Steel Knotts and Hallin Fell

Hallin Fell and Ullswater

Sunday, 29 April 2018
Ascent:        555 metres
Distance:     6 kilometres
Time:          1 hour 50 minutes

Steel Knotts       433m             35mins
Hallin Fell         398m      1hr   7mins

On the way back from Liverpool, Gregor had decided that he would like to run the newly opened Ullswater Way, a 20-mile trail around the lake with over 850 metres of ascent. We left Preston after a lazy breakfast and drove to Pooley Bridge via Penrith. He began an anti-clockwise run from Pooley Bridge and I drove down to Howtown to climb two of the Wainwright hills: Steel Knotts and Hallin Fell. I parked by the Howtown Hotel where Gregor would finish his run. It was cloudy so I decided to climb Steel Knotts first, hoping to get sunnier views of Ullswater from Hallin Fell later. There is a metalled road alongside the Fusedale Beck so I followed it until a signpost to Hallin Hause, which took me to the start of the steep path that climbs up the southern ridge of Steel Knotts.

Conditions were perfect for walking, cool with excellent visibility. I passed an older couple who were keen walkers but handicapped by living in London and this was their first foray of the year. We shared yarns about Lakeland days for a few minutes before I continued for the final kilometre to the summit. I took photos for a couple from Penrith who described themselves as weekend walkers who had begun to tick off the Wainwrights. After helping them identify the Lakeland hills from St Sunday's Crag and Plaice Fell to Blencathra, they pointed out a bungalow with a bright red roof in Martindale. It had been built by the Earl of Lonsdale as a shooting lodge but was now a holiday cottage. He had hosted a visit from Kaiser Wilhelm II in 1910, transporting his party to the modest shooting lodge in a yellow Rolls Royce. Although Martindale was a fine deer estate, the gamekeepers were directed to stalk all the rabbits into the valley for the Kaiser to unleash his weaponry with little chance of escape for the warren of rabbits. It probably encouraged him to do the same a few years later as he started the Great War.

I descended down a path to the splendid St Peter's Church nestling in a hollow at Hallin Hause. It is the starting point for the walk up Hallin Fell and was mobbed by Sunday visitors. I continued up the steep grassy slope to Hallin Fell, surprised at how easy the walking seemed after recent days on the Scottish hills. At the massive square-shaped summit there was time to kill so I found some shelter from the cold northerly breeze, ate an orange and perused the map. The views were exceptional, Wainwright had described Ullswater as "that loveliest of lakes, curving gracefully into the far distance."

On leaving the cairn there was a path to the north that eventually terminates at some crags but the viewpoint confirmed Wainwright's observation.  I climbed back and followed the lip of the crags until finding a path back to Hallin Hause. Despite several conversations and diversions, I was down in less than two hours and it was half an hour before Gregor appeared still running easily and then going for an extra mile to reach his marathon training schedule.

Thereafter we retreated to the excellent Howtown Tearoom behind the hotel for some soup and sandwiches before the drive home. It was still early afternoon and the M74 was relatively free of traffic.

Hallin Fell from Steel Knotts south ridge

Martindale with The Nab from Steel Knotts

Summit of Steel Knotts, Loadpott Hill behind

Hallin Fell and St Peter's church at the Hause

Beda Fell and Plaice Fell in Boredale

Ullswater to the north from Hallin Fell

Howtown from Hallin Fell

Liverpool Visit

Liverpool Cathedrals

My birthday present from Gregor had been a ticket to watch Liverpool but it was a lunchtime game so the afternoon was free to visit old haunts around the university. It was my fifth visit to Liverpool since completing a postgraduate course there in the early 70's. Once for a reunion, twice to conferences and twice to watch a Liverpool game.

We travelled to the game by parking in Ormskirk and catching a train to Kirkdale on the Merseyrail Northern Line. I had carried out surveys and made recommendations for introducing Park and Ride facilities on the Northern Line for the Merseyside Passenger Transport Authority. It had been my first job after graduating working for the transport consultants; Peat, Marwick and Kates who were eventually merged into KPMG.

After the game, we walked from Anfield to the University through the old terraced houses of Everton and new housing areas north of Kensington. It is not the most salubrious part of the city and only as we came into Edge Hill did the cityscape reveal the inspiring clutch of new university buildings wedged between the two cathedrals. This was home territory, I had lived 200 metres from the university in an unfurnished dilapidated but elegant Victorian terrace that was due for demolition.

The campus was surprisingly student free, no one was to be seen on campus but the students union and several other buildings including my old department were undergoing refurbishment. We passed the splendid university Sports Centre designed by Sir Denys Lasdun, which I had visited almost every day to play five-a-side, swim or play squash. It was next door to the Civic Design department where 32 of us from ten countries and nine disciplines learnt from each other and were given the best of tuition from an eclectic group of academics. The department was located across from Abercrombie Square and the Senate House where, in 1970, we occupied the building for a sleep-in protest against South African apartheid and Liverpool University's investments in South Africa. I had been persuaded to attend by the student agitator Jon Snow, now of Channel 4 News.

We visited the site of my old flat in Bedford Street South, it had been redeveloped as student accommodation but had none of the architectural merits of its predecessor building. We went round the corner for a pint in the Philharmonic pub where I had spent many evenings in the days when the Liverpool beat poets, Roger McGough and Adrian Henri were regulars. It was mobbed with young and old professional looking people. Inside little had changed apart from the vast range of ales. We moved on to the Everyman Theatre and the Metropolitan Cathedral before walking down Mount Pleasant through Georgian terraces and some fine Victorian institutional buildings to Bold Street where we found a Vietnamese restaurant for a very late lunch.

We had originally planned to walk down to the waterfront and visit the Albert Dock but we had both made visits in the last ten years so caught the train back to Ormskirk. We took the direct route back to Preston and I was able to show Gregor the terraced house where we had lived with my grandparents until I was four and then the family house from my school years. Then back to my sisters and an evening at the local Indian restaurant that boasted a cabaret singer. It had been a full on day and tomorrow morning we planned a walk and a run in the Lake District before returning home.

Kirkdale Station

Liverpool University, a redbrick

Department of Civic Design

Anglican cathedralfrom Myrtle Street

Bedford Street South, a replica of the old flat

Philharmonic Pub

Metropolitan Cathedral and Everyman Theatre

Mount Pleasant terraces

Liverpool 0-0 Stoke City

Just one of those days

Gregor had got tickets for the Liverpool- Stoke game at Anfield for my birthday present. This was before the game became sandwiched between the Champions League semi-final games against Roma. Anfield has been transformed by the new Main stand with the public realm surrounding the stadium encouraging a happy atmosphere as a phalanx of fans from all over the world gathered to watch their team.

Last time I was at Anfield was in 1973 to watch an Inter City Fairs cup match against Spurs, Liverpool won 1-0 and we drove back to Glasgow overnight in the days before the M74 was built. I had spent two years as a fairly regular spectator at Anfield whilst at University. It was during a period when both Liverpool and Everton were dominating the game. Everton had the school of science midfield with Kendall, Harvey and Ball whilst Liverpool were at the start of their two decades of dominance. Kendall had been a Preston North End player and the youngest cup finalist in 1964. Liverpool also had an old school friend Brian Hall as well as Peter Thomson, a winger who also had played for Preston North End before transferring to the reds.

Everton won the league for the seventh time in 1970 to equal Liverpool, Arsenal and Manchester United on seven titles in the first division. Liverpool were about to take over and they had won 18 titles by the end of 1980's. It was easy to see how with Ray Clemence, Tommy Smith, Emlyn Hughes, Ian Callaghan, Steve Heighway and John Toshack providing ruthlessness and power to add to the skill of the Preston lads.

Liverpool were wonderful to watch in the 1970's with a hard pressing game that Klopp has revived. The crowd always combined raw passion with humour, as when they gave Gary Sprake a rousing reception every year after a game when he threw the ball into his own net. During most games, at least one spectator would be passed down over the heads of the Kop crowd to the St John's Ambulance. There was always respect and applause for good play from opposition players. It was so different from what I witnessed at other grounds at the time from Hillsborough to Old Trafford to Ibrox.

Despite the wonderful season that Liverpool had been having, this was not a game to relish. Stoke are deep into a relegation battle and decided to snuff out Mo Salah by any means possible and in that sense, Erik Pieters did a good job. But Liverpool were playing well within themselves, saving energy and avoiding injuries before the second leg with Roma. The crowd were in fine voice but even they realised that this was not going to be a classic and the game eventually petered out. Alexander-Arnold was completely at sea in a midfield role, Moreno gave his usual reckless performance, Henderson reverted to square passing and Ings showed that he lacks the pace to play in this team. Even the ever reliable Roberto Firmino was not his usual dynamic self.

Nevetheless we had enjoyed the atmosphere, we bumped into the programme editor who took a photo of me standing next to Shankley's statue and, as we were leaving, we were highly amused that the nearby Chinese takeaway was titled 'Wok On'.

Kick off looking towards the Kop end

Mo Salah about to take free kick

The massive new Main Stand

Langdale Pikes

Pike o' Stickle, Great Gable behind

Saturday, 14 April 2018

Ascent:       1240 metres

Distance:    15 Kilometres

Time:          5 hours 35 minutes

High Raise              762m     2hrs 49mins

Sergeant's Man        736m     3hrs   7mins

Thunacar Knott       717m     3hrs 30mins

Pavey Ark                697m     3hrs 42mins

Harrison Stickle      732m     4hrs   3mins

Pike o' Stickle         708m      4hrs 32mins

Loft Crag                 692m     4hrs 45mins

It was Alan's 70th birthday weekend and we assembled at Newby Bridge in the Lakes. I had thought that the logical walk should the Old Man of Coniston but Alan decided on the Langdale Pikes. Eleven of the party went for a sail on Windermere with four young children whilst eight of us headed for Great Langdale. I am not used to walking in large groups and the car park at the Old Dungeon Ghyll was full with only a dubious place for one car. John and I returned to the New Dungeon Ghyll to find a parking place and then set off to catch the other six. The summits were still in the cloud as we walked up Mickledon and we caught them at the foot of Stake Pass.

It is a well-graded path up Stake Pass that has been well reconstructed by the Lakeland pathmakers. Despite a heavy cold, I was walking well and enjoyed a conversation with one of the four people I was unacquainted with, a young teacher who hailed from Lerwick but taught in Edinburgh. We got carried away in conversation and arrived at the drumlin field having escaped from the rest of the group. We waited for the group and we had a drinks break before starting the meandering path through the drumlin field.

At the high point of the pass, I spotted a cairn for what I assumed was a path to High Raise. The path began veering in the wrong direction and after crossing a bog below Thunacar Knott it curved towards Pike o' Stickle. It was not the path that I had thought so I decided to leave the rest of the group and make a sharp turn and take a rising traverse towards High Raise. It was a good two kilometres away and I doubted if anyone would have thanked me for dragging them up the grassy and boggy slope. 

High Raise is a flattish hill in the middle of nowhere. But what a wonderful viewpoint to capture the whole of the Lakeland hills. I met a man at the summit who had recently bought a flat in Kendal so that he could climb the Wainwrights. It was a lifestyle decision after his divorce. He drove taxis when not walking and had an army pension and business in Dubai to support his new lifestyle. He was clutching his bible, Walking the Wainwrights, a book by Stuart Marshall that condenses the 214 Wainwrights into 36 day-sized walks. 

On returning from High Raise it was time to turn on the afterburners as John had said he would wait for me at Pike o' Stickle. Sergeant's Man was an easy ten-minute walk from High Raise and I wasted no time at the summit before heading back over to Thunacar Knott. It was over an hour since I had absconded from the group and that they probably would have had lunch on Pike o' Stickle and be heading for Pavey Ark, the last of the four Wainwright summits that make up the Langdale Pikes. 

So I headed for Pavey Ark rather than Pike o' Stickle and by walking in the opposite direction I hoped to meet up with the others. My logic was sound but they had decided to give Pavey Ark a miss and to descend after Harrison Stickle. I saw them 40 metres below me as I was on the traverse from Pavey Ark. I hollered and they looked up but didn't recognise me. I was not going to forsake the remaining three summits to go down with them and John was not with them. I continued across to Harrison Stickle. It is a stiff final climb to the summit, which was occupied by a dozen or so walkers and about the same number of dogs.

There was no time to stop because John was probably waiting along the route, so I continued down the path towards Pike o' Stickle. As I reached the bealach before Pike o' Stickle I noticed someone huddled on the ground. He looked familiar, John had strained his Achilles tendon the previous day and it had got progressively worse so he had decided to wait for me at a place that he thought I would pass. We agreed that he would begin the descent and that I would climb Pike o' Stickle and Loft Crag and hope to catch him on the descent. Although I have been up the Langdale Pikes half a dozen times, it is a long time since my last visit and the terrain did not seem familiar. There is a gently rising path followed by a steeper and rockier climb to the summit. A couple from Somerset were admiring the views on their first visit to the Lakes and we struck up a conversation about the Dolomites of all places. By this time the cloud of the morning had given way to mid-afternoon sunshine with good visibility so their enthusiasm for the Lakes was understandable.

It is a quick walk with a minimal ascent to Loft Crag where there were no other walkers. After some last photos looking back to Great Gable and the Scafells, I took a direct route down to the path that runs back to the New Dungeon Ghyll hotel. It is well made with stone steps for much of the route that made for a quick descent, I caught John just before the gate leading to the final section to the hotel. The other six were enjoying a drink outside the Dungeon Ghyll so we joined them in celebrating Alan's birthday walk with a local real ale. They seemed to have enjoyed the walk over Pike o' Stickle and Harrison Stickle. I was not admonished for taking the liberty of disappearing to climb High Raise, Sergeant's Man, Thunacar Knott, Pavey Ark and Loft Crag as well as the Langdale Pikes. It had been a good day on some of Lakelands most popular hills.

Through the Drumlins on Stake Pass

At the top of Stake Pass before I led them astray

Scafell Pike from High Raise

High Raise,  Sergeant's Man and Pavey Ark from Harrison Stickle

Harrison Stickle and Loft Crag from Pike O' Stickle

Harrison Stickle

Great Langdale from above the New Dungeon Ghyll

Five years a Papa

Hallowed steps

Commuting to the nursery in April showers

Brixton days

Time flies as you watch your grandchildren acquire skills and understanding at a pace that seems far more rapid than the slow stepwise acquisition of knowledge by our generation. Our granddaughter was five at the weekend. We had spent a week looking after her and her brother,. The highlight was enjoying the magical moment as she learnt to ride her bike. The moment when I let go of the saddle and watched her wobble a while and then straighten as her cadence increased. It brought back happy memories of similar fledgeling moments with our children. It seemed so natural and heading back from the park I was running to keep up as she dodged the tree roots, bins, and occasional empty cans that make pavements in London such an obstacle course.

It was so different from the 1950s, I had learnt to ride by begging a friend to let me have a go on his bike without an adult around. I had to wait until after my seventh birthday before acquiring a bike, it was a BSA safety model. At the end of the two-week Easter holidays, the handlebars were bent, the paintwork dented and my knees and elbows decorated with plasters. A visit to Accident and Emergency was also required for stitches. Nevertheless, I had cycled over 200 miles according to the 7s 6d cyclometer attached to the spokes. There were no helmets, no riding on pavements, and my knowledge of the highway code only extended to cycling on the left. The safety model was clearly an oxymoron or else my riding style was too cavalier.

Perhaps it was thinking about this that made me show her Danny Macaskill's video of cycling on the Skye Ridge. She was mesmerised, cycling was opening a door to all sorts of exciting adventures. In our generation, cycling was mainly the means to get a paper round and save the bus fare for getting to school. There are now as many cyclists on the roads in London as in the 1950s and everywhere the high-density inner-city housing is catering for bicycles, they clog the landings that served as a drying area for washing before the days of tumble driers. Elsewhere pavements are littered with bike hangers and Sheffield stands, which have bikes chained to them with or without wheels or saddles. Some hi-tech office complexes have bike storage garages with mechanics employed to service the high-end bikes of the executive managers. The roads in the morning and evening rush are dominated by bikes despite the horrific diesel fumes that infuse the capital. The evidence suggests that this is more the result of buses, commercial vehicles, and taxis than cars.

Our two-year-old grandson had developed skills on his scooter, including carrying an umbrella during the April showers and speedy journey times for the nursery run. I found him one day playing with my phone looking at photos and touching them through with a dexterity that eludes me. He knows where everything in the house is kept and how to reach it by using a combination of chairs, stools and boxes to climb to every supposedly childproof shelf and cupboard. His fascination with the outside world was evident as he stopped to watch the man from the Council mowing the lawns for the first cut at the start of summer. He refused to move when we passed an ambulance that had been called to a cyclist who had been knocked off by a hit-and-zoom motorcyclist. He then stopped at the nearby residential home to wave to one of the residents who always looked out for him. His refusal to wear his new shoes suggests that he has inherited a stubborn streak from someone.

We took our granddaughter to central London to buy her a birthday present and then to see her mother's workplace at the BBC. Exhausted by the end of the week, we were to fly home and showed our age by both of us forgetting our mobile phones as we piled into an Uber taxi that had arrived within two minutes of our booking it for the trip to Clapham Junction station. Most of the next generation would forget their luggage before their phones, and we had to turn the taxi back and suffer the indignation of being cast as 'nincompoops' by our granddaughter.

Bike parking in central London flats

BSA Safety Model, mine was in Flamboyant Electric Blue

The only extra bought from my savings - 7s 6d

Sheffield bike hangers