Sunday, June 30, 2013
Gromits invade Bristol
After months of anticipation, the painted Gromits have arrived. I spotted my first one yesterday while sailing... it was aboard the Mathew and is decorated with a map of the world. Then the largest blue&yellow water taxi cruised by, with a Gromit in the bow. And then when I walked home I saw that even my local Pump House has a Gromit. So at that point I grabbed my camera and went for a short exploratory walk. I'll add more pictures as I collect more Gromit sightings.
Cumbria Way
Three northwesterners (me, sister Sue and brother-in-law Harvey) explore the Lake District. We did this by hiking the Cumbria Way, a 76-mile-long networks of (mostly) footpaths, lanes, etc that traverse the Lake District from north to south to the west of the more populated parts of the lakes. We stayed in B&Bs and had our bags tranferred, so we were able to carry only day packs - a real pleasure! I kept a rather cryptic diary en route ... this is a slightly edited version.
June 14 Ulverston
Rain thundering down on the roof of the Old Bakery House. Pint of prawns for dinner plus my share of sticky toffee pudding. A bit of a walk would have been good but we rapidly retreated from the rain - we will probably walk in enough rain in the week to come. To reach Ulverston we had traveled north by train, changing first at Birmingham and then Lancaster, passing fluorescent yellow rape fields hedged by Looking-Glass hedges and small not-very-attractive towns of identical brick houses that transformed into more pastoral countryside as we moved north. Arrived at Ulverston in the mid-afternoon, with its red-and-green trim iron grillwork station and sign for the Cumbria Way. Ulverston is a neat stone-faced town with purple flowers dripping from gray walls; the Mercedes dealer, Audis, and BMWs speak to its affluence. Our accommodation for the night is a ‘self-catering’ cottage with a stone front and bright red door and chic black-and-red themed interior.
June 15 Ulverston to Coniston
Although we started the day thinking that we might catch a taxi out of Ulverston to shorten our first day (15.5 miles), we were shamed into walking the entire way by our Sherpa Van contact, the drum player Martin. He showed up this morning with red shoes and red jacket and funny black hat - attire for a gig with his New Orleans jazz band later in the day. To explain, Sherpa Van is a company that will transfer bags from hotel to hotel. After trying it I’ve decided that it is definitely the way to go - 15 mile days are actually OK if you are carrying only a day pack! It then took us a little bit of time to find Cumbria Way (this became a theme to our journey, that getting out of town was commonly the biggest navigation challenge of every day), but a nice man directed us to the trail head, which was nicely marked once we got there.
The first day’s weather is dramatic, with fast moving clouds sweeping sunlight across the green fields. We pass pastures of cows and sheep and dry stone walls that intersect at picturesque stone farmsteads. The landscape is gridded with blooming hedges and flanked by fields of yellow buttercups.
As we approach the Lake District proper, green pastures transform to bracken, tarns and black peat bogs torn up by range animals and mountain bikes. It is here that we realize that the OS maps are not only our guide to the trail but also an introduction to the pentimento of language embedded within the local names. For some I even recognize their nordic roots because of similarities to Icelandic: dale = valley (Icelandic = dalur); fell = mountain (Icelandic = fjall); waterfall = force [Icelandic = foss]. But it is the sheer abundance of descriptive names... for water: beck [stream], gill [or ghyll; ravine or creek], tarn, water [lake]; for knobs-mountains: how(e), height, knott, pike, rigg [ridge]; for landscape: moss [bog], thwaite [clearing], coppice [managed woodland]. And so we pass Wool Knott, Slatestone Fell, Beacon Tarn and Tarn Riggs, but our favorite of the day was (of course) Standing Harvey Moss, which we reached just before descending to Coniston Water.
Blustery winds create whitecap froth and blow a lovely boat toward Coniston. We were all excited to see Coniston, particularly as we had a view south to Peel Island [read Wildcat Island, Swallows and Amazon fans]. However, the walk north along the lakeside was not quite the stroll we expected because of rocky paths and some topography, until we reach the open expanse of woods that is Torver Commons. And then there were boats and tents and all of the scattered signs of summer and tourists, although Coniston Water is surprisingly undeveloped relative to neighboring Windemere. Coniston itself tucked into a valley away from the water, with cliff dwellings (my term0 of stone that hug the hillsides below the Old Man of Coniston [Kachenjunga to the Swallows] and other glacier-sculpted peaks. We find our rooms at the Crown Hotel and then head off in search of Coniston-brewed Infinity IPA and dinner. The most curious local tradition of the Lake District (to us at least) is the invitation for dogs to enter pubs. Quite understandably, then, there are lots of dogs, and some temporary fights. But we made friends with Portia the red fox lab - seemed like a lovely dog.
June 16 Coniston to Old Dungeon Ghyll
We left Coniston on a leisurely schedule that set the tone for a leisurely day. The Cumbria Way was much easier to follow today - only occasionally did we even need to check the map, the path now etched into the landscape and paved by stone most of the way, sometimes loose gravel to cobbles, sometimes neatly laid stone paths, who knows by whom. The hike north from Coniston followed valleys, through the Monk Coniston estate (complete with designer medieval dog kennel and friendly National Trust guide), past the Tarn Hows (where we entered the Borrowdale volcanic rocks so I felt at home). Then followed Greenburn Beck with its multi-tiered waterfalls at Colwith Force to Elterwater and a ginger beer at the Brittania Pub. Then an easy walk along stone-walled lanes and pastures to first New, and then Old Dungeon Ghyll. Entertainment along the route was provided mostly by sheep. They come in all flavors here. The white-headed gray sheep with cute black lambs (we discovered that they are the classic Borrowdale breed, Herdwick), the white-headed brownish sheep with white lambs... the lambs that have evolved to trot along the top of stone walls (so what are the walls for?). And of course, the occasional calf and cow.
And then there is the variety of walls - dry stone or cemented, neatly arranged or helter-skelter, mixed in rock type, mixed in rock form, and neatly laid slate. And the endless variations on the mode of decorating the top of the walls.
June 17 Old Dungeon Ghyll to Rosthwaite
Damp morning but rain had stopped by the time we were ready to leave Old Dungeon Ghyll. Walked up Great Langdale and then climbed the stone path that switchbacks up Stake Gill, which tumbles down the headwall of the valley. The stream bubbles cheerily alongside, the ever-present sheep with tie-dyed wool. We also learn that sheep skins provide an impermeable barrier for repairs to boggy parts of the trail system. We are accompanied on the first part of our walk by an American Anglophile who was more of a Swallows & Amazons afficionado than the Cashmans... told us the location of all the books and something about Ransome, as well as the original Holly Howe (now self-catering cottages).
Climbed out of Great Langdale and over lumpy ground (moraines) to the "Pile of Stones" that marks the divide at Stake Pass (472m). Conversed with fellow walker Aussies who wanted confirmation on their map reading... which led to a discussion of different ways of viewing the walk. The Aussies described themselves as taking a point-to-point approach (yellow arrow to yellow arrow), as described us (the geologists) as having the big picture perspective. They were finding the point-to-point approach a bit disconcerting, because today was almost devoid of little yellow arrows, surrendering instead to a stone path through the treeless grass and bracken that needs no identification. However, we noted that they were better at finding their way out of the towns! Descended along Stake Beck to Langstrath Beck and finally Borrowdale, as lush and green as its fame for being the wettest place in the UK would imply. Glimpses of sun illuminate the hill slopes which continue to have a lumpy character and convexity that amazes geomorphologist Harvey. As we descend we start to pick up trees of elderflower and hawthorne and finally the majestic sessile oaks and yews that give their name to farms in multiple valleys. Stop for lunch at a waterfall partway down the valley wall; stop for another break at a Hunts Mills style waterfall where Sue and I play with photos.
Walk into Rosthwaite [clearing among the rose thorns] to find the nice and welcoming Scafell Hotel. Retire quickly to the Riverside Bar with pints of Copper Dragon beer. Soon joined by our Aussie friends although they are staying up the road (but were in need of a pub for dinner). Settle in for a quiet and rather gray overcast evening, my room looking up the valley over a rhododendron garden and oak-lined beck.
June 18 Rosthwaite to Keswick via Catbells
A glorious sunny day in the rainiest place in England. Lovely walk down Borrowdale, past the Herdwick sheep. Getting out of the valley meant that we were back to stone walls and their necessary counterpart stiles, which come in as many different styles as there are Herdwick sheep colorings. Not to mention all the ways devised to cross gills, becks, and rivers.
Part way down the valley we made the decision to divert from the Cumbria Way to climb Cat Bells, a craggy peak with an unlikely name that derives from a mispelling of the nordic word bield, which means den (from the belief that the fell once was home to wild cats). An impressive staircase on the way up, a steep descent over polished stone. But lovely views of Derwentwater in one direction and Newlands valley in the other.
The lake was full of water craft - sail or paddle plus the attractive polished wood launches that buzzed around the lake. Fleets of red canoes, white-sailed small sailboats and the occasional red-sailed Mirror dinghy. After a leisurely lunch at the summit and a sometimes knee-painful walk down, Sue and I decided that we wanted to get out on the water via the ferry, while Harv decided to keep walking. We had a pleasant boat ride and time to check out the rowboat hire facilities (and National Trust shop) before meeting up at the Badgers Rest B&B in an attractive stone-faced terrace house. Shower and then out to the Bank Tavern for beer and dinner, followed by a stroll around this town, where every other store is a high tech mountaineering establishment. Still sunny at 9, still very light at 10, as we approach the solstice at >54˚ N.
A gloriously sunny day. Our B&B didn't serve breakfast until 8:30 so we decided to walk to the Castlerigg stone circle before breakfast. But we had a few problems finding our way, and it was a bit farther out of town than we thought, so we didn't quite get there before breakfast. We did return after breakfast and it was excellent. Perched on the top of Chestnut Hill, backed by the northern fells and facing on Derwentwater. Not surprising that this place was special. Circle was not quite a circle and the large stones of the Borrowdale volcanics were irregular in size and shape, so it is thought that this is a fairly old stone circle (4500 yrs). I wonder if part of the motivation for making it was the glacial erratics scattered around the landscape. National Trust signs about the site were interesting. We particularly enjoyed the story of Dorothy & William Wordsworth & Samuel Coleridge visiting in 1799 and complaining that there were too many tourists so that it spoiled their contemplation of the site.
By the time we got back to town we were starting to think about lunch, which we had at a little vegetarian place that fronted on the large parking area rather than the main street, and was therefore quiet. Then off to the Cumberland Pencil Museum and a very enjoyable few hours touring the museum, taking a free pencil watercolor class, and, of course, then buying some supplies! The most surprising information from the museum was learning that graphite was so valuable, particularly when in a form that could be shaped into pencils. It eventually required an armed escort, up until the French figured out how to mix clay with inferior graphite and thus bind it into shapes. But Derwent fine art pencils are still a thriving industry (they have made commemorative pencil boxes for the recent royal weddings, for example). And I liked the stone wall outside of the museum, which looked rather pencil-ish.
June 20 Keswick to Caldbeck
Woke to more glorious sunlight. Set out from Keswick right after breakfast and headed north. Immediately clear that this would be a different day, with slate underfoot and sheep that reversed color (black heads and white wool rather than the Herdy white face and colored wool... entering a new sheepshed, we joked). Trail headed uphill for a ways and then contoured pleasantly around the hillsides. With the wind at our backs, the path sandy rather than rocky, and the view of the smooth bracken- and heather-covered hills so different from the knobby irregularities of the volcanic mountains, the walking was the most pleasant of the journey. The only thing to mar the walk was the progression of mountain bikers who tended to sneak up from behind with very little warning.
The human-constructed landscape was also different. Stone walls were less numerous and mostly apparent only in circular sheep folds (nouveau stone circles, Sue and I called them). Also apparent were the occasional ruins of what looked like sheepherder cottages, and, as we turned up the valleyto ascend to the ridge, the ruins of, and tailings from, a large mine. The only functional buildings we passed were the Skiddaw YHA, improbably located in the middle of nowhere (well, not really - was only a couple of hours walk from Keswick but definitely a walk or mountain bike ride) and a tar-paper-covered hut on the ridge (which also hosted the only yellow Cumbria Way arrow on the entire trail across the high fells). The trail took us up across High Pike, one of the ‘Wainrights’. Another theme of the trip was the history of climbing, or running, the fells. This past-time has become an obsession for many people, one of whom (Wainwright) produced phenomenally detailed descriptions, maps and drawings of numerous (100s) climbs in the Lake District. So - High Pike is one, Cat Bells is another. Harv bought a map of the Wainrights (complete with checklist) and dutifully entered our names for both.
The Cumbria Way was rather free-form across the top of the northern fells, but basically followed a crow’s route (or, I should say, jackdaw - common crow’s cousin here but a new bird for us), descending steadily across grassy slopes and straight into the fields and settlements of Caldbeck. Arrived at the wonderful Old Rectory to barking dogs and a big pot of tea and cake in the comfortable kitchen, and large airy rooms and strong hot showers and comfortable pub meal.
June 21 Caldbeck to Carlisle
The day dawned overcast and we were tired from the previous day. Hard to tear ourselves away from our spacious Old Rectory home. But after a large and tasty breakfast in the OR kitchen and time to chat and organize, we headed down the driveway, over the stream and off along the Cumbria Way. Again a very different day. The walk basically followed the River Caldew all the way to Carlisle, first through muddy green woods and then across buttercup-carpeted pastures. Found a convenient log by the river for lunch, watched fish, great blue herons and swans, passed through pastures of cows as well as sheep (a sure sign of the lowlands) and stopped at Bridge End for tea/ginger beer/scones and a rest for aching feet. The pub had a TV that was showing the races from Ascot. We'd been seeing photo headlines in the papers about Ascot - particularly the hats worn by attendees in the royal box - and Tim Cartmell (from the Old Rectory) had given us the news that the Queen's horse had won a race on the first day, but other than that we hadn't paid much attention to the horse racing. But since we were there we decided to stay to watch a race... a mile, once around the impossibly green grass track, and a stunning race. The horses were closely clumped throughout most of the race, with the single gray horse Sky Lantern at the back of the pack. Until the home stretch, when she had an amazing run up the outside to win by several lengths. Quite exciting!
Just north of Bridge End is the little town of Dalston, which is where our Ordinance Survey map ended. We asked around to try to find a source of another map without any success. But we did find a guy in the post office who pointed us to the bike path that served as the final 5 miles of the Cumbria Way. Hard on the feet to walk on pavement but easy to follow, as it hugged the river through abandoned textile factories, along the railroad, across a preserved wetlands and into the suburbs of Carlisle. Renovated brick mill houses that had clearly been associated with the mills, cobblestone streets contrasting with the satellite dishes outside the doors, houses precariously located relative to the river walls and labeled flood gates. In fact, all along the river we could see evidence of a large recent flood in the form of LWD (large woody debris) stacked against standing trees and bridge support, gravel on fields. Finally arrived in Carlisle and made our way through town with turreted towers flanking red sandstone walls, up the hill to and across the River Eden to our hotel. Which is most notable for being located not only directly on Hadrian's wall but also on the site of the largest Roman fort along the wall (10 acres; 4 hectares). Of course you can't see any of the fort because the ruins now lie below the city, but apparently there has been sufficient excavation over the years to map out its extent. Remarkable when you realize how far away Rome is!
June 22 Carlisle to Bristol
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