Oh dear, no one said anything about there being rain in the Lake District. So after a night where the wind was howling and the rain lashing it down, we woke to find the morning wasn’t any better. As such our mountain view from the cottage was obsured by the mizzly mist, and despite hanging around there all morning there was no sign of any improvement. In the event we decided to bite the bullet and do a 4 mile door to door ramble around Buttermere (Lake) so at least the dogs got some exercise.
In the event the dogs seemed to love it, although needing to give themselves a good shake every few minutes. For my part I had bought a £2 PVC mac which I had under my £155 worth of waterproofs in order to make them waterproof (which worked for my torso anyway). The rain lashed, the wind gusted, and the view across the lake wasn’t. Also based on the previous days fall I was being really really careful anytime I had to step onto any sort of slate type rocks. Yet perversely it wasn’t a bad walk overall, and we were all happy enough to have got outdoors and done something (no pictures by the way, as I wasn’t getting my camera out in that).
Monday, 14 September 2009
Sunday, 13 September 2009
Crummock Water (Circular) – (Lake District – Day 2) – (Cumbria) – 07/09/09 – 8 Miles approx – Helen (luther & Molly)
Day 2 of our holiday was almost wrecked for me before it began. Thus on a twenty minute morning constitutional doggie walk, from our holiday cottage, I slipped on some wet slate type rocks that had caused me so much problem the previous day. Thus in one backward tumble I managed to bang my left forearm and elbow (initially thinking I had broke it, but actually only took off a bit of skin), bash the left side of my lower back (although this served to counterbalance the right side of my lower back that had given me such problems the previous day and continued to do so throughout the entire week) and unbeknownst at the time, managed to cause the most damage to my right wrist. So combine all this with a slight bleeding problem (don’t ask where) that seemed to plague me all week, and a final night bout of vomiting and diarrohea at the most inappropriate moment imaginable, then healthwise it was a pretty good week. Still musn’t grumble and certainly the after effects of the fall were dampened down by a couple of Nurofen Plus.
So for day 2 it was a case of bugger the Country Walking ‘cut outs’ and instead go with a walk of Helens invention, namely a circuit around Crummock Water which is next door to Buttermere (Lake), and which we able to do from the door of our holiday cottage. On this occasion the weather was set fair for the day, although the ground underfoot was anything but dry. Anyway there was a little pit of confusion as to whether we should follow the path slightly higher up (as indicated on Helen’s OS map) or alternatively try and follow the lake along the side of the water. Thus having settled on the latter we met two women coming the other way who told us that a bridge crossing the stream was out and that we would have to wade across it ankle deep. Well I for one (having got my boots and socks soaked the previous day) didn’t fancy that, so I persuaded Helen that we should go straight up and thus rendevous with two females who we had passed earlier and who were obviously on the correct path. Ultimately however, given what my objective was, this wasn’t a great plan as to get up there it required us to plod through a load of spongy marshland. So by the time we reached the path, boots and socks were soaked through yet again.
So for day 2 it was a case of bugger the Country Walking ‘cut outs’ and instead go with a walk of Helens invention, namely a circuit around Crummock Water which is next door to Buttermere (Lake), and which we able to do from the door of our holiday cottage. On this occasion the weather was set fair for the day, although the ground underfoot was anything but dry. Anyway there was a little pit of confusion as to whether we should follow the path slightly higher up (as indicated on Helen’s OS map) or alternatively try and follow the lake along the side of the water. Thus having settled on the latter we met two women coming the other way who told us that a bridge crossing the stream was out and that we would have to wade across it ankle deep. Well I for one (having got my boots and socks soaked the previous day) didn’t fancy that, so I persuaded Helen that we should go straight up and thus rendevous with two females who we had passed earlier and who were obviously on the correct path. Ultimately however, given what my objective was, this wasn’t a great plan as to get up there it required us to plod through a load of spongy marshland. So by the time we reached the path, boots and socks were soaked through yet again.
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The path however took us to a small bridge, which crossed the stream higher up. There we met a walker who had come down to it from up high, and told us about the slippy stones he had come down on. Helen for her part, and not for the first time in our relationship, did her best to confuse me, in this instance as to where these slippy stones were and to whether we should continue as planned or change direction. Anyway we ultimately continued as planned. Of course we were now going downhill and if you read my blog of the previous day you now know that this is a problem activity for me. Suffice to say I slipped over backwards again, but unlike earlier in the day managed to save the majority of me from hitting the ground or getting covered in mud. Nevertheless by this point I was getting well pissed off with the whole Lake District experience, and started to wish we had gone somewhere else instead. For her part Helen (who was again well ahead of me at this point) was also getting pissed off, but this time with Molly who was constantly chasing sheep whenever off the lead, and not responding in a timely manner to the whistle. When she did return Helen certainly gave her what for, which put the fear of God into me and Luther, but had no effect on the slightly deranged Molly.
Presently however we were back down near the edge of the lake and on something that constituted a walkable path. So when Helen issued the command that there was to be no stopping until we reached the end of the lake, me and Luther now had the opportunity to really stride out, and for the first time on this holiday I actually felt that I was doing some real walking/exercise. Having reached a gate and what I thought was the end of the lake (actually it was hiding round the corner), we met two guys coming the way who were plodding their way to the nearby youth hostel. Well nearby if they meant the one on the outskirts of Buttermere, but if they meant the one at Honister Pass well they are probably still walking. After surmising whether there were enough bridges to cross all the adjoining streams, we finally did make it to the end of the lake where we had some refreshments/chocolate and partook of some photo opportunities.
The path however took us to a small bridge, which crossed the stream higher up. There we met a walker who had come down to it from up high, and told us about the slippy stones he had come down on. Helen for her part, and not for the first time in our relationship, did her best to confuse me, in this instance as to where these slippy stones were and to whether we should continue as planned or change direction. Anyway we ultimately continued as planned. Of course we were now going downhill and if you read my blog of the previous day you now know that this is a problem activity for me. Suffice to say I slipped over backwards again, but unlike earlier in the day managed to save the majority of me from hitting the ground or getting covered in mud. Nevertheless by this point I was getting well pissed off with the whole Lake District experience, and started to wish we had gone somewhere else instead. For her part Helen (who was again well ahead of me at this point) was also getting pissed off, but this time with Molly who was constantly chasing sheep whenever off the lead, and not responding in a timely manner to the whistle. When she did return Helen certainly gave her what for, which put the fear of God into me and Luther, but had no effect on the slightly deranged Molly.
Presently however we were back down near the edge of the lake and on something that constituted a walkable path. So when Helen issued the command that there was to be no stopping until we reached the end of the lake, me and Luther now had the opportunity to really stride out, and for the first time on this holiday I actually felt that I was doing some real walking/exercise. Having reached a gate and what I thought was the end of the lake (actually it was hiding round the corner), we met two guys coming the way who were plodding their way to the nearby youth hostel. Well nearby if they meant the one on the outskirts of Buttermere, but if they meant the one at Honister Pass well they are probably still walking. After surmising whether there were enough bridges to cross all the adjoining streams, we finally did make it to the end of the lake where we had some refreshments/chocolate and partook of some photo opportunities.
For the way back round we decided to forget about referring to maps and instead hog the waterline as much as possible which was a mainly successful plan. Thus having recovered my mood I was now able to start to appreciate the beauty and majesty of the hills that surrounded the lake. For their part Luther and Molly were also now having a whale of a time running along the adjoining wood and going in and out of the water. In fact it is as appropriate place as any to say that you couldn’t meet two nicer and good humoured dogs then Luther (the brown one) and Molly (the black one), which I hope my photo illustrates.
Ultimately however we were forced out onto the road, which given the paucity of traffic I didn’t mind in the least. Helen however was back in OS mode again, and presently spotted a hill that could bypass some of the road around a blind bend. This turned out to be quite short and steep, and going upwards we managed to meet two dimwits coming down, who gave Helen’s directions question a rhetorical answer. Once back on the road we were soon heading towards the cottage at Cragfoot whilst the evening drew in nicely. So overall a thoroughly enjoyable second half of the walk.
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Seathwaite (Circular including Green Gables) – (Lake District – Day 1) – (Cumbria) – 06/09/09 – 4.75 Miles – Helen (luther & Molly)
For the first day of myself and Helen’s week in the Lake District, we decided not to pick something too demanding. That way not only could we break ourselves in gently, but also do the same for elderly Labrador Luther (no worries on that score for younger Labrador Molly, but who was herself to present other worries instead). Anyway referencing one of the ‘cut outs’ from Country Walking magazine (which we used extensively during the week) we settled on a circular route around Seathwaite. This would also take us up the first of five Wainwrights that we were able to complete during the week. In this instance Green Gables at 2,627ft. For a list of all 214 click http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Wainwrights
Having got out of the car at Seathwaite Farm it started to rain, although not too heavily. This stop and start drizzle was to be a feature of the first part of the walk, as I constantly messed around pulling waterproofs on and off. So whilst Helen located a phonebox at the farm, Luther and Molly got an earful of doggie verbals from a gang of dog yobs in some nearby kennels. One free dog however made the mistake of investigating a little too closely and was promptly seen off by Luther. Anyway off and upwards we set, being soon left behind by a group of elderly walkers who had vacated the farmyard with us. Thus with Sourmilk Gill on our right we came alongside a couple of wooden ladders which presented Luther with a few problems getting over. However he really came unstuck a little further on when a scramble over some rocks was required. Poor Luther got into a bit of a panic on this one, and it was only a joint effort from: myself, Helen, Molly and a couple of lads who had now joined us, that we were finally able to get him over that hurdle. Certainly not a great way to start the holiday for Luther, however that was his only real low point of the week, and from there on in he was at least able to outperform me if no one else.
Lunch was taken soon after near to a waterfall. As we ate I noticed a female walker on her own who was just hanging around at a fence down below us. Thus as we set off again up and around Base Brown I noticed her following us but always keeping a distance. It did occur to me that she may have been a little nervous about the two dogs. However when she finally did go round us she promptly sat on a rock, and so was obviously just the hanging around type. As for Base Brown we never actually went over the top of it ourselves as the route we were using required us to circumnavigate it instead (thus we narrowly missed bagging an additional Wainwright). Anyway as we continued upwards onto Green Gables, it was clear that the weather was closing in. Thus by the time we reached the summit, passing another group who seemed to be having a meeting up there, the ‘cut out’s promised great view was a sea of mist, and we could barely find the path down. However Green Gables was our first Wainwright of the week at 2,627ft.
So far so good, and despite the fact that it was now raining, and my waterproofs were set on proving that they weren’t, I was still enjoying myself. The downhill however was something of a nightmare for me. Thus I could not manage to keep my balance on the wet and slippy rocks, which meant I had to limit myself to baby size steps in order to stay upright, yet doing nothing to negate the pain it was causing in my back and shins. Not realising before that I had a problem in this area, any sort of downhill was to prove a constant problem for me throughout the week. What was worse was that Helen, who I have long since been used to leaving behind on ascents (and continued to do so this week as well) was now leaving me far behind on the descents (and also continued to do this during the week as well). In fact there were moments when I actually was losing her in the mist. As such this does pose a question for me, whether I really want to continue with this branch of walking. Thus although I enjoy the physical challenge of going up, I find the downhills a croc of shit basically, as they are physically dangerous but have no compensating physical challenge attached. On the other hand this type of slippy slate and loose rocks may be a feature of the Lake District only (answers on a postcard please).
Having got out of the car at Seathwaite Farm it started to rain, although not too heavily. This stop and start drizzle was to be a feature of the first part of the walk, as I constantly messed around pulling waterproofs on and off. So whilst Helen located a phonebox at the farm, Luther and Molly got an earful of doggie verbals from a gang of dog yobs in some nearby kennels. One free dog however made the mistake of investigating a little too closely and was promptly seen off by Luther. Anyway off and upwards we set, being soon left behind by a group of elderly walkers who had vacated the farmyard with us. Thus with Sourmilk Gill on our right we came alongside a couple of wooden ladders which presented Luther with a few problems getting over. However he really came unstuck a little further on when a scramble over some rocks was required. Poor Luther got into a bit of a panic on this one, and it was only a joint effort from: myself, Helen, Molly and a couple of lads who had now joined us, that we were finally able to get him over that hurdle. Certainly not a great way to start the holiday for Luther, however that was his only real low point of the week, and from there on in he was at least able to outperform me if no one else.
Lunch was taken soon after near to a waterfall. As we ate I noticed a female walker on her own who was just hanging around at a fence down below us. Thus as we set off again up and around Base Brown I noticed her following us but always keeping a distance. It did occur to me that she may have been a little nervous about the two dogs. However when she finally did go round us she promptly sat on a rock, and so was obviously just the hanging around type. As for Base Brown we never actually went over the top of it ourselves as the route we were using required us to circumnavigate it instead (thus we narrowly missed bagging an additional Wainwright). Anyway as we continued upwards onto Green Gables, it was clear that the weather was closing in. Thus by the time we reached the summit, passing another group who seemed to be having a meeting up there, the ‘cut out’s promised great view was a sea of mist, and we could barely find the path down. However Green Gables was our first Wainwright of the week at 2,627ft.
So far so good, and despite the fact that it was now raining, and my waterproofs were set on proving that they weren’t, I was still enjoying myself. The downhill however was something of a nightmare for me. Thus I could not manage to keep my balance on the wet and slippy rocks, which meant I had to limit myself to baby size steps in order to stay upright, yet doing nothing to negate the pain it was causing in my back and shins. Not realising before that I had a problem in this area, any sort of downhill was to prove a constant problem for me throughout the week. What was worse was that Helen, who I have long since been used to leaving behind on ascents (and continued to do so this week as well) was now leaving me far behind on the descents (and also continued to do this during the week as well). In fact there were moments when I actually was losing her in the mist. As such this does pose a question for me, whether I really want to continue with this branch of walking. Thus although I enjoy the physical challenge of going up, I find the downhills a croc of shit basically, as they are physically dangerous but have no compensating physical challenge attached. On the other hand this type of slippy slate and loose rocks may be a feature of the Lake District only (answers on a postcard please).
When I did manage to catch Helen we engaged in a fairly pointless discussion as to which side of Styhead Gill we were supposed to be walking on, when the single path was fairly obvious. In fact almost as pointless as the group of young Northern Irish walkers who stopped us to ask directions to nowhere in particular really. Anyway after more slips, rain, streams and puddles, we finally made it back to the car where the complete non-functioning nature of my £155 worth of Berghaus (note that name people) waterproof jacket and trousers became all too apparent. Also a walk that the ‘cut out’ said should take 3 hours took us the best part of 5 (lunch wasn’t that long surely) and was anything but moderate (in fact because of the descent, for me it was downright miserable). Incidentally apologies for the lack of quality photos, but once the rain started to chuck it down I decided to keep the camera hidden.
Sunday, 30 August 2009
Teynham to Faversham – (Kent) – 30/08/09 – 9 Miles – IVC
So after meeting at Teynham station at 11.45, and subsequently setting off, within half an hour we had got to the pub where we were having lunch. Now obviously this is not the natural order of things timewise, either walking with IVC or anyone else. In the event however the walk leader was correct to do this, as there was nowhere else we could have stopped from there on in. Anyway we were pre-warned to bring our own sandwiches, but the last time I did this, everyone ended up ordering food. So this time round I brought nothing and everyone else did, with me being the only one who ordered anything from the bar menu. For the record a toasted ham sandwich, which was £3.75 for two slimcia slices with a smidgen of ham inbetween, and 50p on top of that to have it toasted. Whilst I couldn’t work out why everyone was content to sit ouside, the fact that two massive Rottweillers were sprawled all over the floor of the bar, meant I was happy to stay out in the cold with them.
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Anyway the bulk of this walk was along the Saxon Shore Way, which was originally created by the Romans (Italian types who liked to fight and travel a lot) as a series of defense fortifications some time around the 3rd century AD. Not that anything Roman was in evidence along our bit, although their was a series of concrete emplacements in various states of decay, which suggested something defensive circa the 1940’s (see picture). Basically however this was a walk where there was a not a lot to see, beyond the estuary on one side of you, and the North Kent Marshes on the other. Thus the seawater and freshwater streams/rivers were separated by a grass embankment which serves as the walking trail. As such everything is pancake flat with a horizon consisting of 70% sky, and which reminded me of another walk I did a couple of years ago along the Thames Estuary (or perhaps for another comparison think of The Fens). Anyway walkers more knowledgeable than me, were able to point out the Isle of Sheppy across the water, if you want a reference point.
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After some six miles along the Saxon Shore way we came across a boatyard, noticeable for a series of bells being rung by the breeze and then eventually out onto the road heading towards Faversham. Whilst what went before may have been a bit samey, it was at least tranquil with a rhythm of its own. Walking along the main road into town for nearly two miles however was boring, which not even some of the olde worlde building’s we found in the town could compensate for. Finally we finished off at a Wetherspoons pub for afternoon tea/coffee/alcohol etc. and then caught the train back to Victoria. So overall an acceptable day, however a similar long stretch along the Saxon Shore Way in the 1st half as well as a decent pub lunch might have made the walk more of an event.
Tuesday, 25 August 2009
Mam Tor – Circular – (Dark) Peak District – (Derbyshire) – 22/08/09 – 6 Miles – Helen (luther & Molly)
If the Dark Peak was a rock group, as opposed to an area whose geology is mostly comprised of gritstone rock, then Mam Tor would definitely be one for the greatest hits album. Certainly there was no doubting its popularity on a sunny Saturday afternoon, as the vicinity was swarming with walkers as we arrived (obviously encouraged by Mam Tor being the main feature on the current issue of Country Walking magazine). Even more irritating than the crowds however were the swarms of red legged flying insects, that were literally clogging the air, and giving one a sense of what it must be like to live in a swamp type region (never seen anything like it to be truthful). Anyway me, Helen, and Labradors Luther and Molly, set off on our trek with the day already approaching lunchtime.
Now Mam Tor has apparently been inhabitated since Bronze Age times, and the plaques (haven’t they lasted well) suggest that at different periods the area was in use for both hillforts and burial mounds. On the footpath on the way up to Mam Tor there is also the occasional embedded bronze image of settlements, pottery and other tools. Anyway we are hard core walkers and don’t have time for such nonsense, although Luther did give one a bit of a sniff. Mam Tor is also at the western end of the Great Ridge, which separates the vales of Edale and Castleton and is roughly paved for most of the walk to prevent erosion (see Wikipedia).
Having easily conquered the ascent of Mam Tor, along with all the other people around us plus flies, we were soon trying to spy out a flying insect free zone where we could have our sandwiches. No such area that pest free existed however and we ended up sitting and eating slightly over the grass verge before the ascent to Hollins Cross. Helen kindly gave me her jacket to sit on, and in return I shared some of my Lemon Barley water with the heavily panting Luther.
Now Mam Tor has apparently been inhabitated since Bronze Age times, and the plaques (haven’t they lasted well) suggest that at different periods the area was in use for both hillforts and burial mounds. On the footpath on the way up to Mam Tor there is also the occasional embedded bronze image of settlements, pottery and other tools. Anyway we are hard core walkers and don’t have time for such nonsense, although Luther did give one a bit of a sniff. Mam Tor is also at the western end of the Great Ridge, which separates the vales of Edale and Castleton and is roughly paved for most of the walk to prevent erosion (see Wikipedia).
Having easily conquered the ascent of Mam Tor, along with all the other people around us plus flies, we were soon trying to spy out a flying insect free zone where we could have our sandwiches. No such area that pest free existed however and we ended up sitting and eating slightly over the grass verge before the ascent to Hollins Cross. Helen kindly gave me her jacket to sit on, and in return I shared some of my Lemon Barley water with the heavily panting Luther.
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The next ascent was then up to Hollins Cross, which according to Helen gets its name due to the cross paths diverging from the West and East of it. Wikipedia claim however (which of course may not be accurate) that it gets its name due to a cross once being raised here that apparently disappeared in 1905. Anyway our next ascent was the steepest one of the day up to Back Tor, where a single tree sits at the top, and then finally up to Lose Hill. Now it’s fair to say that the views on this beautiful sunny day were spectacular, which I hope my photos give some small impression of. However it is also human nature to self-edit somewhat, and therefore you are unlikely to hear anyone give much of a mention to the cement works that are your constant companion to your right, as you walk from Mam Tor to Lose Hill. Nothing but the truth on this blog however, so enjoy the photo. Anyway by the time we had reached the summit of Lose Hill both the crowds and the flying insects had thinned out.
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So having: consulted the map, expressed disappointment that the official distance we had covered wasn’t exactly two miles, had our photos taken, and worried a few sheep, we began our descent from Lose Hill down towards Castleton. Both of us found the steep descent hard going on the legs, not helped by the uneven surface and having a dog tugging away on one side of you. There was also a little circumnavigating to do to avoid walking through some bulls, that was making Helen a little nervous. Having reached the bottom we came across about a dozen lads all loaded down with copious amounts of alcohol, and in one case kitted out in full lederhosen. Having passed some type of Rugby match and then some sort of training college, our next mission was to get an ice cream. We eventually found a shop selling the famous (isn’t it always) Bradwell ice cream, once Luther and Molly had enjoyed a refreshing drink from a stream flowing with orange coloured water.
We then briefly skirted through the town of Castleton, which mainly consists of gift shops selling the expensive Blue John, and which is exclusively mined at the nearby cavern. Crossing the road to find the OS mapped footpath, we found ourselves heading back towards Mam Tor. There hadn’t been many occasions where we could let the dogs off the leads, but this gave them a chance to have a good runabout. As we began to ascend, Helen who looked on her last legs at this point (I wasn’t much more lively myself in truth) thoroughly did her best to confuse me as to whether we were walking up to the summit, or on the road, or a combination of both, or neither. However after a series of stops and starts, and looking at the entrance to assorted caves and caverns, we eventually ended up walking along the A625 Sheffield to Chapel en le Frith road. How boring you must now be thinking, well no actually as this is really the remains of a road that has been progressively destroyed by falling shale from Mam Tor (due to its other name as the Shivering Mountain), and which finally closed in 1979. Anyway the photo should give you the idea.
So apart from Luther making some new friends (with Molly choosing to do the opposite) whilst Helen consulted the map, and also having to circumnavigate a flybitten screaming child and her family, that was basically that and we were soon back at Helens car. So overall a nice walk on a perfectly sunny day. The climbs weren’t excessive and neither was the distance, so it is hard to explain why we both felt so done in afterwards.
Walks since last blog entry: (1 x eleven miler – Wimbledon Park to Osterley) + (1 x eight miler – Putney to Osterley) + (1 x seven and a half miler – Grand Union Canal / Osterley Park).
So apart from Luther making some new friends (with Molly choosing to do the opposite) whilst Helen consulted the map, and also having to circumnavigate a flybitten screaming child and her family, that was basically that and we were soon back at Helens car. So overall a nice walk on a perfectly sunny day. The climbs weren’t excessive and neither was the distance, so it is hard to explain why we both felt so done in afterwards.
Walks since last blog entry: (1 x eleven miler – Wimbledon Park to Osterley) + (1 x eight miler – Putney to Osterley) + (1 x seven and a half miler – Grand Union Canal / Osterley Park).
Monday, 27 July 2009
Seaford to Eastbourne – (East Sussex) – 24/07/09 – 13 Miles – Helen
Despite the best efforts of the twits who read the weather to put us off going, me and Helen decided to take our chances anyway and head for the Coast. This being my fourth outing over the Seven Sisters in the space of the year, and Helen’s first. So needless to say the predicted rain never materialised with the Sun shining all day. That said it was blowing something of a gale for most of our time there, forcing me to keep on my fleece to avoid the wind chill, whilst hard as nails Helen mostly got by in just a t-shirt.
Anyway the train pulled into Seaford at 1216, and the first order of the day (alright then second after a pit stop) was to sit on a bench facing the pebble beach and sea, and then devour our sandwiches. To our left was an impressive airborne kite which was to be our first flying display that hour. So with grub down, a brief snoop at the outside of the multicoloured beach huts, and a walk around the Martello Tower, we were soon up onto the top of Seaford Head. Here the full power of the wind became immediately apparent, with my hasty decision to go into t-shirt mode myself, quickly being reversed. Once up there of course, the deceptivly close Seven Sisters come into view, with only our second flying display of the day, three helicopters, momentarily diverting our attention.
Anyway the train pulled into Seaford at 1216, and the first order of the day (alright then second after a pit stop) was to sit on a bench facing the pebble beach and sea, and then devour our sandwiches. To our left was an impressive airborne kite which was to be our first flying display that hour. So with grub down, a brief snoop at the outside of the multicoloured beach huts, and a walk around the Martello Tower, we were soon up onto the top of Seaford Head. Here the full power of the wind became immediately apparent, with my hasty decision to go into t-shirt mode myself, quickly being reversed. Once up there of course, the deceptivly close Seven Sisters come into view, with only our second flying display of the day, three helicopters, momentarily diverting our attention.
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Past Hope Gap, where Helen thought better of taking a paddle in the Sea, and we were soon at the estuary at Cuckmere Haven. As you approach the watery inland diversion you come across the (former) Coastguard Cottages, which apparently survived the best attentions of the Luftwaffe during the War. That however was a mere local difficulty compared to the joint attack they now face from a combined attack of coastal erosion, and Environmental Agency apathy. Anyway the information board gives all the relevant phone numbers of people to badger, if passers-by want to support the current residents fight to have their seawalls maintained. So pretending to be anything but apathetic ourselves, we left the cottages behind as we had our second stop off of the day to attend to at the pub. Having not been overly impressed by the food the last time I visited the Golden Galleon, this time it was a case of drinks only, all the while sinking and snoozing into some comfy armchairs for the best part of three quarters of an hour. However we had to move sometime if we were to avoid having to get the bus onto Eastbourne, so it was the usual case of crossing back and forth over Exceat Bridge, returning along the other bank of the Estuary, and back onto the cliffs to get stuck into the Seven Sisters themselves.
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Up and down, up and down, up and down we go, which is pretty much what the Seven Sisters are all about. One short sharp ascent, followed by a short sharp descent, and do the whole thing again six more times, all the while accompanied by the constant motor of the waves far below. As such the multi layers of blue on the Sea, makes for an idylic contrast with the light green of the grass, all the while separated by the brilliant white of the cliffs inbetween. They are brilliant white of course because more and more of it is falling into the Sea, one particular chunk (which you can see in the photo) looked as if it was about to go anyday now. Mind you all those badger holes everywhere you look, can’t be helping matters either.
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Anyway having polished off all seven we found ourselves at Birling Gap looking for some afternoon Tea. There wasn’t much more than the most basic of fare at the café, however my coffee and Cadburys mini roll went down nicely, as did Helen’s coffee and rock cake. So by the time we were moving off again on the way to Beachy Head we were now into late afternoon. The wind had begun to drop slightly, but was still not enough to persuade me to take off my extra layer. Along the way we admired the Belle Tout lighthouse, which is now surrounded by scaffolding since my last visit (obviously moving house again), and Helen was able to spot some microscopic flowers, which oafs like me are more likely to just tread on. What I also hadn’t seen before at the top of Beachy Head, was a notice board by a telephone box giving the phone number of The Samaritans (some sad stories here of course, but are not worth dwellling on).
From that point we were finally in full descent mode as we headed towards the town of Eastbourne, and the pier which moved further away from us the more we walked towards it. After the briefest of peeps into ‘Helen Gardens’ (for no other reason than …… well you work it out ?) we were down onto the promenade in the beautiful light of the early Summer’s evening. I can’t say the beaches at Eastbourne look much to me, but with the fading sunlight on them, they took on a golden brown glow, as we were able to make out small figures walking dogs, and partaking of other activities upon them. Anyway fish and chips was our next mission, and after some debate as to whether there would be a shop on the pier itself, we instead found a more than acceptable Harry Ramsdens, on the other side of the road that led to our approach into town. Thus fully stuffed with cod and chips, we did the final grim mile through Eastbourne town centre, dodging the local feral kids, to make the 2031 train back to London. In the Time out Country Walks Book 2 (where this walk comes from) it suggests that you allocate 12 hours to the day including travelling (which I have scoffed at on my previous visits). On this day however that proved spot on, so by the time we finally got home, it was basically time for bed.
Walks since last blog entry: (1 x seven and a half miler – Grand Union Canal / Osterley Park).
From that point we were finally in full descent mode as we headed towards the town of Eastbourne, and the pier which moved further away from us the more we walked towards it. After the briefest of peeps into ‘Helen Gardens’ (for no other reason than …… well you work it out ?) we were down onto the promenade in the beautiful light of the early Summer’s evening. I can’t say the beaches at Eastbourne look much to me, but with the fading sunlight on them, they took on a golden brown glow, as we were able to make out small figures walking dogs, and partaking of other activities upon them. Anyway fish and chips was our next mission, and after some debate as to whether there would be a shop on the pier itself, we instead found a more than acceptable Harry Ramsdens, on the other side of the road that led to our approach into town. Thus fully stuffed with cod and chips, we did the final grim mile through Eastbourne town centre, dodging the local feral kids, to make the 2031 train back to London. In the Time out Country Walks Book 2 (where this walk comes from) it suggests that you allocate 12 hours to the day including travelling (which I have scoffed at on my previous visits). On this day however that proved spot on, so by the time we finally got home, it was basically time for bed.
Walks since last blog entry: (1 x seven and a half miler – Grand Union Canal / Osterley Park).
Sunday, 5 July 2009
Boxhill / Headley Heath (Circular) – (Surrey) – 07/07/09 – 11 Miles – IVC.
With Andy Murray absent from my planned activity for this Sunday, a day in front of the TV thinking about what might have been, was definitely not an option. So just like last week it was a walk with IVC, and just like last week the tube was being engineered on, forcing me yet again onto the railway. Still £3.50 for an off peak return to the connection at Clapham Junction hardly breaks the bank. Unfortunately collaring me on the platform at Clapham Junction was a certain member who had bored everyone rigid on the walk I led through Richmond Park. Forced however to share the rail carriage with my new ‘friend’ to Boxhill and Westhumble, he eventually (albeit temporarily) got the message when I refused to look up from my paper as he was speaking to me.
So with our party assembled at our destination we were soon on a climb up onto Boxhill Country Park. To our right we were able to take in some stunning views across the Mole Gap. Somewhat stupidly however I had stopped to take a picture of the view, only to find myself stuck at the back of the group with my ‘friend’ downloading yet more interesting stories of his childhood onto me. Looking at the ground and hoping one of us would be struck by lightning, I inadvertently had been forced to slow down to his pace. Suddenly I looked up to find the whole group had left us, upon which point we both came to a fork in the path without knowing which way to go. So at this point my ‘friend’ went into a complete hissy fit saying how it wasn’t fair and he was 14 stone, and why didn’t anyone wait (probably because they had been on the wrong end of one of his one sided conversations). Anyway I decided that the logical direction was down, but he wanted to go up. So initially having it his way, it became obvious that was wrong and that we had to retrace our steps back to the fork. Unfortunately this made his tantrum worse and he said he was heading back to the pub (expecting me to join him ?). Anyway thankfully shot of him, I carried on and soon caught up the group, who had now sent out a one man search party for the two of us. So with him being rounded up in due course by said party, it became obvious that my ‘friend’ was now very cross and was not going to speak to me for the rest of the day (so that meant of course I was now free to enjoy the walk).
Boxhill Country Park is a really excellent place to walk with a whole series of challenging climbs and sharp descents. It is also somewhere however where you really need a map to find your way about. Thus even with three OS maps kicking about the group, there was constant stopping and discussing about which way to go next. Thus following a very steep descent we eventually made our way to The Running Horses pub in Mickleham for lunch. Now our leader had forewarned us in the bulletin that the pub could be very busy and that sandwiches would be a wise precaution. So following her instructions I bought the cheapest sandwich I could get at Clapham Junction, with a view to throwing it away if the pub was able to serve up their meals on time. Once at the pub however it became obvious that service itself wasn’t the problem, but instead it was the gastro pub menu prices. So I settled down outside with my pint of cider and sarnie whilst those around me ordered the meals. Feeling a little left out of proceedings however, I decided to order the desert which was white chocolate and strawberry crème brulet. Very nice too when it eventually arrived, although I had to go and chase it up 25 minutes after ordering (I expect faster service than that for £6.25). Anyway our leader had assured me our group wouldn’t leave without me. In fact to prove that she wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry, she inadvertently managed to be hit on the head by a flying table umbrella/canopy. No one was quite sure how it happened except for the small boy at the table, who had obviously been fiddling with it, who was convinced a freak gust of wind had got hold of it.
Following lunch and with me feeling slightly queasy after the sarnie/cider/crème brulet smoothie, we then had to go back up the formerly steep descent. Thus the second half of the walk found us on the way back to Boxhill and Westhumble station by a different (and explained to me as) a figure of eight route. This taking us via Headley heath which as you can see from the picture is owned by the National Trust. A few steep ascents followed by which time the crème brulet had long melted away from my stomach. The one real exception to the afternoons ascents being a really long descent of steps like the ones me and Helen so enjoyed making at Craflwyn for the National Trust. Far far longer in this case though, with the photo not really doing it justice (as only a small part is visible) and begging the question: how many working holidays did it take to put that together ?
So with our party assembled at our destination we were soon on a climb up onto Boxhill Country Park. To our right we were able to take in some stunning views across the Mole Gap. Somewhat stupidly however I had stopped to take a picture of the view, only to find myself stuck at the back of the group with my ‘friend’ downloading yet more interesting stories of his childhood onto me. Looking at the ground and hoping one of us would be struck by lightning, I inadvertently had been forced to slow down to his pace. Suddenly I looked up to find the whole group had left us, upon which point we both came to a fork in the path without knowing which way to go. So at this point my ‘friend’ went into a complete hissy fit saying how it wasn’t fair and he was 14 stone, and why didn’t anyone wait (probably because they had been on the wrong end of one of his one sided conversations). Anyway I decided that the logical direction was down, but he wanted to go up. So initially having it his way, it became obvious that was wrong and that we had to retrace our steps back to the fork. Unfortunately this made his tantrum worse and he said he was heading back to the pub (expecting me to join him ?). Anyway thankfully shot of him, I carried on and soon caught up the group, who had now sent out a one man search party for the two of us. So with him being rounded up in due course by said party, it became obvious that my ‘friend’ was now very cross and was not going to speak to me for the rest of the day (so that meant of course I was now free to enjoy the walk).
Boxhill Country Park is a really excellent place to walk with a whole series of challenging climbs and sharp descents. It is also somewhere however where you really need a map to find your way about. Thus even with three OS maps kicking about the group, there was constant stopping and discussing about which way to go next. Thus following a very steep descent we eventually made our way to The Running Horses pub in Mickleham for lunch. Now our leader had forewarned us in the bulletin that the pub could be very busy and that sandwiches would be a wise precaution. So following her instructions I bought the cheapest sandwich I could get at Clapham Junction, with a view to throwing it away if the pub was able to serve up their meals on time. Once at the pub however it became obvious that service itself wasn’t the problem, but instead it was the gastro pub menu prices. So I settled down outside with my pint of cider and sarnie whilst those around me ordered the meals. Feeling a little left out of proceedings however, I decided to order the desert which was white chocolate and strawberry crème brulet. Very nice too when it eventually arrived, although I had to go and chase it up 25 minutes after ordering (I expect faster service than that for £6.25). Anyway our leader had assured me our group wouldn’t leave without me. In fact to prove that she wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry, she inadvertently managed to be hit on the head by a flying table umbrella/canopy. No one was quite sure how it happened except for the small boy at the table, who had obviously been fiddling with it, who was convinced a freak gust of wind had got hold of it.
Following lunch and with me feeling slightly queasy after the sarnie/cider/crème brulet smoothie, we then had to go back up the formerly steep descent. Thus the second half of the walk found us on the way back to Boxhill and Westhumble station by a different (and explained to me as) a figure of eight route. This taking us via Headley heath which as you can see from the picture is owned by the National Trust. A few steep ascents followed by which time the crème brulet had long melted away from my stomach. The one real exception to the afternoons ascents being a really long descent of steps like the ones me and Helen so enjoyed making at Craflwyn for the National Trust. Far far longer in this case though, with the photo not really doing it justice (as only a small part is visible) and begging the question: how many working holidays did it take to put that together ?
With the walk coming near to its conclusion we stopped for afternoon tea in Boxhill at Ryka’s Bikers Café. In fact it was quite sweet to see this community of bikers all gathering here for their afternoon burgers and teas’, including among them some Police bikers as well. Anyway I put on as macho voice as I could muster when ordering my hot chocolate, whilst one of the lady bikers quizzed one of our lady walkers as to ‘where did you get your boots’. Anyway overall a very good days walking, with the temperature cooler than it was at the start of the week, but still warm enough to break out a sweat in a t-shirt.
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