TGO Challenge 2018, the next bit

In which I make a classic nav error and I eat cake and drink tea

Before I start wittering on about this next bit of my trip I should add another reason for my choice of route this year: the last couple of years I’ve seen my fitness levels drop quite dramatically. This is not A Good Thing for those who like doing the sort of things that I like doing. This is all down to me: My regular long walks had become highly infrequent, my once very frequent runs had become very infrequent….other stuff too, but I’m sure you know what I mean. My Kilchoan start, whilst making my total Challenge distance longer, offered a lower-level route….even lower than usual, but achievable. And so it was.

Anyroadup:

Saturday, Day 2, and I was up and about at 7am in bright sunshine. The Akto was wet through with condensation both inside and out. It had dried out quite a lot by the time I left my holy stealth camp site. I was surprised how deserted Acharacle was, nobody about at all – not even a dog walker. Or a dog. Even.

10.30am and a lovely sky

At Shiel Bridge (no, not that one) I came across the lovely John & Sue Tattershall. Despite their fine Lancastrian surname, they hailed from Salisbury, dahn sarf. They were also Kilchoan starters and were celebrating their wedding anniversay….John clearly knows how to treat his wife on such an occassion. I was impressed with his romanticism.

It’s odd, but they’d completed 6 Challenges and I was on my 12th – yet I’d never met them before – such is the large area covered by the Challenge.

Whatever, the Tattersalls of Salisbury were also on the boat from Dalelia to close to Polloch – so thoughfully arranged by Phil L….thanks Phil! We marched on together, heading initially for the ‘PH’ at Mingarrypark where we’d set our minds (and stomachs) on bacon butties, tea and coffee. The advertising hoarding promised lunches – just the job! Well it would have been….but they only seemed to served lunches in the evening, ie: Dinner.

Hungrily and slightly miffed, we strove on eastwards towards our boat ride.

We were there in very good time, so early that I phoned Trio Lambert and asked if it was acceptable for we three to cross early…..norraproblem. We three were whizzed across the water to Ceanna Garbh in a very short time. The boat ride was quite exhilarating, the water crystal clear – all really very beautiful.

John T,

At the jetty on t’other side we three installed ourselves on a bench seat and and ate, drank…and even dried our tents in the very unusual Challenge hot sunshine.

My plan for a quiet and peaceful Challenge was working very acceptably well, J&S were very agreeable company.

Trio Lambert at lunch

They scooted off whilst I started to slowly pack up. The buzz of an outboard motor announced the imminent arrival of Trio Lambert. I hurriedly stuffed my gear into my pack and scooted off. In my haste to escape, and after a good 10 minutes, I realised that the sun was shining from the wrong direction….I’d gone the wrong way! Ho hum.

Anyway, this nav error was, er, rather ‘convenient’ (if you know what I mean) and by the time I’d got back to the jetty all was quiet and deserted.

I trundled on, this time in the right direction. Arriving in Polloch I was met by a local gent doing his garden. He’d seen others pass his house, carrying packs and wondered what was going on. In exchange for lashings of tea and a VERY large piece of lemon drizzle cake (my favourite!) I was able to explain a little about the Challenge.

Whilst enjoying this rather lovely hospitality a knock came at the door: it was a woman who’d been born in the village. She was hunting out relatives who still might live in the area. Polloch is small so she didn’t have too many doors to try!

Bidding my host farewell I headed East (East is good etc etc) to search for my intended camp spot.

It wasn’t long before I heard Trio Lambert, they must have been dawdling. !0 mins or so later I caught them up as they’d stopped for a breather – after exchanging pleasantries I continued eastwards in a very uphill manner towards my planned stop for the night, next to an un-named lochan just west of Druim Glas. The choice was a bad one – nowhere really suitable to pitch the Akto so I carried on. And on.

After a bit of heather bashing (sorry Heather) I picked up a path and eventually caught up with Shap McDonnel and Su. Su was also looking for a spot for her Akto, Shap wanted to continue further and that’s just what he did.

Su & Shap

A nice flat area presented itself, plenty large enough for two Aktos, and with a stream close-by we decided to pitch together around NM862658.

Home for the night

It was still warm so I decided to have my usual strip-wash – but outside the tent rather than in the tent. I did warn Su, honest I did.

Poor Su. I fear the shock of my ablutions were too much for the poor girl. I did warn her – and I DID keep out of sight. Honest. I reckon she may have been peaking. Tsk.

A pleasant (and very clean) evening followed. I snored…and all was coming right in my little world.

Sorry Su.

Cuckoo count: 6

All my TGOC2018 photos can be viewed here

         

Not Daundering, 23rd–25th April 2018

A naughty backpack from Clapham to Dent

This was all Mike’s idea, me Dawn, Lucky and Chrissie just went along for the ride. And the beer, there may have been beer involved.

Mike, for reasons that will become clear, is henceforth to be referred to as The Kilted Pieman. If I remember, which I probably won’t.

Anyroadup, me and Chrissie (who just happened to be on the same train as me) alighted at Clapham in t’Yorkshire Dales and wandered over to the pub – always a good move.

We were supposed to meet up with Lucky and his Dad plus Dawn at Lancaster station, but train delays and cancellations severely buggered-up their arrangements – hence the pub visit.

The New Inn is a fine establishment that serves, amongst other stuff, TT Landlord. A couple of beers after arriving the pub door flung open and LTD marched purposefully into the bar ahead of his Dad and Dawn and demanded beer with menaces.

It was raining and the latecomers were a tad soggy and damp.

It was still raining, but only a bit, as we left the pub and headed up to our camping spot at Gaping Gill.

Spooky house

A fine set of knees near Clapham Bottoms. Honest.

The area around Gaping Gill was quite murky and much of the ground was nicely adorned with sheep-poo – a clean(ish) pitch was hard to find.

 Murk at Gaping Gill

The weather didn’t encourage outside-of-tent socialising so I stayed in for the evening and read a book (The Restaurant At The End Of The Universe) and listened to the wireless-type radio to catch up on the usual depressing news.

More depression followed when my NeoAir decided it would be a wizard prank to deflate slowly but quite surely. Lovely. I couldn’t find the puncture so ended up kipping on the teensiest bit of 5mm thick (thin?) foam mat. It wasn’t a comfortable night.

Gaping Gill

One dog and his man

Next morning we headed Ribbleheadwards, towards Ribblehead, famous for the Ribblehead Viaduct and a pretty decent pub, more of which later.

A gentle bimble, at daunder pace (not that we were daundering – heaven forbid) to the foot of Ingleborough where it was a bit wet and the breeze was getting up. Dawn & Chrissie, being the sensible sorts they are, bravely volunteered to single-handedly guard The Kilted Pieman’s (see, I remembered) and my rucksacks whilst we ventured forth and upwards to conquer the peak’s lofty, er, peak.

This was a good ascent, we fought the elements and refused to falter – until eventually, exhausted and almost out of oxygen, we got to the top.

I’d like to say how fantastic the fantastic views were, how you could see the snow-covered Southern Uplands of Scotland, how clear Blackpool Tower was, and how we could easily see fellow walkers ascending neighbouring Pen-y-Ghent and Whernside. Except you couldn’t. You couldn’t see a damned thing, such was the thick cloud that enveloped us.

Ho hum.

On top of Ingleborough

We descended to find our rucksacks abandoned in the rain whilst our brave guards sheltered in a tent – hastily erected as a last-ditch defence against marauding Swaledales. Their cunning plan worked, both they and our rucksacks were unharmed.

These girls are clever.

Next stop was the Station Inn at Ribblehead, purveyors of very good beer and magnificent pork pies. We drank the pies and ate the beer, all was well with the world.

Approaching The Station at Ribblehead

After beer and pies we escaped the pub and, in between the rain showers, hurried to get the tents up.

Whinge warning:

Camping here is currently free but for how long I don’t know – there are some campers who don’t treat the area with respect. Broken glass, fires, rubbish left behind etc is all evidence of the irresponsibility of SOME visitors. They obviously don’t get the idea of ‘Leave no trace’. The farmer who owns the land isn’t going to put up with that sort of behaviour for long.

End of whinge.

Back to the pub for more food and even more beer….the food looked generally good although my pie could have been better. The good news was the landlord took my criticism on board and did something about it. I’m happy about that – I’ll certainly eat there again.

Another uncomfortable night followed. The wind and rain got windier and rainier and my NeoAir only held enough air for about 90 minutes of relative comfort before my bum and other bits came in contact with the cold ground. I had spare clothing which I was also lying on but it wasn’t enough.

I repaired the NeoAir when I got home….more later.

It must have been very windy overnight, one of my tentpegs had become dislodged.

The intended 9am start was rescheduled to 11am ‘cos the weather forecast was pretty awful. Poor Chrissie had an attack of the flashing lights and had elected to bale out early – Ribblehead railway station was a very short walk from our camp spot and trains ran fairly regularly to get he back home so it was an easy decision.

Leaving Chrissie behind we wandered alongside the Ribblehead viaduct to walk up to Blea Moor. The promised foul weather didn’t arrive, not in the Dales anyway – although I gather it was pretty grim dahn sarf.

A military-looking tracked vehicle had been spotted going up the hill earlier in the day. As we ascended it came back down to meet us.

Onward, upwards and over Blea Moor, we were planning on the hoof. We’d pretty well decided that we’d just make our way to Dent by the prettiest way possible – that included a lovely Mossy Bottom picnic spot by the railway line and a wander down a section of the Dales Way.

It would have been nice to stop for a beer….

…but the pub was shut

The weather remained fine as we trundled down the road to Dent, only to find that we’d just missed a train. Being as wot the sun was sort of shining we found a nice little spot on the banks of the River Dee (no, not THAT River Dee) where we just chilled. In fact we chilled so much that we needed to wrap up, the sun may have been shing but the breeze wasn’t so warm.

A lot of contour lines were crossed in rapid succession as we wandered up to Dent Station, where, incidently, it was bloody freezing.

A wall heater in the waiting room did the neccesary, as long as you didn’t sit on it. The heater that is, not the waiting room.

Then we all went home via Leeds.

It was good, very laid back and a lot of fun. I don’t know how far we walked but it wasn’t too far – it didn’t need to be.

Thanks to Lucky for inviting me along and to Mike, Chrissie and Dawn for putting up with me.

One last thing….for Alan, ‘cos he likes this sort of thing:

 So that was it. A great little trip that definitely wasn’t a Daunder.

What actually happened can be read:

Chrissie’s blog

The Kilted Pieman’s blog

Dawn’s blog

More pics

Oh, and another last thing: the punctured NeoAir.

It was pure coincidence that last week, my mate John B from Bramhall, who’s currently walking LeJoG, phoned me with a SitRep and to report a similarly punctured NeoAir and consequent cold bum.

He tried to repair it with the repair kit supplied by Thermarest but it just didn’t do the job. He ended up using E6000 glue. Two applications were used: the first one to actually seal the puncture, the second as a reinforcement.

That was over two weeks ago and the repair has held, certainly up to a couple of days ago.

I didn’t have any E6000 to hand but I nipped over to Go Outdoors and bought a tune of SeamGrip

This stuff is recommended for all sorts of repairs – including puncturedsleeping mats.

Two layers of the stuff on my NeoAir seems to have done the trick – although I’ll be carrying the tube of SeamGrip with me on the Challenge – just in case.

Dancing up the Mayday sun, Tuesday 1st May 2018

Windgather Rocks
The fine folk of Powderkegs like to rise early on Mayday morning in order to dance up the sun on their local top, Windgather Rocks. At 416m it’s not a towering peak but it’s a nicely dramatic crag. It’s famous for rock climbing, good views (when it doen’t rain), easy access, and er, Mayday morning morris dancing.

Windgather Rocks

UK Climbing describe to top as crag being amply provided with square-cut jugs and picnic spots. Well, I’m not sure about square-cut jugs but the top certainly offers nice flat bits for picnics. And dancing.
Rather than get up at stupid o’clock in the morning to drive over in good time for the 5.36am sunrise I chucked some gear into my pack and set up camp on the top last night.
This was my second Powderkegs Mayday morning – last year I was joined by Rob – we camped. This year it was only Rob who showed up – he drove over in the morning rather than camp. Rob does photography rather well. He’s a pretty decent musician too. And a good dance-caller. He’s also a really nice guy….but don’t tell him I said so, it might go to his head.



An hour or so of not very fruitful night-time photography preceded a hot cuppa and a snuggle-down around 1am.
4 hours later my alarm jangled me awake and in time for caffeine followed by caffeine.

Dancers were already arriving – the sun waits for no man. Or woman. Or dog for that matter.

I took some photographs, chatted, sang a song, ate a sausage butty and then went home, getting back around 7.15am.
It was good.

Thanks Powderkegs, you’re a great bunch - you actually get out there and DO IT! And you gave me a great excuse to get out in the tent last night
Oh, and thanks for the lovely sausage butties!
Lots more photographs are here.
Rob’s far better photographs may well be here…I hope.
And a video c/o, and I never thought I’d say that, The Daily Mail