought we’d head up to find the little Loch Monica but it proved elusive until we realised we hadn’t climbed anything like as high ad we’d thought. We eventually found it nestling under some nice little crags and took a stroll along their edge before we decided to head down as the rain returned. We had at one time thought we could take a walk over Orval and down over Bloodstone Hill to camp near the bothy at Guirdil but as the weather was so unsettled and we had lovely pitch (with dry stuff in it!) we decided to stay put, but it would be a cracking stroll even if you just walked the coast as the terrain didn’t look too punishing.

Loch Monica

It proved to be the start of the worst spell of the weather of the weekend as it tipped it down for 4-5 hours so we had lunch and a little afternoon snooze.

Around 5ish the weather changed dramatically and the sun came out while the mountains were still swathed in streaming clouds.

The weather improves

Our home from home

Barkeval

We took in a long stroll in the other direction just enjoying the superb clear views and clambering around on the coastal rocks and multiple small headlands. This is an activity we’ve come to perfect over the years and termed “coastal plonking”. It normally involves scrambling very close to the water’s edge until someone gets wet (or in my case until someone steps on a rock that wasn’t there and falls on his hand resulting in a trip to casualty to have his hand stitched up but that’s another story)

Looking south

Ruinsival and the cliffs to the south

The light was just superb and I reeled off huge numbers of photos but it’s hard to catch the mood. In essence we were on a remote Scottish island with the whole bay (in fact what felt like the whole island) to ourselves.

Down by the waters edge

Harris Bay, Canna in the distance

Amazing how life’s little problems just melt away when you find yourself at one with the hills and you get a real perspective. I’ve been pretty busy at work the last couple of months and I often find it hard to leave it behind and unwind at home. Here it suddenly occurred to me I hadn’t thought about work since I landed in Glasgow. This is proper relaxation. One of my work colleagues is also a keen walker and he mentioned that he often “communes with the mountains” when he needs to think. I think we can all empathise with that view

Barkeval and the Abhainn Rangail

GM does the chores

Moody mountains

Ruinsival from the tent door

Time for tea (chilli and rice if you’re interested) before we decided we needed to light a fire on the beach which I’d been looking forward to all weekend. That’s for another post to come so for now here’s a little video slide show of the day’s coastal wanderings.

So why “Unfinished Business”? Before I dive into the post let me tell you a little story from a previous visit to this island.

Back in 2008 me and GM took an impromptu trip to Scotland one October. After messing about on Bidean in Glencoe for a day and stroll to Peanmenach bothy on the coast of Moidart, we decided on a few days in Rum to capture the main ridge. We had a great walk around the coast to Dibidil bothy (a storming spot) and set out for the ridge the next day. A few hundred feet short of the summit of Askival on it’s scrambly south ridge, GM decided a hand-jam was in order. A sizeable chunk of Askival came loose and sliced open his hand in an expansive manner and re-arranged several of the bones. The rock bounced down, missing my head by a foot or so and GM and fell on me, nearly taking us both off. With calm understatement GM told me he thought he’d bust his hand. Remarkably we managed to get back down to the bothy with relative ease, pack up, walk most of the way back to Kinloch before getting a handy lift from a brand new Coastguard helicopter. So ended, abruptly our first visit to Rum with none of the peaks of the main ridge climbed. So Rum was classified as unfinished business. Now it was time to go back….

(My original photoset on Flickr is here)

We were originally planning to go Jura with several of the boys, but all of them apart from me and GM cried off with some poor excuses. We decided to keep Jura ready for next year and return to Rum. I decided to fly up from Bristol (not much more expensive than driving) with GM picking me up at Glasgow and taking us up to Suie Lodge for a brief overnight stop. The weather the next day was cold, wet and windy and we almost bailed out but thought we may as well go for it. Almost all the heavy snow that fell couple of days previously had gone, killing the debate about whether we should have taken axe and crampons. We reached Mallaig in the rain (made packing at the car a nightmare), bought the tickets and waited for the ferry.

Small Isles Ferry

The rain stopped and things looked a little less grim, although the cloud was still down to a few hundred feet above sea level. Surprisingly there was a dogfish swimming quite nonchalantly about in the harbour which was quite something.

Dogfish in Mallaig Harbour

There were several people waiting for the ferry although most had enough stuff to set up a small settlement so we assumed they were hostel bound

The ferry journey even on a day as grey as this was still enjoyable and I passed the time looking for dolphins without success. The views across to Eigg were still great although Rum was barely visible under a heavy blanket of cloud.

Eigg

Loch Scresort and Kinloch

Jumping ship

Walk in, 7.7 miles, 1,200 feet of ascent

On reaching Loch Scresort we left the hostellers behind and started the long walk in to Harris on the far side of the island, chosen for its ideal start point for a circuit of the main ridge.

Struggling with the weight of flapjacks

Despite the dreary low cloud the walk was still enjoyable with a sense of adventure in heading off to a remote corner of an equally remote island. It’s easy-going along a wide 4WD track and we made good time. As we passed a few highland cattle and deer Harris came into view and it became clear this was a special spot. The cloud lifted to an encouraging degree and we could see the full sweep of bay from the mausoleum to the cliffs and the large raised beach clearly visible.

Harris

We set about finding a decent campsite for the weekend. Pete over at Writesofway had told me of spot by the beach with a fire-pit and plenty of wood to burn but we noticed another couple had pitched up just across the river so we thought it a little impolite to intrude on their privacy. We eventually decided on one of the smaller enclosures up near the raised beach which didn’t have the beach fire potential but did have better views. It was a pretty cracking spot, with the sea in front and the mountains behind and a real sense of wilderness. I loved it, nothing is better than getting your tent set up in a wild location and then just soak up the atmosphere with brew.

Our pitch amongst the stones

GM, raised beach and Ruinsival

Looking south along the coast

GM enjoys a brew

We spent the rest of the evening pottering on the beach and collecting water and various bits of driftwood to sit on and provide improvised laminate flooring in the tent porch. We dined on stir-fry and noodles and watched as the skies cleared, the stars came out and the main ridge slowly revealed itself. It was magical, if a little chilly and the late evening light was truly magnificent.

Yours truly admiring the sunset

Sunset

Life seems pretty simple at such times as you settle down to simple pleasures, a hot brew, a homemade flapjack and a view not many people get to see. We kept our fingers crossed the weather forecast for the next day might be wrong.

Main Ridge, 7.4 miles, 3,250 feet of ascent

It wasn’t. The next morning we woke to dull leaden skies and despite the sense that it was only going to get worse we decided to give the ridge a try.

Enjoy the view while you can

Calm before the storm

It started drizzling within an hour and the climb up to Ruinsival was a little unrewarding. Once on the top my mood improved as we crossed the strangely eroded gabbro rocks on the summit, almost like a gabbro pavement.

Ruinsival summit

We were in the cloud but it wasn’t too cold and things could be worse so we pressed on, exploring the cliff edges of Leac a Chasteil as we went.

Standing on the edge

Don't do it

Only as we hit the nameless summit at 759m did the weather suddenly turn wetter, windier and colder. Onwards to Ainshval you get a first taste of the real flavour as the ridge suddenly narrows and changes to basalt which was astonishingly slippery and pretty un-nerving. We managed to get down an onto Ainshval without any incident.

Ainshval, cold wet and windy

Then the fun really started. We tried to follow the ridge down towards Trollaval but lost the route. We ended up on some of the scariest terrain I’ve been on for many a year, a series of small ledges of slippery basalt that just seemed willing us to a nasty fall. We slithered and picked our way slowly down, GM calmly, me in an increasingly agitated state. As we descended we were acutely aware of the risk of not being able to continue down or return the way we had come. You often read in guide-books “no place be in bad weather and poor visibility” and treat it glibly. However Rum has mountains that are not to be trifled with and all the way down I kept thinking “not again”.

Forced smile

As we neared what we hoped was the bottom of the worst I slipped and nearly came off a very short down-climb, I’d have done myself a nasty if I had fallen. Fortunately my bone-head saved me from slipping as I jammed it into the rock as a makeshift point of contact and after recovering what was left of my composure and checking to see if I needed a change of underwear we seemed clear of the difficulties and the col was in sight below us.

I’d had enough. I was wet, cold and my nerves were shredded so I wanted to head down. GM decided to plough on alone. I didn’t say it at the time but I really didn’t want him to carry on. He’s an extremely experienced mountaineer and climber so the ridge was well within his compass but the previous hour and the last visit to Rum was messing with my head. He headed off to Trollaval and I started the long and lonely trudge back to camp in the drizzle. I stopped at Loch Fiachanis and there were some wafts of blue sky which cheered me up a bit. Short-lived though and the rain was soon back. I was relieved to get back to the tent, get changed and warm up with several brews. GM showed up a couple of hours later and I was mightily pleased he’d managed to do the main summits (and mightily relieved he’d done it without incident). The rain was pretty much set in for the day so after a well-earned meal of anchovy carbonara we settled in for a wet and windy night. Second attempt at the main ridge, second epic, albeit with a happier outcome. As I said, Rum is not to be trifled with.

Enjoy the slideshow, a little longer than normal but I thought the music seemed to fit. Sorry for the lack of photos of the ridge. Not really a day for the camera in more ways than one. More Rum adventures to follow

Behind with the blog again!

First weekend of the Easter holidays we went down to my parents caravan on the mid-Wales coast, me for the weekend but Jane and the kids for the week. I had planned to take D up Snowdon but the weather forecast didn’t look worth the long drive so we revised our plans.

In the event as you can see from the photos they got the forecast wrong (surprise!) and it turned into a pretty decent day. I’ve had my eyes on a little known cluster of hills on the southern edge of Snowdonia called the Tarrens.

The Tarrens, 11 .2 Miles, 3,400 feet of ascent

There are no really obvious circular routes without some road pounding but after a ponder over the options we decided on a route from the north to take advantage of a little jaunt on the little Tal-y-Llyn railway to avoid a 3-mile yomp.

D was particularly pleased to get a ride on a steam train and after a short look at the Dolgoch falls (we’ll return to these later) we sat in the sun on the platform at Dolgoch station waiting for the train.

Train approaching Dolgoch station

After it puffed into view we took  a seat and enjoyed a pleasant relaxed trip to the end of the line at Nant Gwernol to start the walk proper.

Nant Gwernol station

We crossed the bridge over the Nant Gwernol, a lovely little gorge and hit the track up into the upper reaches of the Gwernol valley with its array of old slate workings, a reminder of the railways original purpose. The first part of the walk is along a very long and dusty track that snakes its way up towards the open hillside through the forest. Or in this case through the felled forest with its vast piles of logs ready to be turned into whatever they turn it into (question – who lives in a log-pile house).

Logs, logs and more logs

View across Cadair Idris

Have to say that long walks through forestry plantations don’t get my pulse racing but just when I was thinking I’d had enough conifers for one day we suddenly emerged onto the open hillside of Tarren-y-Gesail. We’d been walking for quite a while so we stopped right there for lunch and a fresh brew overlooking the rest of the walk along the main ridge. Nice to be out with both Jane and D to enjoy the day. We don’t get out together for a proper walk very often (especially Jan) so I think she was really enjoying the day

Lunch on the slopes of Tarren-y-Gesail

From there it was a short steep climb to the summit of Tarren-y-Gesail with fine views across to Cadair Idris opening up as we climbed.

Tarrenhendre from Tarren-y-Gesail

At the top I took out the Jarrold guide I’d been using which said to ignore the obvious path along the top and drop down to the north to find an even more obvious one. After bouncing around on a trampoline of moss and heather with no hint of a path for 15 minutes we returned to the top and carried on the route I should have followed in the first place. Great, these Jarrold guides for low-level countryside walks, useless on the mountains.

Dovey Forest to the north

The route then follows the edge of very wide a deep corrie wich gave some fine views across the forest. The Tarrens aren’t quite as badly cloaked in conifer plantations as they look on the map and the views were expansive.

We passed the only people we saw all day, a couple of new age types walking barefoot across the fells. They didn’t return my greeting so I guess they were communing with the earth or some such. The route turns west along the grass and tree-lined ridge of Foel-y -Geifr, a splendid high level stroll where we really started to eat up the miles again. It culminates in a nameless peak where we stopped at the bottom for second lunch and another brew.

Second lunch, Foel-y-Geifr and Tarren-y-Gesail behind

It was turning into a long walk so I climbed the peak and Jane D walked around. D was seemingly having no problems with the distance or the climbing while Jane was struggling a little. She runs to stay fit but a couple of recent injuries has meant she hasn’t been able to keep her fitness levels high. D now leaves her trailing in his wake.

Across the Dovey estuary

Jane, Tarren-y-Gesail and nameless peak behind

It was long climb to the summit of Tarrenhendre and we reached the top at the cloudiest part of the day. My eye was taken by the long high ridge to the SW that looks superb. Looking at the map a full east to west traverse would be a storming outing with two cars or using a bike to overcome the road at the bottom.

Southwest ridge

As we headed back towards Dolgoch the sun burst through again and it turned into a glorious evening with barely a cloud in the sky. The valley down towards Dolgoch was top-notch with views across to the southern outliers of the Cadair Idris range.

Upper Dolgoch valley

We picked out a path to the top of Dolgoch falls and had a pleasant finish to the day looking at the waterfalls and river gorge.

Upper Dolgoch falls

We finished off in warm and glorious evening sunshine after a very long and rewarding day on some hills I’d never knew held such delights.

D in the dappled evening sunlight

Arty sun/tree shot

We headed back to the caravan for tea, Jane and the kids to spend Easter there, me to head home and prepare for a trip to the island of Rum. How exciting!

I’d been domestically housebound for a couple of weeks with such exciting things as car cleaning and fitting new roof racks and boxes for our summer trips. This weekend I was not to be denied and it was time for another decent walk. D seems really keen these days and despite being off school with a virus for a couple of days he seemed fit and well so we headed out. The Black Mountain (not to be confused with the Black Mountains) lies to the west of the main Brecon Beacons range. It’s a personal favourite and much quieter than the Brecons, although I’ve not been here since I started blogging so good to share this one for the first time.

Black Mountain, 9.3 miles, 2,700 feet of ascent

The main escarpment is set at a right angle with one edge facing north the other east. Making a circular walk is not easy but I came across this particular route more or less by accident when I was exploring a few years ago and I happen to think it’s a bit of a classic.

We parked up on the narrow high road that leads from Trecastle to Glyntawe. I was a little gutted to find my usual parking spot full of minibuses from a local school (DofE I guessed) so had to drive down the road a mile or so for another spot. A fortuitous happening as this meant that rather than the usual mile or so of bog-trotting to get to the path, I picked it up from the start (why has this never occurred to me before!) with the added bonus that it follows a rather splendid stream, the infant Afon Tawe that hits the sea at Swansea.

Looking to Fan Brycheiniog

We headed off on a glorious spring day and the first thing that struck me was the pale brown colour of the hills. At this time of year I’d expect dark greens and blacks (perhaps even a little white) but it was more like June than March. Clearly there has been some seriously dry weather in these parts as well and I’m sure the risk of fires will grow again if it continues into summer.

Waterfalls on the Afon Tawe

The river was enchanting and a perfect spot for a summer family picnic with plenty of spots a few minutes walk from the car and even places to swim. As we started to climb towards the hills the dry ground was a real surprise, this section is normally extremely soggy. D was feeling the frustration of what seems like an endless climb to Llyn y Fan Fawr but I was enjoying every step. As we crested the rise the lake looked magnificent under a clear blue sky and we stopped for a little rest on one of the beaches. It was more reminiscent of some of the wilder parts of Scotland with wild tarns and sandy beaches, a marvellous spot.

Llyn y Fan Fawr

D by the lake-shore

We headed on up the steeper climb towards Bwlch Giedd and towards Fan Brycheiniog, the highest point in the range. D seemed a little concerned about the steep climb but introduced him to the notion of a steady plod and that before he knew it we’d be on the summit drinking in the views.

Deep blue Llyn y Fan Fawr

So it was and whilst the distant views were extremely hazy the nearby vista of peaks and lakes was superb. As always my brain was planning routes and wild camps I’ll probably never get around to but they say planning is half the fun (so just do the math, plan 2 trips and then you don’t need to go out at all).

D on Fan Brycheiniog summit

The edge of Fan Brycheiniog

The walk along the edge was simply magnificent with the lake at our feet and warm sunshine, t-shirt and shorts for the first time this year.

Llyn y Fan Fach and Bannau Sir Gaer

Only downside was a very keen and cool wind that was making our search for a lunch stop a little trying. As regular readers know, I prize a decent long lunch stop on any walk and on a day as good as this it was worth seeking a good one. Rather than a cold hurried stop in the wind and despite both of us feeling hungry we pushed on. I figured that we’d find a spot tucked down on the northern slopes as we turned west heading for Bannau Sir Gaer. No such opportunities arose and we were forced to keep going. As we approached the summit D was feeling weary but I recalled that there are several ledges just west of the summit a few feet below the edge that I figured would do the job. We found a rather precarious perch with just enough room for both of us but out of the wind and a truly stupendous view.

Lunch on the edge

Vast tracts of mid-Wales spread out before us and the crag-girt lake of Llyn y Fan Fach under our feet. Simply breathtaking. D polished off most of his food and I did what I do best and sat with a fresh brew contemplating life in all its glory. I’ve been very lucky these last 12 months with some truly magical days out so I guess I say this a lot, but life doesn’t get much better than this. The pleasure intensified with D sat beside me enjoying the situation, embracing the same simple pleasures that I’ve come to enjoy over the years. Timeless moments these and one of the pleasures of writing my blog is capturing the moment in words as well as photos and memories, helps to keep them special.

Time to move on and we continued along the escarpment in the sunshine with both us enjoying the sense of exposure standing on the edge of the cliffs.

Edge on Bannau Sir Gaer

These corries are some of the most magnificent in the UK in my humble opinion and the spring sunshine was lighting them to great effect. Reaching the end of the long line of crags the path descends gently to the lake with views up to the summits equally as rewarding as the views from them.

Llyn y Fan Fach and Bannau Sir Gaer

Bannau Sir Gaer

Every time I walk here I’m always reminded of a sad story from the first time I walked these mountains. As me and Jane walked down towards the lake we were aware of a commotion at the top of the cliffs with a lot of shouting and a man scrambling down. As we watched it became clear that his dog had fallen off the edge and he was desperately trying to reach it. We waited and hoped for the best but it was clear that the poor dog had not survived the fall, a fact made horribly, hauntingly clear as we heard the owners sobs echo across the water as he reached his companion. Every time I’m up here and see people out with their dogs it sets my heart racing with fear and the memory of that afternoon returns. As an ex-dog owner who explored many a mountain with his own four-legged friend its a tragic reminder of what can go wrong.

I chose not to share that with D at the time, so we pressed on past the lake. The afternoon sun was glorious but as we had to be back so Jane could head out for her second performance of the play she’s in we had tp keep moving. On the map it looks like the route back involves a serious distance of rough ground to get back to Llyn y Fan Fawr. There are however a cunning connection of sheep tracks and walkers paths that take you through some lonely and stunning corries and cwms beneath all the edges you walked on in the first half of the day. If you want to follow the route then leave Llyn y Fan Fach by the small man-made water channel flowing in from the east. When you reach the first bridge follow a very faint sheep track that heads up towards the edges. Ignore the higher branch and take the lower path across a natural and very intriguing small moraine-like ridge to reach the open slopes. Above on the right you’ll see a couple of sheep tracks traversing the hillside. Traverse up to either of these and then follow this path all the way back under the edges to Llyn y Fan Fawr

The wild northern corries

It’s a stunning section of walking taking into the heart of lonely corries under brooding vegetated cliffs. The whole section is a wild camping dream although fresh water would have to be carried in. It’s much further than it looks on the map and D was starting to feel a little weary. I decided the lake shore would be a better place to stop as we’d lost the sun behind the edge. It turned out to be an inspired move as the wind had dropped by the time we reached the shore and we found a lovely beach to relax on. D just collapsed in a heap while I had another brew.

Llyn y Fan Fawr

D rests on the beach

I felt a little guilty for stretching the pace a little but after some food he was soon up and about again and enjoying the scene as we had the lake to ourselves. This would be another superb site for a wild camp although you’d need to filter water from the lake as it has no outflow to speak of.

The scene was as good as it gets and I could have lain on the grass and rocks for hours. I enlightened D that this was what wild camping would be about and how wonderful it is to spend an evening in a spot like this, snuggle down in the tent for the night and then watch the sun come up and enjoy breakfast in the same surroundings. Hopefully I can get him out this spring and summer and really introduce him to this next stage of his outdoor training.

D on the beach at llyn y Fan Fawr

Dad has a rest too

Time to head back to the car. The walk along the lake-shore was stunning and after a bit of schoolboy navigating by yours truly we got back onto the right path!

Weary D heads for home

Just before we reached the car there was a man wild camping in a perfect sport by the river as if to emphasise my discussion with D earlier. We chatted for a few minutes about what a great evening it was to be camping out and how jealous I was before we had to head back up the car and home.

D looked shattered but he also had a look that I recognised well. The look of calm satisfaction of a simple but challenging and rewarding day spent amongst the hills in the warm spring sunshine.

Enjoy the slide-show!

EWO had been telling us that the weather forecast for the Sunday was great, but as I hope you’re starting to realise, he ALWAYS says that. The law of averages says that sometimes he’ll be right and today was one of those days. There was low cloud but it was clearly thin and out west you could see the clear blue sky. After saying farewell and thanks to our hosts at Suie Lodge we all agreed that Ben Vane down by Loch Lomond was a good choice as a shortish day on the way home for most of us.

Ben Vane, 8.6 miles, 3,100 feet of ascent

By the time we reached the car park at Inveruglas the sun was out, the sky was blue and it was a stunning morning. The views across the Loch to Ben Lomond was classic southern highlands.

Ben Lomond across Looch Lomond - early morning

We strolled up the access road that leads to Loch Sloy in bright warm sunshine. The only down-side of this area are the strings of power lines and electrical substations that are part of the Loch Sloy HEP scheme. The upside is that Arrochar Alps as these hills are known are dramatic and rocky. I did Ben Vane on the very first of these weekend gatherings and a few of the others but for some reason I haven’t really explored them properly, surprising seeing as they are the most Southerly munros. Ben Vane itself rises dramatically as a rocky sentinel and looks pretty impregnable from this angle. Fortunately there is an excellent path that turns all the crags with only one very short easy scramble near the top.

Ben Vane - our target for the day

The newly formed “Low-level walking and beer drinking club”, namely TBM and ED had picked another suitable route and they headed off to walk the Three Lochs Way and we guessed find a pub to partake of some beers. You can read his report of the day here

The rest of us started the steep climb towards the top.

MM and EWO on the lower slopes

As is my style I decided a halfway stop for some lunch and a brew was on the cards and I was joined by EWO and GM. Everyone else decided it was too cold for that and carried on without a break till they got to the top. We were caught in a couple of heavy snow showers on the climb but they were pretty moderate and were adding a very flattering cap of snow to all the surrounding hills.

GM looking across Loch Arklet to Loch Katrine

As we crested the final rocky knolls the sun came out in full force and the views were quite simply breathtaking. Across Loch Sloy was Ben Vorlich, one of my first munros back in the 80′s. Across to the west was Ben Arthur or The Cobbler, possibly my first Corbett back in the 80′s and a mountain that needs another visit on a better day than when I first climbed it

Ben Vane - final approach

The low light, scudding cloud and snow were creating some superb vistas and I was in my element. On an isolated and steep mountain like Ben Vane it’s like walking in the sky and it makes you want to shout out loud to exclaim your good fortune that you’re there to enjoy it.

GM and the view east

Playing catch up

EWO and OFS approach the summit

The summit views were equally sensational. Most of us wandered around for ages taking photos, playing name that peak, and generally taking it all in. The views across Loch Lomond to Ben Lomond were particularly magnificent. The dusting of snow had given a wintry feel to the day and as ever I didn’t really want to go down.

Ben Lomond and Loch Lomond

Time to leave

It would have been a superb time for a leisurely stop but Ben Vane is an isolated summit and the wind seemed to be blasting it from every direction so a summit stop was out of the question. The rest of the party were stomping about impatiently waiting to head down so we decided to find somewhere lower down, especially as some of the party had been allowed to stop for lunch yet!

The views continued as we headed down and the weather continued to clear.

Ben Lomond and the lower slopes of Beinn Narnain

The main group disappeared and seemed intent on completing the whole walk without a pause. This is never an option for me and me, EWO, GM and OFS found a little sheltered spot overhanging the edge with excellent views across to the Beinn Ime, The Cobbler and Beinn Narnain. Time for a second lunch and another brew. A trifle cold I have to admit but a sensational spot to enjoy the situation. I’ve said many times if you don’t stop to take it all in, what’s the point.

Lunch v2.0

Days like this in Scotland in winter are a rare commodity and need to be savoured. We’ve been doing these weekends for 7 years now and we’ve only had a couple of days this good.

Ben Arthur/The Cobbler

Suitably refreshed and enchanted we plunged down the steep lower slopes to the pretty valley at the bottom. It would be a great wild camp spot if you could find a dry spot, I warn you it was exceedingly wet down here but it is stunning especially as the sky was now pretty much clear and we were in the full sunshine.

Ben Lomond

We came across the rest of the party who had now finally decided their conscripts were to be allowed a rest. We all headed down together, past another small piece of HEP engineering that me and GM had some fun scrambling about on and found a rather dead sheep squashed against the outflow. Reminded me of my rather nice lamb shank I had for tea the night before

The walk back down the road to the car could have been a drag but in the clear afternoon sunshine I really enjoyed it. Even found time to ask MM some stupid questions about what would happen if we touched some of the scary looking bits of the sub-station on the way down with fairly obvious answers (he’s an engineer you know). When we got back to the car the views across the loch were as good as in the morning, a fitting finale to a cracker of a day.

Ben Lomond across Loch Lomond - evening light

We said goodbyes to some of the crew and headed over to Arrochar to collect TBM and ED. They were ensconced in a local ale house enjoying the beers, warm fire and good food. As they rolled out they appeared to both be very “happy” – must have been the stunning views across the loch that was putting them in such a good mood.

View across Loch Long from Arrochar

More goodbyes and it was time to head back to Berwick for a mighty fine roast dinner and pudding that Jane and her sister had prepared and a very long drive back to Hereford via Stafford. Home by 2am, completely knackered and wiped out for the rest of the week but worth every missing minute of sleep. It’s become another fixture in my yearly calendar of regular get-togethers and I’m already looking forward to the gathering of the clans in 2013. It’s great that everyone really seems to enjoy it and this year we had some new recruits and some old friends we hadn’t seen for a few years. Weekends don’t come much better. Enjoy the slide-show.