Wainwrights Compleat

Green Crag

Wainwright when finishing his series of guidebooks on the Lakeland fells at Christmas 1965 wrote:

'The fleeting hours of those who love the hills is quickly spent, but the hills are eternal. Always there will be the lonely ridge, the dancing beck, the silent forest; always there will be the exhilaration of the summits. These are for the seeking, and those who seek and find while there is yet time will be blessed both in mind and body."

And so it is. 27 years ago during the first family holiday in Langdale, I began a rambling adventure around all of the 214 hills that Wainwright considered being worth inclusion in his seven books. It is in many ways a random collection of hills that bears none of the surveyor's penchant for measurement. It was probably dictated as much by the Ribble bus timetable and the eye of a retired town clerk as any obstinate perusal of an Ordnance Survey map. So the Wainwrights cannot be changed by any would-be custodian of hill lists such as occurs with the Munros and Marilyns.  They are probably better for this but like many other fell wanderers, I have found some of Wainwright's classifications strange. Birkhouse Moor that I climbed on Sunday involved dropping down to an outlying spur on my way up Helvellyn.  But it doesn't really matter, it gives some conversation and suggests that Wainwright had a wicked sense of humour.

I was already very familiar with the Lakeland hills before 1984 having spent countless days climbing and walking in the Lakes but mainly amongst the higher tops accessed from Wasdale, Borrowdale and Langdale.  With a 3-month-old and a two and a four-year-old in tow, it was a slightly more difficult challenge in the innocence of parenthood. In 1984 we started with Loughrigg Fell, Castle Crag, and an audacious slog up the Langdale Pikes complete with compliant but rapidly tiring children. The soundtrack for the walk were the words 'carry me now, it's my turn' and 'when do we get ice cream'.  Suffice to say that in the 1980s the walks were not always as quick or as frequent as I would have liked.

Each year during the week in Langdale I would take a morning to run/walk over as many hills as possible before meeting the family at some distant pub for lunch. On another day I would jump out of the car towards the end of an afternoon outing and work my way back to Langdale over another set of hills. When friends visited it was always likely that we would tramp up the favourites again so there was no real momentum towards compleating the Wainwrights. Three years ago I began to take it more seriously and to pick off the lonely, smaller hills in the corners of the Lakes. They had the added advantage of being away from the maddening crowds. They gave surprisingly good sport as I tried to link them together or went out in the evening for a short walk or run.

So arriving in the Lakes this year I had only six Wainwrights to go - Beda Fell, which was a gentle walk on arrival on a dull Saturday afternoon; Birkhouse Moor, Birks and Arnisdale Fell that provided the bookends for a round of the cloud obscured Helvellyn hills on Sunday; Hartsop above How which was appended to the Fairfield horseshoe on a hot muggy Monday afternoon and then Green Crag on Tuesday afternoon.

The family came to Green Crag and we had the best day of the week to enjoy the walk. Wainwright must have been with us as we wandered through a silent beech wood, crossed the Duddon river by stepping stones, followed a dancing beck through a plantation and crossed the boggy approach below the crags. There were no lonely ridges but the views were exhilarating with the Isle of Man, Barrow and Sellafield all within range. 

We had a long picnic lunch on the summit with a bottle of Prosecco and my walking friend, Mark, arrived about half an hour later having already completed 12 hills in the morning. We were a happy band on the return and I reflected ruefully that I had never had a day as good as this to finish any of my Munro rounds.  We cooled down in the river before packing Mark into the boot of the car and returning to Langdale for a swim, the gym and then a few drinks before, during and after dinner. Tomorrow was reserved for tennis and watersports but another round of Wainwrights is already taking shape in my mind. It will have to be a bit quicker than 27 years.

Scafell range from Green Crag

Beechwoods

Green Crag summit

Proseccoed

Kids on Duddon Stepping Stones

Cooling down

Fairfield Horseshoe

Uyea

North Wick

Looking across to Uyea from The Ness

On the very edge of Uyea - the UK's north-west corner

Looking south

At last

Big Nev Geo

The Haa

Uyea is the small island off the north-west corner of the mainland and an 8 or 9 kilometre walk from North Roe. I had heard much about its splendid isolation and I had little difficulty persuading two Shetlanders, Jeff and Ann to join me for a Sunday jaunt. The track from North Roe was through the remote hill country and, on an overcast day with added showers, it was a walk to be done rather than enjoyed. After passing the croft at Uyea, the walk down to the Ness revealed more of the rolling descent to Uyea. We were mesmerised as we watched a lone cyclist pedalling his mountain bike along the edge of the horizon on his way back from Uyea. It was a surreal image but he had cycled off the edge of the world before I could rescue the camera.  We stood above the beach connecting us with Uyea and gazed in awe at the blue seas and near white sand with the emerald green island of Uyea beyond.  Negotiating our way down the cliffs was not too difficult.  We figured that we would probably get across the sand bar and back before the tide cut us off but I could think of far worse places to be exiled.

Climbing onto the island was relatively straightforward by circling to the north of the cliffs and pulling ourselves up on tufts of grass. And then we entered the last bit of land in the UK. There was a real sense of isolation - arctic terns wheeled above us, the views were constantly changing as the skies performed their full Shetland repertoire. We arrived at the most distant point and tentatively walked out on the narrow headland for a photo. The highlight of the tour was on the return when a bull otter charged across in front of us and disappeared down a burrow.  Looking over the cliff edges there were dozens of puffins set against the translucent blue seas.

It had taken an hour to circumnavigate the island and every minute brought a new perspective.  The tide was not yet in so we stopped for some food on the beach. It was cold in the strong sea breeze so we dallied not before making an exit over the sand bar. We clambered up the cliffs and joined the track for the long walk back to North Roe.  We got most of the way back before the next shower and Ann, who was hoping to acquire the running habit jogged back to the car.  It had taken less than 4 hours but the 90 minutes on the island and the beach will remain long in the memory.

Footabrough and Culswick

Kay's croft

Hill of Footabrough

My art from beachcombing

Voe of Footabrough

Thrift and Oyster Catcher

Clouds over Foula

Swinsi Taing

Coast at Culswick

Sotersta

Today was supposed to be a trip to the Fair Isles but for the third time, I was unlucky.  I had postponed a trip there last week to go instead with a friend today. Despite the best efforts of the Tingwall airfield supervisor, I was unable to get a seat because of the combined weight of six German bird spotters and their equipment who were ahead of us on the list. My friend got the last seat, she was the CEO of the Trust that runs the airline. I would have 5 hours to spare until the return flight brought back my friend so I headed west and discovered two remote coastal areas. They were both showcases of the quite amazing landscapes in this remote and wildsome land. The first was beyond Walls at Footabrough, where a friend's croft was located.  The second was at Culswick and Westerwick, famous as the home of the last indigenous sea eagles in Britain.

The day had lapsed into that in-between or moderate weather that is typical of Shetland when it is not blowing a gale: cloudy with a breeze, the occasional light shower, and a glazed dullness. It reflected my mood. I had planned to complete the Marilyns over the next couple of weeks and postponing the trip to Fair Isles had thrown out my plans. There would be few opportunities in the next month or so as most of the people I worked with would be away in July and early August. There could still be a chance in September but I may have finished work by then.

I headed to Footabrough first in the hope of catching a work friend but she was out so I rambled down to the Voe and spent half an hour beach combing on this very exposed inlet which faces southwest and is a depository for drift from the whole Atlantic and so it seemed. I constructed an assembly of items that had been left on the beach before climbing to the highest point and building a cairn. I watched the frantic movements of the bird population, which included being aggressively circled by several pairs of oystercatchers if only they had a more melodic calling. This was indeed another special place and just a short walk from the splendidly named and inspiring Bay of Deepdale.

This walk had taken an hour and a half so I headed back with a couple of hours to kill and took a detour to Westerwick and Culswick where I had a long walk along the cliffs at Culswick in the early afternoon rain. The cliffs and coastline were spectacular and the island of Foula, capped in clouds, was a distant attraction. The solitude and serene green landscapes were a perfect combination to soothe the disappointment of missing Fair Isle. There were sculpted features carved by the sea that Henry Moore could never have imagined and all set against a green baize maintained by the thousands of sheep that cultivate the landscapes here. I travelled back to another friend's house at Weisdale for coffee and then on to Tingwall to collect my friend. She had managed to get to Fair Isle and climb the Marilyn and the weather there had lived up to the name of the Isle. It's not fair!

Muckle Roe: Ward Hill and the Hams

Mid Ward Hill looking north

Looking North from South Ward

Sullom Voe from South Ward Hill

Mill Loch and North Ham

North Ham 

North Ham 

South Ham

Peerie Jeff at Burg Ruin

Looking across South Ham

Geo

Papa Stour

Below Lighthouse

Burki Skerries

I had been hoping this would be a given day for the walk round the Muckle Roe coast and it was. My companion had lived here all his life and knew the complete history of Muckle Roe which had been passed down orally through the generations.  We started just after noon by climbing the new road to the cemetery which would have been a credit to the Romans had they got this far.  And then an ascent through the heather to South Ward with its trig point.  The views were good in all directions including the short walk across to Mid Ward which is the higher hill according to the Ordnance Survey although my altimeter did not agree with them.

The descent to Mill Loch could have been anywhere in Scotland apart from the sea sparkling in the distance.  This place was special and a rare treat and this was confirmed when my friend, who can identify and name any hill in Scotland, was thwarted by the photos I sent - to be fair he has never been to Shetland.

North Ham was reached, a resplendent cove on a tranquil day - a few seals flipped into the water and we began the long but spectacular walk back along the coast. There were geos, cliffs, ruins, beaches, views to Papa Stour and, from the modern lighthouse, we could see the guns that had been rescued and installed on Vementry to defend the entry of Swarbacks Minn from the german navy. The beach at Burki Skerries looked tempting at the end of a walk on the wild side.  There was a way to climb down at the far end for a bathe but a table at Frankie's had been booked with the Wood family and the lure of Blue mussels and chips was too enticing. 

Noss

9,000 Gannets nesting on cliffs at Rumble Wick

Noss Head looking north

Bonxie posing

Ferry excursion around Noss

Bonxies in flight

Noss Head

Gannets nest on Noup of Ness

Voe of the Mels

Rumble Wick

At last summer had eased in after several days of wind and rain and after the excursion to Lingness there was a chance to get across to Noss.  I had tried once before but the inflatable that ferries people across Noss Sound to the Noss National Nature Reserve had been withdrawn for the day. The cycle ride over Bressay was accompanied by perpetual bird song with lapwings serenading me and the wind was light. The long freewheel past the Loch of Brough was fair compensation for the climb up to the spine of the island. I cycled through the car park and descended the path to the ferry, glad of some decent brakes and immediately was welcomed by the cheery ferry woman who was in her first season at this National Nature Reserve.  After we landed and were given a short introduction to the reserve I looked up and saw an Otter patrolling a stretch of water in Nessi voe.  This was a magical place.


I made a complete anticlockwise circuit of the isle, enjoying the tranquility of the fertile grazing land with a lot of newly born lambs.  As I began the coastal walk  I saw Wheatears, Wrens, Starlings, dozens of Bonxies and Gannets fishing out at sea. From Feada Ness the route arked round the cliff edge and thousands of Fulmars, Guillemots, Gannets, and various gulls were in competition for the ledges.  The warm breeze and super abundance of bird life made it a truly inspiring visit and I sat for a while at the top of a cliff watching the gannets wheeling in from their fishing expeditions. Apparently the Puffins were all around but in their burrows and none popped out whilst I was camera ready.

Returning to the ferry by the north shore, I was on the edge of Bonxie territory and they circled me but kept their distance.  The ferry back across the Noss Sound was relaxed and we were told that the eminent Bressay naturalist and skipper of the Noss wildlife boat, Jonathan Wills, had just phoned to report Minke whales to the north of Bressay.  I thought I had left it too late to catch the Bressay to Lerwick ferry with just 15 minutes for the 4 mile cycle ride including a long ascent but a lung bursting climb followed by a descent at car speed saw me arriving just before the ferry set sail.  I was back in Lerwick in good time having had a thoroughly amazing day to add to the collection that have inspired me over recent months.

Eswick and Lingness

Eswick bay and beach and Lingness in distance

Ponies above Eswick bay

Lingness - tranqil waters and serene skies

Us and Them

Early morning in Shetland is prime time so it was an early start at 6:30am to complete a walk before 10:00am when my friend had another engagement. We drove to South Nesting and had a coastal walk around Eswick. It is a significant promontory that juts into the sound and provides a good viewpoint back to Lerwick and across to Whalsay. The morning light under dappled blue skies gave the walk an ethereal quality, we followed the coast in an anti-clockwise ellipse and climbed all of the many hillocks. At Stockan ponies were grazing and from there Lingness appeared across South Nesting Bay at the end of the strand.

Lingness was like an emerald set in the crystal clear waters that surround it.  There was a small croft nestled at the end, we dropped down the hill and made our way across the strand. My friend knew the owner, who runs a successful worldwide business providing support vessels for repairing oil rigs. He warmly welcomed us and invited us in for coffee and conversation in his lovingly restored croft.  It was completely sustainable with a small wood-burning stove to provide hot water and cooking using the plentiful supply of driftwood. A small wind-powered generator was charging the batteries to provide light. He was an engineer and mechanic and had created his dream dwelling with so many clever and practical fittings. He had added an observatory containing a sizeable telescope to take advantage of the croft's prominent position on its headland for watching the natural and man-made marine activities on the sound.

We were given a tour of the premises and admired how his finely honed engineering skills had created a totally sustainable dwelling. Seals bathed on the shore, vegetables were being grown and the cat and dog played together with obvious affection. The outing made you aware of the pride of place that abounds throughout Shetland's population. Portfolio working maybe a vogue term for working in several capacities but here in Shetland this is part of life and applies across the primary, manufacturing and service sectors. It is the long-established way of working and helps engender a classless society compared to most parts of the UK.  

It was only a twenty minute drive back to Lerwick and we were back by 10:30am. This jaunt had been intended as the aperitif to the day but it had blown my mind. I borrowed my friend's bike to make my next excursion, a ferry to Bressay and then a cycle across the island to catch the boat to Noss to observe the nesting sites. I was as high as a kite as I hurtled down the hill in Lerwick to buy a lock for the borrowed bike. It probably wasn't needed but I was going to dump the bike on the shore whilst taking the small dinghy over to Noss and was anxious to respect the kindness that abounds in Shetland despite her bike being far too small for me.