Staveley, north east

 Sunday 5th November 2023

1.Sunday. Fifth November.

2.The only recent, or forecast good weather.

3.. Staveley

If your aim is to get away for some peaceful contemplation that is not the best recipe. 

Staveley is an attractive village on the edge of, or arguably in The Lake District.  However, over fifteen years ago (I can't remember exactly, I'm sure BC who comments here could be more precise) Wilf's Café was established by Wilf a local climber of some repute. Initially this was a venue for climbers and walkers on their ways to, or returning from adventures in Lakeland. I called often when I was climbing with my late friend Tony and it was more of a social meeting place particularly for rock climbers where you were almost certain to meet  others you knew. The café was situated on a large site occupied by buildings from a traditional Lake District bobbin mill. Bit by bit the large space was occupied by other bijou businesses with craft and Lake District emphasis and then a huge industrial unit was built for Wheelbase Cycles creating what is probably a national "go-to" venue for the whole range of cycling interests. Other industrial units were also established and now Staveley has become a hub for a wide variety of interests having expanded well beyond its erstwhile iconic Lake District village,

No matter, I had plotted this little route on the map and despite my local knowledge telling me it would be akin to a  Blackpool bank holiday off I set.

I was able to park on the aforementioned site thinking I was lucky to do so, but as I  covered the half a mile up Back Lane to Barley Bridge I noticed several parking opportunities that would have eliminated most of that less interesting part of my route. People were about all over in groups and solitary, on foot and bike and that continued throughout the walk, although less populated after I gained the footpaths.

The River Kent was thundering down over the array of waterfalls just above the bridge. The cul-des-sac road continues to  the head of Kentmere and is the gateway to much splendid walking including the classic Kentmere Horseshoe, but I took a right then left following a couple with the woman straggling twenty yards or so behind her partner in familiar fashion. They soon outstripped me after the footpath onto the open pasture steep hill was gained.

That climb was as much as I would want to handle at the moment and was only achieved by stops to catch breath every fifty steps or so, At one stile two runners came flying down the hill and I mentioned something about the awkward gate that opened against you as you stood elevated on rocks while you clung to the gate and squeezed round its end as you had no room to move backwards for the gate opening. The first runner addressed me in the kind of way care assistants address the elderly as if they are now incapable of absorbing words with more than two syllables. She was warning me, again as though I was too geriatric to be out, about the next stile up the hill. Ok, perhaps I am showing my age, but this kind of thing is happening all too often, snd maybe I am in denial about how I appear, but I feel like replying to the effect that I have rock climbed up to HVS standard, completed sll the Munros and covered more long distance walking than they could dream of and I have read Proust with sentences that go on for more than a page.

At the top of this vicious little hill, which had, despite its steepness, given rewards of views back down to Staveley and across to the summit of Hugill Fell. With Bowland climber we had climbed that hill during our Wainwright Outlying Fells campaign arriving from the western slopes and giving one of my best ever surprise views as we arrived at the summit.

A winding track through the woods was enlivened by sunlight selecting random patches of autumn coloured leaves high up with leaves now shedding fast and obscuring the footpath with its  overall carpet of golden browns. A steep descent meeting various walkers ascending took me down to a road annulling all that height I had gained up the little steep hill, part of the challenge of all walks that have ups and downs.

A half mile section of road  followed but on narrow lanes with no traffic. I was now looking to stop for my sandwich and coffee but as always there is just nowhere to sit. I was aware of a couple approaching from behind catching me up, but fortunately before they did so I found a bench at a crossroads which I am pretty sure they would have claimed if they'd got there before me  

As I munched a huge DPD van driven by a contrastingly diminutive female came down the road behind me and in order to make the left turn had to reverse back with opposite lock before she could get round. They must deliver to some surprisingly remote locations. 

An old bridleway descended and again I was bing followed by another couple who passed me as I emerged onto an old packhorse bridge over a lively beck. I continued on an ancient grassy bridleway to the charmingly named  Elfhowe farm. From there quiet roads took me back to Staveley and my car.

Barley Bridge

Lane leading to the steep pasture hill

North from halfway up the steep hill

A spring made de-luxe for the sheep. Farmers do care.

The two runners disappearing back down the hill from the awkward gate

The stile I was warned about as though I was mentally and physically challenged

Into the woods

I couldn't figure out what this isolated manmade construction was. Looks  bit like a trig point but not so.

The public footpath stile was fifty yards to the left of the position marked on the OS map. I actually stood at the map's location with GPS exactly on the incorrect position. The stile further up to the left seemed old and certainly not put there recently.

The packhorse bridge, followed by the old bridleway