Geal Charn, Dorback, Abernethy Forest

Geal Charn from Dorback

Dorback Lodge

The Dorbach glen

Geal Charn from the track

Approaching the summit of Geal Charn from south east

Looking south to Cairngorms from Geal Charn

Descending along the Allt Mor

Upper Dell

Thursday, 23 July 2015
Ascent:      560 metres
Distance:   13 kilometres
Time:         3 hours 15 minutes

Geal Charn            821m     1hr 57mins

There are many Geal Charns (White Hills) in Scotland, including 4 munros and 2 corbetts. Geal Charn Dorback lies to the east of Nethy Bridge in the Abernethy Forest. I had travelled up the Dornach Lodge road late in the evening and, after a forlorn search for a camping spot. I eventually gave up looking and pitched my tent in the turning circle at the end of the road despite the no parking sign. I would be off early in the morning. There was a large depot for heavy plant and vehicles across the road that was protected by security lights and the the gates rattled in the wind throughout the night. It was cold but I had a comfortable night and was up by 6:45am. I packed the tent and gear, had some breakfast and was walking before 7:30am.

I set out through the gates towards the abandoned Dorback Lodge, there were a couple of nearby houses and a kennel of dogs who gave me a rousing reception and brought out the occupant of the house. The track turned to the south and passed through a serene glade of scots pine before beginning the long gentle climb to the head of the glen. It was cool but accompanied by bright sunshine - perfect walking conditions.

The track is well made and it was 5 kilometres before I came to the col and crossed a burn before beginning a south westerly climb up the flank of the Geal Charn plateau. It involved an interminable convex slope through the heathers with peat hags decorating the broad summit plateau. It was maybe not the best approach but at least it was in the lee of the hill; unlike the final 400 metres of walking that were into a strong westerly wind. The hill had only one redeeming feature: some outcrops of magnificent white quartzite. At last I had climbed a Geal-charn that had some evidence of what the name suggested. Most Geal Charns are rounded hills with short grass, lichens and heathers and this one had those features as well.

The views south towards the Cairngorms were dominated by heavy storm clouds and the wind was whipping across the summit. The descent was steep but easy - initially going north west and then curving to the north east down a broad ridge. I headed for the track coming up the Braes of Abernethy. It followed an undulating route across two burns and led down to Upper Dell, another beautifully situated ruin with some mature trees providing some shelter. I headed across the boggy meadow below the pylons and managed to bounce across the river without any difficulty or wet feet. There is a sandy area below the road, hoaching with rabbits. I had made good time and a couple of workers from the premises across from where I was parked waved to me in a friendly fashion, my anxiety about parking in the turning area for large vehicles was unfounded.

It was still mid morning so I was able to enjoy the drive to Nethy Bridge, a rapidly expanding village, and then on to the metropolis of Aviemore for a visit to the outdoor shops. I had harboured thoughts about climbing the two corbetts at the head of Glen Feshie but the dark rain clouds and strong winds made me think again so I headed down the A9 and was home mid afternoon.

Brown Cow Hill

Brown Cow Hill from the ascent of Culardoch

Corndavon Bothy and Lodge on river Gairn, Brown Cow Hill on right

The route up Culardoch, exciting stuff eh?

Carn Liath from Culardoch

Culardoch across Bealach Dearg from Carn Liath

Ben Avon tors from Carn Liath

River Gairn looking towards Brown Cow Hill

More exciting hill walking - approaching the summit of Brown Cow Hill

Evening rainbow in Strath Gairn

Wednesday, 22 July 2015
Ascent:        1310 metres
Distance:      18 km on bike, 24km walk
Time:           6 hours 41 minutes walk + 1hr 32 mins bike
c     Culardoch              900m      1hr   33mins
c     Carn Liath              842m      2hrs 49mins
c     Brown Cow Hill    827m      5hrs 56mins

Brown Cow Hill is a name to fire the imagination despite being one of the least accessible hills and having none of the qualities that entice you to climb it. In this dreadful summer, I have been waiting for a two or three-day spell of reasonable weather to go to Glen Affric and/or the Fannaichs for the remaining three longer walks of my current Munro round. There been have a few days worth making a journey and I was desperate to get out. It appeared that there might be a reasonable day in the far northeast. It would be a chance to clear up the last of my corbetts there, which included Brown Cow Hill.

I left home at 7:30 intending to spend a couple of days and took the bike for the longish route into Brown Cow Hill along the river Gairn from Braenalain just north of Balmoral. I had originally intended to walk the two corbetts north of Invercauld, drive round to Brown Cow Hill, camp overnight and then complete it in the morning. The beauty of online maps is that you can create your own map on screen and those potential routes that are lost at the corner or edge of an OS sheet become more obvious. I realised that I could set out from Braenalain and cycle up the river Gairn and then climb Culardoch and Carn Liath followed by a long walk back along the river Gairn and up and over Brown Cow Hill from the west. It would certainly be remote wild country and even the intrusive new tracks used for ferrying gun parties up to the shooting butts are absent this deep into the Grampians.

I assembled the bike which I had transported in the boot of the car, less air resistance than sitting on the roof and began the 7-kilometre ride to Corndavon Lodge. The grey clouds looked free of rain and there was only a slight breeze. There is not much of an incline as you cycle past abandoned houses dotted alongside this splendid glen. The track was mostly good although, towards the house and bothy, a bulldozer was smoothing out the track and leaving stretches of loose gravel that the bike wheels sank into and made cycling a lot slower. I decided that it would be worthwhile to go an extra couple of kilometres to a bridge by an old ruin and then use the bulldozed track towards Culardoch.

I dumped the bike, crossed the river and began the steep ascent. As always the transition from bike to walking was not easy and the first 15 minutes of walking up a steep path seemed laboured. As the gradient lessened the bulk of Culardoch appeared above. This was the sort of hill that would tax my tolerance of deep heather and convex hills. There was a boggy section before I reached a track at 600 metres and then a high fence to climb to enter the Invercauld estate. The next forty minutes was one of those exercises in determination to overcome the tedium of fighting heather, wet ground, gravity and an abundance of grouse. There were dozens of families of grouse and the parent birds would take off with the whirring of wings and familiar calls and then 4 or 5 or 6 or 7 young birds would follow without the sound. Their flight was erratic and the mature birds seemed nervous, perhaps they knew that August was approaching and assumed I was a beater, there can be few walkers found on this hillside. There were also lots of hares displaying a blue hue, they sprang out from the rocky sections and always seemed to run uphill.

I had been sheltered from the strong westerly wind on the ascent but arriving on the summit ridge exposed me to the full force of the wind. I walked across to the trig point and had some much-needed lunch, getting what little shelter I could from the small cairn. The views were set against a grey sky but it was still fine as I began the far easier descent to the west. I hit a track at about 750 metres and dropped down to the bealach before Carn Liath. I met a walker doing these two hills in the reverse order and he seemed to think that tackling Brown Cow Hill as well was a masterstroke, he was going to climb it tomorrow having ascended from the normal starting place at Invercauld. There was a bit of agriculture activity just above the bealach where three men in a land rover were tending to some vegetation in small polytunnels.

The climb up Carn Liath was far more enjoyable, a good path climbing quite steeply until the last 50 metres of ascent when I traversed round to the 842 metre top that used to be the summit. The summit has now transferred to the western top, also listed as 842 metres but 5 metres higher according to my altimeter. The whole summit is a very pleasant ridge with close up views of Ben Avon and its numerous granite tors. I descended eastwards dropping down a ridge and eventually reaching the broad glen that has been gouged out by the river Gairn. I found a bridge across the river and then after a kilometre or so on a narrow path came to a broken bridge which I crossed to a well-made estate track that led up to the two lochans by Loch Builg Lodge.

This was remote country. I had decided to tackle Brown Cow Hill head-on, it was a 400-metre climb through long grass and heathers, not made any easier by the onset of a heavy shower which turned into hail. I had to don my full rainwear before continuing up to the 640m top. It was a navigation mistake and there was another 2-kilometre slog through peat hags before the final pull up to Brown Cow hill. It had all the character of woodchip wallpaper, the rough texture presumably changing colour with the seasons. Needless to say, the summit was a flat pile of stones in the middle of a vaguely convex plateau. I did stop for a few minutes but simply to have a drink and retrieve an apple from the bottom of the rucksack.

The descent was slightly more interesting. I headed for the Easter Shenalt burn that cuts into the mountain and then traversed to the west through recently burned heather to eventually arrive at my bike. The ride out was the perfect end to a long and tedious day. The evening sun was lighting up the glen, the track was mainly downhill and I was treated to a magnificent rainbow just before I arrived back at the car. It was later than I had hoped, although it had been a 42-kilometre cycle/walk over the uncompromising terrain. I changed shoes and put my bike in the car and then and drove down to Tomintoul in the hope of finding a hotel still serving food,  a large number of hotels have an unfortunate tendency to stop serving at 8pm. I managed to arrive in time and enjoyed a pint with a reasonably priced supper. I then drove onto Dronlach east of Nethy Bridge and camped in the turning circle; a good location to climb the Abernethy Geal Charn in the morning. Only when I returned from that walk did I realise that I had left the front wheel of my bike at Braenalain. It was too far to go to retrieve it.

Brian Hall

The radio this morning announced the death through leukaemia of a former school friend Brian Hall. He is mainly remembered in the press for playing 222 times for Liverpool FC and there are generous tributes from many of his former teammates. Brian lived in the same Moor Nook housing estate and was a year ahead of me at both primary and grammar school. At primary school, he had that rare combination of being very clever and excelling at football. He was capable of dribbling around the entire opposition team and the three tree stumps that acted as extra defenders in the school playground.

At the grammar school, we were in the same house and when I arrived he had already established himself as the right winger for house and school. It was my position and misfortune because there was no way of ever taking Brian's place and I was forced to play left wing or inside right. Despite this, I never had anything but admiration for Brian for his amazing skills, modesty and friendship as we occasionally travelled to school together by bike or bus.

He also excelled at gymnastics and as a scrum half in the rugby team, which at least allowed me to play on the wing at rugby. At football, Brian was from another planet. His low centre of gravity, close ball control, shimmying skills and even temper ensured that he was the first name on any team sheet. Every Monday morning in school assembly the results would be announced, Brian was usually on the score sheet but that did not include his assists which were a key part of his game. He would have broken the Opta performance records for both dribbles and assists had they existed then.

Brian's last ever sporting event at school was the senior 4 x 440-yard relay between the 4 houses, the chance for him to leave on a high as house captain. I was asked to run the third leg in the hope that we could pass on a winning lead to Brian who was to take the final leg. I managed to pull us back and hand over a reasonable lead but Brian was not the fastest and despite him giving 100% as always we were narrowly beaten into second place. The whole team were gutted because he had been an inspiration to us all and he deserved to go out on the high that he had earned from his sporting achievements. Brian was unperturbed and said that running was not his thing but thanked us all for trying to get him to win on his final appearance at school sports.

He went to Liverpool University and after obtaining a degree in Mathematics signed as a full-time professional for Liverpool. I went to Liverpool University as a postgraduate at the time he was breaking into the Liverpool first team. Initially, I alternated between watching Everton, who were champions at the time, and Liverpool. But as Brian became a regular in the team I went to watch him at most home games swaying in the Kop and enjoying the raucous humour. Brian was called little Bamber by his teammates to distinguish him from big Bamber - Steve Heighway. They had both had the temerity to obtain degrees, a rare qualification for professional footballers. Watching them weave their magic along with Peter Thomson, whom I had watched develop in the North End Youth team, I became a lifelong Liverpool fan.

On Friday evenings Brian would sometimes give me a lift home to Preston and we would meet up later for a couple of pints. In those days this was not unusual for footballers, even on the night before a game. Bill Shankley seemed to accept it as a way for the players to relax the night before a big game. Brian had a fund of wonderful stories about Shankley, whom he revered up to a point but also thought was slightly crazy. Shankley had coached Brian to become more of a one-touch midfield team player and we were denied the chance to watch a dribbling talent that was akin to Jimmy Johnstone.

After his time at Liverpool, he played for Plymouth Argyll and Burnley before retiring from football and becoming a manager of Leisure Services in Preston and then Head of PR for Liverpool Football Club. I met him shortly after he retired as a professional footballer at the start of the first Preston half marathon. Brian was modest as ever about his successful career as a professional footballer. When I told him that this was my first competitive race since winning the senior mile before leaving school, Brian was surprised and he encouraged me to realise my running ability. I was struck by his advice and it was the start of my belated passion for running which has now extended to 30,000 miles with none of the long-term injuries that most professional footballers are afflicted by at my age.

I am sure that everyone who met or had the privilege of playing, watching or working with Brian would agree that he always thought about others, he had a talent that was only exceeded by his modesty and he was a gentleman, even as a boy from Moor Nook. 

BBC: the bastion of public service excellence

This more or less sums up the government's position

This morning the BBC radio news had two items that troubled me. First was the government's consultation paper on the future of the BBC and second the proposal to split up BT. Both proposals are indicative of the ascendency of neo liberal economics that has destroyed many of the services that we cherish in the UK. They have been systematically sold off or undermined by the Thatcher, Major, Blair/Brown governments and now even more vindictively by the Cameron government.

The Conservatives seem to be concerned that the BBC is both too popular and unwilling to kowtow to government. Many Conservative MPs think that the beeb should be reined in to provide a far leaner service and the market should be left to provide entertainment. All this comes just a week after the Chancellor told the BBC that it would have to pay for the free license for the over 75's; no negotiation was involved despite the BBC belonging to and paid for by the public not the government.

Apart from the fact that the BBC strives to be objective and is trusted by the public, it has a global reputation that is one of the main reasons why Britain still has some influence and presence in the world. We know that Murdoch and his ilk have been rapping on the the door of No10 in the knowledge that PMs are usually susceptible to his much exaggerated power. His abhorrence of the BBC is one of its most powerful justifications

Over the past 25 years the loss of some major events to pay-to-view broadcasters, most notably Sky, has not only removed the free-to-air broadcasting of many cultural and sporting activities but also has been responsible for the obsession with celebrity and the dumbing down of programme making. BBC will no longer televise the Open Golf when the contract expires in 2017 because the Royal and Ancient have accepted a bid from Sky Sport that is twice what the BBC pay for the existing contract. Add that to football, cricket, rugby and we are left with just tennis of the major sports that has not sold their soul to Sky Sport. The cricket authorities are now recognising that  the loss of BBC coverage may be the main reason for the loss of interest in the game than yesteryear.

The BBC is the last of the great public sector corporations that exemplify the importance and significance of the state retaining a stake in our physical and cultural infrastructure. Railways, water, electricity, gas, nuclear power, telephones and mail have all been hived off by government in the past 35 years. It is hard to argue that these have been moves that have enraptured the public with steep increases in charges and the loss of integrated operations. The solution to these criticisms, according to the government and the pernicious press, is to encourage us to compare prices and switch providers. This is usually a nightmare and, a few months later, your previous provider will undercut your new provider with a special offer that will probably be time limited.

The BBC license fee is less than 10% of the average Council Tax and only a third of the full Sky package, what a bargain. Why would anyone want to underfund or deflate an institution that is the very heartbeat of our culture and creativity. What's more it does not pepper us with adverts that interrupt the continuity of effective programming, that alone would make it worth a 50% rise in the license fee to £4.50 a week or half a packet of fags.

Rough Bounds of Knoydart: Ladhar Bheinn, Luinne Bheinn, Meal Bhuidhe

Loch Hourn and Beinn Sgriol from the summit of Ladhar Bheinn

The fourth round of Munros was a feast of crazy walks and this became more frenzied as I realised that I might be able to finish them in less than 4 years and in 80 days of walking. I decided to push for the biggest walk of them all. The three Munros in Knoydart are usually done over a couple of days from Inverey or from the bothy or camp at Barrisdale. The latter usually requires an extra half day to walk in and out from Kinloch Hourn. By late September there were limited daylight hours and this was probably the last chance to bag them this year. 

I had little difficulty persuading Mark to attempt them as a single day walk, he had accompanied me on many recent epic days in the hills and knew it would be another 'finish in the dark walk'. Mark is thirteen years my junior and walks huge distances every weekend, he had already completed well over 2000 Munros to my 1200 at the time we did this walk. He made my average of 60 to 70 Munros a year seem modest as he regularly went over the ton and had achieved 200 in a year. Although my speed on the ascents had slowed as I approached 60, I tended to get stronger and more determined as the day progressed. We had already completed a handful of 12-hour walks in the summer but the Rough Bounds including the walk in and out from Kinloch Hourn in a day was still a big ask. The SMC had described the walk in and out and the ascent of Ladhar Bheinn as only for the very fit walkers and we planned to add Luinne Bheinn and Meall Bhuidhe into the mix.

Luinne Bheinn summit ridge

Between Luinne Bheinn and Meall Buidhe - not recommended in claggy weather

Rhum from Meall Bhuidhe

Ladhar Beinn summit ridge

Ladhar Beinn summit at 6pm

Beinn Sgriol from Ladhar Bheinn

Loch Hourn from Ladhar Bheinn

Saturday 29 September 2007
Ascent:     3150 metres
Distance:  45 kilometres
Time:        17 hours 50 minutes

Luinne Bheinn               939m       4hrs 44mins
East top                          937m      4hrs 57mins 
Meall Bhuidhe s.e. top   942m      6hrs 44mins
Meall Bhuidhe                946m      6hrs 52mins
Ladhar Bheinn              1020m     11hrs 13mins
Stob a' Choire Odhar      960m     11hrs 38mins

We left work at 5:30pm on a Friday and drove to Fort William where we ate a cheap and quick meal in Morrison's before the long drive to Kinlochhourn. I had booked into a self-catering flat to avoid having to faff about taking tents down in the morning. We arrived at the flat and packed our rucksacks for the morning just before the generator switched off at 11pm so we turned in. We were up by 6am and away by 6:35am, we dumped anything we didn't need into the boot of the car and drove a couple of hundred metres to the car park at the start of the coastal path. The day was dry with a layer of cloud and a cool breeze and we soon dropped into an easy rhythm as we followed the roller coaster of a path that leads to Barrisdale, I had camped along the path once and woken to the spectacular morning views across Loch Hourn. The cottage opposite at Caolasmor was in the sun and seemed an idyllic location although 4 miles from the nearest road, I even had a foolish notion to buy and renovate it as a retirement house.

We had to traverse over the two hills on the path to Barrisdale: Skaraval and Runival. In the way that these things go, we called them little bastards and thereafter named them Bernie and Eccleston. We had realised that they would be real killers as we headed back late in the evening. After just over two hours walking we dropped down to Barrisdale Bay, the skies were clearing and Ladhar Bheinn hove into view.  We reached the bothy and met one of the stalkers and checked that our route for the day did not conflict with any shooting. We decided to tackle Luinne Bheinn first and save Ladhar Bheinn for the evening when we hoped the light would have improved. Then began the long path leading to Mam Barrisdale from where we headed for Luinne Bheinn.

We made good progress to Mam Barrisadale before having to head south-east and begin the steep northern slopes of Bachd Mhic nan Tosaich. We caught a party of 4 younger climbers who seemed surprised that a couple of scruffy middle-aged men could overtake them.  Mark was flying up the hill ahead of me, attired in his usual outfit of hand knitted pullover, old running trainers, a cheap rucksack with a Tesco bag holding his waterproofs tied on top. As I passed the foursome they enquired about the sanity of 'Tesco man' and seemed concerned that he was not equipped for Luinne Bheinn. When I told them that we intended to walk all three Munros they shook their heads in disbelief; we looked as if we were equipped from a charity shop and Mark probably was.

We arrived at the summit of Luinne Bheinn just before 11:30am and gave ourselves a short break before starting the long walk along the undulating ridge towards Meall Bhuidhe. This is no place to be in poor visibility but there is a discernible path that twists and turns through the rough rock outcrops. I stopped for a chat with a couple and then began the long pursuit of Mark who doesn't entertain stopping on long walks. I was in no real hurry at this stage of the day and began to enjoy the sea views over to Skye, Rum and the small isles. Meall Bhuidhe was reached by 1:30pm where there was a large group of younger walkers from Inverey who seemed more concerned with making phone calls boasting that they had made it rather than admiring the view.  I thought about venting my feeling about the inappropriate use of mobile phones but decided to devote my angst to making light of my lunch instead.

We began by retracing our steps back along the ridge before dropping down to Coire Odhair and traversing below Luinnhe Bheinn to reach the bealach at Mam Barrisdale. It is a good route that I have used on three other occasions including one trip when we camped in the coire. The real test of the day comes next, the 400-metre ascent from Mam Barrisdale to the 849 metre western top of the Stob a' Chearcaill ridge. It is always a long slog up unforgiving deep grass usually at the time of day, mid-afternoon, when energy levels are at their lowest.

With this in mind, we had a break and took on board some more food. The climb was no exception to my previous experiences but the reward as we reached the 849 metre top was magnificent. We were at the start of the wonderful ridge that leads across to Ladhar Bheinn. There was some late afternoon sunshine and blue skies ahead with views of the coast, Beinn Sgriol and behind us was the complex topography of deepest Knoydart. This is a sublime walk and despite the ups and downs of the ridge, the tantalising prospect of Ladhar Bheinn dissolved any tiredness.

The summit was reached at 6pm and Mark declared that he was not going to move until he had enjoyed the idyllic views from the summit. It gave us chance to grasp the perfection of the scenery and we had difficulty bringing ourselves to leave after 15 minutes. Time was tight and we wanted to be off the hill at nightfall, which was about 7:30pm. We descended the northeast ridge to Stob a' Choire Odhair and then dropped into the shadows of Coire Dherrcail. It was time to get a move on and we crossed the river and found a path leading down to Barrisdale. The path was engulfed in bracken and made for a difficult and steep descent and we had to put on our head torches before reaching the tidal flats.

The tide was in and in the gloom of the evening Mark managed to step into one of the braided streams, he was waist deep in sea water. The route across the tidal flats to the bothy was an exercise in avoiding any more accidental soakings and took over half an hour. I had managed to strike a better route and arrived at the bothy a few minutes before Mark. I was assailed by the climbers from this morning "where have you left Tesco man, does he need help?" I was able to say no, he would be here soon and a towel and a drink would be all that he needed.

We topped up with water and finished our sandwiches and then announced that we were heading back to Kinloch Hourn. It was almost 9pm and the climbers thought we were crazy to attempt the walk out in the dark. So we were but it was meant to be a day walk so we tramped off in search of Bernie and Eccleston. The moon gave us some help after my head torch called it a day and that assisted us as we followed the path out. We cursed Eccleston before venting our most vindictive vocabulary on little Bernie, which seemed to have grown in the light of the silvery moon.

We arrived at the car shortly after midnight, a record late finish even for us, the previous best was a bivvy at 11:30pm near the summit of Carn Dearg by Ben Alder after deciding to flee the midges in the glen below. After stripping off minging clothes and removing wet shoes we changed into more comfortable attire and began the long drive home. At the foot of the road out of Kinloch Hourn, we followed a badger that sashayed its way up the road in front of us looking resplendent in the headlights until it headed off into the wild after crossing the bridge.

The journey home was mainly an exercise in staying awake, I drove for the first hour until we reached the main road and invited Mark to drive to beyond Fort William whilst I took a nap. I took over for another hour and Mark had another stint before reaching Callander at 4am, I eventually made it home by 4:30am. I fell into a deep sleep and was awakened at 10am by my son telling me that I am getting a bit too old to be staying out that late. He was right of course but I had achieved another big walk and round 4 of the Munros was almost in the bag.

Great Gable

Great Gable and Green Gable from Sprinkling Tarn

Great Gable from Kirk Fell

Scafell Pike from Great Gable

Tuesday, 30 June 2015
Ascent:      800 metres
Distance:    11 kilometres
Time:         3 hours 43 minutes

Grey Knott        697m     30mins    
Brandreth          714m     49mins
Base Brown      646m     1hr  25mins
Green Gable      793m    1hr  56mins
Great Gable       899m    2hrs 17mins

On wet days in the school holidays when I was 8 or 9 years old and only the test card was on TV, I began to examine the books in the house. My favourite was a Lake District book lavishly illustrated with black and white photos of the famous views. Alongside Yew Tree farm in Coniston, the Langdale Pikes and Friars Crag in Borrowdale was a photo of Napes Needle on Great Gable. By the time I was beginning to foray into the hills it became an obsession to climb Great Gable and visit the Needle. I did it several times during my student years, usually from Wastwater and once from Langdale. I continued to climb Great Gable every now and again after the family arrived. The year before retiring I climbed it from Honister pass on a true summer's day and enjoyed the route which was less crowded than the normal ascent from Wasdale.

Gregor was coming close to finishing the ascent of all the 'Wainwright hills': 214 arbitrarily selected hills by Wainwright that provided the subjects for his inimitably sketched guides to the Lakeland fells. The biggest clump of Gregor's unfinished hills were located between Borrowdale and Langdale and included Great Gable. We collected Mark from his new residence in Ambleside and drove up to Keswick, down Borrowdale and on to the top of the Honister Pass. Parking there is now £5 per day with the former slate quarry having a monopoly. There is an easy path towards Fleetwith Pike that turns southwards and follows a gentle graded climb up Moses Trod. But that was too easy for my companions so we decided to take in 4 other hills before reaching Great Gable. We set off up the steep grassy slopes to Grey Knotts; a good way to stir the body into action.

Grey Knotts has two summits about the same height so we took in both before beginning the gentle and easy walk across to Brandreth. The day was getting noticeably warmer and there were indications that the sun would not be long before arriving. Views were good particularly towards Buttermere but my camera focusing began to play tricks so I was bereft of photos until Gregor sent me a couple of his shots of Great Gable when he arrived home. We dropped down from Brandreth and decided to contour round the head of the Sourmilk Gill valley. Unusually for the Lake District there was no path and the going was more like a day on the slopes of a Scottish hill, traversing across a steep hillside that was all loose scree and wet vegetation. The final stretch to Base Brown from the col was easier going on a slightly boggy path.

We returned to the col and then pottered along the next section to Green Gable as we made plans. Gregor had decided to climb Kirk Fell first and then head back over to Great Gable on his way to Langdale. Mark was time limited so we decided to climb Great Gable and head back to Honister. The rocky path up from Green Gable was heavily eroded but provided a straightforward ascent to the summit. There were only 2 other walkers there unlike last time on a summer Sunday when there must have been over 50 folk milling about.

We had some time to spare so scoured our rucksacks for food before descending down to Beck Head, the col between Great Gable and Kirk Fell. There are several parallel paths, all eroded and in need of some pathwork. We saw Gregor descending from Kirk Fell but we were ahead of him at the col so continued back by Moses Trod towards Honister. There were several groups of teenagers going through their paces and a mountain leader who was whistling them as if they were sheep. It was an annoying intrusion to the peace of the fells, particularly on a day when we were undisturbed by low flying aircraft.

We were down before 1pm, I dropped Mark in Ambleside and I was back in Langdale by 2pm. At 3pm I had a call from Gregor who had climbed another four hills including Glaramara and was heading back down Mickleden to the Dungeon Ghyll. He was totally dehydrated by the afternoon heat and had already consumed a pint of water and something stronger by the time I arrived. He had done the sort of walk I really enjoy in the lakes: 6 hours walking across the fells from Borrowdale to Langdale taking in 10 hills. More than enough justification for us to head for some evening beer outside at the Britannia Inn.

Green Burn Skyline, Grasmere

Looking back to Steel Fell from Calf Crag

Grasmere from Gibson Knott

On Gibson Knott, Steel Fell behind

Thirlmere and Blencathra from Gibson Knot

Sunday, 28 June 2015
Ascent:        635 metres
Distance:     13 kilometres
Time:          2 hours 27 minutes
Steel Fell            552m              43mins
Calf Crag           537m        1hr 15mins
Gibson Knott     420m        1hr 41mins
Helm Crag         396m        1hr 56mins

It had been a wet day and I had been thoroughly soaked during my morning run. We were reduced to a couple of hours cruising around the outdoor shops in Ambleside, not that I needed anything but a bargain is a bargain and Smartwool socks at half price qualified. By 3:30pm, there were signs of the day improving so we decided on an evening walk. I had never walked around the Green Burn skyline from Steel Fell to Helm Crag just north of Grasmere. It would give Gregor three unclimbed Wainwright hills. He had first walked and run up Helm Crag as a three-year-old and, as we passed a large and grumpy, school party of 11-year-olds, their frustrated teacher harangued them by bawling "Look that toddler can do it why not you lot!"

We drove over to Grasmere and on to Town Head where we found a space for parking by squeezing onto the verge and proceeded up a road and good track for a kilometre until Holmside.  We passed through a gate onto the open fell and then followed the grassy path that climbs steadily up Steel Fell at a friendly gradient. The views were opening up to the north and east and we made good time to the summit of Steel Fell.

The trek over to Calf Crag is an undulating ridge, the type that makes walking a pleasure with the views ever-changing and the temperature perfect for walking. We had a great view of Easedale Tarn where we had last walked when Gregor was a few months old and strapped onto his mother, whilst I cajoled our two and four-year-olds to climb with the promise of ice cream when we got down. We had a great view of Green Burn 'bottom' as we reached Calf Crag. There is an easy descent and then a slight rise as we sauntered along the ridge to Gibson's Knott. It was a glorious evening and a reminder that the best walks are often conjured out of impromptu decisions. We didn't have any food with us but it was a good place for some water and a chance to admire the surrounding fells.

From here the ridge drops to a col before a short climb to Helm Crag, also known as the Lion and the Lamb, which is the profile that is seen from the A591 just north of the Traveller's Rest. We spent a few minutes scrambling on the crags before returning to the col and finding an easy path that zig-zagged down to a footbridge over the Green Burn. There was a serene walk alongside the burn to Holmside and back to the car at Town End. This had been a perfect outing on a peaceful summer evening. I am beginning to think that these walks are better exercise - no blisters or aching feet - and certainly more enjoyable than the 10 hour walks over the usually wet and pathless Scottish mountains followed by a two-hour journey home that has been my staple diet for the past 25 years. Or is that just the advantage of advanced years?

A week in Langdale

Langdale Pikes from above Blea Tarn

Langdale Pikes from Blea tarn

Little town, Newlands

Robinson from Newlands

Causey Pike and 

Derwentwater and Skiddaw

Langdale Pikes at dusk

Home

We have visited Langdale for over thirty years and little changes in this timeless corner of the Lake District. The Britannia Inn at Elterwater remains one of the best places to sit outside with a pint of real ale, the hills are on tap and my tennis continues to get worse (it is the only time I play all year). We were people light this year with just three of us owing to the arrival of a grandson just before the start of the week. Our friends from the nearby lodge were also unable to attend because of the arrival of their grandson.

The pattern for the week is now well established with local walks in Langdale, a few mountain walks, fine dining at Fellinis, the excellent Vegetarian restaurant in Ambleside, the odd pub lunch, trips to favourite haunts such as Newlands and Little Langdale, Grasmere for gingerbread, a tour of the outdoor shops in search of bargains, runs, swims and some games of tennis. We usually have visitors from my family but we were undecided whether to go to London to visit our newborn grandson during the week so we failed to invite any visitors.

We managed two decent walks in the fells, including a walk with Mark up Great Gable and adjacent hills, and an enjoyable evening trot around the Greenburn skyline above Grasmere. We revisited Brockhole, the National Park Centre that we had last visited in 1986 with the children; made a return to Little Town in Newlands, where I had first discovered hillwalking when at primary school; and enjoyed the hottest day since we have been coming to Langdale followed by a night of rain and raucous thunderclaps.

It is a relatively quiet week in the Lakes before the English schools break up but the fells were awash with school parties and at the weekend there was a 115-kilometre ultra event. I spoke to some of the competitors whilst on my usual 8km run around Elterwater, They made me realise that my exercise for the day seemed a bit pathetic. Apparently, the new chief executive of the National Park has declared that hosting extreme events is a priority for income generation and economic growth. I am not sure about that, when I did mountain marathons the last thing I wanted to do at the end of an event was to visit shops and restaurants. You want to get home as quickly as possible to catch up on sleep.

The 'highlight' on Friday evening at Wainwright's Inn was a performance by the Furness Morris. We had last seen them 25 years ago outside the Drunken Duck when our children were bemused by the eccentricity of it all. Several of them were still going strong but now preferred pubs that sold Wainwright's beer.