Midgemunchin'Trouserrippin'Eyepoppin'Chocolatescoffin'Felltoppin'Huffinpuffin'Picturesnappin'OSmappin'Lungbustin'Jawdroppin' CUMBRIA

Today we set on on a gentle 6.5 mile hike around the Langdale Valley.  We were trying out one of the High Fell Story walks for the Cumbria Wildlife Trust - an utterly brilliant idea where the audio walk is supplemented by interviews and descriptions from people who remember what the place was like in the fist half of the 20th Century.

Anyway, we'll be writing that up properly for the CWT over the next week or so - even the part where we got distracted and took a major detour, forging a rather unorthodox new route up Side Pike.  Thing is, the colours were so amazing today that I wanted to share some pics now.  So enjoy a break from my constant yattering and enjoy the views.

Coniston

Elterwater Bridge

A remarkable red tree outside Elterwater YHA

Sun through the trees in Sawrey's Wood.

Beautiful and good for wildlife.

A very berry holly bush.

Baysbrown Farm Barn

Looking up the valley towards the Pikes.

Crinkle Crags and friends. (Including Steve!)

Almost too idyllic.

Side Pike. It wasn't on our route but it looked so inviting...

Check out the geology on those!

I had an Ansell Adams moment...

And another one...

This was meant to be a pic of Juniper bushes, important in the history
of the area.

Great Langdale Beck, where there used to be trout.

More Holly Berries.

Not a route for the well built...

Beautiful Blea Tarn

Whistful Sheep...

Iconic silhouette

Bittern Spotting for Beginners.

The beautiful Leighton Moss RSPB Reserve

We’re novice bird watchers but learning fast (does that make us fledglings?) and thoroughly enjoy a few hours pootling from hide to hide around the reserve.  At this time of year there are many migrating species moving through the region so there’s a lot to keep up with, and each time we visit we usually see something new.  This time we spotted Teal (very pretty little ducks), Pochard (very pretty slightly larger ducks), Shovellers (duck sized but huge bills) and Marsh Harriers (very large and not at all duck like).  However our mission was threefold: to see a murmuration of Starlings, to see (or even hear) a Bittern and to see the resident Otters.  It’s fair to say our success in these missions was, at best, patchy.

This is not a Bittern.

First up the Starlings.  As we arrived a couple of hours before dusk we got lucky with this one and, although comparatively small compared to what it apparently grows to later in the season, we did indeed see a minor murmuration.  However small the flock it’s still quite breath-taking to see them swoop, switch and dive in unison with no collisions; far better choreographed than the dance routines most people were watching on TV that evening.  Pretty soon they settled down to roost amongst the reed beds with their distinctive chirping. Oddly this is a sound which always reminds me of Birmingham because, as a child, when we visited Birmingham (to see Santa in Rackhams) the starlings would be roosting in the bank opposite the ramp leading into New Street station, so their sound has always held magical connections for me.  (Not often Birmingham is described as being magical).  So, mission one accomplished.

Mission two: the Bittern.  One of the rarest birds in Britain these creatures are usually heard rather than seen and have a distinctively deep, booming call.  This is good to know, but not all that helpful when you don’t know what their “deep, booming call” actually sounds like.  We got excited at several “deep, booming” calls which disappointingly turned out to be (in order) a cow, a rutting stag and a distant tractor.   We may be fledglings but we clearly have much to learn.   We read the info board which, helpfully, had a large picture of them and pointers as to when was the best time to see them.  Dusk is best apparently, around the edges of the reeds.  They’d been seen that day but sadly didn't make an appearance for us.  That said the info board also said they were “masters of disguise” so I tried to convince Steve I’d seen one disguised as a swan.  He didn't believe me.

This is also not a Bittern.

And lastly the otters.  Or rather, not the otters for they too assiduously avoided us.  They had apparently been out partying in the sunlight for the hordes of observers earlier in the day but when we arrived, sitting stock still and silently sipping tea in the Lower Hide, they stubbornly refused to reappear.  We’d been told to watch the other birds for clues as to the location of the otters, which conjured up images in my mind of a row of Warner Brothers style ducks sitting bolt upright holding “Otters this way” signs.  It seems I misunderstood.

And this most certainly isn't a Bittern.

There were many fantastic things we did see though; on our way to Lower Hide we stopped to watch a group of deer, including a stag, grazing and then lying in the warm afternoon sun.  They knew we were there but were far enough away to not be too troubled by our presence.  As I mentioned before we were lucky enough to see the Marsh Harrier again swooping around and I’m sure someone claimed that the large bird we saw chasing some of the Starlings was a Peregrine, but I could be very wrong about that.  We also saw a huge flock of Little Egrets gathered in the trees at the far side of the lake; at least 30 when we tried to count them, though they’re fidgety things and didn't hold still long enough for us to get a more accurate count. 

My very best shot of the suspected Bearded Tit.
Whaddya mean "it's a bit dark"?!

And did we see a Bearded Tit?  Well, on our way back to the car in the late dusk we spotted a small bird pecking around in the gravel ahead of us, very near to the gravel trays.  It didn’t seem too jumpy and, had it not been really rather dark by this point, we’d have probably gotten quite a nice pic, but as it was all we had to go on was its silhouette and, let’s face it, we can’t spot a Bittern in broad daylight so our chances of identifying this were non-existent.  As we reached the car it was getting quite dark and all we could hear away in the distance were owls calling to each other – another bird we could add to the “heard but not seen list”.  At least we think it was an owl, it could have been a distant train, or a car alarm, or a mobile phone, or a… 

About not going to Harrogate.

I tried it without the wellies - too cold!

Like several million other people we didn’t go to Harrogate this weekend, but unlike many of them we very nearly did.  I finally had the rare opportunity to take a short break and I really fancied being looked after for the weekend, nothing too pampery, just  not doing the cooking would do me fine.  Spa weekends and the like have never appealed; the very idea of being half naked while a complete stranger smears expensive goo about my person doesn’t make it anywhere near my list of “relaxing pass-times".  In fact someone kindly bought me a voucher for a pamper experience once; I came out more stressed than I went in and very nearly punched the masseuse.  Anyway, back to Harrogate, or not as the case may be.

Oi!

We tried all of those “last minute” sites but none of them seemed to have particularly good deals; a little digging soon showed that their “very special, once in a lifetime, never to be repeated oh my god it’s amazing” deal was in fact very similar to their “this is our usual rate” deal except it was written in red and had the rather misleading words “special offer” written in front of it.  The final nail in Harrogate’s coffin was when we decided to bite the bullet and click the “book now” button for one hotel, only to be told on the very next page that an additional £68.72 had now been added in “taxes and fees”. My stress levels reached a new high as I hurled some very rude words at the laptop and shelved the whole idea.  Or at least the idea of Harrogate.  As we still wanted to head off we decided to forget the notion of being looked after in any way, dust Delores down and head for the border.

Finest view of the weekend?

We managed to get her ready in double quick time and were soon on our way towards Luce Bay, or more specifically the CC site at New England Bay on the far side of Luce Bay some distance south of Stranraer.  Some of you may remember when we visited here before during our Great North Fun tour when I vowed and declared I never wanted to leave and if you’ve ever been there you’ll understand why.  It’s funny isn’t it when you think you want one thing (Harrogate) but in reality what you actually need is something else entirely.  Our weekend was truly idyllic and here’s why.

Rainbows.  The weather had been squally the whole way up and about 20 mins after we arrived there was a heavy downpour.  No major concern as we were already snuggled up inside with a cup of tea and a biccie.  We’d positioned Delores to make the most of the stunning sea views and a couple of moments later 2 of the most amazing rainbows I’ve ever seen popped up over the bay.  Tea mugs (and biscuits) were quickly discarded as we raced out with our cameras to admire it close up and try and get some shots.  Not a bad start really.

Not a bad start.

If only we had a boat to find the pot of gold...

Aha!

Celestial bodies.  Being on the very edge of Dumfries & Galloway the site benefits from being incredibly dark which means there are excellent views of the night sky.  On our first night the moon rose at the same time as Jupiter making for some dramatic shots.  The only downside to the moon being up so early was that it was so bright that it made the Milky Way a little tricky to see.  No problems the second night when a later moon rise and a completely cloudless sky gave us ample opportunity to try and enjoy the incredible night sky.  Billions of stars with the Milky Way arcing up and over Delores in spectacular fashion made  us all feel very tiny indeed.

Milky Way

Moon (seriously - you needed a caption for that?)

Milky Way

Neptune. Ha! Kidding.  It's the moon again.

Delores & moonrise.

Sunrise.  Steve’s not much of a morning person, but the combination of a cat jumping on his head and a few golden strands of sunlight seeping through the blinds were enough to lure him outside and onto the beach uncharacteristically early.  I followed soon behind having paused to make us a flask of coffee and a bite to eat.  There’s nothing quite like watching sunrise from the beach with hot coffee and a warm egg and bacon roll.  The beauty of this secluded spot is that apart from the odd dog walker we had the place to ourselves.  An hour or so later it was all done and we were back in the van before the clouds and a little light drizzle appeared.  As I made my way across to the campsite shop one cheery camper greeted me with a “miserable morning isn’t it?”  I would have told him it was beautiful at sunrise but I didn’t think I could cope with the chirpy company the next morning if he decided to join us.

"Miserable morning"

Do I smell coffee & bacon?

Wildlife.  As you may know we’ve teamed up with CumbriaWildlife Trust and are currently on a mission to learn more about wildlife so we thought we’d see what Scotland had to offer.  Plenty as it happens.  For starters the campsite is teeming with bunnies; hundreds of them everywhere driving all the local dogs to distraction and providing Monty with plenty to peer at as he surveyed his surroundings.  On our first day we cycled down to the Mull of Galloway and back via Port Logan; a 20 mile hilly route not made any easier by my bike deciding to lose half its gears.  No matter, the trip was more than worth it.  We ate lunch sat on a cliff top watching gannets, gulls, shags and harbour porpoises diving in and out of the choppy waters before stuffing ourselves with hot chocolate and cream scones at the rather splendid visitors centre.  Then on towards Port Logan; we stopped along the way to watch a small murmuration of starlings swooping and diving over a freshly cut field of hay – a first for both of us.  They were joined by a large flock of crows and a fair smattering of pigeons – not a combination of birds I was expecting, but wonderful to watch nonetheless.

Starlings.

Starlings & a few crows.

Port Logan.

Harbour Porpoise

The next evening the seas were completely calm and as we sat on the beach (again) with our coffee (again) we watched a shag flying low across the water as he made several trips to and fro across the bay.  A few other birds pottered around overhead and then a solitary seal made an appearance, lazily bobbing around, keeping a nosey eye on what we were up to and seemingly enjoying the quiet calm of the evening.  As the evening wore on and the stars began to appear we could hear a flock of birds nearby; no idea what they were but they made a distinctive chirrupy chirping noise that went on well after dark.

Birds.  Not sure which ones...

Curlews!

Seal.  Not crazy.

Luce Bay

Balancing Stones.  We've seen the arty photos of balancing stones on a beach so decided to have a go ourselves.  Hmmmmm...  Really not as easy as it looks.  These "towers" may look simple but they took ages to balance, and all the while the tide was coming in and getting higher and higher up my wellies...

Ta daa!

Ta daaaa again!

Delores.  Ever since we moved from the campsite at Silverdale, having lived in her for best part of 3 months, she’s been woefully underused thanks to work commitments and wrangling with our dodgy tenant and eventual house sale down south.  With all of that now blissfully behind us and my permanent work commitments coming to an end, we’re looking forward to spending much more time touring the country and seeing what the UK has to offer.  Great adventures don’t necessarily require you to travel to the far side of the world; our aim is to explore just what amazing sights and adventures are available right on our doorstep.  Who knows, one day we may even make it to Harrogate, though I think we’ll give the hotels a miss.

Cumbrian Nightlife

I'm taking a break from the outdoors today (well, mainly) and continuing my campaign to prove that there's much more to Cumbria than Wainwright and the fells.  As you'll know if you've been following this blog for any length of time our first 18 months or so up here were very frugal indeed, nothing desperate, but there was certainly no budget for eating out.  In fact during that time we ate "out" only twice, both times were at the fabulous local chippy and on both occasions other people paid.  Last week I ate "out" for 3 nights out of 4, and the variety of experiences show just what Cumbria has to offer.

Windermere

Wednesday night I was in Bowness to meet up with fellow blogger and soon to be published author Heelwalker1 (otherwise known as Tanya Oliver).  Being rather better acquainted with the local hostelries than I am, Tanya selected the venue; the rather lovely Village Inn opposite the church in Bowness.  I was running late and couldn't find the place so after a few laps of the church I finally asked someone where it was.  "Turn around" she said, and there it was, directly opposite with the words Village Inn helpfully written in large letters above the door.  And the windows.  And on the sign at the edge of the road.  Hard to believe I can make it up and down the fells in one piece isn't it?

The dinner and the company were lovely, though I confess to being a little like a fish out of water in such places - I'm always worried I'm wearing the wrong clothes and convinced that I'll drop and break something expensive. (Sorry Tanya - that might explain why I fidgeted and fled so early, it wasn't your company I promise!).  But if you're looking for a wide choice of "gastro pub" style dining options, plus a variety of other restaurants, it would appear that Bowness is your place to go.

The prom, Grange-over-Sands

Friday night saw us visiting an altogether different place; the At Home Bistro in Grange-over-Sands.  This is tucked away underneath the cafe on the corner next to Higginson's and is only open on Friday and Saturday evenings.  The dining area is cosy  but everyone is so friendly that you really do feel as if you're being welcomed into someone's home.  The food was fabulous and all served on non-scary crockery.  The night we went it was really quiet and I worry that small independently run places like this will vanish in the face of corporate chains.  If you're ever in the area do try and take time to visit, I promise you won't be dissapointed.  (And don't just take my word for it - check out the reviews it gets on TripAdvisor.  It really is a hidden away gem of a place.)

A view to dine out on.

And so to Saturday night.  Well now, that was eating out on a whole different level.  What if I could offer you somewhere to eat which had ample parking, was so peaceful & quiet you could actually feel yourself unwinding as you ate and with views like the one to the right from each dining position?  I'm sure restaurateurs across the land would kill for stuff like that.  Well, this time dinning experience came courtesy of the RSPB nature reserve at Leighton Moss .  We had to bring our own food and the "dining room" was the newly rebuilt "Allen Hide" just next to the railway tracks.

Rudimentary but effective.

As we ate dinner we watched Little Egrets, Curlews and Herons fishing for their dinners, we saw Oyster Catchers and Lapwings settling down for the night and we craned our necks to see flocks of geese in wonderful V formations heading south for warmer climates.  Admittedly the food was a rather more basic affair (2 flasks of tea, a box of Ritz crackers, a tube of Primula cheese and 1/2 an Eccles cake each), but the setting really couldn't be beaten.  Plus there was no crockery to be broken, but you'd be well advised to wrap up warm, especially if you want to keep the hide windows open for the best views.

On our way back to the car we both took shots of the moon - I managed a happy accident by wobbling and turning the moon into a heart whereas Steve took a rather more "moon like" shot, but we were both very happy to have our path back to the car well lit enough for me to treat the remaining local wildlife to a rousing rendition of Moon Shadow.

So there you go, next time you visit Cumbria there should be no complaining that you can't find somewhere to eat; just watch out for the singing locals.

My wobbly heart shaped moon.

Steve's rather more lovely shot.

Thank you for being nosy.

Pike of Blisco is the big lump on the left.

Well, it's been a while since last I wrote, mainly due to work and life in general getting in the way.  If I'm honest, I've also been mulling over why I think I'm so special that anyone would want to read my mad ramblings.  There are apparently something like 6.5 billion people in the world all of whom are equally as interesting as me and many of them substantially more so, so why do I keep pestering people with this blog?  What on earth could I have to say about the fells which hasn't already been said a hundred or more times before by people many times more eloquent than I.  (Or should that be "than me."?  See, I'm still getting to grips with basic grammar!)  Eventually I came to the conclusion that, being a nosy so and so, I'm hugely interested in what everyone else is getting up to and, there being 6.5 billion people in the world, I figure many of them are equally as nosy as I am so, if that's you, thank you for being nosy and reading my blog.

Langdale Valley.

Right, what have I been up to?  As I said, mainly work, but yesterday we finally managed to make it up Pike of Blisco on our third attempt.  On our first attempt Pike of Blisco was, at the last moment, usurped in favour of Crinkle Crags and our second attempt was scuppered by a combination of failing light and legs.  This time we had only one thing on our agenda and nothing was going to stop us; the weather was fantastic, we had plenty of food and drink and we were in no mood for getting distracted, however fate wasn't going to let us get away with it quite that easily.

A fellow hiker.

Our plan was to park up at the National Trust car park at Dungeon Ghyll.  We've parked there many times before and although it can get busy in the summer we can usually find a small corner to squeeze into.  What we hadn't realised was that yesterday was also the day of the Langdale Marathon which started and finished at Dungeon Ghyll so several hundred other people were also trying to squeeze into a corner.  Eventually we persuaded a kindly official to turn a blind eye to the huge rucksack on the back seat and pretend we were with the runners.  Stage one complete, now all we had to do was tootle up the fell, but fate wasn't quite done with us just yet...

Local wildlife.

Our route took us out along Oxendale Beck and past Stool End farm before we began to ascend.  Before we'd even made it as far as the farm I'd slipped off a rock and gone up to my knee in mud, dropped our main flask which thankfully bounced and now sports a proper outdoors style dent, broken a fingernail and realised that I was wearing entirely the wrong underwear for the day.  You know, the sort that disappears into the dark recesses of your anatomy and needs to be coaxed back out again on regular occasions, ideally when no-one else is looking.  Not that that's how I broke my fingernail, no, my rucksack did that.  I'm not a girly girl and don't really give a damn how my fingernails look so long as they're clean, but as I caught the rucksack awkwardly it broke the nail right down below the quick - see, you're wincing aren't you?  I gave serious consideration to calling mountain rescue but feared they'd scold me for my lack of nail repair kit.  Instead, as  a huge admirer of antarctic explorers, I asked myself "What would Scott have done?".  So, I discarded the nail, consoled myself with a ration of Pemmican and soldiered on.

Collective noun for Paragliders anyone?

One of the benefits of everyone being in the area for the marathon was that almost no-one was there for the hiking and we had the fell pretty much to ourselves.  As we were making our way up Brown Howse we had some excellent views of proper climbers over on Gimmer Crag.  I have a deep admiration for proper climbers as I lack the dexterity, flexibility and, if I'm honest, courage to launch myself up a rock face so will forever have to content myself with only achieving the grade of "hiker" so far as the great outdoors is concerned.

View from the summit. Minus elderly gent.

Now, let me tell you what I like most about Pike of Blisco.  What I like most about Pike of Blisco is that in order to climb Pike of Blisco you have to set out with the express intention of doing so; you can't simply "knock it off" as you make your way along a ridge route, and that appeals to the purist in me.  Although I'm not a "bagger" I do log each fell we hike, but I've always felt a bit of a fraud claiming to have made it to the summit of, say, Broad Crag, when the only reason I did so was because it was on my way to Scafell Pike.  According to our widget we've done 70 or so "Wainwrights" but that's not strictly true in my book as we didn't climb each of them individually.  There's a lot of ridge walks in there which make us sound better than we actually are.  Still, no such problems with Pike of Blisco, granted you could probably tag it onto a Crinkle Crags route, but it's enough of a fell to merit its own specific hike, and it really doesn't disappoint.

Blea Tarn

Making our way past another group of proper climbers getting some practice in on the craggy outcrops, we were soon on the summit and I was not prepared for the view.  I expected the stunning views along the Langdale Valley but hadn't banked on the glorious vista which stretched down along the length of Windermere.  We settled down with a flask of tea (dented) and an Eccles Cake while we took it all in.  As we sat there congratulating ourselves on our strenuous hike and elderly gentleman sprinted past and with a cheery "afternoon" was gone again in the general direction of Wetherlam.  Pesky fell runners.

Our route back dropped us down to Wrynose Pass before doubling back via Blea Tarn.  Of course we lost the path somewhere in the boggy, marshy wilderness but thanks to the combined efforts of Steve's strategic navigation (finding the path of least resistance) and my rather more direct approach (the path of least distance) we were soon back on the straight and narrow.  Or rather "broad and boggy".

View from descent.

We'd heard a lot about Blea Tarn and although it's small as tarns go it is in an idyllic setting and we caught it just right, arriving as the late afternoon sun was illuminating the surrounding fells and creating the most spectacular reflections.  I sank onto a nearby bench downing tea and painkillers as I enjoyed the view and negotiated with my back to hold out for just an hour or so longer.

As numbness blissfully kicked in we headed on down via the National Trust campsite and back to the car.  Interestingly there were still 2 other cars in the field when we got there so either some other hikers had managed to sneak past the officials too or there were a couple of poor runners still out there somewhere.  Or perhaps they were in the pub already, I've only ever run one marathon but I do recall beer being rather high on the list of things required in the immediate aftermath.  Purely for medicinal reasons you understand.  Whatever the reason, it made an unusual change not to be the last car in the car park as, underwear retrieved for the final time, we headed for home.

Windermere sunset en route home.