A snowy end to the old year, 28 December 2014

For the final walk of 2014 LRWG headed off to Keyworth in South Nottinghamshire. Leaving Leicestershire and heading north, there was no sign of any snow - we had only had a couple of hours of it on Boxing Day which had melted before bed-time. But as we got further north we could see the white stuff appearing on the verges, then building up in the fields, and it turned out that our luck had struck again and a proper snowy walk was in prospect.

This was a very pleasant walk of 12.5 miles which was mainly flat, and in places we were walking in undisturbed snow which was several inches deep. This is what we get good walking kit for, and it was great to have the last walk of 2014 walking in a 'winter wonderland' of snow!

At the end of the walk we got to see an amazing sunset and retrieved our cars just as it was getting dark.  Thanks to Mark for leading our last walk of the year in such style...

Branston to Branston but not a pickle in sight!, 21 September 2014

It was a beautiful day when twelve ramblers gathered outside the Wheel Inn in Branston, Leicestershire. Unfortunately the thirteenth member was still lost somewhere in the wilds in the East of Leicestershire. Not being a particularly superstitious bunch, two brave souls stayed behind to wait for her while the rest of the group forged ahead. Happily she soon arrived and the thirteen were soon reunited at the medieval church in Croxton Kerrial - home to a Norman knight (lurking in the dark, carved on a pillar) and a dragon-headed pew or two.

A short walk along the main road and then onto the confusingly named Viking Way. No vikings were spotted but we did have to watch our footing on areas of the path churned up by off-road scramblers. Some members of the group were also distracted by the ample crop of sloes lining the path, almost audibly begging to be made into gin. Sadly no time for that (although readers may rest assured that a mental note was made for later) and so it was on to the hidden turning. So well hidden, in fact, that we walked straight past it due to the sight of gliders taking off from the nearby World War Two airfield. Perhaps it was the strong sense of wonder and patriotism at the thought of so many risking their lives to defend ol' blighty, but it probably had a good deal more to do with our guide being a little too busy regaling us with anecdotes to pay attention. No harm done, though, and a quick back-track meant we were soon on our way.

A few fields later we were greeted with snorts and squeals of delight as a host of friendly pigs came to say hello. One even forgot itself so much as to attempt to gamble around the sty like a newly born lamb! Chuckling heartily, we only had a little further way to go to the Nag's Head where its very accommodating landlord put on chips for all!

Suitably rested, watered and fed, it was across the fields and up the hill (yes - in Leicestershire!) to witness the final resting place of King John's innards (he of the Magna Carta, don't you know). Then some further clambering up moderate slopes and back to Branston for cake, hot chocolate (and beer for those who must) at The Wheel.

Wye oh Wye (Delilah?), Sunday 24 August 2014

We nearly adopted the border guard!

A somewhat chilly dawn greeted those sober enough to see it, and hot showers were most certainly in order.  Then, after the ritual downing of coffee and the ceremonial dropping-out of those too heavily-refreshed to ramble, the less delicate walkers saw that the sun had his hat on after all, convened over maps, and extemporised creatively with some rapid routage.

Our hastily masterminded tour started in the middle of a wood near Pen-y-fan, cut through brambles to the water’s edge, and took in another beautiful stretch of the Wye, which led along a disused railway line to an old Victorian railway bridge, complete with old pub, even more ancient pub-goers, and massively cute husky guarding the crisps.

After lunch beside that very fine Victorian railway bridge (we may have banged on about the architecture a bit), we climbed up to Offa’s Dyke for more fine views interspersed by woodland dense enough to prove that even short people can wallop their bonces on low-hanging branches if they’re that low.

Then, tired and bruised-in-the-bonce, we staggered back into Monmouth for tea and bara brith and ice cream and chips (why choose?), then back to the sleeping bags one last time.

If you go down to the woods today... Saturday 23 August 2014

The sun started crawling above the trees as tents unzipped one by one, camping stoves were fettled into flame and campers stumbled towards the showers.  Then, before long, the apparent troglodytes had magically evolved into booted and be-rucksacked ramblers, ready to roll.

Symonds Yat: we still don't know what a yat is, though

Hand-pulled ferry, and hand-pulled pint

Rob led us out of Bracelands and into the woods, first to bag our scenic views of Symonds Yat, and then down to the meadows.  A tactical blast from our human fog-horn (who could that be?) won us a ride on a hand-drawn ferry over the Wye, and led straight in to a rather nice pub too.

The afternoon passed in a sunny haze, which the pub may have had something to do with, and a gentle amble by a very pretty river became a stride through equally handsome woods.  Then, after a jolly meal at a reasonably nearby pub, we were all ready for bed – well, most of us were, at least.

Break out the emergency tiffin, squadron! Sunday 15 June 2014

An early-morning alarm clock’s bell can be a rude awakening even for the most seasoned of ramblers.  At this time of year, the long days at least mean that the sun is already up, which helps.  But the big reason for not throwing alarm clocks vigorously out of the window this particular morning was that one of Ian’s Derbyshire walks was in the pipeline.

Hmm, cheese sandwiches, you say?

Can I join in?

We started in the impressively picturesque village of Tideswell, complete with many a fine cake-shop (toffee tiffin!), and headed off into the rolling countryside.  A spot of drizzle cooled us down as we climbed hills out of Monsal, and before long we had found a friendly herd of cows to sit and eat lunch with (at one point they were rather too friendly, until a part-time cowboy who shall remain nameless drank a can of pop too fast, the inevitable sound effects happened, and a herd of bullocks fled from the scene).

Down in the dales, our afternoon diversion was a warmer walk, which of course justified an ice cream stop – where we were entertained by very sociable cats.  The rambling highlight for many of us was probably the return route via Cresswell Dale, an unspoilt valley full of orchids.  Yep, that was worth getting up for.

Of course, after all that exercise and intellectual stimulation, we all had to stop for a cream tea at the end.  Well, mens sana in corpore sano, and all that.

Cromford Mill and strange lights in the sky, 1 June 2014

Look - blue skies!

After a week of rain, the walking group arrived in Cromford under a dazzling blue sky.  Dazed by the sunshine, we gathered in the courtyard of the old mill complex and admired the early industrial architecture... until someone pointed-out that we were in the wrong place and needed to get down to the canal.

Huffa-puffa-huffa-puffa-chuff-chuff-chooooo (etc.)

With the full posse assembled, we coasted along the towpath and then, lulled into such a false sense of security, started up the old railway incline.  

Ramblers may not be as fast as trains, but from the look of the track-bed perhaps we have a little more endurance!

That endurance was needed soon enough, as we trekked through idyllic flower-strewn meadows and started to be lightly steamed by the suddenly oven-like conditions, slowing down to navigate heaving pools of cow dung (thankfully neither of the usual topplers fell in), and taking rather a lot of pictures of Highland cattle.

The scenery, in the gaps between sweat and sneezes, was magnificent – worth the trek in any weather.

New LRWG recruit no.1

Up the apples and pears...

Relief from the heat came in Bonsall, site of many reported UFO sightings which are nothing to do with the pub’s fine range of real ales, supposedly.  We didn't have any Close Encounters, even if a few of us were still baffled by a bright light in the sky (it really had been a long time since the sun shone).

LRWG new recruit no.2

We made it back to the mill just in time to top up fluids at the café and raise a teacup to toast Rob for leading us on this classic route once more!

Here we go again, Sunday 11 May 2014

Being a Sunday in May with nothing much else on the walking programme, it was time to undergo the annual ritual of the cross-border footpath.  As previous such expeditions had seen the walk leader collapse under the onslaught of microscopic pollen, pairs of flying secateurs, and ramblers quaffing shandy in the sights of a tank, we wondered what rum entertainments the Fates had in store for us.

Ah yes, some soggy sheep.

This year’s unusual added extra was rain, mostly.  When the enormous 100% increase upon expected turn-out arrived, it was just a little light drizzle and nothing much to worry about. Having anticipated just one customer and got two, your loyal walk leader was therefore obliged to, well, lead.  Harrumph.

So we headed off into the drizzle, which as soon as we left Sewstern turned into driving rain.  But we’d got started by then, and it’s what ramblers do.

The pub at Skillington had room for the whole group to take a noon drink in, amazingly, and we sauntered on to Woolsthorpe where a field of chest-high rain-drenched oil-seed rape blocked the way, making us even wetter than the rain had done.

Newtonian apple blossom (subject to both gravity and friction)

Mercifully, the sun came out by Newton’s famous apple-tree, which was in full bloom, and provided a moment of warmth in which to dry our socks and eat cake.  Then we had the usual fun of clearing a path where a certain landowner appears not to fully respect rights of way; we won, of course, with a bit of elbow-grease as traditional.  The clouds opened with full vigour, hailing us with actual hail in celebration, until we reached the border once more and returned to Leicestershire, drenched, tired and ever so slightly smug at keeping going where lesser ramblers would have given up.  We’ll all go equipped with an umbrella next time, though.

Wigston & Glen Parva 04 May 2014

Another post from Chris:

I only did the first part of this walk, but it was very good weather and surprisingly the walk was very rural given its close start to Leicester city centre.

Karl took us to two historic sites; a moat from the 13th to 15th Century, and a standing stone - neither the purpose nor age of which were identified.

We also visited the Ice House in Bouskell Park which was basically a Victorian fridge except much bigger, and it also needed a cooling pond (see the group photo in front of it below). It makes you appreciate the R134a Compressor on the back of your fridge!

We had a caption for this, but we lost it behind the fridge...

After Bouskell park we followed 'Long Walk' from Bouskell park (Karl, I thought you said the first part was a short walk!).  

Lake District, 18-21 April 2014

The LRWG blog is back, thanks to Chris!

Over Easter, the trip that was initially planned for Bristol ended up in the Lake District - did you have the map the right way up, Craig? 

Proper fells

Craig is obviously passionate about the lakes, having bagged all of the Wainwrights (the 214 fells described in A. Wainwright's seven-volume Pictorial Guide to the Lakeland Fells). On this trip LRWG managed to bag an impressive 21 of those displayed on the 'tubular fells' map on the hostel wall.

Look, blue skies!

The weather was very good and the trip was dry, apart from a few showers on one day (which was surprising given the initial poor forecast).

LRWG members met for a few good meals together.  We were dotted all over the place, but we were especially impressed with the accommodation provided by the hostel.

Thank you Yvonne for the great photos.

Mohope Of Recovery, Sunday 2 March 2014

The splendid isolation of Ninebanks proved too tempting today, so we headed out straight from the hostel to the surrounding moors.

Up a slippery stream lay a land of peace, the bleeping of lapwings giving way to the gentle trickle of water running down from the oddly-named Mohope Moor.

Photo of Ninebanks hostel courtesy of YHA (original at http://www.yha.org.uk/hostel/ninebanks)

On the top of the moor, we soon found ourselves literally off the beaten track, making up our own route across open access land between bogs, shrubs and bright white patches of yesterday's hail.  It was a wild, atmospheric place to end.

Patrolling the Border, Saturday 1 March 2014

Up with the lark, and indeed with the lapwing, we were at the edge of the old Roman Empire and they was just one border we needed to patrol: Hadrian's Wall.  A short drive from the hostel took us to Vindolanda, where many of the original wall-builders were based, and on to Once Brewed from where we ascended to the wall itself and enjoyed the classic amble past Sycamore Gap (cue umpteen Robin Hood references) and clambering through many a mile-castle.  We had the serpentine curves of Whin Sill to ourselves for most of the way to Housesteads, another fine fort.  All around patches of hail fell on the hills, but not on us; we had fine walking weather all the way over the undulating geological folds back to Vindolanda too.  Off back to Ninebanks, we felt we'd had a rather special short of day.

How to follow all that? A very big, exceedingly delicious lasagne, of course!

Saxon Hexham, Friday 28 February 2014

Normally at this time of year, the winter sun struggles to rise above the horizon with much  enthusiasm.  But today, the ramblers were off on an adventure, and right on cue the sun shone.  So, off we flew, up the Great North Road to the mysterious heart of Northumberland.  

Hexham is one of those small but perfectly formed places.  Lunch materialised in a friendly little café run by the Mental Health Trust, which seemed to improve the mid of staff and diners alike, and then it was time for history.  

Our tour of Hexham Abbey took in all of the sights; the widest night stairs still in use, an altar tomb of someone who may or may not have been a Saxon king, a chantry with carvings of a triple goddess and a comical bagpiper, and of course some posed photos in St. Wilfrid's seat.  Then down to the old crypt to finish; lost for centuries, it could almost have been a film set for The Life Of Bede (not that anyone's planning to produce that any time soon, but you get the point).

So on from the crypt down some entertainingly winding road to Ninebanks, and a beautifully remote hostel surrounded at night by the hypnotic bleepings of low-flying lapwings. Time to light the fire and unfold the maps.

Swannington Hokey Cokey, 19 January 2014

This week, choose your own captions...

Swanning Around the Soar, Sunday 5 January

New Year's Resolutions were fully in effect as a fair-sized posse of ramblers 'n'amblers turned up outside Loughborough railway station.  This being the site of the very first Thomas Cook outing, composed of a temperance gathering, naturally enough we were heading off to the pub.  

Of course, there was a decent walk on the way, past flooded meadows and over rushing weirs. The unusual treat of a proper pub lunch was followed by a merry wander back to the start, past the many swans, and on to another nice watering hole by the canal.  Well, it's good to know that we've got our priorities sorted...