For newcomers

At the bottom of each post there is the word "comments". If you click on it you will see comments made by followers, and if you follow the instructions you may also comment and I always welcome that. I have found many people overlook this part of the blog which is often more interesting than the original post!

My blog nick-name is SIR HUGH. I'm not from the aristocracy - my middle name is Hugh which relates to the list of 282 hills in Scotland compiled by Sir Hugh Munro in 1891. I climbed my last one (Sgurr Mor) on 28th June 2009

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Saturday, 1 December 2018

Longridge to Arnside (3)

Friday 30th November 2018 - Grizedale Reservoir to  Lentworth Hall


How does one define a good walk? Today made me realise that it may be more to do with one's own mood at the time supplementing the physical attributes of the weather, terrain and landscape.

Today saw us following the River Calder back to the Arbor which was all attractive enough, and then a stiff climb, partly trackless up heather covered hillside, and more trackless yomping across the tops and then a descent to the plains of the River Wyre, and surfaced farm tracks giving a panoramic view of the whole extent of the Bowland hills skyline from the south that I had not seen before. A further descent into the course of the Wyre, and then its crossing, and another steepish climb out had us at our finish. All that was good enough, if not a bit special, but when one factors in pretty dismal cold weather with prolonged bouts of heavy wind driven rain one may think that could have reduced the enjoyment.

From the start I had a feeling of pleasant anticipation. Conversation, as always with BC, was nonstop and wide ranging. On the steep climb from the Arbor I felt fit and somehow empowered revelling in the satisfaction of a well dictated rhythm and almost uninterrupted ascent. Once out on the rolling moorland, trekking through heather not much more than ankle deep, I had a more than usual feeling of euphoria and liberation with huge expanses of wild country in all directions. Wind and freezing rain and hail only added to my elation, especially knowing that I had good clothing keeping me warm and dry underneath.

This was for the partly indiscernible reasons that I have tried to express above a bit special.


The Arbor again.
Photos elsewhere show the windows as English arches, but now covered by metal sheeting.
Even the skylight on the roof had a metal barred cage over.
Halfway up the climb from the Arbor.
BC surveys one of the line of posh shooting buts we were following

This is the first time we had seen such engineered shooting buts.
Does it indicate the growing prosperity of the grouse shooting activity?


The River Calder looking towards its source.
The Arbor is down below to the right of the stream


Huge expanses of wild moorland - deep breaths and fresh air.
Red line in distance shows our route - click to enlarge

A traditional shooting but, but a pretty elaborate one at that.
They are often a lot more rudimentary, although the photo above shows modern development.

Zoom to sun on Heysham power station

Surfaced farm track and the new to me view of the extensive Bowland hills skyline from the south.
I once walked the whole of its length - a day that turned out to be longer than I had anticipated

A tributary of the Wyre we crossed before crossing the main river bridge.
The path here was steep, muddy and eroded - I indulged in a bit of bum-sliding.


Gnarly beech trees just before we merged onto the road beyond and our finish.
They look better enlarged.

Ignore green horizontal (The Wyre Way)
No significance in use of two formats for route indication

10 comments:

Roderick Robinson said...

Two ts for that kind of butt. But beware, you could end up confused. According to Oxford it can also mean "A mound on or in front of which a target is set up for archery or shooting." A dangerous choice of meaning, I'd say, referring to artefacts that are at both ends of a gunshot. "Go and stand at the butt," could be an invitation to commit suicide.

There was a programme on BBC4 yesterday about the Cairngorms; rather surprisingly (given the BBC's pussy-footing tendencies) it showed grouse being reared and then blasted out of the skies. The Head Gillie, in deference to the customers who were rich enough to rent that hallowed stretch of moorland, was wearing a tweed kilt. I couldn't help thinking he might be the last of the line in his family. I can't imagine tweed benefiting his private parts.

bowlandclimber said...

RR. There is an even more confusing 'butt' interpretation, albeit American slang, which would suffer seriously from gunshot.

Sir Hugh. There must have been a substantial headwind for you to assume that pose.
I thought your exuberance was brought on by the good news you received by whilst on high.

Sir Hugh said...

I was in the mood even from the start. For other readers I received a text message from daughter when we were at the remotest part of the moors. She told me she had been successful in her interview for substantial promotion at her school.

Sir Hugh said...

RE - dressing up seems to be part of the “enjoyment” these people get from their pursuits, even more so with the hunting brigade. One might say the same of we outdoor types and to some extent I could agree, but advances in waterproof materials both in efficiency and weight have been beneficial, but I still maintain there is little improvement to be made on a normal pair of socks, but many manufacturers have tried to persuade us otherwise with technical jargon and gobbledegook. May those gamekeepers continue to kilt up to the point of extinction. I think gillies are usually related to salmon fishing. The ultimate manifestation of that sport is to have a butler ( or gillie) sporting chest waders bringing you a large single malt on a silver silver into the middle of the best beat on the Tweed..

bowlandclimber said...

Where was my single malt as we crossed those unfathomable bogs?

Sir Hugh said...

In my rucksack.

Roderick Robinson said...

The word also identifies the remainder of a used cigarette.

gimmer said...

Is this thread a joke and who is the target ?

Butt attendance used to be compulsory when the nation was threatened by an assortment of louis's and philip's etc. - there is, apparently, still a law dating from the middle ages that makes such attendance compulsory which no government has bothered to find time to repeal - or enforce - maybe they will now we will soon be back to 'entertaining' our so-called 'hereditary enemies' ! Vive la France !
Anyway, there were butts next to the cricket field in Appleby which, I was told as a lad, had been used uninterruptedly since those distant days. Naturally, nobody disputed this romantic assertion.

Mark said...

The first grouse 'butt' doubles as a hot-tub. Or should that be hott-ttub?

Sir Hugh said...

Mark - tthanks for you conttributtion.