Saturday 21st June 2014, Bletchley Park

The longest day, a visit to the home of the WW2 'Code Breakers'

First the bad news: the nights are closing in.
It gets better:
When the opportunity to visit Bletchley Park arose it took me around 2nS to decide to take up the offer. One of Mr Branson’s Pendolino trains provided the means of getting to Milton Keynes whilst friends John and Martin provided transport for the last few miles.

The Mansion 

The Code Breakers who were based here were a select group of men and women who had the incredible mental agility to break what seemed to be an impossibly complex system of encoding and ciphering. The codes were generated using Enigma machines – fiendish bits of kit that were capable of generating millions of different codes.
The Code Breakers weren't able to carry out this vital work alone, they were assisted by an army of ancillary staff: wireless operators, those who variously fetched & carried, maintained the decoding machines, and many other roles that we can only guess.
The work was generally carried out in huts, which until recently had been allowed to fall into a state of disrepair. Fortunately 'someone' had the foresight to realise that we were in great danger of losing this important link with our recent past and so money was thrown at the problem.

Hut 1 

The most well known role of the Code Breakers was their involvement in the Battle of the Atlantic, fighting the menace of the German U-Boats.
It is less well known that efforts of the Bletchley Park Code Breakers also played a huge part in other theatres of WW2: the wars in the air and on land.
It's impossible to say with any certainty by what period of time WW2 was shortened by due the work carried out here,  but it was very considerable.
Secrecy was vital, if word ever got out about the work that was carried out here the consequences would have been unthinkable. Even husbands and wives working here never let on to one another about the work they carried out. In fact it’s highly likely that a majority of those working here had no idea what they were doing – just that the work was of national importance. In reality ‘national importance’ was an understatement, ‘national survival’ was nearer the mark.
As the systems used by the Germans became more complex it was Bletchley Park’s code breakers that faced the challenge and succeeded in breaking the codes, eventually designing and building electro-mechanical computers such as the Bombe:

The Bombe 

The inside gubbins of the Bombe

Key to much of this work was the genius that was mathematician Alan Turing:

Statue of Alan Turning with an Enigma Machine 

As more and more processing power was needed to crack the German codes the world’s first electronic computer was built and designed here. Jack Copeland’s book on Colossus is brimming with information.
My brain is still buzzing from this visit, there’s so much history crammed into Bletchley Park that it’s beyond me to effectively put it into words. You should go yourself to check it out. entry is £15 but that gets you admission for a whole year. I need to go back again, I missed so much.
Rather than any more of my drivel, here are some pics:

  A BSA M20 (or M21?) side-valve

A National HRO receiver

Reconstruction of a monitoring station

An Enigma Machine

More photos are here. This album will be added to in the next few days.

Sunday 15th June 2014, A Peover Plod

Our Glorious Leaders: Fast Pike & Even Faster Blackshaw

At 9am on the Ides of June (Eh?) a dozen walkers gathered in the pretty Cheshire village of Mobberley – right in the heartland of East Lancs LDWA (Timperley Chapter) walking country.
The Plan might have been to plod through fields and meadows and get our feet wet. If that was The Plan, the result was a success. Wet feet or not, it was a cracking walk!

The Congregation

George Mallory: Bottom left

‘Before’ photographs were taken against a backdrop of the Grade 1 listed St Wilfrid’s Church famous for being very old and having a window dedicated to the memory of mountaineer George Mallory who was born in Mobberley.
Off we jolly-well went, walking in a sort of south-ish direction, keeping Knutsford on our right. There was a very light mizzle in the air but we were all expecting it to brighten up considerably and so not many waterproofs were in evidence. Not yet anyway.
The village cricket pitch was deserted as we passed by – many of the good folk of Mobberley were probably still in their beds.

Continuing south to open country (well farmland actually) we met the first obstacles of the day: high stiles (that get higher every year) and thigh-high crops – that get higher every day. The crops had benefited from a good soaking from the previous night’s rainfall which resulted in all of our party getting wet legs. Oh well.

The mizzle continued and by the time we were approaching Ollerton the whole party had donned their waterproofs. It was about this time that we met a Ramblers group walking the other way. They were shocked to find that we were intending walking 15 – 16 miles.

Bob leading through the dry bit Windmill Wood.

The footpaths through Windmill Wood have been bone dry every time we’ve walked through in the past. Not today, they were muddier than a very muddy thing and those who’d escaped muddy feet so far just had to admit defeat. Or should that be defeet? Or even de muddy feet?
Never mind.

Brew stop en-route to Toft Hall

Toft Hall through the mizzle

Next landmark was Grade II listed Toft Hall, a rather grand 17^th Century country house. Property developers got hold of the place a while back, spent a load of dosh doing it up and they now describe it as a ‘sumptuous 21st Century residence’. It’s certainly a bit nice.
The paths around Toft Hall were quite squelchy. A mixture of cows, rainfall and badly drained ground saw to that. Our gallant band of walkers weren’t overly mithered about staying dry by this stage – we were all so wet and muddy it really didn’t matter any more.

Entering Pee-Over Peover

Peover – pr: Peever, NOT Pee-Over. Alma.
Well anyway, there’s a lot of Peovers: Peover Inferior, Peover Superior (well it IS Cheshire), Lower Peover…..you get the idea.

Our route took us through Smithy Green (which is in Peover Inferior) and then into the village of Lower Peover which was designated as our lunch stop. We stopped and had lunch – fairly quietly….’cos the only shelter from the mizzle most could find was in the church’s porch. And there was a service going on. Either that or they were having choir practice.

St Oswald’s church is a Grade I listed building. There’s been a church on this site since 1269 and although there’s not a right lot of the original building left these days there are certainly parts of this building that date back to 14^th Century.
See? Come on one of our walks and you learn something every time. Although it might not be of much use….
Lunch done and dusted, our next waypoint was Peover Superior and Peover Hall, a Grade 2* listed building. Whatever that means….but I’m sure it’s important. It’s a large Elizabethan family house dating from 1585 – must have been awful to be their window cleaner. The house is situated in around 500 acres of landscaped 18th Century parkland. A bugger of a job for the gardeners.

Peover Hall

Peover Hall and it’s adjacent church provided an excuse for a sit-down and another cuppa, and that’s just what we did. The mizzling had eased off considerably by this time and the sun was threatening to make its debut appearance of the day.
We were now heading north, back to our starting point – although we still had a goodly few miles to cover before we could kick our soggy boots off.

We were very fortunate to have Bob join us on this walk. Bob works locally and his lunch breaks are often spent wandering the footpaths of this area so he was able to fill in the (many!) gaps in our local knowledge. Thanks Bob!

Like I said, it IS Cheshire!

Back north we headed, across even higher stiles and the odd fetid swamp.

 One of those pesky growing stiles. And Mary & Viv.

One field we had the pleasure of crossing was populated with very frisky and inquisitive young cows. Norralot of fun for some of our party!

At 4.35pm we arrived back at our cars. We’d a had a cracking day out in excellent company. Shame about the weather early on. And the mud. Oh well.

The End

….apart from where we went. 16+ miles of pleasant, if muddy in parts, flatness:

More photos here

Tuesday 13th May, TGOC2014 Day 5

Ault-na-Goire to Cafe Akto

After a cold and clear night we woke to a frosty tent. We’d unfortunately pitched badly, it was going to be a while before the warm sun would hit the tent. Just as well we’d booked breakfast with the Sutherlands – plenty of time for the tent to defrost and dry out. Alex and Janet, well Janet really, put on a magnificent breakfast that really set us up for the day.

We left Denis in the capable hands of Janet and Alex, the general idea was that Denis would catch up with us later in the day. Hmmm, he’d not even dropped his tent yet! I was rather hoping Denis WOULD catch us up – he’s great company over the Monadhliath and in the last few years we’ve always tried to cross to Glen Mazeran together.

Croydon, Alan, Viv and I set out for our long day to Cafe Akto, that well-known peripatetic raiser of dosh for worthy causes.

  Ault-na-Goire, the morning after the night before

There was to be much tarmac today but the weather was so lovely it really wasn’t too much of a trial….although I’m not sure Viv’s delicate tootsies agreed.

 Progress, greed or opportunism?

Our trial by tarmac ended just beyond Aberader House where we headed up a pleasant LRT that sort of followed the course of the Allt Mor. We kept an eye on the road as long as it was visible but there was no sign of Denis. He was probable still drinking, er, tea with Alex & Janet.

Ugh! (Sorry about the knees)

We found a suitable lunch spot and had a leisurely stop – I was still hopeful that Denis might catch us up. Then there was the climbing. Ah well, you can’t walk across Scotland without going uphill a teensy-weensy bit. Can’t you?

Looking back – still no Denis.

Once over the watershed the walk changed from good to brilliant. Not only was it (nominally) downhill it was just wonderful. The Monadhliaths are spectacularly wild and it’s a real pleasure to walk this way. I cannot imagine why these wild and wonderful areas are being ruined by windfarm development. Why on earth does a country that relies so heavily on tourism for it's income trash it's main asset? To say that this new windfarm won’t be visible from the Loch Ness and the usual tourist routes is just feeble.

These damned windfarms don’t even pay their way – they’re not efficient and they’re seriously environmentally unfriendly. The only attraction that I can see is that there are enormous cash subsidies available that make them financially attractive to landowners and energy companies. It’s us, the tax payer, that gets the short straw: we pay the subsidies AND we have to suffer the angst and the eyesores. Approving the Stronelairg windfarm is an unbelievably short sighted decision that will have repercussions for a long time to come.

I shall now get off my soapbox.

Anyroadup, to Glen Mazeran:

Viv trying to catch Alan 

 The Cairngorms on the horizon

Alan & Croydon descending into Glen Mazeran

The walk over to Glen Mazeran was a real pleasure. We trotted down lovely grassy river-bed runnels to the LRT. The ground was dry and soft – wonderful to walk on, if I hadn’t been so knackered I’d be happy for the day to just go on and on.

The LRT surface came as quite a shock, hard and stony – much harder on the feet than the soft ground we’d just been enjoying. Ah well.

Alan and Croydon, well ahead of us, were met by Cafe Akto’s proprietor. He was clearly very keen to ensure these potential customers didn’t wander off to a competitor’s establishment. That would never do.

The ground around Cafe Akto was a bit lumpy but it was quite dry and we all managed to find half-decent pitches. There were other Challengers camping nearby and a pleasant evening ensued as they all gathered around Mike’s beer supply:

 Cafe Akto and customers

I can’t imagine how Mike managed to transport all that food, beer and camping equipment up the glen, but he did. I gather the beer was good (there wasn’t much left by the time we left anyway!) although I didn’t partake, for me it was getting a wee bit too cold to enjoy a cold drink.

And this is where we went

15(ish) miles with around 2300’ ascent

Monday 12th May, TGOC2014 Day 4

Cannich to Ault-na-Goire

We were up early (well I was up early) to get our damp washing into the campsite’s tumble drier….and to make Viv her first cup of tea. She doesn’t say much until she has that cup of tea. The day could be quite ‘difficult’ if that cup of tea wasn’t forthcoming. So she got her cup of tea.

It had been a still night and the tent’s flysheet was wet with condensation. A quick wipe down helped but it was soaked. The wonderful Sheila had opened the campsite cafe early and she was providing and excellent breakfast for norralot of dosh….all served up with a cheery smile. A nice start to the day. A bit like a cup of tea in bed I suppose.

I’d dangled the flysheet over the outside veranda of the cafe to dry as we tucked into our breakfasts. It dried nicely in the warm sunshine.

Eggs & bacon (with all the trimmings) later we set off to Drumnadrochit. The cafe at Bearnock was our next planned stop (for a cuppa) and were a bit disappointed to find the place closed. Well it was SORT of closed. The owner let us in and allowed us to brew up and have a sit-down. Nice eh?

Denis, Viv, Martin and Alan outside the ‘closed’ cafe at Bearnock 

The shortest route into Drum is on tarmac….but it’s a bit boring. Martin had come up with A Plan to avoid the boredom: he suggested we headed south, away from the road, towards Shewglie to pick up a LRT through the woods. The LRT would take around the south side of Loch Meikle and then back to the road. It wasn’t much of a detour but it would avoid around 2.5 miles of quite busy road.

That was the theory anyway.

Shewglie

A navigational error <koff> led us onto a horribly overgrown footpath, adorned with fence wire, mud, overgrown and overhanging treelets, fetid mud. Apart from that it was lovely.

We missed the LRT entirely and somehow managed to extricate ourselves from the jungle. Before we’d had the chance to check our location properly, Viv, Martin and Alan went off due south to try to pick up the LRT….into the jungle again.

Denis and I had had enough of the rough stuff so we had a nosey at the map and worked out where we were and plotted a different route. We shouted for the others but they couldn’t hear us. 5 minutes later we gained the LRT and went off in search of the others. Half an hour of walking up and down the LRT and shouting resulted in a DNF (Did Not Find).

My mobile rang, it was Alan. They’d given up and doubled back, finding their way to Loch Meikle. We arranged to meet up en-route into Drum – no point in trying to locate each other now.

Flahs, on the Drumnadrochit road

Denis wanted a gentle walk into drum so I shot off, arranging to meet him later. Residents of Drum are well used to seeing Challengers and I was greeted by cheery waves as I entered the town. Nice to feel welcome!

I entered the town and spotted Viv & Alan. Next up was a grim-faced Croydon. He’d been to the Post Office to collect a Poste Restante food parcel he’d sent the previous week. The Post Office staff denied all knowledge of the parcel – or the Poste Restante service, unbelievable! Worse still, the staff were quite obnoxious to him. No excuse for that at all.

We both suspected that the Post Office staff had taken one look at the parcel, didn’t have a clue what to do with it, and just sent it back. Croydon had done everything by the book – he’d even asked his local Post Office to talk him through the process – in fact I think they addressed it for him.

This could have been a disaster but the Post Office also sold food and the local OS map so it wasn’t the end of the world – but it was expensive for Mick.

We’d booked ourselves onto the 5pm ferry crossing of Loch Ness. It’s a surprisingly long 2.5km from Drum to Temple Pier and we didn’t want to risk missing the boat so we set off in the blazing sunshine (honest!) in good time.

Gordon arrived to meet his fares – and Denis arrived just in time. It’s a pleasant crossing in good weather and the passengers were (mainly) very chatty, enjoying the crossing. A storm was visibly brewing at the south end of the loch, we all hoped it would stay where it was. It did.

L-R: Alan, Gordon Menzies, Laura (worshipping at Gordon’s feet) and Andy Howell

L-R: ?, Martin Angell, Croydon, and Kate

? and Denis

Disembarking at Inverfarigaig, Andy Howell seemed to have lost one of his PacerPoles – probably over the side of the boat. A bit of a bugger, that.

Gordon leaving to go back to Temple Pier for his next boat-load of Challengers

It’s a bit of an uphill tug to Ault-na-Goire, the home of Janet & Alex Sutherland. We’d arranged to camp in their back garden and for them to provide our evening meal and breakfast the next day.

Janet was waiting for us – she’d baked an enormous Bran Loaf and brewed what seemed to be the biggest pot of tea in the world. Just the job! It really hit the spot.

Janet and her Challenge guests

A pleasant evening followed. with good food and good company. Alex had been out for a run and didn’t arrive until mid-evening. It was good to catch up with the Sutherlands again, they’re good people.

Around 10pm we drifted off to our tents for a well-earned kip. We’d had a good day, apart from PacerPole-less Andy. And food parcel-less Croydon.

No day is absolutely perfect. It just wouldn’t be right.

This is what we did:

16 and a bit miles, 2100’ of ascent.

I’ve not posted the route from Inverfarigaig to Ault-na-Goire, it’s pretty easy to guess though!

Sunday 11th May, TGOC2014 Day 3

Loch Monar to Cannich

We woke to a still morning – still enough for a goodly amount of condensation on our tents.

I wasn’t too sorry to be leaving our lumpy pitch that morning. The reflections on the surface of Loch Monar began to blur as a breeze built up and cloud appeared in the distance.

The ‘path’ on the NE shore of Loch Monar varied between the usual boggy morass that often passes for a Scottish path, and a half-decent path – certainly from beyond Monar Lodge.

 Looking west over Loch Monar

 Alan posing by Loch Monar, heading towards Monar Lodge

 Warm sunshine – and the rear end of a stag as it scooted off by Monar Dam 

Leaving Loch Monar behind, we had a very pleasant 3-4 miles - albeit on tarmac. We were following the course of the River Farrar to our next waypoint where we were to turn south by Allt Innis an Larach….and lunch – in sunshine.

‘We’, at this point, consisted of Croydon, Martin Angell, Alan R, Viv and me. Well I think I was there. 

A suitable lunch spot was decided on, just before our big climb of the day. We ate and drank in warm sunshine – it was lovely. The nice weather lasted until we decided to pack up and continue on our way. Ho hum.

The next bit of the day’s walk was horrible. I’ve been this way before, Day 3 of TGOC2012, and it was just as horrible then. The route up the East side of the burn was initially okay but it quickly deteriorated and it became quite a battle to make headway. A landslip blocked our way at one point so Croydon, Viv and I decided to descend to use the grassy river bank whilst Alan and Martin opted for a much higher route. Our route entailed crossing and re-crossing the burn which wasn’t brilliant but it seemed easier that more ascent. At the end of the day I don’t think there was much difference in the level of horribleness.

I might have said that I wasn’t EVER going to go that way again. I also said it in 2012. I lied.

Eventually we got to the top and then it was just (Ho-ho!) a matter of descending to the road by Liatre Burn….more mud and much rough going. Admittedly we did manage to find a half decent path / track part of the way down and that made it a far less unpleasant experience than my 2012 descent. Still not nice though.

By the time we’d got to the road both Viv and I were cold, hungry and thirsty. Oh, and it was raining. A quick brew, a butty and a cereal bar fortified us for the long tarmac trudge into Cannich.

We spotted two of the three Dutch Challengers we’d met earlier on our crossing, they were waiting for their mate to catch up. They’d used a different route down from the top but I don’t think it was any better than ours. Probably worse.

It was 6-7 miles of tarmac into Cannich – hard on the feet – and a little worrying for Viv. She was in training for the LDWA100 in South Wales and hard tarmac doesn’t do much for her very delicate feet.

The Cannich campsite is really excellent. It has a very good cafe, run by the ever helpful Sheila….no, not THAT Sheila, another one. Anyway, Sheila stayed open later than normal being as what it was the Challenge. Tea, coffee and other stuff passed our lips – just what we needed. This was whilst sat on REAL chairs whilst sat a REAL table. Quite luxurious.

Tents up, washing done, we all headed off to the pub to eat – and perhaps a beer. Or more. I’ve used the Glen Affric bar in recent years – an excellent place that offered wonderful beers, tremendous food and a very warm welcome from the friendly owners. Sadly the bar has recently closed – some grief with HMRC I understand. A damned shame.

We ended up going to the Slaters – I’ve been there a couple of times in the past (before the Glen Affric opened) and I have to say I wasn’t looking forward to it. The owner was unpleasantly abrasive – not what you expect when you go into a pub to spend your money.

This visit was much better. The owner still had a bit of an edge to him but he was far easier to deal with this time – perhaps he realised that being rude to customers wasn’t helping his business. Whatever…the food was very good indeed and the beer quite acceptable.

We ate in the company of Denis and other Challengers including the 3 Dutch, Andy Howell and Kate Foley. A very pleasant evening.

Not many photos today, for most of the day the weather was just too wet and miserable to have the camera out.

And this is what we did:

18.25 miles (ish) with 2900’ of up.

 

 

Adlington Ceilidh

Playing a ceilidh at Adlington Hall & Hunting Lodge near Macclesfield this evening - what a wonderful building.

The music and dancing was good too.