Howgills Backpacking 14th March 2022

Ravenstonedale > Randygill Top > The Calf > Bram Rigg Top > Calders > Arant Haw > BEER Sedbergh > Cautley Spout > Ravenstonedale

This little trip served as a much needed head-straightener, a bit of a pre-TGO Challenge shakedown, and a rather essential fitness test.

I met up with Lucky the Dog and Mike in Ravenstonedale on a cold, breezy, but dry day. The plan was to wild camp for a few nights, breathe some clean, fresh air, and have a bit of an explore of the Howgills. The plan worked out well.

Heading south in the blustery cold, we didn’t walk too far before we decided to stop and pitch up for the night. Mike’s pitch was good, mine was rather less so. In fact it was downright lumpy and quite uncomfortable . There was some good news: we were pitched by a stream, and we both managed to get into our respective tents before the rain and came in. The wind was, well, very windy. Rocks were needed to supplement guy lines – I was beginning to wish I’d brought my Akto rather than the Scarp.

On day 2 we continued south-ish, it was dry but still quite breezy and cool. Being as wot the rain didn’t, we had great views over the green and rounded Howgill tops. Life doesn’t get much better than this.

 

After Arant Haw we began to look for a place to camp, Mike pointed out a nice looking spot down by Crosdale Beck. 

DOWN by Crosdale Beck. It was a long way down – and it was steep. Very steep. I hate steep descents, even with poles. Just ask Dawn.

The descent from Arant Haw was mostly achieved by taking to the backside – ie sliding down on our respective bums. This was great until bits of rock were met on our way down. Quick but uncomfortable.

Our chosen pitch was good – fairly flat and next to a stream.

Sedbergh, with it’s supply of gas, dog food, baked beans, pasties, beer, and food beckoned. The excellent Red Lion provided the latter, we probably spent longer than we should in the pub – but it was very comfortable, and once we got the pub fire going, nice and warm. It was raining anyway.

We eventually dragged ourselves out of the pub and made our wet and muddy way to our last pitch for this trip, close to Cautley Spout – a spectacular waterfall. There are signs of an Iron Age settlement - the falls may have had some special significance to these Iron Age people.

Again we found a nice, fairly flat pitch, next to a stream.  The sky cleared and the moon came out to play, it was a chilly night but I stayed warm and cosy.

Next morning it wasn’t raining, well not until we’d just about finished packing. The wind soon remembered that it’s duty was to be a bloody nuisance to campers, and accompanied by rain, meant that full waterproofs were needed.

 

More mud followed. Signs outside the temperance Cross Keys invited us in for coffee – but when we got to the door it was firmly CLOSED.

Why on earth do pubs & cafes do that….’Open for Coffee Now’ should mean exactly that, not ‘Open for Coffee when we can be mithered to open the front door’. Oh well.

 

We soon hit the yellow road that took us home, well it took us to our cars, parked up on a nice bit of flatness, just south of Ravenstonedale.

Another coffee was suggested – Mike knew of a cafe just up the road, at Newbiggin-on-Lune. This would have been great, but that cafe wasn’t just closed, it just wasn’t there. Lost. Gone. Never to be seen again. Oh well. Again.

Thanks to Mike and LTD for a good few days out, I just need to get hill fit – now THAT’S going to be a challenge!

More photos here. 

 

A night with a Madwoman. And a gear test.

It was all a bit last minute. I needed to get out for some serious brain-straightening peace and quiet, plus I had some new(ish) kit to test out.

I packed my rucksack and travelled by train to Edale, alighting in the late afternoon. I scuttled up Grindsbrook Clough in the failing light and once at the top, headed east (East is good) along the edges to a nice little spot by Madwoman's Stones.

It was dark by the time I was putting the tent up, but the sky was clear and the moon was shining brightly - and it was damned cold. I grabbed a couple of litres of water from the trickling stream at Jaggers Clough and got my tea on the go

My Plan, given the lovely clear skies, was to spend a bit of time taking photographs by moonlight. The Plan, like so many plans, failed. By the time I'd eaten and sorted my kit out it had clouded over. And then it started to rain. And then it got very windy. VERY windy.

Ho hum.

I was checking some new kit out: a NeoAir X-Therm, a down-filled balaclave (for sleeping in) and down-filled socks.

The socks and balaclava all came from AliExpress for around £15 each.

Balaclava: 85gms, Down socks: 105gms

All this kit worked superbly well, I spent a very warm and cosy night in spite of the horribly cold conditions. I was so warm that I had to unzip my sleeping bag and remove the balaclava during the night.

 My wind-battered Akto

Leave no trace

 My water source at Jaggers Clough....a bit peaty!

Jaggers Clough

 Descent into Edale

Next morning I headed down by Ringing Roger, back into Edale for my train home.

Good bits:
a) All the kit I took out for testing worked well
b) I had a nice overnighter.

Bad bits:
a) I forgot to take a compass (tsk).
b) I've decided that my Caldera Cone meths stove really isn't up to winter camping trips.
c) I missed my intended train home 'cos of phone call...so I had to drink filter coffee in the cafe by the station....so it wasn't ALL bad!

TGOC2018, Day 10, Bridies

In which we meet Rowan

Firstly, missed from yesterday’s entry:

Cuckoo count: 1 (yes, just one) – VERY poor

Other wildlife: Not much at all really. No wild Challengers - although we met two very civilised Challenge virgins.

So, on with Day 10….

I surfaced around 7am with a mouth like a well-used flip-flop.

My tongue felt like a breeding ground for cactii. Copious quantities of coffee helped disguise the ghastly taste in my mouth. Heaven knows what that was all about – it’s not as if I’d been drinking alcohol.*

Oliver & Jo (you don’t mind me calling you ‘Jo’ do you Joanna?) had been up for a while and were well on with packing. They needed an early start because they were due to hit the East coast on Wednesday….plus they probably didn’t relish another day walking with a couple of strange blokes in kilts. Understandable really.

Off they went, via Kirkmichael, which just happened to be where we were initially aiming for.

A man in a kilt – in deep thought. The man, not the kilt.

It was only few miles to Kirkmichael, but what a pleasant little walk it was. We only got lost a little bit – probably because we were just enjoying the pleasing scenery. Or maybe it was because we were gabbing too much and forgot to look at the map.

Kirkmichael’s Kirk…closed and up for sale

The Village Pump

Whatever, we arrived at Kirkmichael’s Village Shop, purveyors of fine bridies, pots of tea and nice chocolate cake. Oh, and cheap whisky for Mike. So rather unsurprisingly we ate bridies, drank tea, ate chocolate cake (not Mike ‘cos he’s not allowed, so I had his) whilst I explored the contents of the food parcel the shop was holding for me. I was more than a bit relieved to find that I’d packed my maps – at least I’d know where we were going for the next few days.

Anyroadup, if you ever go through Kirkmichael you can do much worse than calling into the shop. The staff are lovely, they sell cheap whisky, chocolate cake…and they’ll hold a food parcel for you. Norralot not to like really.

Heaving our rather heavier packs onto our backs we nearly jumped out of our skins when a campervan, piloted by none other than our Toby, blasted it’s horn, left about 6” of rubber on the road and swerved onto the shop’s forecourt – scattering young children who’d been playing innocent young children-type games – like pulling legs off spiders, teasing dogs and taking the mickey out of kilt-clad Challengers.

Toby was ably assisted by co-pilot and chief navigator Vicky (who I suspect is responsible for ensuring everything goes to plan) and flight engineer and lovely smile-generator Rowan.

What a lovely surprise that was! This was the first time I’d met Rowan, a delightful little boy, a trainee Challenger in fact, and I’d not seen Toby & Vicky since the TGOC a couple or three years ago. They’re lovely people and the Challenge is the poorer for their absence.

Bidding our farewells, they headed north whilst we continued in a sort of easterly direction. Mostly.

After some interesting navigational decisions we passed by Ashintully Castle’s ‘Keep Out’, ‘Private – we don’t want your sort here’, ‘Go Away’ and ‘Welcome to Scotland’ signs.

It’s nice to feel wanted.

We walked through some very pleasant countryside to camp at Coire a ‘Bhaile (NO115627), a nice spot that was almost flat and had a nice stream running close-by.

Tea was an experiment: I’d found a nice recipe for Lentil Soup on an American cookery website I subscribe to. The soup was delicious, but being American, the recipe made LOADS. I ate loads of the soup, froze loads and dehydrated the rest. Tea tonight was that soup. The good news was that the experimental meal was successful. It was tasty, nutritious and very easy to dehydrate & rehydrate. The recipe now resides in my little red ‘Backpacking Meals’ recipe book.

It mizzled a bit during the evening so I stayed put in my tent to write up this diary, listen to Mike slurp his Kirkmichael Single Malt blend (Bells) and subsequently drift off into an alcohol-induced snory sleep.

I drank camomile tea.

The day’s sunshine (and there wasn’t THAT much) had charged my solar charger, the charge level had gone up from 3 LEDs to it’s maximum of 5 LEDs – it must be doing SOMETHING right.

Cuckoos Count: 2 (better)

Wildlife: Nothing of any note today. No wild Challengers either – although we did meet the very civilised Jo & Oliver who we’d camped with the previous night.

*I’d eaten a Mars Bar (=loads of sugar) before bed the previous night – maybe that contributed to having a mouth like a lavatory pan.

TGOC2018, Day 9…A Bacon Butty Start

In which Chef Pieman excelled

At 7.30am a bacon barm was thrust (a good word that, ‘thrust’…I must use it again) into my tent as I was slurping my second caffeine shot of the day. Mike had been busy cleaning the camps site’s communal frying pan and using his culinary expertise to maximum effect. I thrust the bacon barm down my neck, washiung it down with what was left of my mug of coffee. Thanks Mike – it was good, and a pleasant change from my usual muesli.

The sun was shining brightly and the laundry I’d left out all night was virtually dry - my white undies were now only slightly grey.

We left the campsite, continuing east along the disused railway line that coincided with the Rob Roy Way and then along a very quiet lanes for a couple of miles.

A seriously BIG hare bounced away across the road and into this freshly ploughed fields as we approached.

Came across a farmer from the North Riding of Yorkshire who was moving his cattle around. We stopped to chat – what a sad story he had to tell: during WW2 his house had been destroyed by a crashing aircraft – one of ours. His parents and his brother had been killed in the accident. He described his life as being ruined. I can’t imagine how such a young lad would have coped with that loss. The widow of the pilot had offered to adopt the orphan – she must have felt distraught too.

On to happier stuff…

Yet another bridge over the River Tay

Stopped for a quick chat with the couple doing the Rob Roy Way, they were finishing in Pitlochry later that day. They’d wild camped before us the previous night.

Into Ballinnluig and the very excellent Red Brolly Inn: Sausage, eggs, chips & beans plus a pot of tea: £7.90. Lovely staff too, You should go.

Ballinluig’s petrol station type shop. I don’t think this petrol pump works these days.

Left the town and headed in the general direction of Kirkmichael where I had a parcel of goodies waiting for me. Came across a couple of young Challenge virgins, Joanna and Oliver. They were having a blast and were both determined to return to the Challenge in 2019, maybe dragging their fathers along with them.

Joanna and Oliver walked with us and we camped together by Lochan Oisinneach Mor at NO029552.

Joanna & Oliver…you might need to look carefully!

Lochan Oisinneach Mor at NO029552

I was interested to see the solar chargers that Joanna and Oliver were carrying. Oliver’s was quite a large affair that charged a device directly – ie it didn’t rely on charging it’s own internal Lithium Ion battery so would only charge a device in when exposed to light. Joanna’s was a 2 panel Power Monkey charger, very similiar in size to my rather cheaper charger.

Both declared that they were pleased with their chargers. Interestingly, although Joanna’s Power Monkey had it’s own internal battery, she kept it connected to her phone whilst walking along – that’s something I’ll try with mine….when it’s not raining of course!

DofE Ignorance

Whilst pitched up we were passed by two separate DofE parties. Although they were separate it looked like they were from the same group – their kit was very similar.

Perhaps part of the DofE training should include developing social skills in the hills. Neither party acknowledged our presence, in fact they ignored our existence completely in spite of us waving and shouting ‘hellos’….even though they passed us so closely that they really couldn’t have missed us.

Perhaps is ignoring fellow walkers & backpackers is included in the syllabus.

Anyway…

The breeze over Lochan Oisinneach Mor was chilly. Even so I was all horribly sticky and smelly so I indulged myself: a top-to-toe wash down in my tent got rid of the old JJ and replaced him with a fragrant and not at all sticky JJ. Nice….well I thought so.

By 6.30pm the cloud had thickened and the wind had changed direction so I stayed put in my tent, feasted on home-made and home dehydrated lamb casserole (seriously yummy), drank camomile tea and listened to BBC R4….that damned wedding.

I wandered up the hill to get a 4G signal to check the weather, view some online porn (solar chargers!), and to attempt to make a phone call or two.

All was quite well in my Challenge world.

TGOC2018, Day 8, Sexy clothing on the TGOC

In which Mike finds a phone. He was after a new one anyway.

It had been a cold and very clear night although I had been quite cosy in my cold-weather sleeping bag.

Awake at 3.30am for no good reason so made a cuppa and spent the next half-hour or so picking heathery bits out of my socks. Then I read for a bit and listened to the BBC World Service-type wireless. I think I need to get a life.

A lovely windfarm appeared in the East as dawn approached.

I drifted off to sleep and then woke again, this time with a thumping headache. Up and about at 7.15am and eventually set off on the leisurely walk to Abergavenny Aberfeldy, initially on a good LRT.

Mike spotted a big fat otter, it was quite a sight. We’d obviously startled it. It skitted around a pool and the scuttled off, up a bit of a waterfall and vanished under a river bank. I took photos but they weren’t much good – I can pick out it’s tail. Just.

Spot the otter

It was a long descent to the road and then we were on a very minor road, and a few short miles later we arrived in Aberfeldy in time for lunch.

Another Man in a Kilt

Fishing hut on the banks of the Tay

Yet another bridge over the Silvery Tay

Two fish & chip filled Challengers. Note my sexy garter.

We’d been warned not to expect much in the way of shops in Aberfeldy, yet all the essentials were there if you had time to look for them.

As it happened we managed to get (slightly greasy) fish & chips, cups of tea, pies, bacon and a few other odds and ends. And beer…or maybe it was vinegar. Although the landlord changed it for something fizzy without fuss I’d have preferred something proper.

Leaving town, initially by road, we were soon on paths – a mix of riverside paths and disused railway line. All very nice really.

Met up with a couple walking the Rob Roy Way and enjoying every minute of it. So they said.

Mike had earlier spotted a (locked) mobile phone hanging on a fence – nobody around, maybe it belonged to a Challenger? A bit of detective work later and we discovered that it belonged to one of a group of anglers from Ireland, up to their wotsits in the silvery Tay and trying to catch something. A cold probably.

Their gillie (Douglas – a nice bloke who makes walking sticks for beer money) helped us locate the phone-less fisherman and once again all was well in my little world.

Feeling thoroughly decent, having done The Right Thing, we trundled our way eastwards once more along the banks of the Silvery Tay and more disused railway.

Tempting, but we didn’t.

Our overnight stop was in Grandtully (pr ‘Grantly’. Obv.) at the Canoe Club campsite. The site was at the old railway station, now converted into a nice little place to stop….although the gents were a bit whiffy. Our footpath delivered us nicely straight into the site.

I’m not sure how this lot fitted into my Exos58

Grantly has a chocolate shop (that we didn’t visit) and a pub….that we did visit. Douglas, the gillie from earlier in the day, called in for a pint and ended up buying us beer too – I think he was grateful for us finding his client’s phone.

I was hungry (nowt unusual there then) and ordered a nice bar meal whilst Mike kept on his carefully calorie controlled diet and stuck to drinking beer.

We’d had quite a nice day. Apart from the tarmac and the smelly bogs, but there you go.

Cuckoo count: 3 (not very good really)

Other wildlife: 1 otter, a load of rabbits (on the campsite) and some random birds – not a clue what they were. No Wild Challengers…not even any tame ones.