Parlick Hill, Bowland Forest

Parlick in first light

Pendle profile

Parlick from Saddle Fell

Keep Up

Pendle from Parlick

Beacon Fell from Parlick

Mallards posing and reposing

It was an unusual start to the day, after a late arrival the previous evening at my brother's house and overloading on my favourite creamy Lancashire cheeses, we agreed an early morning walk. By 6:30am we were taking two dogs for a round of the hills north of Chipping including Parlick, a regular Friday night jaunt as a teenager after the pubs had closed. It was just above freezing and the light was at its best with the sun streaming in from just above Pendle hill to the east. We walked through the dairy farms that produce the very best of Lancashire Creamy Cheeses and ascended by Saddle End Farm. It was a long steady climb up Saddle Fell with superb views across to Pendle Hill and south to Jeffrey Hill that now seems to go under the name of Longridge Fell.

We let the dogs off their leads when we reached the summit plateau where a new path had recently been laid leading northwards to Fair Snape Hill. The path made for easy going as we were blasted by some sleet. The occasional grouse greeted us with their usual whirring and squawking but there was no one else out at this early hour.

At the summit of Parlick I surveyed the landscape of my youth. Longridge Fell, a long low ridge hiding the Ribble valley, it was the venue for a family walk every Good Friday with a picnic at the top; Pendle Hill is a more strident ridge and home of the Lancashire Witches, a book we had read at Primary School. The river Loud where I had spent my first night camping and freezing in a blanket whilst my father went night fishing. Nearby the Beacon Fell Country Park was being shorn of trees and beyond it the Lancashire Plain dribbled out to the Fylde. I had cycled and walked round these landscapes in all school holidays and my dissertation at university was the geology and settlements of the Loud valley. We had turned a car onto its roof whilst following the Tour of Britain cycle race through the Trough of Bowland but in the days of less flimsy cars we flipped the Morris Minor back onto its wheels and chased the race to Blackpool. On most family special occasions we celebrated in the many local hostelries that served generous portions of local produce and recipes. This largely unknown and unblemished rural hinterland of industrial Lancashire conjured many happy memories.

We descended the steep side of Parlick and followed the mainly well maintained Lancashire local roads back to Chipping. The mill pond was a hive of activity as the birds busied themselves with courtship rituals. A fine way to start the day and made all the more enjoyable when a full breakfast was placed in front of us.

Kinder Scout

Crowden Clough and the descent route

The start of Jacob's ladder

Edge of the plateau

Approaching Kinder Low

Gritstone sentinels

Kinder Low trig point

The summit cairn, no wonder no one finds it

Pym's Chair

Snow on the Edge

Saturday, 22 March 2014
Ascent:          420 metres
Distance:       10 kilometres
Time:             3hrs 27 minutes

Kinder Scout  636 metres       1hr  41 mins

Another long-standing ambition was achieved today. I had promised Kath, a friend from University days, to climb Kinder Scout 45 years ago. Saturday morning lectures, Saturday night gigs in the student's union followed by Sunday morning blues in my digs and a lack of transport meant we never got around to it. After a lifetime of hill walking, I felt it was time to visit the location of the Kinder mass trespass in 1932 and pay tribute to the determined folk who had been the catalyst for opening access to the hills as well as nudging us towards National Parks. I contacted Kath during a visit to Sheffield and arranged to fulfil the promise. She seemed delighted and gifted me a beautifully illustrated book of Kinder Scout by Roly Smith published by Derbyshire County Council.

I had spent the day before in Sheffield on a course at the University and stayed with my niece overnight. I made an early start on a cold morning travelling by bus through old haunts in Sheffield to meet Kath. It brought back happy memories as did the drive in her car to the Peak District and Kinder via Edale. The skies were clear and the southern edge of the vast Kinder peat plateau was inviting with its collection of gritstone tors punctuating the skyline.

We decided to follow the Pennine Way route via Upper Booth and Jacob's ladder with the hope that it would be more sheltered from the strong westerly winds. Despite the clear conditions, there were relatively few people on the trail from Upper Booth that brought us to the start of Jacob's ladder. A well-constructed slabbed path rises steeply up to Edale Head and then curves around to Kinder Low. The wind was bitingly cold and there was a flurry of sleet just before reaching Kinder Low. Several parties were sheltering here and a lone fell runner of pensionable age jogged past oozing contentment with every step.

This was the onset of where the peat hags and groughs began. After pausing at the white trig point beyond Kinder Low where other groups had stopped for an early lunch, I took a bearing for the official summit at 636 metres. There was no visible sign of a high point or a cairn. Only a scattering of white bags, containing the empty boxes of grasses that had been sewn into the bare peat banks, gave any feature to help navigation.  Fortunately, my bearing was pretty well spot on and after about a kilometre the minimalist summit cairn became evident, I suspect that even scouts would have trouble finding it! I despaired that the highest point of the Peak District was just a peat bank and less like a peak than any hill I have ever been on. Despite the fact that there were by now a dozen or so parties of walkers either at Kinder Low or at Crowden's Tower, none of them bothered to search for the summit, perhaps they had already been there and knew not to return. I felt like an obsessive peak bagger and I probably am.

Finding a way to the edge of the plateau was not too difficult despite the undulating peat banks. A white hare sprinted along the groughs and a raven briefly glided past. After a quick climb up Pym's Chair and as the skies turned an ominous grey, we made for a group of gritstone tors, the Woolpacks, to get some shelter. Lunch was interrupted by a snowstorm, the wind was eddying around the overhanging picnic rock and blowing away the cress from the crayfish salad that Kath had brought. It was not easy to consume in a near white-out with a plastic fork. It would have been easier and more appropriate to have eaten a Kinder egg.

Visibility was not good and as the conditions deteriorated I decided to seek the most direct descent which involved following a path along the ridge to Crowden Clough. There was a direct route down the open hillside from here and we had emerged from the cloud. The fields were full of sheep and it was lambing time so I worked around them and crossed the Crowden brook before following a path back to the road to Upper Booth.

It is not far to Edale and escaping the cold into a warm crowded inn was reminiscent of many similar occasions when I had walked in the Lake District and made it down from the hills by lunchtime. There was time for a coffee to thaw us out and a beer before saying farewell to my long-lost but never-forgotten friend and catching the train to Manchester. It had been a long-anticipated outing in very different landscapes than I have become familiar with in the Highlands but I was inspired sufficiently to consider a return to walk the Pennine Way.

All peat and no peak

Slow Running

First Running  Shoes - Reebok AZIIs c1983

I was intrigued by a review of Richard Askwith's latest book Running Free, in which he deconstructs the industrialisation of running. He defines the seven ages of running, most of which I have passed through and like him, I am probably most at one with what he calls 'slow running'. It is the exercise equivalent of slow food, something done naturally with no inessential ingredients and allowed to take place at a pace that allows appreciation of our environment rather than a timetable of set mileages. 

He demolishes the need for an increasingly expensive range of running accessories from £100+ shoes to energy supplements, GPS watches, phone apps, and worst of all, in his view, adventure races. It made me reflect that we had quite a lot in common. Although unlike him I still time every run on my 28-year-old Casio watch and record any PBs, which I achieve nowadays by finding new routes rather than going faster on routes that I used 10 or 20 years ago. I also have a yearning for adventure races, having completed 12 International Mountain Marathons and the Island Three Peaks Race. These were the highlights of my running career along with the Snowdonia Marathon. But Richard Askwith is probably correct, they are as much about marketing for running gear and equipment and an event to claim on social media as a way of competing in the great outdoors.

After 30,000 miles or so of running over 30 years, 130 races from 800 metres to multi-day 65-mile hill races and membership of 3 running clubs, I figured that I had the knowledge and experience to agree that Richard Askwith has got it right when he extols the virtues of 'free-running'. I have just returned from an 8 mile run around the forest, taking in two new loops that I happened upon in the last few months. I go out whatever the weather and run at the speed I feel like. Just occasionally I am flying but most of the time it is as much about admiring the scenery, spotting the wildlife and enjoying some health-giving exercise.  In recent years as my patience levels have increased, I have even taken to stopping and talking to familiar faces who may be out cycling or walking dogs.

And as for running kit, it is ridiculously cheap compared to other sports, helped by a drawer full of old T-shirts won in races. My kit for a winter run today was:

• Adidas Kanadia 4 trail shoes, last years' version bought for £32 from sportsshoes.com
• Ron Hill tracksters from 1995 Karrimor International Mountain Marathon - £8
• T-shirt from the launch of National Park in 2002 - free
• Montane wind top  - £30
• Casio watch bought 1986 - £14
• Buff bought in Hong Kong for £2
• Socks, my luxury item- Smart Wool PhD - £9
• Gloves -Ron Hill running gloves - £4

So all in I am running with just £100 of gear, admittedly I have to buy a couple of pairs of shoes each year, but with 150 -200 runs a year on trails through woods and up hills and with no gym or health club charges it has to be the bargain of all sports. I am running free and for free. If that is slow and the sixth or seventh age of running then I'm fine with it.

My free-running trail

Beinn Trilleachan

Snow-capped summit of Beinn Trilleachan

Ascent:      1035 metres
Distance:   9 kilometres
Time:        5 hours 6 minutes

c  Beinn Trilleachan    839m    2hrs 52mins

At last, the weather was changing and on the first day of the high pressure I headed for Glen Etive and the massive primeval-looking mountain of Beinn Trilleachan. I had admired it on numerous occasions from Ben Starav or Beinn Sgulaird but it is a long way to drive down Glen Etive for a single corbett. This was my first mountain walk of the year so it seemed appropriate to collect the nearest unclimbed corbett. Despite the forecast of high pressure and a dry day, it was no brighter than most of the others over the last three months and there was a clammy damp warmth in the air.

Keith arrived at 8:30am and I drove to Glen Etive which took almost 2 hours, it was 11:00am by the time we had parked at the small car park at the the foot of the Glen and had changed into boots, gaiters and then assembled and filled our rucksacks with crampons, ice axes and other winter walking gear. They were mostly unneeded and there were times on the ascent when a wet suit would have been more appropriate.

From the car park, we crossed the forestry track that climbs northwards and kept to the outside of a forestry fence that climbs at a reasonable gradient to 170 metres. The ground was sodden and unforgiving. It did not change all day. When we reached the flattened section we turned towards the massive bulk of Beinn Trilleachan and started a steep ascent through wet grasses seamed with slabs of moss veneered granite.

Although I was reasonably fit from regular running, it was no moonwalk and, although I kept going, my legs were leaden from competing against both gravity and suction from the ground. The compensations of the views back up Glen Etive and across to Ben Starav were a scant consolation. Above 600 metres the gradient lessened and we began to traverse patches of wet snow.  It was reasonably stable but with each step, we would sink into a foot or so of the wet stuff. It was with some relief that we reached the long ridge of granite slabs that define this fine mountain.

The sun was trying to breach the clouds but was unsuccessful during the ascent. There was an easy section across the slabs to the top at 767 metres. From here the views down Loch Etive came into view and we could see back to the nearby munros of Beinn Sgulaird and Beinn Fhionnlaidh. Across the glen, Ben Starav remained obstinately in the cloud. The descent from this top in the cloudy conditions was trickier than it should have been. We veered to the right to avoid the steep slabs overlooking the loch. We ended up having to negotiate rock bands which would have been easier on a direct route as we discovered on the return. The final climb of 150 metres was up a long snow slope but the snow was in better condition and it made for an easier climb. We took 15 minutes at the summit hoping that the sun would arrive, it didn't but the tranquillity of a winter view towards Glencoe was splendid and the luxury was a flask of coffee and some jam butties.

The descent was glorious, the views opened up, the sun arrived and warmed the still air and we schussed down the snow fields. We climbed directly up to the 767m top and after joyously taking photos and admiring the superb setting we squelched our way back down the grass and slabs to the car. It had taken longer than we had anticipated but that feeling of smug tiredness from a day well walked lifted our spirits. The deer were grazing along the road all the way up the glen, the waterfalls were sparkling and a vanload of kayakers had arrived to take advantage of a spectacular evening. Let another year of mountain walking begin.

Initial ascent up the boggy path

Climbing towards the 767m top

Looking back to the 767m top - take the direct route

View over the slabs to Fraochaidh and Beinn Bheithir

Keith as the sun comes out

Looking up Glen Etive

Looking down Loch Etive towards Ben Cruachan

Beinn Fhionnlaidh from the slabs

Ben Starav and Loch Etive  from Trilleachan Slabs

Glen Etive with the Buchailles showing their snow caps

Walk over - looking down Loch Etive

Ard Spring and Crimea

Ben Lomond in cloud

Morning mist rising

Loch exit

Reflections

I missed my early morning run this morning as I became absorbed in the emerging events in Ukraine and decided to have breakfast instead. Listening to William Hague obfuscate over Ukraine was not very reassuring. To describe the Russian occupation of Crimea as the "biggest crisis" facing Europe in the 21st Century and then to fail to offer any response was diplomatic jiggery-pokery. Crimea is an autonomous republic transferred to Ukraine in 1954 but has a Russian-speaking majority. It was occupied by Russia with no resistance from Ukraine and no military engagement. It would seem that the chess board of nations in east-central Europe has still many moves left before a stalemate is reached.

Maybe I am naive but the reaction of the United States and the UK government as well as the United Nations sounded quite bellicose compared to their continued failure to respond to genocide in Syria and the Central African Republic. I am sure that the threat of losing Russian gas for much of Europe and the prospect of facing up to the Red Army will make them think again.

During my search for information, I discovered that Russia has military bases in five countries including Ukraine, which share boundaries with Russia. This is well short of the UK with military bases in 10 countries including Gibraltar, Cyprus and the Falklands.  The USA has bases in 30 countries including Kyrgyzstan, Turkey and Bulgaria, which are all quite close to Russia. Diplomacy seems to be little more than nuanced hypocrisy.

As I listened to the radio and perused the maps of Eastern Europe I was rewarded by the arrival of the sun and I decided on a walk instead of the usual run. The morning light was the best of the year so I took the camera and walked along the shores of Loch Ard. I was rewarded with glorious views and wet feet. The months of wet weather had soaked all the paths and the Loch level was at maximum height with the fast current just skimming the underside of the wooden footbridge at the exit of the Loch. By 10:00am I was home and fencing the garden to keep out the herd of feral goats, I suspect it is a forlorn hope - I am making a lot of noise that will have little effect, a bit like trying to get Russia out of Crimea.