South of Scotland Way

27^th April – 1^st May 2012

Introduction

This had been intended to be the continuation of the annual walking trip that is taking Mike and me from Minehead to Cape Wrath via Land’s End over an epic 15 year period. At the very last minute, however, Mike pulled out with a virus that had totally debilitated him. I had the choice of rearranging everything for a later date or going it alone. I had put in so much work into planning a new route across the Scottish lowlands that I decided not to let it go to waste.

Friday 27^th April 2012                       Galashiels – Innerleithen

Jill took me down for the 6.22am train and the transport system worked perfectly. I even had time for a breakfast in Carlisle whilst I waited for the bus. This time I could not persuade the driver to take an English bus pass for to trip into Scotland. So I paid my money like every other Sassenach. Almost to the second of the scheduled time I was dropped in Galashiels bus station and I set off immediately, heading south out of the town to find the Southern Uplands Way. After weeks of rain in England, I was amazed at the Scottish sunshine. On the first set of hills I met Frank Loy from Sheffield brewing tea whilst keeping out of the biting wind behind a wall. He was doing the entire Southern Upland Way in one 12 day walk. Then a long grassy descent to Yair Bridge brought me to a short road section beside the Tweed. On the long climb up to the Three Brethren, I met my second walker of the day (the last of the entire trip), Dave Stokes who was on a north-south ‘end-to-end’ epic expecting to take three months or so. I agreed to try to meet up with him as he crossed Cheshire next month. There followed a fantastic high level traverse in beautiful sunshine over Minch Moor. The only pause was at a sculpture in heather called the Point of Resolution, where a hole in a wooden staff looked out over oval-shaped cuts in the heather covered plateau below.

A winding track led down to the road at Traquair. I looked for the brewery but failed to recognise it so I set off along the mile and a half of tarmac into Innerleithen calling in at the hotel as I passed to reserve my dining table. Then it was up to my b&b and a welcome cup of tea. After a shower, I returned to the hotel for a magnificent meal and then it was early to bed.

Galashiels   dep. 12.18  -  Innerleithen  arr. 17.25,    GPS: 14.89 miles in 5hrs-7.22min

Stayed at Glede Knowe Guest House, 16 Ronans Terrace, Innerleithen, EH44 6RB
Ate at the Traquair Arms Hotel, Fried Brie for starter and Duck for main course, with 2 pints of Traquair Bear (5%) a strong dark beer, the strongest they brew.

Saturday 28^th April 2012                   Innerleithen – Penicuik

In all my reading on the various routes that walkers had used to cross the central lowlands, nobody had ever suggested the traverse of the Moorfoot Hills. Yet it looked so enticing from the maps; and it would save a time consuming diversion via Peebles and would gain a day on the normal ‘end-to-end’ schedule. An early breakfast enabled me to get away before 9am and set off on the steep climb to Lee Pen of a cold crisp sunny morning, still with a biting east wind that got colder and stronger with height. The views back over Tweeddale were spectacular, made the more so by the amazingly dry weather (flood warnings were being issued for southern England). Although from below Lee Pen appears a separate mountain, once reached it turns out to be the termination of a huge featureless moor. Featureless is not the correct word because there is now the obligatory wind-farm to behold.

A long tramp beside a wall was on a good path and my confidence increased as to an easy passage over these hills. Suddenly however the path disappeared into a strip of mowed heather and dropped steeply into a deep ravine, Leithen Door, which I assume is the source of Leithen Burn. On the other side, the mowed strip disappeared and the heather became deep and untrampled so I crossed the wall onto the forestry side and scrambled up a narrow trod. Once I had crested Leithen Door Hill, the path opened up again and doubled as a mountain bike track for some of its progress towards Dunslair Heights. The final few yards are along a wide track and bikers were everywhere. This was one of the few points in the week where I experienced other folk using the hills.

After leaving the buildings and tower behind, the bikers track continued in the right direction downhill into a wide windbreak in the forest. It was at this point that my planned route started to cause concerns. I had noticed on the map that a track went off right into the forest but I never noticed  it nor was that worried about it. The wall that had been my faithful guide was still beside me even though the going was getting considerably rougher.

I got level with the top of Shieldgreen Kipps but was so determined to follow my trusty wall (now a fence) that I did not take the easier route over its summit. At the highest point I momentarily took the wrong wall and was on the point of dropping a needless 1000 ft into the wrong valley when I remembered Mike’s last instructions. So I sat still for a few moments, got out my compass and studied the map. Then I sheepishly got back to my feet and retraced my steps to the fence/wall junction. Mike would be proud of me! However my struggle was only just beginning. The correct wall led over some narrow outcrops with just a trace of a trod in the deep grass. It was a rollercoaster section which got harder and harder. And at just the point when I expected it to ease, as the forest was left behind on Cardon Law, it got considerably worse. Even beside my trusty fence I was floundering around in long tussocks and making very slow progress. I kept getting glimpses of the forest road in the trees to my right and was bitterly regretting no taking this all the way from Dunslair Heights.

Eventually I reached the open moor on Dundreich and again made a poor decision. Rather than heading for the summit to pick up any path, I compassed across the moor on a direct heading for Jeffries Corse. Not one of my better decisions on a day of some very poor ones. But all bad things come to an end and I finally hit the top fence and the traces of a trod. Then suddenly the view opened up and I was looking down into a wide valley and over to the Pentland Hills beyond. What a relief to be striding out again down the wet grassy slopes. I took the right-hand wall down to Gladhouse Cottage and Moorfoot, stopping briefly to take on some food and water. At the road I turned right and then left up a farm road through Toxside.  The track beyond the farm was straightforward enough but I was tempted by a short cut indicated on the map across a new plantation. This cost me half a mile and 15 minutes of going round in circles. But I eventually found my way back on the lane to Mount Lothian where a left turn was the prelude to a three mile walk along quite busy roads. But I could now make up for the slow crossing of the Moorfoots and was not far behind my three mile per hour target as I dropped down the last steep hill into Penicuik. The last piece of navigation for the day was to find the hotel which was up a suburban road on the far side of town, ideal for tomorrow but not that welcome extra distance after an extremely tough day.

Innerleithen  dep.  08.48 -   Penicuik  arr.  16.40:  21 miles in 7hrs 52 mins

Stayed at Craigiebield House Hotel, 50 Bog Road, Penicuik, Midlothian, EH26 9BZ  I ate at the hotel, battered haddock and chips followed by apple cake and ice cream. The only drinkable beer was John Smiths Golden, but I was desperate!


Sunday 29^th April 2012          Penicuik – Linlithgow

I had been looking to yesterday’s crossing of the Moorfoot Hills as being the new and exciting breakthrough in the missing links in the ‘end-to-end’ but it had disappointed. Now was the section that had I was not looking forward to and on which I had put in so much planning effort.  But whereas all plans and decisions yesterday could have been improved on, today's choices worked out just the opposite. It all went swimmingly well and the route proved a classic.

It did not start well. It was beginning to rain as I left the hotel. Were we to get the horrific weather that was hitting SW England? You might think so as put the rain-proofs over my rucksack as I turned onto a stream-side path straight out of the hotel and then got lost in a housing estate. I was rescued by a charming young lady out for her long run, training for next month’s Edinburgh marathon. She directed me up a cul-de-sac and then through a woodland towards Coates and the open fell. There were more runners on the A702 and then came a very wet crossing onto the Pentland Hills. I had originally planned a high crossing of these fells but by the time I reached the pass below Scald Law, it was snowing hard. A few runners were risking the slog up to the top but it was not the day for this and 24 miles as well. So I dropped steeply into the Hare and then on through a delightful glacial valley winding beside a river through the remainder of the hills. This finally brought me out onto a flat grass plateau at Bavelaw Castle. A stile took me into a tree-lined avenue that passed by the house and led round to the left and over an indistinct field track to Bavelaw Mill Farm. My route then took me up the farm drive and onto a quiet lane used by a string of runners for their Sunday runs.

I had thought hard and long about the next section. In an attempt to avoid a long road walk, I decided to cut through a farm and hamlet at Cockburn. Then left onto a road that took me up to the A70. I could have gone straight across towards Kaimes Hill but a better route seemed to be to walk south west down the A70 for 250 yards and then turn right at Boll-o-Bere and along a well-defined track which led out into a field system. Across the other side, a track was picked up again and this took me almost to Easter Newton before I saw a stile adjacent to a gate on the left leading into the parkland of Kirknewton House. Grassy paths then traversed the park and came out in front of the hall where I emerged onto the B7031. I crossed the road and tried a farm track that led Overton Farm. Here I had an opportunity to take a field path that was marked on the map but I could see no sign of this path on the ground nor any stiles in the walls so I continued to the main road and walked along the pavement passed the station and onwards to a very busy junction.

Immediately after this junction, my chosen route turned onto an old dismantled railway. This proved to be an absolute gem of a section, almost 5 miles of good quality track going northwards towards my target, through pleasant semi-industrial countryside. It finally dropped me in the centre of Uphall where my next experiment began. An article in the New Scotsman (11/04/08) described as the walk of the week a route from Uphall to Linlithgow over Binny Craig. I followed this easily with the aid of the map and soon found the farm track out of Uphall that took me to new footbridge and then over a road onto the steep-side grassy lump. A wonderful set of steps cut into a granite cliff gave me access to the final steep grassy slope. The views from the summit were stupendous, with the Forth Bridge and the whole river layout out below. Then a reverse of the grass and a traverse of a horse-filled field took me onto a footpath linking the agricultural college with Longmuir Plantation.

A long ride passed a paintball enclosure and on through the plantation and then brought me out into the fields of the Riccarton Hills, hardly any more than a few grassy bumps. Crossing the road at the end, I tried to find a path through Beescraig Wood but the storms of the previous January had brought down so many trees that I had to break out again onto the road than ran north to the visitor centre. There was latterly a path parallel to the road which kept me off tarmac. The drop to Hiltly was blocked by a huge tree that had fallen across a stile at the top of the steep drop. But this was by-passed with care and I eventually reached the lane that led into Linthigow. This lane took me to the top of Strawberry Bank and my digs for the evening.

Penicuik   dep.  08.45  -   Linlithgow   arr.  16.45,  24 miles in 7hrs 50mins.

I stayed at Strawberry Bank House, 13 Avon Place, Linlithgow, EH49 6BL 
Rachel, Charlotte and Peter arrived just after I had finished showering. It was great to see them all after three days on my own. We went down to the Four Marys where I had steak & ale pie followed by apple lattice and ice cream (real puddings were not the feature of this trip!). The beer was remarkably good, Edinburgh Gold from Stewart. Then Rachel gave the kids a shower before they left me to drive back to Ayrshire. I was so entranced with Linlithgow that I went back into town as the sun set and walked round the palace and its loch. I celebrated with a pint of Freoach Heather Ale in the Four Marys and got a much later night that I had intended.


Monday 30^th April 2012         Linlithgow – Kilsyth

This was what the Scots call a ‘dreich day’. Grey and overcast with clag on the hills, rain in the air, and very very cold. There was no hurry today, it promised to be an easy trek along the towpath all the way. So I got a leisurely start and wore my Teva sandals not, it turned out to be, a good idea. I kept up my record of starting every day before 9am but only just. The early part of the canal was a delight with narrow winding sections along tree lined cuttings with birds singing and herons sitting on every bank. I was soon round to Falkirk and was about to come off and divert through the town centre just for a break in the monotony. However I local man told me to carry on to a supermarket beside the towpath. I was well passed the turnoff when I realised the supermarket was Tesco’s and the café look dreary. As part of a family who have signed up to 'say no to Tesco’ I was reluctant to stop so I carried on and on down the canal which was now far less rural. I did manage a short diversion through the town to miss the long tunnel. Then I had difficulty locating the canal on the far side but I eventually tramped down to the locks and turned sharp right through another canal tunnel. This time the exit was spectacular. I came out of the tunnel onto a long concrete viaduct which suddenly came to an end at the Falkirk Wheel. I dropped down the slope beside the wheel and was delighted to find a visitors centre and café. So I was able to drink a cappuccino and eat a slice of cake as I watched the Wheel in action with a canal boat coming down to the lower level on an amazing piece of engineering. It was by far the highlight of the day.

Refreshed I set out along the Forth and Clyde Canal which was wide open and lacking any interest. At one point I thought I saw a pub ahead but this turned out to be a mirage, or rather a restaurant. The last 3 miles were in a dead straight line, a disheartening end to the walk. I left the canal at the earliest opportunity and entered Kilsyth via a series of narrow but busy lanes. Navigation through the town centre proved a problem but I found that the b&b was sign posted with a brown sign. The last half mile up to the farm was seriously uphill the more so since I had been on a towpath all day. It turned out to be a longer day than I had expected and my feet had blistered in the sandal. But after a cup of tea, a shower and needles in the feet, I was able to stagger back into town for a meal and a drink.

Linlithgow   dep. 08.58  -  Falkirk Wheel (lunch)  12.55 – 13.30  -  Kilsyth  arr. 16.50, 22 miles in 7hrs 20 mins + 30 mins for lunch.

I stayed at Allanfauld Farm, Allanfauld Road, Kilsyth, G65 9DF. The meal was at the Coachman Hotel where I had haggis and black pudding fritters to start and fish and chips as an encore. The beer however was once again John Smith’s.

Back at the farm, Libby showed me the names and mailings from other ‘end-to-enders’who had stayed there and introduced me to the book by Carole Loader who ran the whole route and also stayed with them. I bought this book when I got home.


Tuesday 1^st May 2012                        Kilsyth  -  Dumgoyne

I was down before breakfast before 8am encouraged by the sunshine and the clear hill tops. The previous day I had abandoned the idea of crossing the Campsie Fells and had been preparing for another day of boredom on the canal towpath. But, lo and behold, the great God of walking was smiling on me. So in the morning brightness I said my goodbye to Libby and set off up the hillside towards the Kilsyth Hills. Archie was in the bottom fields and came over to help my route choice. He advised me to head straight up for Laird’s Hill and then go west to pick up the reservoir road. This crossing was pathless but quite walkable except for a boggy section just before the road. I was able to make good time along the track which eventually dropped down to Birkenburn Reservoir. I chose to by-pass this on its south side and the going suddenly got a lot slower. A tussocky section led up from water’s end and headed onto a featureless plateau of colourless grass. It was difficult to distinguish a high point to Lecket Hill but I headed left to pick up a track that came over from Cort-ma Law. A great track then descended gradually to the road.

The hillside opposite, on the Campsie Fells, looked heather-free so I ascended the road only very briefly before climbing the new barbed-wire fence and headed straight up through the new plantations. I thought it a good idea to miss out the first summit and head straight for Hart Hill using Alvain Burn as my route finder. However it was almost impassable at the top of the valley and across the plateau. So I headed for a fence that I could just see on the top of the ridge and found just the traces of a trod. But very faint. Nobody seems to walk the Campsie Fells. I staggered along the fence picking up any slight vestige of a path where I could and, after what seemed an age dropped down steeply into Fin Glen. Again I took a straight line rather than head for the tops. So I tramped over more rough ground heading for the col between Earl’s Seat and Little Earl.  Once across the top fence the navigation became very complex even in the bright sunshine. This is not the place to be in mist. A long slow slog across a boggy wilderness brought me to the final edge of the Campsies near Garlock Hill. A track at last, the first for several hours then took me down and round to the impressive pinnacle of Dumgoyne. Suddenly the view opened up and I could see Loch Lomond and the mountains of the Highland behind. That one moment made all the effort in the traverse of the Campsie Fells worthwhile. Then a final steep grassy slope dropped me down directly into the Dumgoyne Distillery. My bus timetable told me a bus may just have gone but, after a ten minute wait, it came in late and I was able to jump on and get a ride to the station at Milngavie. A train was waiting to leave and I was soon on the way home, another tough section of the end-to-end route behind me.

Kilsyth  dep.  08.40  -  Dumgoyne   arr. 14.50,   GPS 14.34 miles in 5hrs 57.55 mins (+ 10 min break).

I caught the bus almost straight away to Milngavie Station and was in Glasgow so early that I had time to wash and change, have a coffee and cake and then eat a plate of fish and chips (and Deuchars IPA) before boarding my train home. The connection in Preston was a close shave but there were no more scares and I was home bang on schedule. I was glad that Jill was there to pick me up from the station. A long walk home at this late hour would have been a step too far.

The Yorkshire Wolds Way

19^th - 22^nd March 2012

Introduction

I went down to London in mid-March to visit the David Hockney exhibition at the Royal Academy and was most taken by the paintings of the Yorkshire Wolds. I had been considering a training walk to stretch my legs after the long winter. The weather was improving, the forecast was brilliant, so I made the spontaneous decision to go for the Wolds Way and explore a corner of the country I knew little about.  I had only a few hours to prepare. I had no maps, no guide book; only an accommodation list downloaded from the website. Throwing some kit into my KIMM sac, I snatched a few hours fitful sleep.

Monday 19^th March 2012                 Hessle – South Cave

I had not slept well so was up before the alarm for an early breakfast. Jill was just stirring as I called out my goodbyes and set off to walk to the station. The 08.02 train was running late so I had little time to change at Piccadilly on to the 08.42 to Hull. But the weather improved as we shot across the Pennines and it was bright sunshine as I left Hull station and sought a bookshop and some coffee and cake. The ever-present Waterstones provided both a guide book and carrot cake. Within half an hour I was back at the station to retrace my rail journey but this time on a train that stopped at Hessle. It was 11.30 as I was left standing alone on Hessle station wondering how to find the start of the Wolds Way.

The newly acquired guidebook earned its purchase price in getting me over the footbridge and up to the Italian restaurant at Hessle Have and the official start. Then, under a bright sky, I set off trying to get my rhythm going under the Humber Bridge and the path along the estuary. I had to take to a shingle beach to get round a hotel but was soon onto a dry track beside the railway. In North Ferriby I followed the guidebook description of the way through the village centre, but in retrospect I should have resorted to the map I had printed off from the internet. It was only when I made a mistake coming off Melton Hill that I put the guidebook away and swore never to take the map out of my hand again. I am sure the diversion cost me an extra half-mile and an irritating road walk.

With map in hand I made no further errors in route finding and I found the signposting was of a generally high standard (outside towns and villages). It clouded over as I marched up Welton Dale and over my first big climb to the long westerly dog-leg to Brantingham. There is a beautiful moment as you drop down a grassy field path to the church, isolated from its village and in fabulous location. It looked a picture in a moment of sunshine. There was a mountain biker at the church, pausing to regain his composure after being brought off his bike by some Jack Russell dogs. Hoping is cuts would soon heal, we parted and I continued up the road and then left up another climb to a great viewpoint over my night’s destination. It was 4pm as I descended towards South Cave and turned into the village to find bed & breakfast. The address of the private house was not easy to find and then it looked as though the residents were away so I returned to the pub in the town centre and got myself fixed up for the evening I was on my way.

13.51 miles in 4hrs 17mins 02sec.

I stayed at the Fox and Coney, South Cave. Black Sheep bitter was on a hand pump and I enjoyed steak & ale pie. The room was over the bar and a bit noisy and, although I was very tired, I took an age to get to sleep.

Tuesday 20^th March 2012                 South Cave - Huggate

I set the alarm for a 7.30am breakfast. I needed to start covering greater distances now to compensate for my ‘easy’ first day. Today was the vernal equinox, and it certainly felt as though it was spring as I left the hotel (08.27) and retraced my steps up the road I had come in on the previous afternoon. My fleece was stored in my sack and I took off my pullover on the first climb. I got the wind, and a mobile phone signal, as I pulled out of the plantations and onto the bare tops. My bank rang me to sort out some problems with my credit card. Then I was able to ring various members of the family to catch up with the latest news. The views back over the Humber and westwards to Drax were spectacular.

I really motored early on and clocked 10 miles in the first three hours. By 11.50 I was outside the Goodmanham Arms and to my delight it was open and serving food and real ale. A cheese sandwich and a pint of Yorkshire Gold and then a Wold Top bitter were enough to revive me and at 12.25 I was off again on a fast easy section to Millington. I rang ahead to book some accommodation and then relaxed into the long afternoon journey. The traverse of the Londesborough estate was memorable, with the most magnificent brick retaining wall dominating the valley. A lovely old church was all there was at Nunburnholme and then it was just a plod until I pulled onto the edge overlooking Millington and its dale.

I was going really well until I had to drop onto a Roman Road running through a steep sided dale and climb out again up a very steep set of steps. Whether it was the heat or the beer I had consumed at lunchtime, I do not know. But I totally bonked on this climb and felt tired, dizzy and old by the time I gained the flat ground again. I was quite glad to coast home with no heroics and so eventually I could see Huggate away to my right and was very glad to be turning right off the route and into the village. My fitness had been sorely tested. Even though, when I had rung at lunchtime, I had been told that someone would be in the kitchens if I went round the back of the pub at 5pm, the place looked deserted. I had to ring from outside the front door to rouse a response. And a very nowty landlord unlocked the front door to give me access to my room. However the rest of my stay was brilliant and I was wonderfully well fed and watered.

25miles in 7hrs 58 mins + 35 mins for lunch.

I stayed at the Wolds Inn in Huggate. I had the biggest portion of duck in orange gravy washed down with pints of Landlords and Landlords Gold. I still found room for Treacle Pudding and a cappuccino.

Wednesday 21^st March 2012            Huggate - Ganton

The owners of the Wolds Inn got up early to provide me with a cooked breakfast and a packed lunch in readiness for my mega-day. I had everything packed before the meal so, as soon as I was finished, I set off up the road I had come down the previous night (at 8.32am). It was grey and overcast but quite warm for the time of day and year. I was soon dropping into a big flat-bottomed dale which I followed for almost an hour up to Fridaythorpe. Here was the half-way point of the walk, the place where the national trail had been officially opened. The route out of the village took me passed the ABN mill but I had no time to call in to see if old friends were on-site. After a high level section, the path dropped very steeply into another set of grassy dales, full of sheep and little else. This eventually took me out onto the road to Thixendale. In the quiet village was a shop sign taking me round the back of a house into a glass conservatory that acted as the village store. Buying the cakes and drinks was easy; getting away from the chatty owner was more problematic. But I finally made my excuses and dashed for the door, into the main street and up a steep chalky leading on to the tops.

One more dale crossing took me onto a high ridge where a right turn enables to route to stay level along to edge of a deepening dale that leads to Wharram Percy. Eventually the path descends to the deserted medieval village and here I sat momentarily on a seat overlooking the old fishpond to eat my newly purchased cakes. Then it was passed the old church and up to a road and left onto a section that was not nearly as interesting as the early morning had been. But at least it took me over high ground, provided me with a mobile phone signal and enabled me to book accommodation for the night ahead.

I was getting rather hungry by the time I got to Settrington Beacon, so I was really pleased to find a bench overlooking the steep descent to Rowgate. Here I sat for a 15 minute lunch break (1.50-2.05pm) looking out over Wintringham and the wolds behind. It was warming up now as I plodded along the farm track and then turned right over the fields into Wintringham. The route then turns away from the village centre and goes round the back to reach the church without seeing anything of the village itself. A left turn at the church took me up through some woods and plantations on a steep-sided ridge. The final scramble onto the top of Knapton Wold was the steepest part of the whole route. Thank goodness I went up better that yesterday’s crux climb. A lady dog walker warned me to look out for some ‘odd goings on at the top, red and things’. These turned out to be a new work of art called ‘Enclosure Rites’ consisting of line of ten figures (3ft high), processing like a medieval family across a field next to a circular pond surrounded by a red painted stockade fence.

Returning to more important things like getting to the pub, I turned right on the northern edge of the wolds, a significant moment as this turn pointed me towards the sea and my ultimate destination.  This level traverse took me the rest of the afternoon, with features such as woods, daffodils, sheep-filled fields and farms all blending into one long period of concentration to finish off this long day. The climb out of Sherburn was a pain as it seemed a gratuitous diversion to keep the route away from the direct line, but eventually I finally came into Ganton, and continued down to the main road to arrive at the pub just four minutes earlier than expected (5.56pm). That was a very long day!

 28 miles in 9hrs 10 mins + 15 minutes lunch stop.

Stayed in the Ganton Greyhound, took a quiet room at the rear (away from the traffic noise) and had a meal of belly pork and stick toffee pudding. The beer was Headland Red (4/3%) from Wold Top.

Thursday 22^nd March 2012              Ganton - Filey

I was down early for the 8am breakfast, was served quickly and had my bags packed and was out into the cold clear morning before 8.30am. There was a gentle start across some fields before a right turn led up to the top of the wolds. Once this was gained, the route kept its height passed the RAF station and then started to roller-coaster across a series of steep sided dales.

Then came the only part of the whole route that was hard to follow. Starting down the side of a ploughed field, a fingerpost was reached that pointed at 90 degrees across the crops.  The farmer had not left any edge to walk on and the next half mile was in soft ploughed soil with crops growing up fast on either side. I abandoned the last leg of this section (across a sloping crop field) and went down a fence boundary and across the crops in the base of Camp Dale. It was quite a relief to get out of this interminable field and into a series of delightful dales full of scrub and old trees.

Coming up for air, I found myself in sunshine once more traversing the last ‘wold’ of the entire walk. The descent to Muston was easy and I paused only briefly to replace my tracksters by walking trousers for the return to civilisation. Soon I was in the outskirts of Filey. I called into the railway station to check the train times and then followed the instructions in the guide book to zigzag through the narrow streets and onto Filey Brigg. In the mid-day sun it was a picture. In fact I stopped a couple and asked them to take my picture with my phone to commemorate the end of a magnificent 80 mile expedition.

13 miles in 4hrs 20min 23sec.

I turned my back on the sea and retraced my steps to the station to catch the 13.42 train to Sheffield and onwards home. I felt strong enough to walk home from the station but had to make a pit stop in the Treacle Tap to see me on my way. A most invigorating few days!

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