Ardudwy Way

5-7^th September 2011

Introduction

When we were staying in Barmouth last May on our tour of the Mawddach Estuary we picked up a pamphlet for a new long distance route that we had never heard of. It looked very attractive and we saw way-markers for it as we climbed out of this lovely harbour town. The complete route and its pamphlets are all online and downloadable for free. So planning started early. We decided to reduce the recommended three stages into a two-day walk and then cross the Moelwyns to Blaenau Ffestiniog. This would give us two very different and amazing train rides for, if booking was well in advance, a very attractive price. I booked the trains, Phil took care of the accommodation and another trip to Wales was in the pipeline.

Monday 5^th September 2011: Brief Encounter

Phil left his car at John’s from where Jill drove the three of us to Wilmslow station for the 07.46 departure to Shrewsbury. What should have been a quiet and uneventful breakfast in the station buffet rapidly became a film set, both romantic and farce. John caught the eye of a stunning beautiful girl who in turn returned his gaze. When she left the café, she came over and said goodbye and John, not being one to turn down an opportunity, followed her onto platform 5. Whilst John was stealing his goodbye kiss, Phil and I were on platform 4 trying to sort out some very mixed messages coming over the station tannoy. ‘Those travelling to Barmouth, get on the front end of the approaching train’. So we did and once installed, we heard ‘those travelling to Barmouth and beyond should be on the rear of the train. Panic! No problem said the guard. ‘The train pulled out backwards’. Just when we had calmed down, two coaches were added to the rear, so we became the middle, soon to be the front after leaving Machynlleth. I hope you have followed all this. We couldn’t.

Amazingly we finally rolled slowly over the Mawddach estuary and into Barmouth only a few minutes late. We knew the route out of town as we had walked it three months before and, on a bright and breezy afternoon, we climbed up though the old town and along the grassy terraces towards the Barmouth slabs. The views back over the harbour and estuary were stupendous. It seemed much shorter now than the first time and we were soon on the long descent to Cerrig Arthur. This time we hardly glance at the stone circle; there is not a lot to see. Then we turned north and upwards towards Bwlch y Rhiwgyr. Two grass track bikers sat on their machines at the bwlch. One offered me a lift down. But we decline this and descended a rough track into a new vista of the west coast.

The route got enticing close to the shore before turning off right up the Afon Ysgethin where we met our first of several wet sections, wading along flooded tracks on what seemed a pointless and bleak deviation inland to the old drovers’ bridge, Pont Scethin. An hour later we were only just across the valley having hardly added a mile to the straight line distance. Here we missed the trail having encountered a herd of frisky cows, a vicious looking bull and a four wheel drive slewed across the way-marker. It was only when Phil casually remarked that we appeared to be heading back to where we had come from that I realised the error and called for a reassessment and retreat. Not well received at the end of a long day. John’s knee was troubling him so he wisely decided to cut into Llanbedr at the earliest opportunity whilst Phil and I did another mile or so on route before heading, at Gelliwaen, down a road to the hotel. It was just beginning to drizzle as we arrived in Llanbedr but this was nothing to the downpour that we were to watch from the bar later that evening. We had timed our arrival to perfection. The only flooding we had to endure was in the bathroom after Phil’s attempt at taking a shower in an open bath.

We stayed at Ty Mawr Hotel, Llanbedr, Gwynedd, LL45 2NH,  Tel: 01341 241440,  I ate cod and chips, Bread and Butter Pudding, with some Gold Wing & Cwrw Haf from Kite Brewery.

Barmouth  (dep.  12.05) -  Llanbedr   ( arr    17.45)                          GPS 14.83 miles in 5 hrs 40mins

Tuesday 6^th September 2011; Walking on Water

The storm had gone through during the night so we left Llanbedr on a cloudy and windy morning with the local river roaring passed full to the brink. Phil and I decided to retrace our steps to the point where we had left the route on the previous evening; forever the purists. John meanwhile had the opportunity to get his sore knee warmed up at a less frenetic pace and took a more direct line back onto the official path. We nearly went wrong straight away but saw the correct trod off to the left just in time. Then it was down to cross a raging stream and back onto the route behind John.

At the Dinas caravan site we were stopped by a couple who had seen us as they have cycled into town earlier, the lady on a tricycle. They knew all about the Ardudwy Way and had walked much of it in sections. Then we resumed our chase of John and climbed up into a hanging valley, or rather a hanging bog. The route traversed a waterlogged basin where the path itself was hidden below a foot of last night’s rainwater. We eventually found our way across a deep stream via a wooden footbridge. We only found it by trial and error; the boards were 3 inches under water.

It was a relief to climb out of this mire and up the steep slopes to Ffridd Farm. It was relatively dry underfoot now as we passed Rhyd yr Eirin and across a poorly signpost field. I hoped that John had avoided the obvious track to the left and stayed on-route. We enquired of a couple coming down towards us as to whether they had seen a lone walking with a bad knee. But they had not. I did not think anything more about this but pushed on trying to locate John on the moorland ahead.

A rain squall hit us as we crossed the highest and most exposed part of the route and we stopped to don rain proofs and rucksack covers. A circle of stone huts dominated the hill top ahead of us. What a pity we had not time to wander off route to investigate this antiquity. But it was time to turn for home and start the long descent back to the coast. Having totally failed to catch up with John, we rang him to see where he was. Amazingly he was behind us, and not that far behind, but still on route. How had we passed him? We had not deviate one iota from the official way-markings. The descent turned out to be a bit devious and at one point climbed up again passed a lovely remote hilltop church. Then it was down the final plunge to sea-level, down a gorge share by overhead power lines. At Llandecwyn, we stopped at the signpost which announced the end of the Ardudwy Way.

Pausing briefly for a photo, we walked down the road and onwards to the railway station. Having 90 minutes to kill before the train, we decided to walk on over the toll bridge and into Penrhyndeudraeth. There was not tea shop to be found so we walked on, eventually coming to the main road just by a bus stop. The timetable informed us that a bus to Porthmadog was due so we waited a few minutes and, true to the timetable, along came a bus to take us over the Cob and into the busy little holiday town with all its tempting shops. It started to rain quite hard as we got off the bus and it did not take much persuading to get us into a tea shop. In between the downpours, we raced to the b&b arriving just before John rang from the railway station wanting some directions.

We were recommended that the safest place for three English guys to watch the England-Wales International on television was the Ship Inn. It was owner by an Englishman so at least the landlord would not throw us out. So we had a pleasant meal, a not so pleasant football match and a relatively late night.

We stayed at Tudor Lodge, Tan yr Onnen, Penamser Road, Porthmadog, Gwynedd, LL49 9NY, Tel: 01766 515530. We ate at the Ship Inn, Steak and Guinness Pie, Spotted Dick, and draught St Austell Beer and a bottle of Purple Moose.

Llanbedr (09.45) – Llandecwyn (15.00) – Penrhyndeudreath ((15.30)

GPS 14.28 in 5hrs 48.08 (moving time)

Wednesday 7^th September 2011: The Railway Children  

We were up so early that I was sure that we would get a flying start to the day, but Phil sat for an hour with a piece of toast waiting for his cooked breakfast. As the hotel only did continental breakfasts this seemed a pointless exercise so two hours after rising, I stood alone in High Street awaited the rest of the party to appear. We had decided that, as the weather was so poor, we should abandon our plan to traverse the mountains and instead take a low level option. The first visit was to the railway station where a diesel was shunting some coaches in anticipation of the arrival of a steam engine from the sheds. As we crossed the Cob, the steam engine chugged towards us. It was of South African Railways origins, pertinent because of where Phil’s brother now lives. We could not resist a glimpse into the sheds before we turned away from the railway and onto a quiet by-road.

We walked passed a sign telling us of a road closure ahead, but we thought that nothing would stop three intrepid walkers. How wrong we were. A new bypass slashed across the landscape and a farmer warned us of problems ahead. But then he said ‘let’s go and have a word with Spider’ and we followed him up to the barriers. Spider, God bless his cotton socks, opened the gates, stopped a dumper truck from crossing our path and saw us safely over. We were soon in deep forest alongside the Ffestiniog Railway once again. One unmarked dog-leg nearly threw the navigator but the overseer saw us right and on to an overgrown path to Rhyd.

Here we broke out of the forest onto a high level road which we left once more to head into trees just where the road started its descent. The final 200m path to Tan y Bwlch Station was hard to find and we spend a few minutes floundering around a field above the railway line. So imagine the joy when we finally found the link path and saw the café/tea shop on the other side of the track. Bacon butties were the order of the day and John went back and got some carrot cake. So it was a full and replete party that staggered out into the station yard ready for the afternoon session.

Down through a way-marked wood and onto the road, we soon found a good forestry track that led to a wonderful contouring route that basically ran parallel to the rail tracks. Eventually we climbed out of the forest, across the track and into a loop of the railway where the line comes back over itself in its need to gain height. Halfway round this loop, whilst we were on the view point looking back at Trawsfynydd Power Station, a train came rushing down the hill. We dashed down to the trackside so that we could stand in the trees waving to the passengers. An easy section took us passed old quarry workings and over the ridge to get our first glimpse of Ffestiniog Power Station and its reservoir. As we started our descent a very strange and mysterious incident occurred. Passing the old workings involved at one point walking through a short tunnel no more than three metres long. We paused for photos as we entered and then emerged two seconds later into pouring rain. The weather is certainly localised in Wales.

Just as John was walking straight into the lake, I spotted a dry path over the other side of the railway line. We crossed just as another train came chugging up the line. We stood once again waving, feeling just like the Railway Children (E.Nesbit). Phil took a picture of the switch gear and transformers behind the power station, just for me. Then we walked into Tan y Grisau and along the long main street to the main road. It began to rain hard as we turned into Blaenau Ffestiniog so we sought refuge in the Bridge Café. Gale served us with the last cakes of the trip before I shot across the road for a stronger drink. The train was pulling into a wet and dismal platform as we entered the station. Soon we were travelling through the mountains and down the Conwy Valley on our way home. A classic trip in very unstable weather.

Porthmadog (09.05) – Tan y Bwlch (12.00-12.30) – Blaenau Ffestiniog (15.45)

GPS 13.65 in 6hrs 07.45 (moving time)

Lady Anne's Way

27^th June – 1^st July 2011

Introduction

I bought the guidebook by Sheila Gordon two years ago and have had several draft plans as to how and when to walk it. The summer of 2011 is without football or Olympics so it was natural to look for a week’s walking. With a lead in of a month, I finally planned a schedule from north to south and booked my accommodation. My great friend, Phil, could not manage to get away for 5 days but was tempted enough to join me for the last three days. He rang my pubs and B&B’s and got himself booked in. In the weeks leading up to the walk, the weather was distinctly unsettled, cold and wet. How would it turn out for the second week of Wimbledon?

Monday 27^th June 2011: The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men

I had booked my ticket to Penrith the previous Friday, too late I was told to reserve a seat. Jill took me down for the 08.02 into Manchester which connected nicely with the Preston train. However, the ticket inspector refused at first to accept my ticket. Although I had bought an anytime single, the ticket was dated for the date of purchase only. Eventually he allowed the ticket to stand but advised me to try to change it at Preston for a valid one. The Preston ticket office could not help except to give me a claim form against Virgin Rail. The ticket collector on the Penrith train hardly glanced at my ticket.

The train was 25 minutes late into Penrith so it was almost 11.00 before I set off in search of the Market Place and the official start of the walk. The day was heating up into the hottest day of the year, with 30C+ being registered before the day was out. Off I set in the general direction indicated in the guidebook. I checked with a postman and he said ‘Yes this is right; turn left at the dog poo bin.’ This led me to the busy A66 and the riskiest part of the entire route. Across safely, I scooted along the river to Brougham Castle, but did not go in. A mile down the road was Brougham Hall and, within the walls was a tea shop. The heat was now terrific, some of the hottest I had ever walked in so I slipped into the shade outside and ate my first cake of the trip.

I had decided to walk in my new Teva sandals, a brilliant choice as it turned out especially for the long road section into Cliburn. The ground was dry enough to wear them all day. With my hay fever pills, sun hat and wrap round glasses, I was well prepared for the hot weather. But I was still very hot and thirsty when I arrived at Long Marton. I soon found the B&B and Sandra made me a huge pot of tea and talked me through all the alternatives for a pub meal. The local pub did not do meals on Mondays, the next pub had unexpectedly closed and so she had booked me into the Stag at Dufton with an offer to take me and bring me home. Then she remembered that her car was in for a service and she could not provide transport. So her daughter who lived nearby ran me into Appleby, dropped me at the Tufton Arms and suggested I took a taxi back again after my meal. I asked the hotel to make these arrangements but no taxi was to be had that evening. I was stuck. However the staff were brilliant. The receptionist said she would take me home if I waited for her to finish work. I had no alternative to accept but then Nigel the owner, on a night off, offered to do the business. I was very appreciative of the kindness and assistance that was proffered.

Penrith                                     dep.     10.55

Tea at Brougham Hall                          12.05-12.20    
Long Marton                            arr        17.00
GPS:  17.07 miles in 5hrs 44.50

I stayed at Broom House Farm House (Sandra Bland), Long Marton, Appleby-in-Westmorland, Cumbria, CA16 6JP      Tel: 01768 361318.  I ate bellied pork at the Tufton Arms Hotel in Appleby and tried a local beer, Tirrill Pale Gold (4.1%) and an old favourite, Corby from Cumberland Brewery

Tuesday 28^th June 2011: Sick as a Parrot

I had negotiated an 8am breakfast so I could get an early start. I needed to get to Kirkby Stephen on time to meet Phil who was coming up to join me that evening. It was marginally cooler as I set out on farm tracks towards Appleby, scene on my entrapment the night before. I tried my sandals once more as these had been a great success on day 1. This was probable a day too far but my feet survived. 

It was very fiddly getting into Appleby on the recommended route. Lime Lane was a nettle trap for someone in shorts, the next indistinct section was hard to follow through bog, hill and wheat fields. But rather later that I had envisaged, I dropped down through the leafy outskirts of the old county town as a hospital helicopter landed in a nearby field. I went back into the market square across the road bridge. I wanted to visit St Lawrence’s Church and pay my respects to Lady Anne at her final resting place. Then it was off into the heat of the day, up passed the castle (closed due to a dispute with the owner) and round, down and back onto the banks of the River Eden.

The walk up the river was very pleasant and easy at first but then gets progressively more complex as banks are scramble up and steps are climbed. Finally the path leaves the river a heads through Great Ormside. It was here that I suddenly became aware of the hills. Yesterday they were distant and covered in heat haze but now, in the vibrant light of a fresh morning, here were the Pennines all around. As the day got hotter, the villages came and went; first Sandford across the river then Warcop for a brief encounter. Then it was over the field for my final easterly bearing.

Brough crept up on me. One moment there were field ahead of me, and then suddenly there was the castle of a high grassy mount. Quite a sight! The track I was on forded a river and, having only a pair of sandals on my feet, splashed straight across rather the seeking a nearby foot-bridge. Glory of glories, I came to a tea shop outside the castle. So before I explored the ruins I managed a pot of tea and a slice of lemon cake. The southerly line into Kirby Stephen was relatively uneventful and I was soon on the banks of the Eden again, this time seeking Frank’s Bridge and the steps up into the Market Square. I asked at the post office and was directed to Castle View, our accommodation for the night. I was greeted by Katie with a cup cake and cup of tea and shown to the magnificent room that she and her husband have created. Phil soon arrived after a short walk from the station that was extended by a diversion round a nature reserve.

We went to the Kings Head for a meal and found that the cycle group in the adjacent room was from our home town, Macclesfield Wheelers. After exchanging some ribald comments, we noticed them leave the pub and cross the road to photograph to very large birds on the roof opposite. Having been to Costa Rica two years ago, I could have sworn that these brightly coloured monsters were Macaws. We checked the strength of the beer we were drinking. It was obviously time for bed. 

Long Marton                           dep.     08.53

Tea at Brough Castle                14.00-14.30
Kirby Stephen                          arr.        16.35
~21 mls in 6hrs 45                  

We stayed with Katie Pepper, Castle View, 21 High Street, Kirkby Stephen, Cumbria, CA17 4SG   Tel:  07894 066976. We ate at the Kings Head, Steak and Ale Pie, with pints of Dent Aviator (an old friend from my son’s bachelor weekend) and Waggledance.

Wednesday 29^th June 2011: Drinks Stops become Mandatory

We had the great advantage of an early breakfast so, well before 9am, we were packed and raring to go. The sun was again shining as we set off on the road to Hawes (signposted 16 miles, 2 furlongs) and then over the river and onto the footpath to Nateby. As we crossed an open field strange sounds came from above and two Macaws crossed just above our heads. We had ascertained that a certain John Strutt (who died last year) owned the local estate and was passionate about breeding parrots. The present Estate Manager still feeds them and they all return home each evening. I nearly missed the left turn into the village but we were soon climbing through nettles on an underused, overgrown path. This part of the Lady Anne’s Way was not too popular. A long loop up the hillside offered us great views across to Wild Boar Fell and the Upper Eden Valley. We eventually descended to cross the road and then onto the river bank at Pendragon Castle. Crossing the bridge, the route took a riverside path for the next three miles. A slight young lady was walking powerfully towards us and we casually enquired whether Lady Anne was her objective. Yes she replied in an American accent. She had come all the way from San Francisco to walk what few from the UK had ventured on.

A re-crossing of the river (and our last encounter with a companion of 2 ½ days) led us to the start of the ‘Highway’, a seven-mile long track across the watershed into Wensleydale. The first two miles were uphill and on this climb we encountered our first and only reference sign to Lady Anne, a small square picture on a way-mark. We continued upwards towards a huge stone obelisk in which an S-shaped cavity had been carved. Then the track was flat and grassy with views of the railway as it turned over a viaduct towards Garsdale. The Pennine Bridleway shared the first section and we began to see cyclists and other walkers on a more regular basis.

Phil then began a series of proposals and suggestions with led to a compromise agreement between the two of us. It was decided that, when the need was really urgent, a mandatory hydration stop would be called. However Phil would give notice (anything up to 15 minutes) and even indicate likely and convenient stopping points. This would give me time to come to terms with the impact on the schedule and to rejig some of the times. Our first mandatory hydration stop was called for just after Hells Gill Bridge. It passed without trauma or drama from either member of the party. I was happy that other hydration stops were to be considered as optional.

What was not optional was the steep descent down Cotter End. The gradient and height drop was breath-taking but at least we were soon down in Wensleydale and walking beside the infant Ure. An optional stop was kept very brief by biting horse flies and we soon in Appesett and across the fields to Hawes. I was relieved to find the route, which and seemed so complex in the guidebook, so very straight forward on the ground. It was time to find a tea-shop. I soon identified the café which Mike and I had used last year on our trip up the Pennine Way. It did not disappoint. So, replete with Victoria cake and mugs of tea, we felt ready to venture once more into the heat of the afternoon. Following the Pennine Way for a few yards brought back memories, especially as we looked down on the train standing in the old station. Then it was up the fields and away to the east on a long traverse above the valley floor. I missed the correct descent into Askrigg and dropped too early to the road but this gave us the option to curtail the walk at the road junction to Bainbridge and to go seeking our beer, meal and beds. It was two very tired walkers that arrived that evening at the pub, after a classic day in the hills.

Kirby Stephen                         dep.     08.43

Café at Hawes                         14.15 – 15.30
Bainbridge                               arr.        17.10
GPS 21.67 mls in 7hrs 38.35

We stayed at the Rose & Crown Hotel, Bainbridge, Wensleydale, North Yorkshire, DL8 3EE,  Tel: 01969 650225. I had Thai Duck and Sticky Toffee Pudding, with bitter from Theakstons and Black Sheep.

Thursday 30^th June 2011: Rain at Last

We could not get breakfast before 8.15am so we were later than intended in getting started on what was on paper our longest and toughest day of the trip.  Our first rain of the week started to fall as soon as we had crossed the bridge on our way back onto the official route at Askrigg. So I wore my new waterproof for the first time in earnest. It is typical that when, for the very first time I had invested in top-class rainwear, I had hit the best weather of my walking life. The fields were flat and wet as we crossed the valley floor over to Worton and the start of another very big climb.

The waterproofs were really tested as we crested Worton Pastures and set out over grassy but indistinct tracks around the side of Addleborough. This brought us to a tarmacked farm track which led on a glorious high-level crossing of treeless moors. After a gradually four-mile uphill pull, the top of Stake Moss was reached and, as with yesterday’s descent, it was much more steep and sudden than expected. A stony and rutted track took us down to the road above Cray. Down the road until the contour path to Buckden was reached. From this it is possible to look down on the first pub on the day, unobtainable as it now was. It was almost two miles round into Buckden and here we dropped gradually down in Wharfedale, meeting it where Langstathdale comes in from the North West. I was keen to get through Buckden without stopping; too much temptation to drop off the tough schedule for the day. However, on the delightful riverside path on the side of the River Wharf, Phil declared a mandatory hydration stop which, in accordance with the agreement etched out yesterday, I had to comply with. Thank goodness rain and flies made the stop so unpleasant that is was very short.

An easy four miles by the river brought us to Kettlewell and our mandatory tea-shop. This proved a gem with large slices of carrot cake and refills of tea. We ended up chatting to a couple on the adjacent table who came from Congleton. We certainly needed the injection on energy because our climb out of the village was steep and sustained. I made a slight error in getting the correct path but this proved no problems because the parallel track gave superb views over Wharfedale and soon crossed through a gate onto the correct footpath. This took is up to the cairn on Conistone Moor and another earnest discussion on strategy and route choice.

I was once shown the classic ‘Fellsman’ direct line from this point but Phil was unhappy about the tussocky terrain and wall climbing that this would entail, especially at the end of such a long day. So it was down and around, on a lovely grassy track but which of course lost precious height led to a steep re-ascent. I again took the opportunity to be clever and set out across the trackless moors for a point at half height. Phil’s vision came true and before long we were climbing walls. But eventually we hit the right-of way down to Grassington and got into a nice fat rhythm as we strove to beat a threatening black cloud that was chasing us into out night-stop. The top of the village is quite confusing but a lady on a bike put us right and we quickly dropped onto the main street, bedecked with bunting for the festival, to our overnight stop.

Bainbridge                               dep.     09.00

Cafe at Kettlewell                    14.45 - 15.30
Grassington                              arr.        18.10
24mls+ in 8hrs 15

We stayed at the Foresters Arms, 20 Main Street, Grassington, Skipton, North Yorkshire, BD23 5AA Tel: 01756 752349.  I was back on the Steak and Ale Pie and washed it down with Timothy Taylor’s Landlords and a Tetley’s Midsummer Madness.

Friday 1st July 2011: Barden Tower

Another beautiful day in paradise. The sun streamed in through the windows promising yet more fantastic weather. The pub did not serve breakfast before 08.30 so we were packed and ready to go before we ordered. Phil’s attempt to pay the bill by credit card failed so we were back to cash only payments. A good job I had stopped at the Kirby Stephen cash machine.

It was a magnificent morning as we set off along High Lane on a long traverse to Hebden, The hills around looked lovely in the sharp light of morning. From Hedben, we found the correct path towards the waterworks but I was tempted across a ‘bridge too soon’. In moments we were back on route and over the next hill before the long picturesque descent to Burnsall and the River Wharf. Then we made good time over the three mile stretch along banks of the river. The top of Barden Tower peeped out above the trees and then disappeared from view as we crossed the road bridge. The guidebook (16 years old) promised us a tea shop here. Could it still be open? The steep road brought us sharply round a bend and there was the tower standing proudly on a well-kept grassy promontory. And as we climbed the stile into the site and then rounded the corner, there it was; the tea shop was still there, not as we had imagined it but in a beautiful old priests’ house. 

Fortified by magnificent piece of cheese cake, we set off again on the last leg of our trip, firstly up a quiet road and then up a long grinding hill climb. From the top gate a lovely track went off to the east but our route took us over a tussocky moor which got worse and worse as I made poorer and poorer route choices in a wet and vehicle-rutted bog. By the time we found the exit over a wall, we were thoroughly demoralised, so much so that a mandatory hydration stop was called. As we slowly recovered our route took us into a farmyard full of ice cream vans. I joked with the farmed about these vans only to be shown round the back of his farm buildings where he ran an ice cream parlour and kids play area. My legs nearly collapsed but, looking longfully at Phil for support, we decided to press on and get this walk finished.

We were soon in Eastby, where the pub has closed, and then in no time around the back of Earby. The circumventing path dropped us on a long lane out to the golf course before we turned for home across the fields and fairways. One last road crossing, this time to A59 but no problems here, just the last climb and the view of Skipton from the crest. As we stood admiring the panorama of the town beneath, an ex-soldier type marched up the hill ready to run down again. He did this every day four or five times as his fitness regime. We interrupted it briefly to get him to take out final photos. Then it was into the town, through the crowded street and along the canal to Phil’s car. A quick drink of our remaining waster supplies before the drive home. I arrived in time to see Andy Murray lose his semi-final to Nadal. Not the best end to what was a magnificent route in the most amazingly good weather I have every experience on these shores.

Grassington                             dep.     09.10

Tea at Barden Tower               11.45-12.30
Skipton                                    arr.        15.30
GPS 17.04  mls in 6hrs 45

Mawddach Way

26-27^th May 2011

Introduction

Phil got to know about this route last year and thought it would make a pleasant two-day walk. A bit of internet research revealed the existence of a website and guidebook devised and written by the O’Hanlon's who live on the route and provide B&B.  The guidebook is designed around a three-day schedule but we decided to stick to the original 2-day plan. It seemed obvious to start at Dolgellau and find overnight accommodation in Barmouth. It would have worked the other way around but there are not as many B&B’s and eating houses in Dolgellau.

Thursday 26^th May 2011: Into the Poor Weather

We all gathered at John’s house at 6.45am to load up the car. The early start beat the Chester rush hour traffic and the roads in Wales were pretty clear, so we were pulling into Dolgellau soon after 9am.  The search for a car park was more problematic. The town centre car park by the river only catered for single day parking so we drove to the highest reaches of the town, up above the hospital, and left the car in a lay-by in a residential street. As we walked back to the bridge, we noticed an open coffee shop and our departure schedule took a big hit. As the rain fell outside, we began our two-day holiday with mugs of tea and large slices of Victoria sponge-cake.

At 10am, we finally braved it into the wet. A good thing we were only planning 14 miles. Back in the car park, we found the start of the Mawddach Trail, an old railway line which is now a walking and cycling route. As the rail became heavier, we tramped over the river bridges and through some woods and reed beds until we came out into the grey weather again at Penmaenpool. At the refurbished signal box, we paused for a moment to find the point at which our route left the trail. This was not straightforward. At one point we were in the back yard of the George III Hotel before realising that the intended climb started from the front door of the pub. Across the road and up the steps, we started a long and wet climb which, on a clear day, might reveal some great views but today only showed us hills topped in grey clag. Up there somewhere must be Cadair Idris.

After weaving back and forth up the slopes of Cadair, the route eventually levelled out at Llyn Gwernan, our first short halt of the day. Soon after came the right turn away from the mountain and this soon led to a steep drop into a fast flowing river valley. There was a moment of confusion as we realised that the Youth Hostel was still below us so our way involved a sharp right to stay with the river. After losing much precious height, we arrived at the bridge and the crossing to Kings Youth Hostel, which stood closed and eerily silent. Again we called a meeting on the route choice before taking the uphill option to the left. After all that descent, it had to be up. A steep woodland path brought us to a ruined chapel with a still-used cemetery, an oasis of tranquillity and tender management on a high and wild mountainside.

The rain was beginning to abate and the clouds starting to lift off the mountains as we set out on a long traverse across a relatively level plateau. Near a farm we heard some cuckoos and were fortunate to see three of these birds fluttering amongst the rocks and trees. As the cuckoos become less frequent, this was a most surprising and welcoming sight. Then it was on into a biting wind until we came to Llynnau Gregennan. Here we sat behind a wall sheltering from the wind whilst we grabbed a bite of our sandwiches. We mounted the wall stile behind us and were stunned by the panorama that opened up. There far below us was Barmouth and the railway viaduct across the estuary. The view was then in front and to our right for the next few miles as we descended over farm land towards the sea. We did not bother with Arthurs Stones, but hurried by, over an old clapper bridge until we reached the sharp right hand turn that dropped us steeply through the woods to a main road. We were only 100 yards along this road before the route turned us over Arthur’s Bog, a glorious little reed bog and nature reserve, yellow with flowering wild iris.

Soon we were back on the old railway and through the disused station that was the end of the Mawddach Trail. A train came towards us as we started to long crossing of the viaduct, its headlights bright in the gloom. A gale sand-blasted our eyes and faces, causing us to cover our heads and look away from our destination.  After an age we came to the final bridge and the toll booth that led us into Barmouth and our overnight watering hole.

Dolgellau                                             dep.     10.00

Sandwiches at Llynnau Gregennan

Barmouth                                             arr        15.30

GPS:  14.61 miles in 5hrs 45.43

We stayed at the Seashell B&B, Marine Parade, Barmouth, Gwynedd, LL42 1NA, Tel: 01341 281180 

The real ale pub in Barmouth is the Tal Y Don. We tried two different Ringwood beers, Ninety Niner and Old Thumper, both very strong. This gave us the energy to get down to the harbour where we had fish and chips washed down by a bottle of Llandudno beer named Orme.

Friday 27^th May 2011: Sun at Last

It had rained for most of the night and, at first light, the day promised little change from yesterday. But, with a full Welsh breakfast inside us, things were brightening up as we collected some sandwiches from the Co-op supermarket. We wandered along the High Street looking for the route out of town. Without the O’Hanlon’s guidebook, we would have struggled to find it. There was no footpath sign or any other reference to a right of way until we came across a hand-painted arrow on a wall. However, it was worth the effort of uncovering the correct route because, as we scaled steps and switch backs, a wonderful panorama of the town unfolded.

We were sweating profusely by the time we broke out from the Old Town onto the open fell. Still reading the guidebookin earnest, we passed under Barmouth slabs and onto the miners’ trails of yore. We debated at length the wording in the guidebook about crossing a stream before turning right for the Bwlch y Llan. But all eventually became clear as we set off up the hill towards the highest point on the walk. Views back across the estuary were now transfixing us and there was much stopping and starting by the photographers in the party. A two mile grassy descent (will it be like this in Heaven?) led to the stone circle at Cerrig Arthur. Then onto the track, we failed to find the wishing well, passing the junction before we realised there was a junction. This came back to haunt us the following evening when a football team we all were supporting missed their chance of making a wish.

It had been a long section down to the first road and we were just getting used to the increased pace when the guidebook directed us onto a long loop to see an old gold-mine. So lunch was put on hold whilst we descended the river to inspect the old mine workings. Then we had to regain much of our height loss on the other side of the river back to the road. The waterfalls and the dark gorge of rushing water made it well worthwhile but we were glad to climb back into the sunshine and find a rock to sit on to eat out co-op sandwiches.

As we crested the next ridge and stopped to look at the workings of another gold mine (finding specks of gold in some quartz) I started to become concerned with our pace. The long morning had been very pleasant with the views and photo stops but it was not going to get us to Dolgellau before the coffee shop closed. So, as we started down to Coad Garth Gell, I slightly increased the pace and refocused us on the task in hand. We went straight through Taicynhaeaf without stopping to look at the house of the guidebook authors and then up through steep and indistinct woodland paths on the last big climb. A lovely moorland section took us passed in idyllic peaceful lake and then through a boggy wood down to a farm under reconstruction and a road.

Throughout this section, Dolgellau our destination was just below us to the right but the route continued on and on without turning towards it. Even when we reached the road that led down into the valley, we immediately were turned off again on our tangential path. It took a few moments to find the right-hand turn for home, having momentarily crossed a stile some 200 yards too soon. But we quickly dropped onto the correct path and with relief and increased pace set off down the Monks Way, a glorious downhill path with stupendous views into the Mawddach valley to our left. Now on a cracking pace, we were soon down into Llanelltyd church and crossing a pleasant field path to the old bridge across the river. It was a short matter of a rising walled-path up to a golf course and then a mile downhill on tarmac into Dolgellau. I was on a quest so I did not stop on the bridge but marched straight over and into the coffee shop where this had all started on the previous morning. Two pieces of Victoria sponge were ordered and, when the owner arrived with these and the teas, she demanded to know which two that had not ordered her wonderful cake. David and John were shamed into joining us and we were thus all fully fortified for the climb up to the car and the drive home. A great two days and a wonderful route.

Barmouth                                dep.     09.30

Lunch near Clogau gold mine              13.15

Dolgellau                                 arr.        16.40

GPS 17.04  mls in 6hrs 45

Pennine Way (Part 3) and Beyond

11-15th April 2011
 
Introduction

Doesn’t time fly? It seems like only yesterday that Mike and I were returning from Haltwhistle after our latest episode of our end-to-end walk. Nine days on the Pennine Way had taken us to Hadrian’s Wall, Cawfield to be specific, and we were now to return to complete the task and then to begin our journey through Scotland. This, we recalled, would be our 12th annual 5-day walking holiday, a series which started at Minehead in April 1998 and which then, year by year with two exceptions, took us round the South West Peninsular path, up the Macmillan Way and Midshires Way to reach the Pennine Way.

Monday 11th April 2011: Backs to the Wall

So it was back to Haltwhistle by train. Felicity drove Mike over to Macclesfield Station, picking me up at the Flower Pot, in time for the first train. With all our connections working to perfection, we were deposited bang on time at Haltwhistle where we sought a taxi. But in vain. It is a sleepy little town where taxis and buses seem at a premium. The AD122 bus along the wall did not start until the following week so we had no alternative but to walk up to Cawfield. We found a delightful path up the Burn Gorge which took us off-road up to the Wall but put two unexpected miles on our day’s schedule.
It had begun to rain by the time we strode out along the Wall, but it was not heavy and coming from behind so it blew us along nicely. The steep descents were slippery in the wet and the sharp climbs told me how unfit I had become. But we were soon passing the famous sycamore and before much longer we arrived at Rapishaw Gap, the point at which the Pennine Way leaves the Wall. We had time for a short rest and quickly ate our sandwiches. It was too cold to hang around so, as soon as we finished eating, it was over the Wall and down onto low and swampy farm land.

Eventually we climbed out of the soggy grassland towards the first of our forests. As we entered Wark Forest, we saw two brightly colours birds of prey on the path in front of us. From the sound of tinkering bells we realised they were not wild. Then a group of walkers crossed our path, calling out to us that they were taking two Harris Hawks for a walk. The birds then flew around the trees above us. They were beautifully coloured. Then it was on towards Wark Burn. We met Phil, a serious looking walker who turned out to be from Buxton Road in my home town of Macclesfield. He was heading south having walked almost 30 miles on his first day from Kirk Yetholm and was set to cover another 30 miles today. At this rate he will be back in Macclesfield before us! We then missed the descent into Wark Burn and spent a few minutes on an unnecessary climb to the east. But not for long; the situation was soon retrieved and we were down, up and over to Hetherington Farm, our accommodation for the night. The Nichols had warned us that they would be at the races so we had a 30 minute wait in their porch before they got home and provided us with tea and biscuits.
Haltwhistle dep.    10.15
Cawfield               11.05
Sandwiches at Rapishaw Gap 13.00-13.20
Hetherington arr   16.50GPS: 16.57 miles in 6hrs 15.43We stayed with Mrs Nichol, Hetherington Farm, Wark, Hexham, Northumberland, NE48 3DR
Tel: 01434 230260

Mr Nichol ran us down to the local pub, the Battlesteads, some 3 miles away in Wark. I had cod, chips and mushy peas followed by bread & butter pudding with (to Mike’s disgust) custard. Tried two beers, a Corby Gold from Cumberland and a Magus from Durham. Then Mrs Nichol came to pick us up and take us home for an early night. It had been a long day.
Tuesday 12th April 2011: Forest and Bog

The day started with a road walk but the sky was bright with fair weather clouds and a biting cold wind. Got a signal on my mobile phone for the first time so I checked in with home, then set off after Mike as he flew along into Bellingham. It is a long time since Mike was walking as well as this. What a pity I was not fit enough to join him.
The route has obviously been changed since our guide and map were published, so we were intrigued to go along the north bank of the river and entered straight into the village square. There was a bakery selling lovely looking sandwiches so we bought our lunch rations including some Bakewell Tart. I topped my cash up at the ATM: it may be some time before we come across a bank. Then it was up the road out of the village and onto the open moors. These looked very beautiful in the morning sunshine.
My introduction to bog walking came early. A polluted stream was running across the path and I did not quite make the jump across. I ended up with one foot/shoe bright yellow with the iron rich mud. Mike had great pleasure in grasping a photo opportunity. We snatched a 20 minute break for our lunch crouched behind a low rock near Padon Hill. Then we set out on a section which would certainly clean the yellow stain off my shoes. It started on the scramble up the wall-side to Brownrigg Head where it became increasingly difficult to keep our feet dry. This did not matter because, on reaching the summit and the plateau beyond, we tramped through some of the boggiest part of the entire Pennine Way. It took what seemed an age to haul our feet through this mire and into Kielder Forest. What a great relief it was when we finally arrived at the main forest track.
From here it was 5½ miles along wide and dusty forestry trails. It was a pleasant surprise to find that much of the forest had been cut down and views to the east were still extensive. Eventually we got down to the river and along its banks towards Byrness village. It is hardly a village; it was more a remote hamlet on a main road. Even the petrol station was closed. But Mrs Jackson was expecting us and soon showing us to our lovely room. An early finish gave me time for a nap before the evening meal but we were still ready for an early night as there was little else to do.
Hetherington    dep. 09.00
Lunch near Ponden Hill   13.13-13.33
Byrness    arr.        16.20

GPS 20.61 mls in 7hrs 01.12

We stayed at the Byrness, Byrness, Otterburn, Northumberland, NE19 1TR
Mrs Jackson   Tel: 01830 520100. We ate in the B&B as there is no pub in Byrness.
Wednesday 13th April 2011: Crossing the Border
It was a cloudy morning with a feel of rain in the air as we had an early breakfast and made an early start up a steep path through the trees. This led to a rocky outcrop and then onto a huge grassy ridge which seemed to stretch in front of us for ever. The next three hours or so were some of the best walking on the entire route, along grassy whaleback ridges with stunning views in all directions. In the cool spring sunshine it was a joy to behold.

There is a surprising amount of Roman connections up here with Chew Green an ancient Roman camp and a focal point for several Roman roads including Dere Street. We followed this ‘Street’ for a couple of miles before bearing off over the high ground. The purest ‘end-to-end’ walkers would head down at this point towards Melrose. But we had unfinished work to attend, the Pennine Way, and would not be back on Dere Street for over 24 hours. 

The ridge started to get boggy and paving slabs were becoming an increasing feature of the lower ground. At one point we met a group of day walkers and took the opportunity of having a photograph taken of the two of us together. Then, as we left this liaison, I lost balance and put my foot off the edge of a slab. I sank at least two feet into the mire and had to haul myself up on a paving stone to get free of the cloying morass. This had to be done quickly because Mike was scrambling to get his camera out again whilst splitting his sides with laughter. I crawled quickly away before the photo shoot. I had had one indignity recorded on this trip already and was not going to expose myself to another.

Windy Gayle had been cloud free for days but, as is the fate of fell walkers, the moment we started our final ascent, the clag came down and the icy wind blew up. So there was little to see from the cairn and we quickly turned northwards and on across the moors. The next section was a featureless tramp over paving stones, broken only by the crossing of Clennell Street, another Roman road. We were searching for a suitable lunch spot, somewhere to get out of this cold wind. Eventually, just as we started the climb to Cairn Hill, we found a peat grough that was deep enough to give us some limited protection. We had a quick bite of Mrs Jackson’s sandwiches and then completed the ascent to the point at which the excursion to the Cheviot leaves the main route. We were in good time and, even though we were now in mist and cloud, we decided to give it a go. Much of the route was paved and we were out to the summit cairn and back within 50 minutes.

Then it was the turn for home and a steep descent. I had in my mind that it was downhill all the way from the Cheviot but this proved anything but true. There in front of us was a monstrous looking climb, the Schill, which was totally unexpected and rather unwelcome at this stage of a long day. From here at least is was downhill all the way and we soon came to the magical point when we stepped over the border fence and into Scotland, a pivotal moment in our walking programme. It got warmer at we dropped out of the wind into the evening sunshine and got into a nice rhythm down the grassy tracks to the farm and then the road to Kirk Yetholm. Pictures were taken at the end of the Pennine Way then we found the Farmhouse easily enough and spent some time with the owner Jon who is an avid Red and had been down to Manchester the night before to see the Chelsea match. We had to excuse ourselves so as to get showers and then down to the pub.

Byrness   dep. 08.13
Lunch near Score Head  13.25-13.45
Kirk Yetholm  arr. 17.35

29 mls (GPS battery ran out)  in 9 hrs

We stayed at The Farmhouse at Yetholm Mill, Main Street, Kirk Yetholm, Kelso, Scottish Borders, TD5 8PE.  Ms M. Bridger  Tel: 01573 420505.  We dined at the Border Hotel on Steak and Ale Pie and Chocolate Pudding. Two more beers were sampled, Pennine Way from Broughton and a local beer called Game Blonde.

Thursday 14th April 2011: Oh Dere, Oh Dere
Breakfast was a cheerful affair with a party of four who were doing St Cuthbert’s Way from a base of the Farmhouse. The package was that they were taken each day to the start and picked up from the finish whilst carrying only day packs. This seemed a good idea as we lifted our heavy sacks once more onto our backs. We had a leisurely late start but this was going to lead to a late finish on what turned out to be quite a tough day.

The start was easy enough with a flat walk out to the foot of Wideopen Hill. Then a steep grassy climb proved quite a challenge but the views from the summit ridge were magnificent. An equally steep descent to the flatlands led us to Morebattle. We had a sandwich from the B&B so we needed nothing from the shop. We set out upon our longest stretch of road walking, a four mile march to Cessford Castle. From here the route seemed to vary from the map and it appeared that, since our last trip down this route, various route changes had been made.

Just before we stopped for lunch ourselves we came across a lady lunching alone beside the path. She was a Dutch lady called Nanda who was walking from Holland to Iona. She had taken to ferry to Newcastle, come along Hadrian’s Wall and then turned up the Pennine Way as we had. She had not gone to Kirk Yetholm but had dropped off the Pennine Way at Clennell Street and stayed overnight in Morebattle.

We eventually broke out onto Dere Street, the Roman road that would take us more directly on our way north. The ancient route disappears under new road bridges and the estate at Monteviot. The woods along the Teviot were full of a flower we did not recognise, smelling rather of wild garlic.

Across the Teviot footbridge we were surprised to see the signpost taking us away from Monteviot Hall. Our last trip some 6 years ago had gone through the grounds. After a stop -start- reverse session, we convince ourselves that this diversion was intentional and set out on a long circumnavigation of the estate which eventually brought us back to the main entrance and to Dere Street.

Back on Dere Street we stopped briefly to chat to a guy who was just setting off on St Cuthbert’s Way but was interested in our End-to-End route as he has done it all in 7 weeks the previous year. He suggested we looked him up on russwalk.co.uk where we found him to be Russell Whitmore from Worcestershire.

It was then a long straight tramp along the Roman road, passed Lilliard’s Tomb. The traffic noise from the nearby road was ceaseless and rather depressing after our days in the wilderness. Eventually we arrived at a small lane and turned away from the main road towards Maxton. My feet were now quite sore from the hard ground and the road walking and it seemed a long way round the loop in the Tweed to get to St Boswell. But we finally came across the golf course and then turned up passed the club house into the village. We though the Old Manse would be near the church and this is where we were heading until we rang the house and found we had turned the wrong way at the entrance to the village. My sore feet did not appreciate retracing our steps. Then it was blister lancing to enable me to hobble to the pub.

Kirk Yetholm   dep. 09.15
Lunch near Crailing  13.45-14.00
St Boswells            arr. 18.15

26 miles 8hr 45mins

We stayed The Old Manse, Main Street, St Boswells, Melrose, Roxburghshire, TD6 0BB

Mrs Hepburn  01835 822047. We dined at the Buccleuch Hotel where I once more resorted to haddock and chips followed by bread & butter pudding and custard (Mike be damned).

Friday 15th April 2011: Along the Tweed
The weather forecast was for improving warmer conditions but these had not arrived when we left St Boswell and we headed back down to the river under grey skies. It gradually perked up as we came back to the road and then made our way under the Eildon Hills. The route gets to the very far end before turning uphill and traversing all the way back. It got warm on the steep climb but we became exposed to the cold wind once on the ridge. The St Cuthbert’s Way markers went missing on the top so we continued to the summit and off the east end. We then were required to take a contour path back to join the main descent which took us on to familiar ground down the fields and down the long set of wooden steps that drop a walker directly into town.

We passed a wine shop in the main street with two external tables for coffee drinkers. We could not see anywhere inside for a refreshment break but the guy at the outside table said that there was a café at the rear, ‘only for locals’. So we had a quick cappuccino and carrot cake before we set off on the final stint, passed the abbey and onto the banks of the Tweed and the Southern Upland Way. A pleasant stroll down the river led us to the tarmacked track of an old railway, now a cycleway leading through a line of light industry and towards Galashiels and the end of our week.

Two fellows in high viz jackets were standing on the trail. I thought they were doing a bird survey but Mike ascertained that they worked for Atkins and were surveying the area with a view to reinstating the railway line. ‘To the airport’ they said but which airport we had no idea. Just before entering the town, Mike decided he was going to change. There was no shelter so in the view of everyone using the cycleway we stripped off and donned the clothes for the trip home.

Through the shopping area we went until we came to the bus station. We sat for half an hour on broken seats waiting for the X95 to Carlisle. This arrived before 2.30pm and, after filling up to capacity, we were heading back to England on our concessionary bus passes. We had ample time for a sandwich and pint outside Carlisle station and then it was three fast trains back to Macclesfield and a meal prepared by the wives. From now on our annual week away will be north of the border.

St Boswell   dep.  09.10

Coffee in Melrose   12.00-12.30

Galashiels    arr.  13.50   

GPS  11.89 mls in 4hrs 21.42