Inchmahome

Looking east to the Lake Hotel and Port of Menteith church

Summer is the time to visit the island of Inchmahome on the Lake of Menteith. A priory was established on the island by Augustinian canons in 1238 and provided a secluded sanctuary for over 300 years. It was visited by Robert the Bruce and most famously by Mary, Queen of Scots when she was 4 years old. She stayed for three weeks when she fled from Stirling Castle to escape the 'Rough Wooing' by King Henry VIII's son, Edward. 

The Lake of Menteith became a tourist attraction to English gentry in the 19th century, this was partly attributed to the writings of Sir Walter Scott. This probably explains why it was renamed the Lake of Menteith, the only Lake in Scotland, rather than the Loch of Inchmahome, 

When our children were young it was a regular jaunt during the summer for the boat trip, the tranquillity and the chance to let them run free on the island. This year was a reprise with the grandchildren. Inchmahome is timeless, nothing has changed apart from the boatmen. We were entertained and educated by the current Historic Scotland boatman who took us across and regaled us with stories and facts about the lake and island. Such as the 1000 trout that are released each week, the 35 boats that are rented for £90 a day and the fact it was the European Young Fly Fishing championdship the next day. 

He also claimed that the UK's largest pike was caught in the Lake but subsequent research suggests that was in Loch Lomond. We walked around the priory and the island at a leisurely pace to the sound of birds and the occasional splutter of a boat engine as the fishermen looked for places to cast their flies. The children were captivated by the peaceful freedom, although wary of going too far into the water with giant pike praying on their minds.

Inchmhome Priory

From Attlee to Boris, Integrity to post truth

PM delivers pies to the Northern Powerhouse

Oh, what a travesty of democracy. First, we are disenfranchised from the appointment of yet another new prime minister and now we are about to be disengaged from the emergence of new government policies after the spurious arrival of PM Boris Johnson. There can be few Prime Ministers that have been trashed by colleagues, editors, and past friends with such unanimity as Boris Johnson. When senior Tory Party figures like John Major, Michael Heseltine, Ken Clarke and Malcolm Rifkind are queuing up to give interviews to TV, radio and the press about how unsuitable he is to be PM, and this is echoed by some of his erstwhile colleagues from the present cabinet and junior ministers like Philip Hammond, David Gauke, Rory Stewart, Alan Duncan and Margot James, you know that there is trouble ahead. 

Even more devastating has been the critique of Johnson by his former editor at the Daily Telegraph, Max Hastings, who in 2012 wrote "He is not a man to believe in, to trust or respect, save as a superlative exhibitionist. He is bereft of judgment, loyalty and discretion. Only in the star-crazed, frivolous Britain of the 21st century could such a man have risen so high, and he is utterly unfit to go higher still." He added that "If the day ever comes that Boris Johnson becomes tenant of Downing Street, I shall be among those packing my bags for a new life in Buenos Aires or suchlike because it means that Britain has abandoned its last pretensions to be a serious country."

Sonia Purnell, his journalist colleague during his days as the Brussels correspondent of the Daily Telegraph was equally dismissive of his integrity. She had previously published Just Boris: A Tale of Blond Ambition in 2011 that offered a withering insight of his lassitude in dealing with detail and his probity with the truth. Even the BBC are exposing him to more rigorous scrutiny than is their normal practice when they are in fear of being accused of imbalanced reporting. This may be because he has refused almost all invitations to be interviewed, although he did get speared by Andrew Neil, not that he seemed to worry. Channel 4 news seems to be in no doubt that he is a loose water cannon and take delight in highlighting his habit of evading questions, responsibility and evidence.

His record as the Mayor of London was lauded by his team of sycophantic supporters but forensically dissembled by those who worked for him. Routemaster buses that cost £321.6m but were unsuitable for commercial operations as well as being major pollutants, a garden bridge that was 'vanity in Excelsis' and wasted £53.5m. The Thames estuary airport study cost £5.6m but was never published because it did not support his desired objective. The Boris bike scheme has cost a total of £225m when it was supposed to wash its face. Then, the debacle about the £323m funding for the refitting of the Olympic stadium for West Ham football club and its dodgy owners. What does Boris Johnson stand for, well according to one of his rare recent interviews: freedom and the better use of public money. The man has some serious chutzpah and, to be fair, he would probably claim this as a positive attribute.

He has talked of his implied Promethean qualities but whilst he may be rebellious, he is more destructive than creative and his innovative instincts are largely focused on humour rather than tangible ideas. What a contrast to the UK's best but least well known post war PM, Clem Attlee. He had integrity and diligence in spades and a genuine commitment to social justice following his years of voluntary work in London's East End. Reading his excellent biography by John Bew was understanding the true characteristics of public service. The absence of rancour and his understanding of the need for collaboration was in stark contrast to the antipathy of compromise by more recent PMs such as Brown and May. Attlee established policies and created institutions that his Tory successors accepted, and in the case of Harold McMillan, further enhanced because they were proven to improve the lives of citizens.

With Boris Johnson we have no idea what will happen, it will depend on who he listens to and his bent on the day. As John Crace summed up Mrs May's premiership, he captured the fears of Boris Johnson with astute and probably prophetic humour: "Her real legacy is leaving the country in the hands of someone even more unfit to be prime minister than herself."

Ben Lomond, a summer stroll

Monday, 8 July 2019

Ascent:        976 metres
Distance:     11 kilometres
Time:           5 hours 55 minutes

Ben Lomond     974m   2hrs  52mins
Ptarmigan         731m    4hrs  29mins

John phoned me the previous evening and asked if I would like to join his daughter and family for a walk up Ben Lomond. The garden could wait and I arrived at Rowardennan at 10:30am. It was nearer 11:00am when the others arrived and then ten minutes for all the family including Loki, the new dog, to start the walk. It was already baking hot and quite humid with light cloud cover. Young John had already climbed Tarmachan on my last Munro but Mia and Loki were on their first Munro so it was a staccato pace with random food, water and rest stops. Nevertheless, we were keeping up with most of the other parties on the ascent and Ben Lomond as always was a busy hill. The climb is fairly unrelenting for the first 577 metres after which there is a gentler climb to 800 metres before the final steep climb to the summit ridge that follows the rocky edge of Coire a' Bhathaich.

John and I walked ahead during the final section and it was worth it to see the joy of achievement as the family were pulled to the trig point by the eager dog. Photos were taken, food and drink followed and like most others on such a warm day, we lingered far longer than is normal on a summit. I suggested that we return via the Ptarmigan ridge, it is a more scenic route down with views of Loch Lomond although there is a steep drop down a rough stony path for the first 200 metres of descent. I was worried that the children and dog might find it difficult but they coped better than the adults. After crossing Bealach Buidhe, it is a pleasant stroll along the undulating ridge to Ptarmigan and then 3 kilometres down a long sinuous path through the waist-high bracken and vegetation. Several parties were still making the climb up. We reached the West Highland Way for the final 500 metres back to the car park. We were home for 6pm and Aileen had prepared a welcome meal for everyone.

Halfway there

Summit ridge

Bateman family arrival

Looking east to Loch Ard

Ben Lomond from Ptarmigan

Descending the Ptarmigan ridge

Langdale 2019

Hartsop

The annual week in the Lakes is part of the ritual that is home from home. My parent's honeymooned here and as a toddler and child, I was taken to Langdale and the Lakes three or four times a year. My first mountain walks were during a school run holiday in my final year at primary school at Stair in Newlands, my first beer was bought at the New Dungeon Ghyll after a morning climb of the Langdale Pikes and my first holiday with teenage friends was youth hostelling for 10 days walking most of the highest fells. I rock climbed, walked the fells and sailed in Windermere with friends during university vacations. I scattered the ashes of one of my best friends on Scafell Pike after he had died in his twenties and in later years competed in Mountain Marathons. 

For the last 35 years, we have returned to Langdale to familiar haunts and pristine landscapes. Every hill has been climbed, every lake visited and most pubs as well. The Lake District is embedded as a familiar baseboard for life, it is constant and largely unchanged but still throws up surprises that enhance its inherent charms.

This year it was the Theatre by the Lake in Keswick, where we saw an excellent production of My Mother Said I Never Should, a wonderfully acted tale of the trials and tribulations of four generations of women in the twentieth century. We found a slate workshop in a shed above Coniston that made practical household goods like cheeseboards with slate from the Elterwater quarry where we stay. My brother and sister visited for a day, the first time we all have been together for several years. Gregor and I had a couple of outings into the hills, we caught up with old friends and we finished the week with another perfect meal at Fellinis Vegeterranean Restaurant in Ambleside. 

It is always a relaxing but active week made easy in the early days of summer before the congestion and crowds arrive during the English school holidays. This year, as we walked favourite paths and climbed known hills, it prompted many memories of the happy years. It conjures up favourite images of people, places and events and allows time for reflections on life’s passages.

Derwentwater

Langdale, the Cumbria Way

Elterwater Quarry

Holehird Gardens

Fellinis Banana Strudel

High Street and Far Eastern Fells

Hartsop Dodd

For only the second time I started a walk in the Lakes from Hartsop. It was the perfect summer's day and Gregor had a bagatelle of smaller Wainwright hills east of Kirkstone to climb. It would involve a lot of zipping about so I suggested starting from Hartsop so that he could attempt them all. I could climb High Street and 7 adjacent Wainwright hills, I was 30% into my second round of Wainwrights and had greater scope to climb a group of hills. They were higher but closer together and had shorter ascents. Hopefully, we would meet back at Hartsop in 5 hours. Well, that was the plan.

Wednesday 3 July 2019

Ascent:      965 metres
Distance:   18 kilometres
Time:         4 hrs 58mins

Thornthwaite Crag      784m         1hr   50mins
Mardale Ill Bell           760m         2hrs 28mins
High Street                  828m         2hrs 48mins
Rampsgill Head          792m          3hrs 17mins
High Raise                  802m          3hrs 30mins
The Knott                    739m          3hrs 53mins

After a lazy breakfast and the drive to Hartsop, we struggled to find a parking place and had to settle for a crowded space on the A592 north of Brother's Water. It was 11:30am before we were ready to walk and we agreed to try and get back by 4:30pm. We walked to Hartsop village and then split up, Gregor to climb the steep north ridge of Hartsop Dodd and me to take the path alongside Hayeswater Gill to Hayeswater.

I had only visited Hayeswater once before during the Karrimor International Mountain Marathon (KIMM) when the overnight camp for over 200 tents was at 500 metres on a boggy hillside. We were awakened at 6am the next morning by the race controller with a megaphone and a cruel sense of humour. He took great pleasure in wishing us good morning and then telling us that there had been six-inches of snow overnight and that the male and female latrines had collapsed under the weight of snow. We would have to use a couple of open trenches for morning ablutions. The route that morning started with a lung-bursting 1000ft climb to Thornthwaite Crag before a long convoluted route back to Threlkeld near Keswick.

I had wrongly assumed there would be a good path alongside Hayeswater and then on the climb to Thornthwaite Crag but this was not the case, it was an intermittant sheep trail. Hayeswater must be the only sheet of water in the Lakes without a path around it, which explained why there were only sheep in the dale. It would have been far quicker and less tiring to go with Gregor up Hartsop Dodd but at least I was able to confirm that the awfulness of the climb in the KIMM was an accurate memory. In the heat of the midday sun and with the insects biting it was a summertime reprise of the agony. Thornthwaite Crag possesses one of the largest cairns in the Lakes and provided a suitable perch for some lunch. Gregor must have passed through here half an hour earlier.

I walked out to Mardale Ill Bell, a slight detour but I had already walked all the Wainwright's Far Eastern Fells south of here. It was a breeze with hardly any ascent. Then I completed the triangle by heading north-west along a good path to High Street. There were quite a few walkers about, mainly older couples and everyone had a smile on their face to celebrate the conditions. I have seldom had such clear visibility in the Lakes, the Helvellyn range seemed within touching distance and even Mickledore on Scafell was distinctly visible.

The long stone wall to High Street took away any sense of remoteness. I did not stop at the summit, there were two clusters of walkers in animated conversation and Gregor had texted me to say that he was heading to Place Fell, his last hill of the day. I scampered on to Rampsgill Head, remembering the last time I walked here in 2003 with my eldest daughter we had seen a golden eagle. The last pair in England were to be found here but they have since disappeared and England is now bereft of eagles, I blame the government.

It is only five minutes from Rampsgill Head to Kidsty Pike but I gave it a miss, having wrongly assumed it was just an outlying top and not a Wainwright. I had decided to go over to High Raise instead to avoid making a long detour in the future from Wether Hill. It was worth the extra distance to meet two Mancunians who were lunching there. We launched into a conversation that captured everything that is good about hillwalking: common experiences, getting slower, people, places, butterflies and beer. I wrenched myself away after a quarter of an hour knowing that I would need to speed up to get back to the car for Gregor who had texted again to say he had completed his seven hills and was only 30 minutes away from the car.

I returned via Rampsgill Head and dropped down to The Knott where I met a couple at the summit. The man had also competed in the 1992 KIMM and we shared our experience of trying to find the control points near The Knott. I would have gladly spent another couple of hours on the fells but time was up so I abandoned my plan to climb Rest Dodd and The Nab and found the path down to Hayeswater Gill and from there back along the track to Hartsop. The views up Pasture Bottom that separates Hartsop Dodd from Gray Crag were enticing and just like the last visit to the hills around Hartsop it had been a perfect day on the fells. Gregor's seven hills had taken him less than 4 hours including a four mile run back to the car and he had the chance to take a walk round Brother's Water whilst I was on my way down. My anguish was as much about having dragged him up so many Munros whist he was still at school as it was of the inevitable reversal of our relative speed on the hills.

Hayeswater

KIMM campsite south of Hayeswater

Helvellyn Range over Hartsop Dodd

Scafells over Caudale Moor

Thornthwaite Crag

Haweswater Reservoir from Mardale Ill Bell

Mardale Ill Bell looking towards High Street

High Street with Helvellyn Range on the skyline

High Street summit

Rampsgill Head

The Knott from Rampsgill Head

Gray Crag

Pasture Bottom between Gray Crag and Hartsop Dodd

Arthur's Pike and Bonscale Pike

Looking back up Ullswater from Bonscale Pike

Tuesday, 2 July 2019

Ascent:        465 metres
Distance      6 klometres
Time:          1 hour 36 minutes

Arthur's Pike       532m     39 mins
Bonscale Pike     524m     56 mins

The annual pilgrimage to the Lake District usually results in two or three outings onto the fells. We collected Gregor from Penrith station, he had travelled down from Glasgow after work. The day had been dry but overcast and windy so Gregor and I decided to have a quick jaunt over Arthur's Pike and Bonscale Pike to the north-east of Ullswater on our drive back to Langdale.

These hills have no special qualities, they fail to make it into Bob Allen's Fifty Lower Lakeland Fells and Wainwright states that "there is little to excite" about them. We started at Roehead above Pooley Bridge and followed a good path that climbed at a gentle incline to Arthur's Pike. My last visit had been from the campsite at Seat Farm. It was a far steeper route and quite foreboding on a freezing late December day en route to visit my parents to deliver Christmas presents.

Gregor was itching to run but we kept to a steady walking pace instead. The path curved gracefully, with Ullswater opening up as it stretched south to the heart of the lake district. A lone runner passed us just before he reached the summit where we paused briefly before heading east to avoid Swarthbeck Gill and to cross by the sheepfold before making the short climb to Bonscale Pike.

Bonscale Pike gives better views down Ullswater with Hallin Fell prominent beyond Howtown. By heading due south from the summit at the edge of the steep slope to the west a good path is eventually discovered and provides a steep but easy descent to Mellguards where an impressive old slate footbridge leads to the track to Howtown. Aileen was waiting for us after a walk around Hallin Fell.

We drove around Ullswater, whilst Gregor ran the10 kilometres from Howtown along the Ullswater Way to Goldrill bridge, a section described by Wainwright as "the most beautiful and rewarding walk in Lakeland". Gregor was moving too fast to notice and collected a few Strava crowns instead. It gave us a chance to visit the serene hamlet of Rooking that nestles below Plaice Fell, as we waited for Gregor to arrive. Its houses and gardens looked idyllic in the late evening sun, it must be the most impressive hamlet in the Lakes but sadly lacks a pub. We collected Gregor and drove over the Kirkstone Pass and to the Britannia Inn in Langdale for a pie and a pint.

Path to Arthur's Pike

Bonscale Pike

Helvellyn Range beyond Bonscale Pike

Footbridge at Mellguards, Howtown

Britannia Inn