Northern Lakes

Braithwaite

The North West Lake District is not an area I am overly familiar with. This weekend changed that and I am better for it. Arriving at Lanefoot farm on Friday evening we were greeted with a scene of tranquillity, a few white geese crossed the track in front of us, Skiddaw towered behind. The farmer/campsite warden greeted us with the news that the site was waterlogged and to take care with the car on the grass. The site consists of several fields but we were asked to camp on the meadow field which is on a slight incline. He wasn’t wrong about the wetness of the ground. There was a tractor parked on the field to rescue those who thought that the best way to climb mud/grass in a car is to floor it in 1^st gear!

We pitched up and cooked our dinner in the tent porch as the rain started. Sunshine and showers were predicted for Friday and Saturday, this was one of several showers. The entertainment was provided courtesy of those trying to drive up the hill at 7000 revs and a family trying to erect a canvas space-station in the rain. All they needed to do was to wait 20 minutes or so for the shower to pass. All part of the ‘budget holiday’ experience to them I suppose? Shortly after washing up in the excellent facilities on the site, we were joined by The Stig.

Ben Collins wasn’t really with us that weekend but I am not too sure where I stand as far as identifying people who perhaps should have been doing other things - You know who you are! The farmer was driving a quad-bike around the site with fire grates and logs in tow. A fire would have been nice but we wanted to sample some real ales so we went to the pub instead.

Causey Pike

For the second weekend in a row we awoke to the sound of rain on the tent. Our day was delayed by the very stuff that shapes the hills and fills the lakes. You cannot live in The UK without loving the rain a little bit. Eventually we were underway. I drove us to the start point as The Stig-powered Subaru carried us last time. The steep climb towards the Summit of Causey Pike was uneventful, except for when I realised the ‘Sheep Thong’ I had put on for a laugh was still being worn as we passed a group of fellow walkers. It hastily came off, but not before I accidentally activated the novelty baa baa (x6) noise built into the bloody thing!

The rain started again just after the final summit scramble. It lasted for the next 2 ½ hours. Showers my arse! We shortened the intended walk by half to about 6 ½ miles and covered a couple of smaller peaks instead. We were on the summit of the last of these peaks, Barrow, when the rain stopped and we were treated to a rainbow over Derwent Water. After the walk we headed into Keswick for a bit of gear shopping (see last weeks entry) and to pick up a “bit” of BBQ food. (I know an un-tamed racing driver has to keep his strength up but 12 sausages Stig)!!

Disposable BBQs are about as damaging to the planet as you can get so we bought three of them. They were crap. I really must invest in a real BBQ! After an hour of coal-poking, the Stig had consumed 3 burgers and 10 of his 12 sausages. One of his extra sausages was taken by Mrs RAR, the other was eaten by, let’s say an Eagle, no a Giraffe. I don’t know where it ended up but it was eaten. The Ales in the village were of a high standard (and price) so we rounded off the evening in the pub.

Ghost!

Did I get that last whisky “for the road”? I don’t remember but I was talking to a Scottish bloke at some point. The road from the pub to the campsite was dark but being men, Stig and I didn’t need torches. Mrs RAR however had her Petzl set low to avoid any mishaps. Ahead we saw the eyes of a dog reflected back at us.

Accompanying the dog was a tall dark figure, the dog was howling. It felt quite eerie walking down the white centre lines of the road with the mysterious figure and the howling ensured that we were bordering on scared.

I pulled out my 1wat LED Cyberlite and illuminated the way ahead. The figure, dog and howling were no more. By the time we reached where they had been (standing)? There was no trace. All three lights at full power, we searched the bush, fields and the road ahead. No trace of them was found. Did a man and his dog meet their demise on this road? Was a shepherd killed and left with his dog wailing by his master’s body? These were the kind of questions we were asking each other for the rest of the walk back and much of the following day.

Grisedale Pike

How many Lakes are there in The Lake District? One – Bassenthwaite Lake (the other stretches of water are Tarns, Meres or Waters). Although we were camped close to it, we never visited the shores of Bassenthwaite Lake. It is there for next time. Braithwaite village, we visited several times. It is pleasant and not spoiled by the tourists. I don’t mean ‘outdoors’ type tourists, I mean those with wads of cash to spend who speak of having “a most charming weekend in the Lake District” at their Wednesday evening Dinner Party. We had a “most charming” mug of tea (60p) and The Stig bought a non-ciabatta butty for £1.90 at the village store.

Shortly after clearing the trees, we had a clear view of the campsite in the middle of Braithwaite. I had considered this site at first but Diddy (Tent Demon) and jack on www.outdoorsmagic.com advised against it and suggested the Lightfoot Farm site that we stayed at. Their advice was good; the other site looked packed and sterile. We were also supposed to meet Dave Mycroft from www.outdoorsmagic.com this weekend for Mrs RAR to test and review some ladies boots. He never turned up, I hope he is ok. (Updated. He was fine! we met up and the Boots are being tested).

The path leading from Braithwaite offers great views and by the time we reached the summit, most of the Lake District was visible, along with The Isle of Man, the North Pennines and the mountains of Dumfries and Galloway in Scotland. I thought to myself, if there is a reason to live, this is surely it! Sitting in the sunshine with the whole of Cumbria before you makes you wish you were immortal, that time could stand still. I didn’t want to leave this place. It made me feel alive again.

Descent

We spent a few minutes watching a tough, yet stupid beetle making his way across the stony summit. He seamed to progress by walking up a rock, falling off and then walking up another, repeating the process over and over. It is a good job he had a hard shell! Our intention was to bag a few more peaks, but Mrs RAR was feeling a little unwell and time was against us, so we decided to cut it a little short. The descent from Grisedale pike to the bottom of Force Crag is punctuated with mine workings and one of the most spectacular waterfalls in Cumbria. High Force and Low force plunge hundreds of feet from the Hanging Valley in a landscape like Borneo in miniature.

The old Cobalt mine at the bottom is certainly a blot on the landscape but holds interest of its own. Apparently it was the last mine in The Lake District to close (1990) and it is possible to arrange tours around its old workings. I saw many potential photographs but I exhausted my battery on the waterfall. The remaining descent is a long and drawn out walk down the valley but it was rewarded by Cumberland Sausage at the pub in Braithwaite. A perfect end to an excellent weekend, how The Stig fitted in even more sausage I will never know. (some say he used to be a pig farmer).

As a quick note to end with, I noticed that I had not cleaned my empty Mackerel Tins properly before storing in my bag (see previous Blog posts)! This has resulted in a bag stinking of fish. As we are walking Wainwrights Coast to Coast in a couple of weeks, I can envisage A flock of Seagulls following me accross Northern England! I shall beat them away with a walking pole!

If anyone has any questions about the photographs – just ask :-).

Wales II

Wales Again!

A last minute decision on Friday took us to Wales for the second weekend running. Betws-Y-Coed (pronounced “Bettous a coyd” I think) was the destination. Hendre Farm is the name of the camp site; it is on the A5 a few hundred yards outside the village. Nothing to shout about, the fact that this camp site is within easy walking distance of the pub is its redeeming feature. The grass is flat and the pegs go ‘all the way in’ and the facilities are clean. It is just the constant orange glow of the sodium street lights that somehow seem out of place.

As far as touristy villages go, Betws has it all. A river, a bridge a waterfall and a chippy! It also boasts a huge range of outdoors gear shops. Put all of this together with a warm day and the crowds can become quite unbearable. The sad thing is that, much like The Lake District, many of the visitors have no interest in the outdoors. So, why do they come to such places when there is nothing for them to do? Wouldn’t they be better off in, say, Blackpool? (Or St Annes if they are posh)!

I don’t have all of the answers (I am sure there are many) to this question, but it is a fact that outdoors gear has recently become trendy. It isn’t uncommon in Betws (and Keswick) to see people wearing £300 waterproof jackets but putting up umbrellas at the slightest hint of rain! This isn’t a bad thing in some respects as it ensures a steady supply of quality kit at a reasonable (ish) price. Let’s just hope that the manufacturers don’t compromise functionality with fashion.

The Glyders

Waking up to the pitter patter, well, roar of rain hitting the tent roof doesn’t exactly fill one with optimism for the day ahead. We decided to skip breakfast and head strait to Idwal Cottage in the Ogwen Valley. This was our rendezvous point and the start of the walk. We sheltered from the rain whilst eating awful bacon toasties bought from the little shop on the car park. I forgave them for the rubbish food though as they showed us where to park for free. Soon the rain stopped and we were off.

Cwm Idwal is a Hanging Valley and the most southerly point in the UK where Alpine plants can be found. These include the Snowdon Lilly, which is exclusive to this area. It has recently been voted the 7^th natural wonder of the British Isles and is a Mecca for climbers, walkers, botanists and geologists.

The path up to Cwm Idwal is strait-forward and picturesque in a tolkien sort of way A waterfall cascades under an old wooden bridge with warped handrails and Tryfan peers down on you like a prehistoric beast. Ahead lies the Devils Kitchen and with dark, menacing clouds swirling around the crags, it was clear why it is named as such. Even the lake (Llyn Idwal) is named after a prince’s son who was supposedly drowned in its depths.

Rain Again!

There is no way up the Devils Kitchen for mere mortals and it is best left to those with ropes, slings and harnesses. The path, however, passes close and rewards those who have put the effort in with a spectacular waterfall and views into the valley below. As we passed it started to rain again. The waterproofs were frequently on and off as we ascended into the cloud and the view deteriorated. By the time we reached the summit of Glyder Fawr, conditions had become dangerous for the unprepared.

The lack of visiblility and the driving rain added to the alien landscape of the mountain. We pressed on, pausing only briefly to touch the jagged summit, making our way along the intermittent path towards Glyder Fach. At one point the rain made the showers of last week look tame. This rain was torrential and persistant.

Eventually we made it to the summit plateaux of Glyder Fach - we were pretty Fach’d off with the weather! Climbing wet and slippery green rock did not seem like a good idea so we decided to leave the 5 metre scramble to the summit for another day. There were quite a few other people wandering about and I think they thought the same. I climbed up onto it but I dared not go near the end as even the Cantilever was covered in the same wet, green slime. It remained vacant and the photograph I had been looking forward to never materialised.

Mackerel

Upon leaving the summit, the rain stopped and an occasional view appeared as the clouds parted. At last, we could stop in relative comfort and eat our lunch!

Not so long ago it was brought to my attention that tinned mackerel makes a filling and healthy hill-food. I thought I would give it a try. I was impressed. I recommend it to anybody venturing into the hills, tinned mackerel is a great alternative to a chocolate bar. It is surprisingly tasty (the tomato sauce version), it fills you up and it gives you an energy and moral boost. The only problem is the disposal of the tin. This can be solved by squashing it and putting it in the bag your sandwiches were in – learn from my mistake – eat the sandwiches first!

The steep scree slope descent to Bwlch Tryfan was avoided by heading down towards The Miner’s Track. A brief photography stop was made by a couple of little ponds and then again at Llyn Bochlwyd. The clouds lifted as we descended to the car. Typical! Tired and wet, we decided to forget camping meals and headed strait for the pub.

Moel Siabod

I have no idea how to pronounce this one but I have wanted to climb it for quite a while now. On Sunday I got the chance. Mrs RAR stayed behind in Betws to finish off School work (Don’t become a teacher, just don’t)! Two of us headed to Capel Curig in glorious sunshine and began the ascent. My footwear was till soaking wet from the previous day but I was optimistic about the sunshine drying it out. It didn’t.

Moel Siabod lies on the very edge of the map and no real paths are shown so we decided to just head for the ridge as this seamed the easiest way up. The views from the summit were excellent and the sun was beating down on us in complete contrast to the day before.

I could go on but I will leave it here, with fond memories of a great weekend.

The Welsh 3000's

The Welsh 3000’s

The Welsh 3000’s, for those that don’t know, is a challenge walk/run taking in all the Mountains in Wales over 3000 feet in height within 24 hours. My Cousin and I have been contemplating the challenge for a few years now and finally got round to organising it for last weekend.

Final numbers were confirmed (3 of us), route plans were drawn up and a support team mobilised (Mrs RAR)! The rest was left to nature. One of the main factors deciding whether or not the Welsh 3000’s are completed or not is the weather. The weather for the weekend did not look good.

None of us fancied sleeping at the top of Snowdon in the predicted gale force winds, hill fog and heavy rain so in the end, at the last minute, we reluctantly called the challenge off. We really did wait till the last minute too. My cousin was on the platform waiting for the train, hoping that the weather forecast might change. It didn’t.

The Right Thing?

Did we do the right thing calling off the challenge? Yes we did as you will find out shortly. Three of us went to Snowdonia anyway with the intention of doing a day walk instead of the challenge. We arrived at the Camp Site just outside a village called Rhyd Ddu. The Campsite is run by a pub, The Cwellyn Arms, which is traditional log-fire Real Ale pub.

Log fires are allowed on the Campsite but only using wood bought from the pub. Bears are reportedly ;-) loose in the forest to deter anyone from venturing into the trees to chop their ow

n wood. Enough about one of the best campsites I have stayed at and back to the story! We pitched up, lit our fire and cooked our evening meal.

A group of young people duly arrived and very poorly pitched their tents near to ours. I doubted their tents would last the night in the winds forecasted (and already picking up). After an hour or so of drinking a couple of beers round the fire, the wind and rain got to a point that wasn’t pleasant so we retired for an early night. Sleep was frequently interrupted by the wind and torrential rain and by 4am, half of

the youngster’s tents were flat and a few had broken poles. We did the right thing.

The Walk.

After a rough night of howling winds and driving rain, we awoke to sunshine! After a bite of breakfast it was decided that we would be going up Snowdon via the Rangers path and descending the Rhyd Ddu path. None of us had been on either of these paths before and as the challenge wasn’t g

oing ahead it just seemed right to climb the mountain so many people love and hate. Snowdon is a bit like marmite in that sense, some people love it some hate it. The café/train/tourists are certainly a bazaar site on a Mountain.

The ascent was straightforward and the views well worth the effort. The best thing was the lack of tourists. When I say tourists, I mean the kind of people who don’t normally walk up Mountains that are in abundance on the other paths of Snowdon. (we found out later that there were a few of these non-outdoors people on this side too). Around half way up we witnessed an awesome site – rain! The

band was visible, heavy, in high contrast to the surroundings and heading straight for us. Waterproofs were donned just in time for one of the heaviest downpours I have experienced in the hills. Just as quickly as it had arrived, it went. We watched as it dumped more wet stuff over Anglesey.

Further towards the summit, and after watching several more rain showers pass in the valley, BANG!. A lady walker nearby hit the deck, we all jumped. None of us saw the lightning

flash but it was close. After a bit of nervous chatting with fellow walkers, we decided it was a one off and the threat had passed. (I found out that the best thing to do in a thunderstorm on a Mountain is to put your head between your legs and kiss your arse goodbye)! The rest of the ascent was pretty uneventful except for a bloke standing naked on the summit plinth.

Rescue!

The descent from Snowdon down the Rhyd ddu path involves traversing a narrow ridge. The ridge isn’t Crib Goch narrow, but it does add a bit of interest to the walk. We decided it would be a nice route up. By now the cloud had descended and covered the Summit with a blanket of fog. We cleared it just in time to see the views. As we got near the bottom (and the pub)! a big yellow Sea King helicopter approached the summit and hovered for quite a while. We joked that it was picking up the clueless young

sters who had camped next to us.

After reaching the campsite we decided a BBQ was in order, the wind ensured the BBQ acted like a blast furnace to incinerate our burgers. Full from the food, we decided to visit the pub for some real ale. We were not disappointed. Whilst in the pub, we heard that there was a Mountain Resc

ue in operation involving some people from our campsite. 1 had been airlifted from the Mountain. 2 Had been escorted down and a further 8 were still missing and being searched for! We joked that it was probably the clueless youngsters camped next to us.

At about half 11, news came through to the pub that it was certainly people from our site and the site/pub owner went to the site for a look to make sure they were not there. They were there. It was the youngsters. They had left their friends on the Mountain and were drinking and chatting as if nothin

g had happened. According to the pub/site owner, they couldn’t care less that a helicopter and Mountain Rescue teams had been out for several hours in dangerous conditions searching for 8 missing persons.

Home

After the pub, we had a (quiet) beer back at the tent round the remains of the fire that I had managed to get going again. A little later the Youngster who had been taken to hospital (suffering from WET JEAN SYNDROME probably) returned to camp with the two who had been walked down by MRT. They were then up till 4am drinking and laughing about the incident.

The following morning we heard one of the youngsters say “shall we try again and go the right way this time”. I hope they either learn a few outdoor skills (including respect) or never venture out of the (London by the accents) city again. Our day was spent in Llandudno exploring cafes!

The Welsh 3000’s will have to wait until next year now, but I am already looking forward to it.