Walks and modern life

Yesterday was my Thursday walk Pete and also this time with Pete Two We  had another addition to the party with grandaughter Katie who is now 3yrs and 10 months.

Well, I could do with a similar soothing walk at the moment. A few days ago I negotiated a Vodafone update. I received the wrong phone and today that should have been picked up and the correct one delivered. Not having received the customary confirmation email I have spent all morning on the phone to Vodafone. I lost count but reckon I spoke to six different people, had three seperate long phone calls, and been on hold for several periods in excess of 20 minutes (actually timed by my phone) listening to the same pop song over and over, and over and over. As far as I understand there has been a mess up - the order has now been re-established and I will, supposedly, receive notification of the new delivery/pick-up time within the next 48 hours.

I can't help but be annoyed and frustrated at this service, but putting it in context with the wretched existence humans have in underdeveloped countries, and countries with catastrophic political upheaval I shouldn't really be complaining, but the way things are going I reckon we should not be complacent about our privileged way of life.

We walked up the Lancaster Canal from Crooklands picking up two geocaches and failing on two others. Geocaching is great for young children. The round trip was just over four miles. Normally I think children get bored rather than tired, the symptoms being similar, but geocaching provides interest and diversion. Katie walked well until the last quarter mile on the return when I lifted her onto my shoulders - that took two attempts. I don't think it will be long before I could not physically lift her like that having to fully extend my arms holding her above my head - how fast they seem to grow.

Flirting with science

I now rank with Mr Fleming and his accidental discovery of penicillin.

Thursday walks with Pete have been erratic with absences on other sorties, but we were back this Thursday.

Pete is punctilious and attaches importance to reliability in friends. When I arrange to collect him at 10:15 it means 10:15 precisely. I am similarly inclined, so when concentration on a difficult game of Freecell found me overrunning I panicked and rushed off to keep lateness to a minimum.

At Arkholme, an attractive village upstream from Lancaster on the River Lune, I found I had forgotten my now famous Mountain Warehouse trail shoes. I was still wearing my Crocs. 

Tarmac was followed by the footpath following the river Lune, over stiles and through long grass, and sections of rugged cow-trodden pasture. and then more Tarmac. Even though I had previously removed the heel strap  from the Crocs for packing and lightness when backpacking they remained comfortable and fit for purpose over more than five miles.

Since my shin wound last September, which took six months to heal, I have had problems on that ankle resulting in consultant's diagnosis of venous eczema which is uncomfortable, and not a pretty sight. I have to daub the affected part with emollient and wear knee length compression stockings permanently. Boots cover part of the ankle so for some time I have been wearing trail shoes. but my Fleming moment came on Thursday when I realised the Crocs' performance across off-road terrain, combined with their low sides may provide a practical aid to my problem.

I hope to do another twenty day backpack before the end of summer, and subject to awaited medical advice on the ankle I intend to wear the Crocs on Tarmac and dry paths and tracks, but also taking the trail shoes to use in the wet or in case the experiment fails. I think there is some tunnel-vision about walking footwear. I agree boots are advisable for Munro type mountain territory, although I understand Chris Townsend generally only uses trail shoes, but for benign country backpacking I don't think stomping stout footwear is necessarily essential. Comfort is the most important factor.

Now that's what I call a proper stile. If only they were all like that

River Lune. Ingleborough in background

At the top of the hill

Tufted vetch I think , enthusiastic botanists feel free to dispute if you want

Healing Day

Thursday - 8:50 am
5th March 2015
I pay my weekly visit (on-going since last September) to the nurse at my gp's since I inflicted a wound on my shin on 19th September last year - that is almost six months ago. Today the wound has healed over and stopped discharging for the first time. Wow! That's been a long haul.

The problem was complicated by cellulitis in the same shin area, and also by discovery of a blood clot. I have lost count of the medical people I have seen (mostly with differing opinions),  self injections, swabs taken, hospital car parking problems, and doses of antibiotics consumed. Recently the cellulitis re-emerged after being more or less banished, and after another course of double-dose (risky according to one gp) antibiotic it has retreated again, and I feel now that Leg and I are nearly there.

Readers will see that I have been active in the outdoors during most of this period with day walks, and providing I don't wear boots to chafe my ankle I am doing ok with trail shoes, but left untreated the problem could have been very serious.

I am feeling stir-crazy and straining to be off on a caravan Marilyn expedition and then another backpacking trip after Easter when weather has warmed. The daily routine at home is becoming tedious, and conversations with people seem to revolve round old age, illnesses, and recent deaths and I want to be off for new encounters, and to let the wind blow, the sun shine, and the rain to cleanse.

I have walked on the last two Thursdays, first with both Petes and yesterday with regular Pete. Regular Pete, at the age of 80 is combatting rheumatoid arthritis, and responding quite well to treatment now, but we are restricting our walks to maximum five miles and wherever possible on Tarmac.

Here are a few photos:

Thursday 27th February - Dalesway country north of Crook on the way to Windermere

Thursday 5th March - to the east of previous photos, between Windermere and Staveley

Holbeck Ghyll Country House Hotel (and below).
Do guests arrive by helicopter? Rooms upwards from £225. The hotel is actually a few miles away close to Windermere lake, but their lettering is on the helicopter.

An attractively located and well laid out Camping and Caravanning Club site.

A timely reminder of WW1

Thursday 12th February

A few photos from last Thursday's walk, this time with two Petes. We followed a circular road route to the north-east of Farleton Fell on narrow lanes with only the occasional tractor or car. Part of the interest and value of wandering around the countryside is finding items to research in more detail later on the Internet - see the gravestone story below.

Food for my periodic farmer-rant - more of their hateful, harmful, hideous hairy (h)orange string lying around  blighting the countryside and ready to snare or entangle the unwary.

Elevated views to the north, but not much of a day for photography

My contribution to the annual snowdrop fest

Hutton Roof churchyard. T.B. Hardy VC, DSO, MC, CF.
Not sure what the CF stands for but there is plenty of info if you Google him. A poignant story. He was the vicar at Hutton Roof and joined up as a chaplain in 1916 at the age of 51 and died of wounds a week after being injured in October 1918. His gallantry exploits, unusual for a chaplain, are detailed on Wikipedia - search "Theodore Hardy VC"

Where are you from?

Another Thursday-Pete-walk.

In the late Fifties and early Sixties a loose gang of us assembled at weekends in Langdale and later at Keswick to climb and carouse. At other times  Bradford based members frequented pubs and clubs where live jazz reigned - Elvis and the Beetles were rubbish. Pete was a notable member, and in 1960 he and I had a holiday in the Jotunheim in Norway wandering over glaciers and making a good ascent of Galdhopiggen by a non-tourist route.

As to be expected we all eventually went our different ways. Forty years later I had moved to Arnside (2000)  after losing my wife to Motor Neuron Disease. I joined the gym at the very upmarket Holgates static caravan leisure park at Silverdale. I was supposedly training for my forthcoming GR10 walk (the Pyrenees from Atlantic to Mediterranean).

Working on a rowing machine I started talking to a little guy on the next machine:

"Do you do some running?"

"No, but I've done a lot of climbing and walking"

"Where do you come from?'

"West Yorkshire"

"Were you in the Yorkshire Mountaineering Club?"

"Yes, What's your name?"

"Conrad. Conrad Robinson"

"Bloody hell, stop rowing! Put your hand there mate. It's Pete. Pete Mansbridge!"

And so, not recognising each other we had re-met - the conversation was heard by other gym members creating a major talking point for ages afterwards.

Pete and his wife Liz had a static holiday caravan on the site, but shortly after they bought a house in Arnside and Pete and I have climbed twenty eight Munros together, walked the Lancaster canal and had our Thursday walks now running into hundreds I reckon. I also learned from Pete that another member of the original gang was living in Arnside, Pete Hindle and his wife Linda, and Pete H. joins us from time to time on our walks as he did yesterday on a pleasant road walk starting at Docker with snow covered Lakeland, Shap and Howgill fells in the various backgrounds as our route circled.

PLEASE CLICK TO ENLARGE

The two Petes and Docker viaduct - not far from the Grayrigg derailment disaster in 2007

Distant Whinfell Beacon

Zoom to the Howgills. A bright start had turned into a dull day

Me and Pete somewhere in Wales circa 1960. Pete was renowned for his beret, his long super quality Norwegian stockings and immaculately maintained Italian boots, all contrasting with my generally sloppy appearance.

The spirit stirred

As a youth I was a modest, but regular rock climber until I was married at the age of thirty. Later, around the age of fifty four I met  Pete (not Thursday Pete) and climbed with him for three years until he went his own way after I baulked at his over ambitious attempts to lead climbs graded beyond what I considered his ability. I then met Tony and climbed with him for seven years until he sadly died quite suddenly from cancer in 2003 - Tony was a great friend and we had many other interests in common, and I shall always miss him. I had no desire to continue climbing after he went.

Having said all that I can't pass a lump of rock without a stirring inside compelling me to assess it for potential lines and having a good look to see if there are chalk marks indicating climbing activity.

My Thursday walk with Pete this week took us close to Whitestones Crag (SD 387 849), a minor venue seen from the High Newton by-pass on the way to Newby Bridge.

Whitestones is geographically ambiguous and has ended up in the Lancashire Rock guide rather than one of the Fell and Rock Lake District guides and that may be why I don't often spot people climbing there. But there is another connection here. Tony was as an accomplished, and rock solid leader up to at least E1 grade and I would have followed him anywhere, but our sole visit to Whitestones resulted in the only occasion that Tony fell whilst I was with him. It was not serious - he was only a few feet off the ground starting the first pitch and the rope was of no help and he unfortunately decked with more of an affront to his dignity than injury. Tony was not pleased.

Our Thursday walk this week took us on pleasant lanes around High Newton with distant views of Whitestones stirring these old memories.

The arrow indicates Whitestones Crag two and a half kilometres away

Incredible zoom to Whitestones taken from the location of the photo above. This was hand held - very difficult to  keep still enough to frame the crag, but a tribute to the Panasonic TZ40 camera.

Yet another take on Lake District dry stone walling techniques

Classic design

My Christmas policy is to do nothing until after my birthday early in December. I also admit to the arrival of winter when I awaken my Paramo Cascade waterproof/windproof trousers and jacket from their summer hibernation  - strange, are there any animals that hibernate in the summer?

Well, the birthday passed a few days ago and I did the Christmas cards and ordered a couple of pressies on line. On Wednesday evening I had need to go out to the garage and I felt like Scott trying to get to that last depot, and mindful of the Thursday walk with Pete next day I reckoned it was wakey-wakey time for the winter gear. Along with the aforementioned Paramo brand stuff, which is heading for classic status, there was one other all time favourite to be aroused which would count in my top ten list of global design classics.

In 1960, before setting off on a trip to Norway with Pete, I bought  myself a pair of Dachstein* mitts. I am not sure when this classic item first became available but they have stood the test of time in terms of practicality and durability (mine are still as functional as they were over fifty years ago).

We walked again in the vicinity of Simpson Ground (see my last post), keeping to tracks and reasonable surfaces, but there is a top of the world feeling here and we were blasted by fierce icy winds blowing themselves out after Wednesday night’s gales, and at one stage had a rare difficulty in the Lake District of finding a crossing for a swollen stream, but it was good to be out equipped with appropriate attire making the difference between hardship and smug comfort. 

Today I do the Christmas Tree.

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* Needlesports in Keswick are excellent suppliers with a good website giving advice based on their own knowledge of and participation in climbing and hill walking, beyond the usual manufacturer’s blurb. Their review and photo of Dachstein mitts tells all:

http://www.needlesports.com/Catalogue/Technical-Clothing/Hands/Wind-Resistant-Gloves-Mitts/Dachstein-Mitts-LAC-DM#.VIq3z4tA9Z8

On the way to Simpson Ground - top of the world

Gnarly hawthorne

Presumably they didn't

Orange goes pink

I am now wearing black stockings.

The nurse (I didn't ask if she wears them) said I can dispense with them in summer if I am walking and wearing shorts - that's a good job - some observers may get over excited otherwise.

This compression hosiery will apparently reduce the risk of DVT - let's hope so. 

The wound on my shin is improving and I am walking some miles again, modestly. Pete's arthritis is showing signs of gradual improvement with the shed load of pills he takes daily. I feel I could walk more, but I don't want to risk aggravation and I will see how things are going after I see the nurse again next Thursday.

Here are a few photos from our two last Thursdays around Witherslack and the Winster valley.

Old yew tree and Witherslack church

Well, I have gone on and on about hairy-orange-string.  Perhaps we have a  refined lady farmer in the Winster valley?

Strange building, excessively windowed, in grounds of large conventional country house - cheap roofing-felt roof. Any ideas anybody?

Witherslack Hall. The special-needs school where daughter High Horse was recently made redundant.
Whitbarrow on the skyline

Another HAT story

THE HAT has featured here before, see:  THE HAT. The history of that cherished item was interwoven with tales of Pete.

Earlier this year I left THE HAT in a pub at Bentham and it was eventually returned by post. That is another long story, see: THE HAT LOST . The day after losing THE HAT I bought a replacement in Settle.

When I collected Pete for our Thursday walk this week, to add to his rheumatic problems, I found he had brought the car boot lid down on his head and virtually scalped himself, yes, we've all done it haven't we?

Considering the hot sunny day Pete's head needed some protection, and by chance I had the Settle replacement hat in the car so it has now been donated to Pete and I think it suits him well.

THE HAT continues to do good service, but it is getting a bit ragged and daylight can be seen at intervals through the stitching attaching the circular top panel to the body, so I'm not sure how much longer it's going to last.

We had a pleasant geocaching trip around the lanes of Borwick finding only four out of seven but I have long since quelled anxiety about not finding caches, especially when the originators use "left" and "right" instead of compass points in their clues as well as other unsatisfactory or undecipherable hints. It is like doing a bad crossword puzzle - not worth wasting time on.

For my overseas readers.
 A bit of classic dry stone walling. Comes in many variations all over the UK depending on the local stone; that's given me an idea, I may start a collection of pics?

We are now more fortunate in how we draw our domestic water

Pete with the newly acquired hat - ever the optimist

How many times have I snapped Ingleborough? But I can never resist

Hedge bindweed, I think?

Running out of road

It is eighteen months ago that we completed the final leg of the  Lancaster Preston canal. Since then I have devised endless circular walks of between four and seven miles all at less than half an hour's drive from home for my Thursday walks with Pete.

I have recently been finding it difficult to avoid covering previously trodden ground without going further afield, and this Thursday I had to accept a one kilometre overlap with a previous route, but we still walked on new found grass-in-the-middle lanes and decent footpaths around Winster, a region of characterful little green hills, abundant wild flowers, and all at peace with the world.

Quarter of a mile from return to the car we came to Winster Holy Trinity Church (C of E), a modest but attractive building using local Lakeland slate. The interior was immaculate and obviously well maintained. We sat outside on a welcome bench for quarter of an hour in peaceful contemplation as a huge group of ramblers filed past shouting down the line to each other warning of an approaching car - they were making their way back to their awaiting coach close to where we had parked. Our church visit was relevant to the most recent post on The Two Blonde's blog and I repeat the comment I made there: Say what you will about religion, but there is a palpable atmosphere in these places which seems to relax the soul and sooth the mind.

Our route is the thin red line. Part of a previous route in pink with blue waymarks encroaches.
Winster Church is marked by the cross just south of Howe Farm

Gilpin Mill. From here on I had a smudge on my lens. Thankfully I have been able to clean it.

Pete has a thorough knowledge of botany including all the Latin names but he didn't recognise this one- detail shot below. Any offers?

Northern Marsh Orchid... I think?

Winster Holy Trinity Church
I forgot to take my own pic and cribbed this poor effort from the church's website. The seat we relaxed on can just be made out in the corner to the right of the door.

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Jill update

 A satisfactory settlement has been agreed