Aftermath - South West Coast Path and Two Moors Way

Well, I  made it home.

Departed Barnstaple 9:43 am for Birmingham, Birmingham to Lancaster, Lancaster to Arnside, arriving 5:30 pm. 

My section of the SWCP was varied, and always interesting, and individual because of its affinity with the sea, The going is strenuous but mainly on good paths. There are many very steep, but usually short ascents. There is some pretty uncomfortable pebble, shingle beach walking which, although attractive to view is hard going - I was just glad there wasn’t much more.

Poole to Exmouth is 115 miles and I previously walked Land’s End to Barnstaple on my LEJOG walk which is another 188 miles so I reckon I have covered just under half of the total 630 miles. I am pretty sure the remainder would be just as tough. I only met two or three people who were embarked on the whole trip non-stop, but many who were walking it in sections. Anybody who completes this walk in one hit has my profound respect.

The Two Moors Way had three components, Dartmoor National Park and Exmoor National Park and “the bit in between”.

Devon County Council produce a useful guide to the TMW and state their policy of not waymarking the route across the moor thus retaining a feeling of wilderness and remote walking, and I admire that. The path is not easy to follow and once lost needs skill with compass, map, and hopefully gps to regain. This trek must not be taken lightly. The scenery is superb, but for northerners this part of the moor is not a blanket of heather like Goathland or Ilkley, more a mixture of heather, gorse, reeds and open patches of grass. I saw it at the back end of heather blooming combined with rampant yellow gorse - magnificent mixtures of colours. Looking at the map this walk only scratches the surface of the massive expanse of Dartmoor, and from what I saw you could spend a very fruitful lifetime exploring this unique and beautiful environment.

The “bit in between”  has not much to recommend. Certainly on leaving the northern boundary of Dartmoor National Park the route crosses fields with stiles, gates and quite a lot of road walking. You could be anywhere in the country, but as you get closer to Exmoor more old country bridleways and lanes are used and the walk takes on some character. The balcony path skirting Drago Castle and taking in Sharp Tor is spectacular.

The trek to Exe Head and the rest of Exmoor is once again a delightful region with its own identity taking in wild grass moorland, rivers, wooded ravines and hillsides, and then an invigorating ridge walk on cropped grass to arrive at Cheriton. The walk out to Lynmouth builds to a superb climax of deeply wooded valleys, airy footpaths zig-zagging up and down with distant sea views and the final descent to sea level.

I’ve never been too keen on planning ahead, but Lynmouth is not an easy place to escape from, especially if you arrive on a Sunday. Others may wish to put a bit more thought into that problem.

For me a good long distance route should have character that sets it apart from mundane country walking. Coastal walks always have that advantage even in their industrialised settings. Inland walks can have quality by following a good line of ridges or waterways, and a sense of purpose, perhaps following the ancient bridleways between major settlements. Both these walks had most of that and would get a top rating if I was scoring. The ones to avoid are those devised by local authorities to promote their region linking together a number of meaningless footpaths round crop fields ploughed out to the edges leaving ankle twisting tractor tracks, and which seemed like a good idea at the time, but not now maintained, and degenerated into a nightmare of overgrown undergrowth and nettles, broken stiles, blocked off rights of way, aggressive farmyard dogs, and gates tied up with hairy orange string.   

Viking Way summary

Arnside to Wetherby  -  Saturday 26th April to Sunday 4th May             5.5 days

Wetherby to Oakham - Tuesday 18th June t0 Wednesday 2nd July         15.5 days

This walk fell into two halves after my involuntary break at Wetherby, returning home to support daughter Jill (High Horse) with her redundancy problem.

There was an extended plan not revealed. The initial attraction was to start by walking out of my own front door, and that was very satisfying. Later Gayle later guessed I must be intending to loop back home from the end of the Viking Way, but that would have been anti-climax. Whilst the first part of the walk was enjoyable, especially the Yorkshire Dales, this was familiar ground, and it was not until after Wetherby that I had the pleasure of venturing into new territory.

The first objective was to get to Caister to pick up the Viking Way and walk that to its end at Rutland Water and Oakham. I had already walked the northern section  from Caister to the Humber Bridge on my Broads to The Lakes walk in 2009.

From Caister the VW follows the high ground down the Lincolnshire Wolds through attractive countryside.

Later on there were more crop fields, but in general the VW is well maintained with cleared paths and pretty good signage. Providing one accepts that this is country walking I would recommend the VW.

My main attraction to the outdoors relates to hills and mountains. In consideration of my knee problems and prolonging as long as possible walking in general, over the last two years I have walked mainly flat routes - canals, rivers, Lincolnshire, Norfolk and Suffolk.

RR commented on the last post of the walk:

"...In Lincolnshire especially huge houses are still available quite modestly. One might say that the county is simply unfashionable but the house price phenomenon has been going on too long for that. It's clear most people just don't want to live there despite the fact that the towns are still unspoiled..."  (my italics).

"...I'm sure it has something to do with the land being flat...  Man needs contours"

I agree with RR to some extent, but attraction lies in the fact the villages and countryside are still unspoilt as he says. Whilst one prefers the ambiance of the hills there is much to be said for the panoramic views and the awesome, massive skies seen from the slightest elevation because of the extensive flatness of the surrounding landscape.

If there was a choice between camping and other accommodation I chose the latter. In view of increasing age that may the way forward in future - shorter trips (only because of the increased expense) with more planning for the stopovers, obviating the need to carry the camping gear. Crawling in and out of a one man tent and carrying the weight is becoming ever more onerous.

This was a great trip and I would have liked to have continued. In one's youth fitness increases day by day on such ventures, but I believe that as age increases the graph goes the other way and all you achieve is more damage than good, so a rest seems a prudent decision.

Worried about your weight?

I sometimes wonder about  claims of overall kilograms carried on backpacking trips. There should be a standard:  weigh yourself naked (in my case, including my spectacles to enable reading of the scale) then don all clothing, rucksack, waist pouch, hat and walking poles and weigh again. I think many would be surprised at how much more they are carrying than they thought.  The mental picture engendered prior to this procedure may well put many off.

Hopefully I'll be off on my trip on Saturday 26th.  The long term forecast is for some light rain,  but unless it is  foul I'll be away. Worryingly the temperature is only forecast at 9° (took a bit of finding that degrees symbol).

My kit is packed and weighs in at 9.6kg (21.2lbs) which includes food for one meal and a supply of tea, coffee, powdered mlik, cup-a-soups, and instant potato, and a 500ml. bottle of water. In addition I have a waist pouch which carries bits and pieces which need to be accessible.

For those interested in detail here is the list - others can skip.

If anybody thinks there is anything I have forgotten please say so.

Rucksack	Golite Pinnacle - old model. Trekmates rain hood, and Pod liner
Rucksack front pocket	Marmot waterproof shell, Toilet paper, 2 x Platypus water bottles, sit mat, headtorch
	Montane l/weight overtrousers
Tent	Terra Nova Competition
Dry bag (sleeping bag)	Rab Neutrino
	Thermorest Neo-Air
Dry Bag	Berghaus Extrem hollow-fill jacket
Dry Bag (chargers)	iPad, iPhone, Mili, camera, AAA batteries (headtorch and radio)
Dry bag (cooking)	MSR titanium pot +lid, mug, kfs, tin opener, plastic bowl, MSR Superfly for clip-on and screw cartridges, washing up liquid, scourer, gas lighter. 2 x small gas cartridges (fit inside cooking pot)
Dry bag	Pocket radio. Spare specs
Dry bag (medical)	Senokot, Immodium, blisteeze, Plasters, Ibuprofen,Paracetamol, scissors,nail clippers, bandage,  tick remover, surgical tape, wound dressings, ointments
Dry bag (toilet)	Half travel towel, soap, toothbrush, 2x Bic razors, toothpaste
Dry bag (misc.)	Sewing kit, Adhesive tape, zip ties, Velcro, rubber bands, string /tape,elastic, oddments
Dry bag (food)	Tea, coffee, powdered milk, chocolate drink sachets, 4x cup-a-soups, Instant potato, Tin of meat, tin of fruit. biscuits
Dry bag (spare clothes)	1 x socks, light running shorts (double as underpants), shirt, Odlo base layer, 2 x handkerchiefs
Waist pouch	compass, camera, pens pens, pencil, notebook, lip salve, clip on sunglasses, wallet with credit cards and money. Swiss Army knife
	iPhone and iPad with Memory Map GB complete and routes loaded on both
Walikng poles	Black Diamond Expedition (flick lock)
Water	2 x 500ml bottles (not always full)
Food for on the walk	Biscuits and cheese

A salute to D of E

A group of Duke of Edinburgh’s Award teenagers on their Silver or Gold Expedition backpacking trip is a heartening sight in the hills. I enjoy passing the time of day, but do wonder why nobody has helped them to organise a rucksack.

Packs are suspended midway down the back, straps dangle capable of lacerating the face in a wind, and the ubiquitous foam bedroll flops about loosely attached. Various other items dangle, and the weight looks badly distributed and formidable

Youngsters may not be able to afford lightweight gear, but I am sure more could be done to inculcate the ethos of non-essentials and balanced  packing. For me, about twenty three pounds (approx. 10kg) is passably comfortable. Beyond that, relative comfort becomes toil -  not a good way to encourage youngsters.

Newcomers to many activities face the false economy of “entry level” gear featuring poor design and more likelihood of early failure just when lack of experience dictates that you need as much help as you can get. Imagine trying to enter a half serious road race with a budget price bike from Argos - Bradley Wiggins may stand a chance, but a novice would be disillusioned.

Don't think that D of E expeditions are so tame that good equipment may not be essential. One group I met at The Heights of Kinlochewe were on their way to camp in the high, remote northern corrie of Ben Tarsuinn in the Fisherfield Forest - an ambitious plan that would demand serious thought from any gnarly, long experienced backpacker.

I wish all those D of Eers  well.

Severn Way and Monmouth and Brecon Canal slideshow

Here is the slideshow for my recent Severn Way and the Monmouth and Brecon Canal walks.

I said in a post that I may tell the story of the Severn Bridge disaster but it is neatly summarised on a photo of a panel. What struck me about that story was that it happened in 1960, well within my memory span, and I had never heard about it before. What a story - talk about things going from bad to worse.



Click for slideshow, then click on first picture to watch fullscreen

Sandstone Trail Tale

I didn’t want to walk through Manchester. I guess I will be corrected by certain bloggers, but the thought of finding myself, late in the day, wandering around the murkier environs of this gun-crime city looking for accommodation worried me, especially as advancing years are in inverse proportion to the ability to defend oneself, and in consideration of weight I only planned to wear trekking shoes not boots.

Following the River Weaver to Frodsham seemed like a romantic plan, but continuing with the Sandstone Trail may have been unwise after my woeful performance in the south east some weeks ago.

The Weaver was majestic with noticeably more bird life than the canals, and worth seeing, but its pathways were a mixture of good cycle tracks and appallingly overgrown riverbank paths; even so I battled through and was glad I had taken it on.

I naively pictured Frodsham with a nest of welcoming bed and breakfasts, and quaint pubs. The first pub extinguished such thoughts. I was informed there was nothing but one hotel half a mile down a steep hill. The thought of walking there sharpened my weary mind and I used my phone. They were full.

It was time to use my staying-put-and-not-saying-much technique, which usually triggers deeper thought from the pub’s occupants, and this worked. A regular told me of a camp site a mile south east of Frodsham on a busy B road, (the Sandstone Trail heads south west out of Frodsham). Halfway to the camp was the Travellers Rest where I could eat. I would need to walk to the camp site, walk back to the pub to eat, walk back to the camp site, and back into Frodsham next morning, to start the trail.

  

Although the Sandstone Trail is marked on the OS map, I had a blinkered notion that I needed the guide. One would have thought that Frodsham retailers would recognise the trail as an asset and keep a good stock. I wasted a lot of time visiting two private newsagents, W.H. Smiths, the post office, and the town hall out in the middle of the local park. They were all stockless. By the time I started walking it was 10:45. 

The Sandstone Trail proved to be flawlessly waymarked, and despite my ability to get lost between my house and the shed at the bottom of my garden I never put a foot wrong.

A steep climb out of Frodsham to the sandstone outcrop overlooking the town was tough after months of flat canal and coastal walking - my knees were grumbling. The views north revealing the unbelievably extensive chemical industry of Widnes, Runcorn, the Mersey and the Dee estuaries were breathtaking. Even though this is nature despoiled one can only wonder at man’s capacity for such massive and intricately technical development which has been going on since the digging of those huge ring ditches and hill forts.

Continuing along the ridge, sometimes on top with  great views, and sometimes steeply up and down through attractive sunlight dappled mature woods, I was conscious of being in a rare environment with the strangely red sandstone, silver birch, old pines and heather. We have a few unique places in England like this including Cannock Chase and The Broads, and it is only by walking that you properly appreciate them. After the ridge a short road section followed by a field shortcut led to a surprise farmhouse offering refreshments. I had a pot of tea and a buttered scone sitting outside in the sunshine. The lady took a photo for me, and only asked for two pounds which was ridiculous - I gave her double that, spoiling the market for any impecunious or stingy followers, but I didn’t care.

My destination,  Delamere Forest, is another special environment and a joy to walk through and absorb. This had been a good nine mile walk through rare scenery in enjoyable sunny weather.

I asked the warden at The Camping and Caravan Club site to charge up my iPad Mini and my iPhone still leaving my Mili iPhone sleeve charger to be done. At 4:55 before the office closed the warden was concerned because the plugs had become very hot - heavens above, I didn’t want to be responsible for burning down the Camping and Caravan Club’s site, and perhaps the whole of Delamere Forest. However I persuaded her to accept the Mili for overnight charging, this item being slower, and maybe safer to charge. That meant waiting until 9:00am in the morning preventing an early start, but I was also told the station café next door opened at 9:00 so at least I could get breakfast as well.

Fellow blogger JJ who I had only met two days before when we walked together with Mick and Gayle on the Cheshire Ring, had sent me text messages aware that if I stayed at Delamere there was nowhere for an evening meal. JJ invited me to join a music train passing through Delamere on which he would be performing.  I boarded the 7:20, (second coach), and music was in full swing: JJ on squeeze box, a violinist and two guitarists, one a lady, and all playing and singing an endless repertoire of mainly sea related folk songs all to a high standard. Music continued at the pub in Plumley where I also ate, and we had more music on the return trip. I have never seen a group of musicians play continuously for so long. Afterwards I had a text from JJ saying my walk had been the talk of the train; I thought it much more likely to have been my tramp-like appearance and my out of tune contributions during the choruses.

In the morning I retrieved Mili from the warden at 9:00 then found the station café didn’t open until 9:30 - one tries to be philosophical about misinformation like this. I marched another kilometre to the visitor centre to breakfast, but it was 9:45 before I left, putting in  jeopardy arrival at Bulkeley, from where I could comfortably complete the walk in one day.

Rain started at 12:30 and never stopped all day and during the coming night. The delays and conditions restricted my walking to ten miles. Early on I climbed again onto the attractive sandstone ridges at Hangingstone Hill and Primrose Hill, but the plains below were shrouded in mist and drizzly rain. After that it was back to cow trodden fields, crop field boundaries ploughed out with no footpath, and grossly overgrown with long wet grass. I climbed so many stiles my knee felt as though it had gone through one of those repetitive stress tests that manufacturers use for a product representing the whole of its ten year lifespan in a few hours.

I quit the day at the canalside Shady Oak, which I mistakenly christened the Dusky Oak in a post. That may have been more appropriate; its only merit was the camp site, but even that in foul rain and with no other occupants was uninviting, and just far enough from the pub to make the trek in the rain off-putting.. The pub appeared to have been furnished from several differing house clearances, and was so remote that it had no land line telephone, hence no credit card facility. I paid for my meal with cash.

Lying in the tent afterwards with rain spattering forcibly on the outer fabric I pondered.

What were my options in the light of the continuing rain forecast?

I could continue, but that would mean finding another night’s accommodation and suffering increased dampness. Although the Terra Nova is brilliant and never failed in any way, in these conditions you fight a loosing battle against dampness.

I could hitch-hike to Crewe for the railway station, but the location was so remote there maybe only one car an hour. 

I could pass time in the tent and the pub for all next day hoping for improvement in the weather.

Feeling low in spirit I thought I would opt for the hitch-hike and posted to that effect on the blog.

Next morning it was still raining. I normally walk along the road when hitching, this being a mixture of relieving boredom, and fighting against the guilt of being a pauper spirit. With that in mind I thought I might as well walk on the Sandstone Trail itself, and decide on the desirability of starting to hitch whenever I crossed one of the few roads. It was now that ending the walk in the day filtered into my mind as a remote possibility, but I had worrisome doubts about that. Having packed up the wet tent I was off to a satisfyingly early start at 6:45 am clad in waterproofs.

I passed the potentially interesting Beeston Castle far too early to view, and then ruefully noticed its closed café. I had eaten my  three remaining Spar Shop fruit shortcake biscuits before departure. Another section of the sandstone ridge followed with the Peckforton Hills, but I was now marching hard through the rain and fighting for survival.

Now it was back to agriculture, and at one point I was faced with a dish shaped swamp field consisting of cow muck with that oily, rainbow, chocolate brown glistening on the surface. I was forced to wade through this gloop for fifty yards at knee depth nearly loosing footwear as I tried to extricate. I found a galavnised cattle trough of water and stood in it, shoes and all, but even so it didn’t bode well for anybody next to me on the train if I managed to get that far. By now that was looking like a possibility.

Quite suddenly I emerged on the Llangollen Canal towpath at a lock where I chatted with a passing narrow boat captain and his wife. They were self employed, delivering boats for owners. It was now only five kilometres to Whitchurch, the end of the Sandstone Trail and the railway station. Two kilometres from Whitchurch a café appeared. I had a buttered scone and a pot of tea for two, my first food since 6:30.

At 5:30 pm I was at the station having walked for nearly eleven hours covering nineteen miles, the longest I have done since I walked round the Welsh boundary in 2011 which was responsible for destroying the last shreds of cartilage in my knee joint necessitating replacement surgery. 

On the River Weaver

Frodsham and the chemical industry sprawl beyond

The only rest on the first day of the S. Trail

JJ (left) and fellow musicians on the music train

In the pub

Sandstone ridge scenery

Pictures from the Cheshire Ring Walk

Although I walked the Cheshire Ring canal walk immediately followed by the Sandstone Trail I see them in my mind as two separate events.

For a detailed account of the Sandstone Trail see the next post, bringing together scattered posts and comments made during the trip.

Here are some pictures from the Cheshire Ring.

Typical scenery of the early part

See next photo

This boat was called Pecheur which I egotistically translated to its owner as Fisherman, only to be corrected with the proper translation, Kingfisher, which I was then cross about because it was something I knew

With JJ, Gayle and Mick on the rainy Sunday

Backwards or forwards?

I receive a depressing monthly periodical produced on a home computer in black and white from the pensioners amateur organisation of my previous employers. It contains articles from erstwhile colleagues from which I deduce they spend their precious retirement time reminiscing about daily trivia thirty years or so ago within the insular family atmosphere of an old fashioned bank branch. These writings seem to indicate the authors long to be back there in what I suppose was a safe environment There is even a regular feature titled “Looking Back”.

The most exciting anecdote I can remember from this wallowing nostalgia was about the Branch Inspection Team arriving from Head Office and going, by mistake, to a rival bank branch nearby, being admitted, and actually starting with their unpopular task, which by tradition starts with the manager handing over all his keys to the chief inspector. But that belies the more mundane nature of these recollections of temps perdu. Normally they only aspire to the drama of somebody with a name like Roger Murgatroyd arriving for duty on a Saturday morning wearing a sports jacket! What have these people been doing since they retired twenty years ago?

My career was with a more dynamic and competitive sales orientated subsidiary of the bank, most of the time being spent out and about canvassing and negotiating with business people in the big wide world.

I do often find myself “looking back”, but only on the things I have done since retirement over eighteen years ago which have been satisfyingly challenging, and given me enormous pleasure. 

Most of the time I am looking forward to the next adventure, and as I sit here my rucksack is packed and ready to depart a week on Monday for my next backpacking trip.

Try,try again

Cabin fever has been tested to the limit.

The knee has improved recently. It may be too early to attempt backpacking again, but I have decided to have a go and see what happens. I bought a senior railcard, and I have booked a train ticket departing Arnside at 7:01 am Monday 3rd June, arriving Lowestoft at 2:50pm.

The route, starting at Lowestoft and finishing at Poole, which is the start of the South West Coast Path,  was plotted before my knee replacement. At that time I planned to return in a circle to Lowestoft via The New Forest, Salisbury Plain and The Ridgeway etc., but for the moment I would be more than pleased if I could get as far as Poole. If the walking is not viable I could be back home in three days. it would be interesting to see if I could return in stages using my bus pass.

My son has voiced concern about me walking through the eastern suburbs of London which was something I had not considered, but there will be no wild camping there.

The route should be relatively flat, and I will only need to carry food for one meal giving me a pack weight of around 21 lbs or 9.5kg .

Unfinished business could be nailed. Regular readers will remember that I thought I had done all the Marilyns in England south of Cleeve Hill and Bredon Hill near Cheltenham except for Haddington Hill in Buckinghamshire; that was until I discovered an appendix in the book adding nineteen newly discovered tops, four of which were in that southern area. One of those is near Folkestone, and the others are within easy reach of Poole so we will have to see.

Scottish Watershed

Chris Townsend in TGO wrote recently about his intention to walk the Scottish watershed. Chris  was inspired by Peter Wright’s Ribbon of Wilderness, after being dismissive about Dave Hewitt’s earlier Walking the Watershed. I found some critical reviews of Wright’s book, but I have not read it, so can’t comment, but I was bowled over with Hewitt’s book and can’t understand why Townsend was not enthusiastic.


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Walking the Watershed - David Hewitt (ISBN - 0 9522680 1 9)

What is it really like, to experience a serious long distance backpack?

Read Dave Hewitt’s book and you will absorb the whole atmosphere.

This is an honest and comprehensive journal of Dave’s 80 day, 850 mile walk of the Scottish watershed, which included over 100,000 metres of ascent and 45 Munros. The walk was done in 1987.

Writing a daily account without endless repetition is not easy, but my interest never wavered due to an identifiable and pleasing style, with avoidance of clichés, and frequent use of original and often amusing similie and metaphor. 

Dave fearlessly records his low points, and the doubts he had from time to time as well as giving us uplifting word pictures of the best of Scotland’s landscape.

It is interesting to learn that a long trip like this takes on a different dimension which only becomes apparent after a couple of weeks or so, as you begin to see it as a way of life, with a relevant adjustment to the mental approach.

Dave describes the rambling thoughts and motivations and uncertainties drifting through the mind as he plods along, and much of this will, I am sure, be familiar to fellow backpackers.

Although walked in 1987 the book was not published until 1994, and I do wonder about the amount of detail. Either Dave kept an unusually comprehensive journal, or he has a phenomenal memory.  

If you have climbed a good number of Munros, or completed the lot, you will have the added attraction of visiting familiar venues and comparing notes, and sparking off many memories, but its best attribute is in conveying palpably what it is like, in all respects, to trek through wild landscape for an extended period with the sometimes pressure of achieving a goal you have set for yourself.

Backpacking the easier way

Following JP's comment on the last post here is the pic.

I was on my walk of the French Gorges in 2007. The Llamas are quite big out there; the one carrying my kit was following on behind.