Cross Fell

Six of us from my mountaineering club met up east of Penrith at Kirkland in weather that didn’t promise any views, but the boots went on anyway and the walk up to the spine of England began.  Cross Fell is the highest mountain in England outside of the Lake District and is also the highpoint of both the Pennine Way and the Pennines.

Despite occasionally losing the path and straying into ankle-deep bogs, the ascent of almost 2,000 feet was probably one of the easiest I have ever walked.  An easy incline all the way took us to the Pennine Way, where we turned south on to it and followed it to the summit and its recently (2014) reconstructed summit shelter, appropriately cross shaped which guarantees at least one side affords some shelter from the wind.

a misty summit shelter

We left the summit aiming for the Little Dun Fell and Great Dun Fell but as conditions were fairly grim, we decided to descend straight to Wildboar Scar from Tees Head.  My GPS was invaluable in finding the path, which obviously does not having a lot of footfall.  But once on it, the terrain became a lot easier.  As we approached Grumply Hill the view cleared and the panorama of Lake District fells opened out before us.

The only summit of the day was another TRAIL 100 tick which, along with good company, made up for the poor weather.  I’m sure that it would be a much better walk in good visibility and certainly deserving of more attention, but with the big hills of the Lake District only a few miles away Cross Fell is always going to be the poor relation.  If you want a high summit with some peace and quiet, this Pennine giant is well worth a visit.

Lightning

Four of us started out from Penwyllt for a straightforward walk up to the two Nuttall summits of Fan Fraith and Fan Gyhirych.  A dull start soon gave way to torrential rain and a delay putting on waterproofs was a mistake that should have been avoided.

We walked up the good track towards the col between the two summits and just a few hundred yards below it we were stopped in our tracks by a flash of lightning which was followed by a crack of thunder only 8 seconds.  A hurried discussion about heading to highpoints half a mile away when lightning was striking just over a mile away led to the quick, and sensible, decision to turn tail and descend, although some walkers behind us did not follow our lead.

This was definitely one of those times to remember that the hills are always there for another day!

On the drive home through the rain I tuned in to the radio and heard a news item about a lightning strike on Pen y Fan, resulting in serious injuries.  As details became clearer over the next couple of days, 3 people were hit on Corn Du – 1 fatality, 1 suffering serious burns and 1 being released from hospital the following day – and 1 was hit by a second strike on Cribyn, unfortunately another fatality.

Having been on these mountains yesterday, it is easy to understand their pointed summits attracting lightning although the highest, Pen y Fan, wasn’t hit.  It was still a sobering thought that people had died, and fully justified our decision to retreat.  This was the first time in many years that weather has caused me to abandon a walk, as opposed to modifying plans for the day and, unusually for me, I didn’t feel any disappointment in turning around before reaching the planned summits.

I’m sure that it was just bad luck that those who died were on summits when the lightning struck.  I hadn’t seen any forecasts for thunderstorms and even though we were really close to a strike, there was no smell of ozone that is a tell-tale sign of imminent lightning.

Although hazards exist on the hills, and planning and experience can contribute to some sensible decision making, sometimes the thing that ensures a safe and successful day out is unquantifiable – and that thing is the element of luck.

Mountains for All

A full Storey Arms car park was a good indication of the number of walkers heading up the pitched path into the mist in the direction of Pen y Fan but we left the masses and took aim for the rarely visited Nuttall of Y Gyrn.  This would be the only summit we had to ourselves for the rest of the day.

Continuing into the mist we reached the path curving around to the lip of Cwm Llych and paused for a moment at Tommy Jones’ memorial, an obelisk marking the point where the body of a lost 5 year-old was found in 1900.  It is a poignant tribute funded by the jurors at his inquest, donating their fees, so moved they were by the fate of little Tommy.  Although we were still in the mist, it was hard to imagine the fear and confusion of a little boy lost in the dark on these hills.

Continuing up the north-west ridge of Corn Du to the summit brought us back amongst the throng, with a fair few walkers resting near the broad sandstone summit cairn.  We walked easily to Pen y Fan’s top, joining many more walkers and taking summit photos before being asked by other walkers to take photos of them.  We beat a hasty retreat to avoid being overwhelmed with requests and headed east towards Cribyn.

Summit cairn

Pen y Fan has easy access because of the high start at the Storey Arms and the ease of terrain, most of it being pitched paths, which attracts the usual inappropriately-clad day-trippers.  Many people were wearing jeans, trainers and one group of walkers were wearing judo suits, one of whom – a little girl – was being carried.  Pen y Fan is probably the south Wales equivalent of Snowdon, attracting many who wouldn’t otherwise head for the hills.  Although the way to the top is fairly benign, I feel uncomfortable that the day-trippers probably finish their day out with an unrealistic view of what hillwalking entails.  I fear that my view is somewhat elitist, as dangers exist and novices are unaware of them, but the positive aspect is that people are introduced to the hills and may well be sparked in to continuing hillwalking and mountaineering in the future.

Continuing towards Cribyn the clouds started to clear and some impressive views were revealed.  No doubt that the enjoyment of the day had improved for the hundreds of walkers on the tops but the following day’s events provided a stark contrast as the hazards of being in the hills made national headlines.

Cribyn

On the way back to Pen y Fan, all the more enticing in the sunshine, we enjoyed the views of the mountain ponies grazing with their two foals snoozing in the sun.  On the slopes leading to the summit we were passed by some young men in camouflage and carrying big bergens on a challenge walk to replicate part of the SAS Fan Dance selection.  It’s an admirable way to raise money for charity but as I get older I always think back to my early walking days when I carried far too much weight and the effects it may have had on my now aging knees!

Pen y Fan north-east face

The stroll to Corn Du along the escarpment was easy and as the crowds made their way down to the main road, we took the time to seek some quiet on the minor summit of Duwynt. 

Pen y Fan from Corn Du

Sometimes the least trodden tops are the most enjoyable.

A South Wales Evening

An early start meant a mid-afternoon arrival at Penwyllt, the base of the South Wales Caving Club and my accommodation for the weekend.  Unload the car, drink a cup of tea and then head for the hills, albeit a couple of easy summits.  First stop – Abergavenney.

The car park at Llanwenarth Breast effectively makes the ascent of Sugar Loaf a simple stroll, gaining only about 850 feet.  It’s a TRAIL 100 summit and walking up the myriad wide grassy paths in the late afternoon sun is as restful an uphill walk could be.  Sugar Loaf is one of those community mountains, a backyard summit that no doubt shapes many people’s first experience of hillwalking, familiar to locals and easily accessible as well as offering tantalising views of the higher mountains of Pen y Fan and its supporters.

Sugar Loaf summit

The Heads of the Valleys Road headed west before I turned south towards the Rhondda Fawr valley and parked near the summit of the pass.  The highpoint of historic Glamorgan was the objective and a scruffy track headed into the forest which had obviously seen more mountain bikes than walking boots.  A clearing led the way to the top of Cefnfford (known to some as Craig y Llyn) which was marked by a trig pillar, but it was easily the least impressive county top I’ve ticked, being surrounded by trees and sited on ground flat enough and expansive enough to totally disguise the fact that it is a 600-metre summit.

Glamorgan's highpoint - Cefnfford

The walk back to the car along the escarpment had some good views of the Brecon Beacons highest summits, making me just that bit keener to walk over them tomorrow.

Suilven

Different from every angle.

Unique from every angle.

Magnificent from every angle.

For the anglo-centric hillwalker, the monolithic outline of Suilven may not be familiar.  And that’s a shame because it is one of the most magnificent mountains in Scotland.  Looking at it head on from either end, its shape appears to dare you to dare you to climb it; even its profile is defiant with the foreshortened view disguising the fairly straightforward route up to the ridge’s low-point.

Suilven has long been on my list of mountains that must be climbed and even though its height doesn’t qualify it as a Corbett, let alone a Munro, its isolation and form begs an ascent.  Through my eyes there are some mountains that are poorly qualified for inclusion in the TRAIL 100 list, but Suilven is wholly deserving of such status as it is definitely one of the “UK’s finest mountains”.  A couple of readers’ polls by TRAIL magazine placed it at number 9 in the list of the “UK’s Greatest Mountain” and at number 9 in the list of the “UK’s Ultimate Mountain Routes” – not bad for a hill which is a 650-mile drive from London!

Suilven from the north-west

An easy track leads from Glencanisp into the heart of Assynt, passing the path to Suileag bothy, keeping a course parallel to the spine of Suilven,  At the point where the path takes a turn for the mountain, you are faced with a boggy morass, masquerading as a path.  Many yards wide, it’s a challenge to find the least deep way forward to avoid being sucked into the peat before reaching the plateau of lochans that lies below the ascent gully.

Suilven from the north

Aiming for the lowest point in the ridge, Bealach Mor, the way up looks steep.  But foreshortening is always deceptive and height is gained quickly as the slope is never at an angle where walking transforms into scrambling and the caution that comes with it.  As the ridge became closer the gully narrowed and the sandstone walls with their overhangs looked as though they might provide some good rock-climbing for those with a thirst for adventure.  Staying to the right to gain the ridge would only involve a struggle in a very narrow sand gully and would just erode it even further.  Staying to the left reveals some right-trending ledges that top out at the bealach.

And here the view reveals magnificent Assynt.

Quinag

The full extent of the landscape is mesmerising.  From the Quinag massif to the pyramidal Canisp and all the way around to Cul Mor, Cul Beag, the intricacies of Ben More Coigach and the decaying tooth of Stac Pollaidh, the landscape is a hillwalker’s dream.  But as you ascend the ridge westwards towards the summit, the best view is behind you, along the ridge to Meall Meadhonach.  Reaching its top from here looks challenging and by all accounts it is terrain for competent scramblers only and I’m not sure that I would do it solo.  Perhaps one day in the future though.

The ground ahead was crossed by the oddity that is a drystone wall prompting the question “why here?”  Easy scrambling yielded a subsidiary summit, a flat grassy area that would make an impressive wildcamping pitch.  A small descent to a very narrow col – any collapse of the path here would make reaching the summit a significant problem – and then easy walking led to the summit cairn of Caisteal Liath and one of the best 360° views I’ve ever seen, of the Assynt hills inland and the Summer Isles just out to sea.  Here is a place to linger.

Canisp, Suilven summit cairn, Meall Meadhonach

The Red Bridge

The media was abuzz with articles about the Paper Bridge, an outdoor “installation” that had been erected in Grisedale from 4 tons of red paper.  It was the brainchild of the artist Steve Messam and had gathered some vociferous comment, both positive and negative.  I’m clear about outdoor art, I quite like it and am a fan of Andy Goldsworthy and I saw this piece as a kindred idea.

Grisedale

There was plenty of space in the Patterdale Hotel car park and I set off up the Grisedale valley with the brightly coloured bridge soon coming into view.  There were a few people around when I reached the arch – a packhorse-style bridge made from numerous sheets of red paper and I set up my camera on its self-timer to make sure I was on the top of the bridge before the shutter fired.  There were a few people at the bridge and I’m sure that its position just off the Coast-to-Coast route brought it a few more visitors.  It had been quite a few years since I had walked in Grisedale and it really is a beautiful valley.

"PaperBridge"

As I left, many more visitors were arriving, some of the thousand or more that visited on the day!  I headed up the valley past Ruthwaite Lodge towards a peaceful Grisedale Tarn where I set off for Deepdale Hause before the walk to the day’s highpoint.  St Sunday Crag was quickly ticked and I headed to Gavel Pike which, as an unclimbed Simpson summit, was the target for the day.  The Nuttall and Wainwright summits of Birks soon came and went and a steep descent towards Arnison Crag was followed by some undulating ground with a short steep rise to gain the last summit of the day.

Fairfield, Seat Sandal and Dollywagon Pike overlooking Grisedale Tarn

The car park was a lot busier than at the start of the day and I read some reports on Twitter that visitors who wanted to walk to the bridge couldn’t find a parking space in Patterdale and had to forgo the pleasant walk to, at least in my opinion, a really interesting outdoor artwork.

Thanks Steve, for getting me out of the house!

The Furthest Nuttall

In England and Wales most of the hills and mountains on the tick lists that I’m pursuing (mostly Nuttalls and TRAIL 100s) are grouped together in not unexpected areas – the Lake District, Pennines, north Wales and mid-Wales – but the outliers stick out like sore thumbs.  I’ve still to do the Cheviots but I’ve bagged Roseberry Topping, the others being the ones I pursued on this hugely long day out.

The Dartmoor Nuttalls are over 200 miles away from where I live and the plan was to tick them as well as the TRAIL 100 summits of Hound Tor and Worcestershire Beacon.  A long day meant a very early 3:20am start.

Hound Tor is just a simple stroll from the road but a little adventure is needed to reach the top.  In drier conditions the scramble wouldn’t be hard at all with the granite providing good friction underfoot, but the strong wind and rain made conditions a bit too slippery to instil confidence.  I took a lot of care with each foot placement and slowly reached the top, although it was too windy to actually stand up on the summit for fear of a big fall into the void, the bottom of which I couldn’t see because of the mist!

an atmospheric Hound Tor

I drove to Meldon reservoir and for the first time in many years I set off on a walk in heavy rain.  Most of the walk up Yes Tor was not as bad as the rain eased a little and the prominent tracks made for easy walking.  But the full force of the wind became apparent as I approached the top and I took shelter in a large metal shelter, complete with some interesting graffiti, just below the summit which was only just tantalisingly in view through the mist.  A quick tap of the trig and I set off for the highest point in the south of England.

still grey at Yes Tor

The walk to High Willhays was easy enough although the group of youngsters I passed were taking their time, often pausing to huddle around their map.  The summit had an impressive arch of rocks balanced atop the cairn and I was surprised that it stayed in place in the windy conditions.

High Willhays summit cairn

I descended west of where I’d planned but decided that following the small valley between Homerton Hill and Longstone Hill shouldn’t be too difficult.  Some careful crossings of the stream led to better paths from where the walk back to the car was a relaxing stroll.

The drive up the M5 started to tire me out so I stopped for an hour to snooze – the day was starting to take its toll.

My final hill of the day was Worcestershire Beacon.  I parked in West Malvern and made my way up to the summit ridge just as the light was starting to fade.  There weren’t many people around and I pretty much had the top to myself.  The eroded ground underfoot indicated that this is a popular hill and it reminded me of Catbells in the Lake District, another family favourite.

Worcestershire Beacon

The journey home ended a tiring 18 hour day with over 600 miles of driving but at least my To Do map looks a lot tidier.  And while I’m in a tidying mood, I’ll start to make a plan to tick the 6 Cheviot Nuttalls.