What's the Point?

Sharing my love of the fells via Herdy.

Things have been changing for me since January this year and changing quite rapidly too; this has been fantastic in many ways but it's not without its challenges.  Let me explain.  Over the past few months I've been lucky enough to pick up more work writing about hiking and the outdoors and I am, of course, thrilled to be able to combine my passion for the outdoors with my love of writing.  As the old adage goes "find a job you love and you'll never work a day in your life" but what happens when your hobby becomes your work - what do you do to unwind?

Hiking has long been a passion of mine.  When I was a little girl we used to holiday in Wales and I fell in love with the Welsh mountains; so much so that when I was hunting around for a University Aberystwyth was the only place I wanted to go.  Sadly work meant I had to head to the South East after graduating, but life has a way of intervening and for me to now live somewhere as beautiful as Cumbria is a dream come true; and to be paid to write about it?  Even better.

Morecambe Bay explored for Lancashire Walks & Wildlife

So now that hiking and the great outdoors is no longer just a hobby for me, has that changed things in any way?  The answer is yes it has, and mainly for the better too.  In the past hiking was simply  a means of escape and our hikes were generally not all that well planned; now we make a specific point of trying to find more out of the way places or unusual routes.  There are thousands of books and websites that recount routes up fells so my challenge to myself has always been what can I do that's a little bit different?

It's also lead to me learning a lot more about my surroundings; instead of simply recounting a route we've both made a conscious effort to get to grips with the local wildlife and understand more of the local history as well as the geology of the region.  For us getting to the top of the fell isn't the point; learning about what we can see and why it's there are also crucial for us.  The RSPB have taught us about birdlife; Cumbria Wildlife Trust have helped us learn about the general flora and fauna, Herdy has helped us learn about the history of the Cumbria and Lancashire Walks & Wildlife have lured us south of the border to expand our horizons and teach us about the historical links between the two counties.

Beautiful Langdale Valley explored fully thanks to a
Cumbria Wildlife Trust audiowalk

I've always been curious about my environment and I'm very glad that I now have the opportunity to explore and research the things that fascinate me and that I get to call all of that work.  In the future we plan to take things one step further and obtain our Mountain Leader qualifications so that we can share our enthusiasm and what knowledge we have first hand to help people explore the hidden corners and history of Cumbria. I realise that by then my "hobby" will be pretty much a full time job so what will I do to unwind? Well maybe that's something you only need to worry about when your day job stresses you out and perhaps the whole point is to find one that doesn't?

Mind, Body & Soul

View from Place Fell

"Wow, from up here you can see the whole world!"  Those were the words of an excited dad to his sons yesterday as he stood on top of a snowy fell and took in the view.  I'm not sure you could see the entire world, but it certainly was an impressive sight; dozens of snowy peaks disappearing into the distance in every direction.  The clear blue skies, the sun with its first warmth of spring and the gentle wind, though cold, only added to the sense of perfection.

Seriously?

With the obesity crisis hitting the headlines and inactivity killing thousands there are no doubt going to be calls for everyone to be more active, and what better way to be active than hiking in the Lake District fells?  Of course hiking the fells is fabulous exercise, a 7 hour hike is better than any workout I've ever done, but fell walking doesn't just give you a physical workout, it gives you a mental one too.

"Are we there yet?" is the jokey cry one of us generally utters as we huff and puff up the first part of the ascent; maybe it's my age but it always takes me half an hour or so to hit my stride these days.  Stride found, things then settle down for a while as we wind our way upwards with regular photo stops thrown in for good measure, but it's not long before the battle of the fake summit begins and that really can be a mental challenge.

Is there anything quite so disheartening as thinking you're nearly there and then realising there's at least another two peaks to go before you reach the one you're after?  To add to the fun between you and the summit of your dreams may lie bogs, streams, howling winds, mist, rain or, as was the case yesterday, soft powdery snow which made conditions rather like trying to walk up a very slippery sand dune; this is when you need to dig deep physically and mentally.

Haweswater & Harter Fell

Shouting in frustration as you fall over for the umpteenth time, swearing loudly and even beating the fell with your walking poles doesn't do anything to help; trust me, I've tried.  Plus all of that stuff only serves to wear you out more quickly; a little positive focus is what's needed if you're to get to the summit in one piece.  Personally, when I'm done swearing, I often resort to songs from The Sound of Music to push me forwards and, if you're really unlucky, you'll be within earshot when I start belting them out.

Sun through the clouds from Helm Crag

All that physical and mental exertion is generally forgotten when you reach the summit, at least for a little while.  However many fells I climb the feelings never change; exhilaration, joy and, on many occasions, a sense of relief that we've finally made it.  Of course that's only half the story, descents can be every bit as tricky as ascents plus now you're feeling tired and, if it's been bad weather, you're cold and wet as well but if you stop concentrating mistakes can, and will, happen.

Beautiful moonlight.

Take yesterday for example, during our descent after slithering half a mile or so along a track we realised we were headed the wrong way and had to slither all the way back again; not what's needed but no good ranting, turn around, get yourself on the right path and keep going.  As it turned out we were so late that it was dark by the time we got back to the valley floor, thankfully it was a beautiful evening with a moon so bright we didn't need head torches to find our way to the car.

After 7 hours of snowy hiking we were both utterly drained but, on the bright side, we'd had plenty of exercise, seen the whole world, pushed ourselves when giving up would have been easier and had a fantastic day on the fells full of memories which no camera can ever capture, and that's got to be doing us more good than any prescription ever can.

On top of the Howitzer.

Idyllic or isolated?

St Martins Church, Martindale

Pretty much everyone has done it; been for a walk or a drive in the countryside, spotted a lovely old cottage in the middle of nowhere and dreamed about maybe living there. But the reality is what looks like an idyllic cottage on a warm summers day is usually a little less than idyllic in the middle of winter when practicalities such as getting to work, or even to and from the shops, kick in.

Downtown Martindale

It's something we pondered as we walked through Martindale during our recent Place Fell hike (more details of the actual hike are on the Cumbria24 news website here) but can I start by saying that neither of us are social historians, these are merely the ponderings of two mad ramblers.

The way we figured it out "being isolated" a couple of hundred years ago was maybe less of an issue than it is today.  Back then everyone was isolated, technologically speaking and, more importantly, they  were far more self sufficient than we are today.  These days people worry if there's no mobile signal and perish the thought of life without satellite TV and a decent broadband connection.

The views along Martindale valley

I'm not suggesting that technology is a bad thing, far from it, but it does seem somewhat perverse that the boom of communications has lead to idyllic places like Martindale becoming more cut off and less practical to live in.  There looks to be an old school building, long since deserted by children and converted into living accommodation and the beautiful chruch along the valley probably sees more curious hikers than it does devout worshippers.  So far as we could make out there were a couple of farms and permanent residences and the rest of the village appeared to be holiday cottages - presumably used by people trying to "get away from it all" but not wanting to stay away from it all for too long.

Interestingly since making the big move 2 years ago from the hustle and bustle of the south east to the peace and quiet of Grange-over-Sands our standards have adjusted; we now find Grange a bit busy, especially in the summer months, and peer longingly at some of the more secluded villages deeper inside the National Park.

View from Grange prom.

Not that everyone feels the same way mind.  On Sunday I needed to nip to the Spar in the village and I passed a youngish couple wandering forlornly past a row of closed shops (much of Grange is still closed on Sundays) and they weren't at all impressed.  "Maybe it's the time of year?" they mused.  I was about to helpfully point them to the gorgeous cream cakes at Hazelmere Bakery, the ornamental gardens and the prom when one of them paused in front of the estate agents window.  "I wonder how much the houses are around here?" she asked.  "Who cares?" came the reply "The place is dead and there's no phone signal, who'd want to live here?"  I left them to it, they probably wouldn't have appreciated the cream cakes anyway.

Confessions of a fell walker.

There's a danger when writing blogs about fell walking that you can come across as someone who's never put a foot wrong when that is very far from the truth, so here are some of the things I've done, or haven't done, which don't fit neatly with the image of "experienced and sensible fell walker".

1.  On our first hike up Helvellyn (via Striding Edge) I forgot to pack our sandwiches and only took plastic bottles of water, one of which sprung a leak and had to be emptied half way up.  We still made it by topping up our remaining bottle from the streams and eeking out our snacks during the day.  Not clever and not a mistake we've ever made again.

Not the place to forget your sarnies.

2.  We have, on occasion, navigated using the "lots of other people are heading that way so it must be right" technique, only to end up in completely the wrong place.  Well, not so much wrong as different, and silly.

3.  There have been several occasions when I've planned a route because it looked like a "nice circular route" and have failed to take into account the contours indicating steep ascents and descents along the way.  Fair to say we've had a few "lively debates" about those when they've come to light.

C'mon, it's not *that* far...

4.  You know that moment when you're stood atop a crag, gazing away into the distance and think to yourself "I know we planned to do X but that summit really doesn't look that far away."?  Been there, done it, got the T-shirt.  One particular hike involving Scafell Pike leaps to mind.  Having already completed the summit ridge we got distracted by Allen Crags, Esk Pike and Bow Fell before Steve wisely called time as I eyed up Crinkle Crags...

5.  We got hopelessly lost in the mist on Riggindale because we were "so sure of where we were going" that we didn't take a compass reading, even though we had one with us. We ended up having to hike over High Street, in the dark, mist and rain with only an iphone torch to guide us.  Not our proudest moment.

6.  We've never read Wainwright.  I've read a biography about him and am intrigued by his single minded determination to complete the books, and I've flicked through and greatly admired the drawings and handwriting, but I don't want to be told what to look for.  Spoils the surprise for me, rather like squeezing your pressies on Christmas Eve.  One day I'll get around to reading his take on the ones we've already done, but I've got so many other books to read about places I'll probably never visit.

"I can see your footpath from here"

7.  We got soaked to the skin around Haweswater when we set off in glorious sunshine and left our waterproofs behind, convinced it wouldn't rain.  We returned to the car a couple of hours later soaked to the skin and truly penitent.

8.  We didn't check the batteries in Steve's head torch and ended up near sprinting along Borrowdale in Kendal valley to get back to the car before it got dark.

9.  We've mistaken sheep tracks for footpaths more times than I care to admit to.  Maybe that's how the footpaths got there in the first place.

10.  "Yeah, that road looks fine, just give it a bit of a run up"  fateful words uttered recently when attempting to reach Walna Scar car park in the snow.  We didn't make it and discovered that even a Landrover can slide backwards on all 4 wheels on a sheet of compacted snow/ ice.

So there you go, my top confessions.  We've been lucky/ experienced enough to get ourselves out of various scrapes unharmed and have learned lessons from each and every experience.  Life on the fells isn't about being perfect, it's about keeping your head when things start to go wrong and learning your lessons for next time.  And please, tell me I'm not alone - are there any confessions you're willing to admit to?

Icicles, snowmen and inquisitive sheep on Yewbarrow

Britain's Favourite View in winter attire

(Blog & pics by Steve) The forecast was for another clear sunny day so I decided to venture over to Wastwater. Again the forecast was wrong as it was cloudy with intermittent snow, so I spent an hour taking shots at the lake before deciding it wasn't going to get any better and began my climb up Yewbarrow.

I've only climbed Yewbarrow once before in a T shirt on a rare hot March day so this was a change. The initial climb to the base of the crags was fine though still needed spikes to assist, but beyond that I'd forgotten how much of a short sharp mountain it is without much path past the 'face in the rocks'.

The spectacular Wast Water Screes.

A little off piste I came to some great icicles around 13ft long I'd say. Further up is a tough scramble, tough enough during the best of days but in thick snow it required full concentration. Though I'm tall at 6'4 with a good reach, my fat size 13 boots can't fit in all the ideal foot holds so I knew on the way down I would need to change the bulb ;-)

13 foot icicles

After an hour of scramble and re-routing I made it to the top of the crag. I decided that due to probable time, light & blizzard restrictions I would waymark may way around to avoid the crag on the way down by placing little snowmen. The snow was knee deep here and with no one else having been up, I had to forge a new path forward this made the final part of the climb long and tiring.

Once at the top dark snow clouds loomed over Great Gable and Scafell it began to snow on me so wary of the time it had taken me I headed back down. The snowmen were a great help and a little more fun than cairns (or are some really just random piles of stones?) I ended up just below the crags in good time so stopped for a bite to eat with a inquisitive sheep for company.

Hello!

Drifting Away on Great Gable

(Blog & pics by Steve) The sun was shining in the south lakes so I thought it a great opportunity to get out and get some snowy fells lit up by the sun. As I drove around I thought I'd go further afield and go for an easy path higher up and headed to Seathwaite to get some shots of Great Gable, Styhead & Sprinkling Tarn. As I should have expected I suppose the further into the middle of the lakes you go the more likely it is to be cloudy. Darn, snow looks much better in the sun.

Once you get to Seathwaite Farm, it's a popular long steady route to get to Scarfell Pike. At Stockley Bridge you have a choice, go left straight up to Sprinkling Tarn, continuing left the path winds it way up to several peaks,Eskpike, Lingmell & Scafell Pike. Or at the bridge take a right to Styhead Tarn, Great Gable and up to Scarfell Pike via the corridor route. As you can see the left path go on & on ahead of you all the way up, I prefer going up the path to the right.

Cloud lingered over Great Gable and far below Lingmell so opted to stop at Sprinkling Tarn. As luck would have it the sun came out over Styhead Tarn where I stopped for lunch and had a chat to a nice old man. We made our way up to Sprinkling Tarn both stopping every other footstep to take another photo as the cloud disappeared and the sun and blue sky came out. A churpy chappy from Langdale stopped for a quick chat before he yomped off looking for somewhere to camp (or dig out a snow shelter I think he said) somewhere on the other side of Great Gable.

The sun was beginning to set only minutes after it had came out and was giving the snowy mountains a lovely golden glow so couldn't resist, saying goodbye to the nice man as he made his return journey I headed up to side of Allen Crags to get a view over the valleys. As the sun set, I returned down the other path to Stockley Bridge. At some point I shall try this route up, it's long and stepped a lot of the way and I'm not sure which is best, going up or down steps.

As I got to the bridge, I said hello to the nice old man again as he sat having a snack. Turned out he would have had to walk down the road to the bus stop at Seatoller or wait an hour for it so I drove him down and caught it just in time. Nothing worse to end a good hike than a long tedious road walk.

Some are better equipped for winter walking than others.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...

Pretty much irresistible...

It's January and the UK is currently gripped with snow fever.  As I type around 1mm of snow is sprinkled across the track outside the house but still it makes the news.  In an hour or so I shall fire up the flasks and head for the fells, but not before I've passed on some of my top tips for hiking in the snow.

(NOTE:  Whilst some of these are light-hearted hiking in the fells in winter is dangerous and should NOT be attempted without all the proper kit and experience!)

1. Snow is cold.  Really cold.  Don't be fooled by the blue skies; you think it's cold when you get out of the car - just wait till you get to the top of the fells.  Load up with as many layers as you can.  This is not a time to be fashion conscious, this is a time to be safe.  The Michelin Man look is de rigueur for winter hiking.

There's a path under here somewhere...

2.  Snow is wet.  I know this might sound obvious to many of you but plenty of people seem to miss this fact and head out without waterproofs because the forecast is dry.  Well the forecast may be dry but the snow will be wet.  And cold (see above).  Any part of your body which comes into contact with it will become cold and soggy which, if you happen to be me, means your boots, socks, gloves, trousers and backside will spend the day in a state of soggy frozen numbness.

3.  Snow is slippy.  It might look all soft and fluffy but that's just a ploy to lure you out there.  Hiking in snow involves slipping over, which is perhaps the main reason why it's a good idea to stick to the safe routes.  If I'm going to fall over I'd prefer to only have a few bruises to show for the experience.  You may just be here for the weekend with a plan to bag a bunch of Wainwrights but trust me, the fells will still be there the tomorrow, you may not. (For winter hiking it is essential to invest in proper walking spikes.  We have Pogu Spikes and would strongly recommend them.)

"Off piste"

4.  Snow hides all the good paths.  Well at least it does at first, by lunchtime most of the main routes have become icy bobsleigh runs leaving you with two choices.  Either slide your way down the main route or get a slightly better grip just off the path but risk vanishing up to your thighs in a drift.  Which brings me to point 5.

5.  Snow is deep.  It has this knack of lying in a lovely flat looking blanket and covering up all the dips and troughs in the landscape.  One second you're walking on solid ground, the next you've vanished up to your thighs in a drift.  This is largely good fun but also a little spooky at times.  Not to mention frustrating and energy sapping if it's towards the end of the day.

6.  Snow disguises landmarks.  The fells look stunning in the snow but they also look different.  Red Screes becomes White Screes, cairns get covered and shelters drifted up.  We can recognise and name most of the fells and are pretty handy with a map & compass, but the snow makes everything look different and that can be disorientating.  Stick to routes you know or use a GPS system to stay safe.

Challenging conditions on Helvellyn

7.  Snow comes from clouds.  Big thick clouds, which often return to the fell tops during the day.  Nothing is trickier to navigate through than thick snowy mist on top of a thick snowy fell.  To put it bluntly, if you don't know how to navigate don't go up there.

8.  Snow nicks all the good lunch spots.  You may have packed a big flask of hot soup but you'll be hard pushed to find a spot to eat it.  For a start it's incredibly cold so you won't be wanting to stand still for too long and secondly all the flat surfaces have snow on them.  You can scrape it off but believe me you will have a numb bum within seconds of sitting down.  Snow hiking is about short frequent snacks to keep your energy levels up.

Winter hiking rocks!

9.  Snow wears you out.  Do not expect to complete the same distances in the snow as you can on a fine day.  The combination of all the factors above make it an energy sapping experience.  The cold on its own can drain you much more quickly than you realise and once you're tired you are much more likely to make mistakes.

10.  Snow is fun!  I don't want to be a doom monger - I love the snow.  Snow is perfect for pelting Steve with snowballs and for making snow men and snow angels and for sledging on and for a million other excuses to act like a five year old, just remember it can also be dangerous.   Right, time to fire up the flasks and head out there!