From Killhope Cross

A couple of months after my return to the hills, albeit with a modest moorland walk, I once again drove up to the north Pennines for my next outing.  I’d decided on attempting an out-and-back from Killhope Cross to Dead Stones which according to my own variation of Naismith’s Rule should take two and a half hours.

I started walking south from the empty car park at Killhope Cross and it soon became obvious that my fitness, following a long illness and a recent bout of Covid-19 was still very poor, the shallow incline to Knoutberry Hill often leaving me breathless.  I reached the vague summit where a small cairn probably didn’t accurately mark the true summit but with a bit of a wander I was happy that I had reached the true summit.

Knoutberry Hill summit cairn

As I took aim for Nag’s Head the fog became thicker and the temperature dropped.  Although relatively flat, the terrain was challenging due to the heather, bog and large areas of peat hags which prevented what would normally be a simple task of following the straight-line boundary fences.  I was on ground that the OS map wasn’t clearly representing and I came to understand that this was a weakness in displaying the true topography.  Despite the reputation of the Ordnance Survey, my navigation through the worst of the hags was best aided by the footsteps of another walker, despite me not seeing anybody else all day.

I reached Nag’s Head summit which was also marked by a small cairn which may or may not be at the actual highpoint.  Due to a combination of my lack of fitness and the tricky terrain (but mostly fitness) the time taken so far was equal to the time remaining before sunset.  Dead Stones was only a kilometre away but I was very tired and I didn’t know what the terrain would be like for the kilometre up to (and back from) Dead Stones.  And then I would have to walk the three and a half kilometres back to the car in fog and fading light.  I decided to cut short the planned walk and headed back to the road.

I had reconciled my decision and felt no disappointment as it was the right thing to do.  Dead Stones could be climbed in the future by a probable route from the west.

The whole walk took more than double the time indicated by my Naismith’s variation.  My planned walks for 2025 are likely to be shorter and have less ascent until hopefully my fitness returns to a point when I could reasonably consider tackling longer routes.

It’s time to get the maps out!

A Tan Hill Wilderness

I thought that an early start would get me to the Tan Hill Inn at a quiet time but I hadn’t anticipated that the inn’s nearby parking areas would be so popular with campervans as an overnighting location.

The terrain surrounding the inn, although obviously hilly moorland, is largely gently undulating, making navigating using landmarks quite challenging.  It’s easy to follow, as I did, obvious tracks that go in the rough direction, but I soon had to correct myself to follow, at least approximately, the bridleway marked on the OS map.  A narrow path didn’t exactly follow the printed right-of-way, but as it headed in the roughly correct direction, it was easier to follow it than to stick rigidly to the OS’s delineation.

As I followed the path the day could best be described so far as grey.  At an abandoned mineshaft, thankfully made safe by a sturdy metal frame embedded into a concrete base at its top, I had a brief rest before continuing over Mirk Fell Edge before dropping to William Gill and following the bridleway to Great Scollit Hill.  It was now time to turn southwards and follow a beeline towards Water Crag.

There were lots of recently mown rectangles of moorland that, although a bit boggy, made walking a little easier.  I linked these alongside a line of grouse butts and made my way over Backstone Band to the trig point.  I thought that the shelter to the east perhaps looked a little higher so I walked there and back to make sure that I had reached the highest point.

Water Crag trig point

Although only about 2 kilometres away, Rogan’s Seat looked distant.  I headed to the fence and started following it.  The ground underfoot wasn’t brilliant but it could have been a lot worse before I reached the bulldozed track, no doubt put in place to enable grouse shooters to more easily atrophy their leg muscles!

To be fair, it was a welcome change to walk along the track but it wasn’t long before I left it to make my way toward the obvious peat hag that is the summit of Rogan’s Seat.  A small cairn marked the top and was decorated by 5 white painted pebbles.  Each had a name and a year; the obvious family name being “Rogan”.

I’m not a fan of this personal memorialisation of mountains.  The Great Gable memorial plaque is a different thing; it honours those who fell for the nation.  “Leave No Trace” is a mantra that is becoming increasingly promoted and followed and painted stones are becoming increasingly prevalent on summits, even ones as remote and infrequently visited as Rogan’s Seat.

Rogan's Seat summit cairn

Now at my farpoint and not overly appreciating the terrain traversed so far, I consulted the map to see if there was a more direct way back to Tan Hill.  Nothing was obvious so I resigned myself to retracing my steps.  I cut the corner before Water Crag and visited the “Pile of Stones” to the west of the summit but apart from that slight detour, the way back was a reversal of the way out.  Snack stops at William Gill and the mineshaft brought some respite from the uninspiring terrain, even though the sky was clearing and becoming much less dull.

The walk turned out to not fill the day so I took the chance to drive down West Stone Dale and up to Lamps Moss to scout out the parking for a future walk to Nine Standards Rigg.  In the afternoon sun, it was one of the most picturesque drives I have ever had.

Both sides of Buttertubs

The clocks had sprung forward and the weather forecast was cautiously optimistic so I took the chance to tick a couple of my remaining Yorkshire Dales Nuttalls.  Out of the six to choose from, I picked the nearest two and after a 90 mile drive I pulled in at the layby at the summit of Buttertubs Pass.

Buttertubs has the advantage of being over 1,700 feet above sea level so the ascent of two 2,000 feet summits would be that much easier than a normal Pennine sortie.  The first half mile was probably the boggiest of the walk up Great Shunner Fell.  Navigation was easy because of the meandering fences up to the summit but a couple of shortcuts could be taken by cutting some corners.  I imagined that the route would be devoid of crowds and I only saw six other walkers, all descending, as I made my way toward the top.

Great Shunner Fell summit shelter

The cruciform summit shelter is unusual as at the end of one of its arms is a trig point which is well disguised and could be quite easily missed by anyone who doesn’t know that the summit has been adorned by the usual Ordnance Survey stonework.  After taking a few photos I turned tail and headed back the way I came.  Back at Buttertubs I crossed the road and started uphill again.

Great Shunner Fell trig point

summit shelter & trig point

As with the other side of the road the early flatter ground was quite boggy but the ascending slope soon escaped the squelch.  Like the first leg of today’s walk, a wandering fenceline led to the top.

Great Shunner Fell from Lovely Seat

Lovely Seat is another summit with an unusual summit cairn.  I assume that the fell was named before the cairn was built and not because of the presence of an old stonework, but the cairn is a rocky throne which is a grand perch for those with a need for a regal rest and it presents an ideal photo opportunity before the uneventful descent to the top of the Buttertubs Pass.

Lovely Seat's lovely seat!

Idris' Chair

Considered one of the finest mountains of the principality, Cader Idris is one of the “Welsh 3 Peaks” and its location in the south of Snowdonia National Park thankfully limits its popularity.

Craig Cwm Amarch

Starting from Minfford we soon passed the café and followed the pitched path up through the woods, quickly gaining height.  As we left the arboreal, we turned towards more open terrain and the amphitheatre of Cwm Cau.  The classic view of Cader now reveals itself, with the pyramid of Craig Cwm Amarch taking centre stage.  Many will look upon this and think it is the summit but the true highpoint lies just beyond the top of what you can see of the more rounded mass to the right which, despite its stature, doesn’t have as much merit as a view.

Penygadair - Cader Idris

Ascending the ridge, the path passes just below the ex-Nuttall of Craig Lwyd – a top for only the keenest baggers – and continues unerringly to the summit of Craig Cwm Amarch.  It’s an obvious summit with expansive views, especially down into the cwm.  The same can’t be said for another subsidiary summit – Mynydd Pencoed – yet another ex-Nuttall, but the tramp out to it isn’t unpleasant and provides a contrast to complement the rocky way up to the top of Cader.

Cwm Cau

At the top, two walkers had firmly claimed their seat at the base of the trig point, on the phone to friends boasting of their mountaineering achievement.  It was just about impossible to take any photo that would include the trig point without including the couple; such hogging of summits is something that I regard as contrary to considerate hill etiquette.

Following my diversion to Mynydd Pencoed I caught up with my companions at the summit shelter.  It was roomier than I thought it would be although it was missing a door at the entrance.  One hardy soul had taken up temporary residence and stayed through the previous night but despite the legend there were no apparent signs of madness or poeticism.

Summit shelter

The mile along the ridge to Mynydd Moel is a promenade as attractive as any other that I’ve walked.  It is from this summit that most decide to head downhill on a beeline back to Minfford but continuing along the ridge to its terminus at Gau Graig affords a solitudinous stroll, with the intervening Mynydd Gwerngraig completing a hat-trick of ex-Nuttall summits.  From the final top it is easy to decide to follow the fenceline that is marked on the map because it appears to lead to Bwlch Llyn Bach; but beware – it drops straight over a crag.  Such are the perils of using out-of-date Ordnance Survey maps that don’t show the footpath!

Cader Idris from the Mynydd Moel ridge

After the trudge back to the car we wandered back to the café to refuel with cake.

I slept most of the way home and although the day didn’t feel too strenuous at the time, my legs disagreed with that assumption for most of the next day.

TRAIL criticism

Part 1

In an earlier blog I alluded to TRAIL magazine not paying enough attention to detail when publishing a list of Britain’s 1000 metre mountains.  I’m not the only one to criticise TRAIL but if you look at some internet forums, the criticism can be a little more vehement.

TRAIL’s “laddish” prose, repeated routes and articles (the High Stile ridge appears regularly) and sloppy factual mistakes all attract disgruntlement and negative reviews.  The publication of incorrect bearings from the summit of Ben Nevis a number of years ago was a significant mistake that has not been – and probably never will be – forgotten by the critics.

Despite its weaknesses, I have to admit to really liking TRAIL magazine and have bought every issue since its launch.  I enjoy reading about the unusual challenges – wild camping on Pillar summit has been added to my “to do” list – and its variety of routes over the years is impressive.

If only TRAIL had a decent proofreader !

Part 2

I had originally written part 1 as a standalone BLOG entry, but I’ve just bought the July 2013 issue of TRAIL and I’ve spotted a significant error  Here we go…

Part 3

In the June 2013 issue TRAIL published the first of a 6-part “Master Navigation” cut-out-and-keep series of articles which are being sponsored by the Ordnance Survey.  July’s part 2 has a page called “Understanding your OS map” which has a 1:50000 Landranger extract of the Scafell Pike area.  It’s a varied landscape and has a number of features labelled and explained.

One entry is –

            Footpath

            Broken lines made up of short pink or green dashes are public footpaths, which the public

            have a legally protected right to travel on by foot.

Well, not quite.  Pink or green dashes indicate rights-of way (which have the legal protection) but do not always correspond to paths on the ground.  But I regard this as minor error.

There is a much bigger error with this entry –

            Boundary

            Broken black lines represent boundary markers – such as national, county and civil parish –

            and shouldn’t be confused with footpaths.

Exactly right – but the feature on the map extract is a footpath that traverses the Glaramara ridge !  The nearest such boundary line is a couple of kilometres away at Esk Hause.

It is admirable that TRAIL has taken the effort to educate newcomers to navigation but to make mistakes on the topic is careless which could lead to confusion and possibly danger for those learning the art of map-reading.

It’s also a bit disappointing that the Ordnance Survey has lent its name to this series as it is an organisation that produces excellent maps and should be held in the highest regard.

Who “owns” hill lists ?

For baggers of British and Irish hills who take their hobby seriously, there is a very useful database of summit data on the website www.hills-database.co.uk – the Database of British and Irish Hills (DoBIH).  It lists data for over 9000 summits, including which hill lists that summit belongs to.

But who “owns” the lists ?

Increasingly accurate GPS technology has enabled recent surveys to determine summit heights to within a few centimetres, leading to the reclassification of a number of hills.  One of which, Beinn a’Chlaidheimh, caused a bit of a stir following a 2011 survey.

It is generally accepted that the Scottish Mountaineering Club is the “owner”/”guardian” of the list known as Munro’s Tables, as it was originally compiled from within the SMC and the club has published a number of updated lists over the years.  Also, the SMC has never made clear what the definition of a Munro is; they are Scottish hills with a height of at least 3000 feet but no prominence (or drop) measurement has been specified, leading to debate about apparent inconsistencies.

But, it is clear that that if a hill is under 3000 feet high, it can’t be a Munro.

Most, if not all, of the recent surveys have been carried out by a team of keen amateurs who submit their findings to the Ordnance Survey for verification. If the OS has any doubt about the method or accuracy, it will recommend that the survey be carried out again with suggestions about the method to be employed.  Ultimately, the OS is the arbiter of height data within Great Britain.

The survey of Beinn a’Chlaidheimh, confirmed by the OS, measured its height at 2999 feet; close to but below the Munro threshold.  But it took the SMC over a year to remove it from Munro’s Tables.

Despite the length of time taken, what happened wasn’t out of the ordinary:

                      i.        a hill is surveyed,

                     ii.        the measurement is confirmed by the Ordnance Survey,

                    iii.        the measurement indicates that a particular hill list needs to be updated,

                    iv.        the owner of the hill list is notified,

                     v.        the required change to the hill list is made.

This is the generally accepted way of maintaining hill lists, but some disagree.  I’m with the dissenters.

When a person compiles a list, they define the criteria for inclusion.  They “own” the criteria, not the list.

The DoBIH appears to have become, or is becoming, the single accepted repository of hill data.  So when it comes to light that an attribute of a hill (e.g. height or prominence) changes, the database will be updated and the appropriate hill lists can also be updated.

But updating hill lists should only occur if the amended data within the definition criteria is absolute.

For instance, it is easy to say whether a hill is a Nuttall or not as both the height and prominence criteria are specifically defined.  It is also easy to say which hills are not Munros but not quite as easy to say which are, as the definition is not clear.

Although a number of hill lists are “owned” by organisations such as the SMC, many are the product of individuals.  In the case of a list compiler dying, who then “owns” the list ?  Can a list be bequeathed ?  Whose permission does a surveyor have to get for a hill to be added to or removed from a list ?

Once the criteria of a hill list have been defined, the hills contained within the list will be subject to change, based on ever increasingly accurate surveys, but nobody “owns” the list.  Only cold hard data will determine whether a hill belongs on a list or not.

A New English Mountain

While browsing on Twitter this morning I came across a tweet posted by Grough announcing a “new” mountain had been found in England – Thack Moor.

Of course, the summit in question has always been there and its height has been constant – no tectonic upheaval has caused the mountain to rise – but recent surveys have determined that its summit height exceeded the 2000 feet required for “mountain” status.  And the margin by which it exceeded the benchmark height ?  2 centimetres !

By all accounts Thack Moor is one of a number of otherwise unremarkable northern Pennine moorland summits with its appeal being the quiet afforded by its relatively remote location – just north of the Hartside Pass summit on the A686.

The article on Grough’s website has significance for those hillwalkers who bag either HEWITTS or Nuttalls as Thack Moor has now been added to both of these hill lists.

There are usually grumblings within the bagging community when a mountain is promoted with some debate about whether those who have previously completed a list need to visit the “new” summit.  I take the view that if somebody has completed a list as it stood on the date of completion, they can retain “completer” status.  But I’d head out and tick it if I hadn’t already done so !

As many hill lists are specifically defined by summit height and prominence, I welcome these surveys as I am always keen to see accurate data – it’s a characteristic of my job !  Some say that the lists should be left alone – a view taken by many Munro enthusiasts – but I disagree.  If a definition is based only on measurable criteria then the classification will always be subject to change resulting from increasingly accurate surveys.

The Nuttalls is a list that I’m slowly working my way through so Thack Moor has now been added to my “To Do” list – I’m looking forward to visiting an area of the country that I’ve not been to before.

G & J Surveys (a team whose members are Graham Jackson, John Barnard and Myrddyn Phillips) carried out the survey with the results being confirmed by the Ordnance Survey.  This is the team whose previous surveys have resulted in the “demotion” of a Munro or two over the past couple of years.  I’m sure they’ll provide a few more reclassifications in months and years to come !