Category Archives: Walks

Where We Walked #Llyn Crafnant and LlynGeirionydd #Wales #walks #climbs #photographs #stiles #humour #holidays #Sisters #books #readers @honno

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Llyn Crafnant and LlynGeirionydd are separated by the forested slopes of Mynydd Deulyn (Mountain of the Two Lakes) and lie within wonderfully scenic valleys where the Gwydyr forest meets the lower slopes of the Carneddau mountains in Conwy.”The lakes are about a mile apart,” said the photographer casually. “The walk’s about five miles.” What actually happened was that we took the circular route which covers a distance of eight miles and involved some steep climbing.

But, at this point I have to say that wasn’t his fault. We ended up – or should I say – started off walking in the opposite way to the route in the book, having parked in the car park near LlynGeirionydd, instead of the one near Llyn Crafnant.

This was due to the fact that, at one point, the SatNav took us in the wrong direction. It’s always the SatNavs fault, you know; we once got stuck on a very narrow dirt farm track faced with a sign that joyfully said in large red writing, ” Use your eyes, the SatNav lies”. I think I might have said that before, it’s something I bear in mind when sitting by a certain irate driver having to turn back on a journey.

Anyway, I thought, it’ll be alright; we’ll just read the directions backwards.

I waited on the edge of the grass while the photographer took his first photo of Llyn Geirionydd.

Gwydir Forest is named after the Gwydir River, which takes its name from the ancient Gwydir Estate, established by the John Wynn family of Gwydir Castle, who owned this area (Gwydir is translated as River with Red Banks) The land here was once dominated by lead and zinc mines. Some of the mines have been partially restored and made safe for visitors, but we didn’t visit; our sights were set on getting to Llyn Crafnant Though we did pass an old restored engine-house, and also the waste tips, now left to be naturally covered over.

The First World War had highlighted a shortage in wood production and the forest was stripped bare at the time because many of the early forestry workers, former employees in the forest’s mines, had no experience of forestry. This caused the 1919 Forestry Act to be passed and Gwydir Forest was acquired from Lord Ancaster by the Forestry Commission in 1921.

Most of the original plantations have now been felled and replanted as part of the forestry cycle. We passed quite a few places where this was happening.

The majority of the forest is conifer such as Japanese larch, Norway spruce and Scots pine but apparently, over the last two decades there has been more Welsh Oak, ash and beech planted to give a more varied and softer outline to the forest

“When we get to the top of this track, there’s a little bit of a short climb and the track narrows a bit,” said the Photographer over his shoulder as I puffed and panted behind him. ” Don’t worry, it’ll be so worth it for the view.’

The track did narrow a bit indeed. As the directions said, ‘…into a steep narrow footpath, less than forty centimetres wide (that’s about sixteen inches in old money) in some places, on an unmade and uneven surface, where you can expect mud, rocks and tree roots.‘. The embarrassing thing is, just as I was wobbling leaping gazelle-like from rock to another a young couple (stressing young here!) ran past… with a dog … very quickly. And they even had the breath to wish us a cheerful “good morning.”

Every now and then we caught glimpses of the view. Went past a stile. Down a wider path. Through a gate. Saw the obligatory cow. And then…

The Photographer got his first proper shot of Llyn Crafnant on the northern edge of the Gwydir Forest.

And then lots more. It really is a glorious place

One last look and we walked away from Llyn Crafnant …

Following the arrows we crossed over the road into a small wooded area. And there the arrows stopped. We looked around: there was a stile in the far corner, but it was broken, covered in brambles and branches and looked unused. On the other side of the clearing there was a broad track. After some discussion we chose the track. (later realising we should have tackled the stile).

After an hour of walking up the never-ending road we stopped for breath, and for the Photographer to revell in the scenery and take many photos of the craggy slopes of Mynydd Deulyn.

And for me to have a rest. It wasn’t until we got back to the car that I realised I had somehow managed to take the attractive shot below whilst I was rummaging in my rucksack for the fourth, and last, bottle of water. Naming no names, but someone dared me to include this in the post – and I’m never one to pass on a dare. Which is probably the reason I find myself on these hikes walks.

Another hour of uphill, round a bend, and the road began to descend, until we were …

Back to the start…

I’m often asked what do I think about when I’m walking and with not enough breath to talk. I must say not having enough breath to talk isn’t something that often happens to me. But usually I’m taking in what’s all around us. We walk in so many diifferent kinds of places, so I just soak up the sights and the sounds whether in the country or in more urban areas.

But there are times when I’m thinking how to describe what I’m seeing, wondering if it will fit into a scene in the book I’m currently working on – or intend to work on. Sometimes it will, sometimes it won’t. It’s usually the latter, but that’s okay. And if I can keep it in mind for when we next stop for the Photographer to capture the scenary, I’ll make notes.

And there have been occasions when I can use those notes. One day we were nearing the end of our walk at Llyn y Fan Fach and Llyn y Fan Fawr near Llanddeusant in Carmarthenshire, Wales. It had been long, so the sun was low in the sky and it felt quite erie as we took a last look out over the water.

And I remembered that moment, that feeling of almost sinister atmosphere when I wrote one of the scenes in Sisters.

“‘Whoops! Watch your step, Miss Clumsy.’ Said in a jokey manner, it still manages to imply the familiar censure. ‘If it wasn’t for me always looking out for you, I don’t know what you’d do.’ He laughs. ‘Probably kill yourself, one of these days.’ He pulls her close, turns her so they are facing the lake, standing on the edge of the steep banking.
The sun is sinking lower in the sky, the black shadows of the trees lengthen, their reflection stretch and waver over the lake, the water rendered blood-red.“

Book Description:

An accident and a terrible lie by sixteen-year-old Angie tears her family apart and her younger sister, Lisa, being sent away. They don’t speak for thirteen years, until their mother’s death brings them together. Lisa quickly realises her sister is trapped in a dangerous marriage.

What does Lisa owe to the family that betrayed her? And if she tries to help, will she make things more dangerous for them all?

A powerful story of domestic violence, courage and forgiveness.

Published by Honno Press (26 Jan. 2023)

Where We Walked @BodnantGardens @Wales #walks #photographs #holidays #memories

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Our one leisurely day: Bodnant Gardens, which nestles in the Snowdonian foothills of North Wales, near Conwy. On a hot and sunny day it took us seven hours to walk around and savour the horticultural delights of the gardens and admire the buildings.

Bodnant (Welsh for ‘dwelling by a stream’) was home to the Lloyd family from the reign of James I until the mid 1700s when it passed to the Forbes family. The parkland was designed into the style of an English landscape, and the earlier house was replaced by an Italianate mansion in 1792, courtesy of Colonel Forbes. On his death in 1820 the estate passed to William Hanmer of Bettisfield Park in Flintshire who extended the garden around the mansion house between 1828 and 1837. In 1874 the estate was bought by Henry Davis Pochin, Victorian industrialist, and his wife. There’s an interesting post on the people of Bodnant here.

2024 marks seventy-five years since Bodnant Garden was gifted to the National Trust by Henry McLaren, The 2nd Lord Aberconway.

Our first glimpse of the gardens was through the wonderful and reknowned Laburnum Arch, a fifty-five metre-long avenue of golden flowers. It was created in Victorian times by Henry Davis Pochin in 1880. He employed Edward Milner, apprentice to Joseph Paxton (landscape gardener, designer of hothouses, and the architect of the Crystal Palace for the Great Exhibition of 1851 in London), to help design the formal garden around Bodnant Hall, including the Laburnum Arch, based on pergola walkways of the 16th and 17th centuries. It is believed to be the longest and oldest in Britain.

Rhododendrons are wild shrubs native to South-East Asia. They were first introduced to Bodnant Garden around 1900, many grown from original seed collected on expeditions in central China, sponsored by Bodnant’s owner, Henry Duncan McLaren the second Lord Aberconway). The plants flourished,producing some of the largest shrubs in the western hemisphere. Then some were hybridised to create varieties that were more compact, more richly coloured,with a longer flowering season. This is Rhododendron ‘Elizabeth’ a compact plant with vibrant pink flowers – the most famous of all the Bodnant hybrids and one that is today found in many domestic gardens. The gardeners at Bodnant are always searching to identify ‘lost’ varieties and propagate those under threat to ensure the future of the collection for many more years to come.

Two of the terraces have ponds, which are home to water lilies and a variety of wildlife (we saw ducks).

The borders on each of the five terraces are planted with careful consideration of the surrounding environment and are in keeping with the year of their creation. They are absolutely wonderful.

We also saw a Harlequin ladybird. These are about the same size as native ladybirds. They range in colour and pattern, but some of the most common forms are black with red spots, red with black spots and orange with black spots.Harlequins have attracted negative publicity since they were introduced in Britain 2004, but in reality they are nothing to worry about. They are known to reproduce quickly, gather in large swarms and compete with native ladybirds for aphids. They have shown signs of cannibalism, consuming the larvae and eggs of other ladybirds. But disease and predators are bringing the population under control. Harlequins can also carry an STD ( What?!) called laboulbenia. It is a fungus that forms little scales on the wing cases, and sometimes white crust on some parts of the exoskeleton, which can be seen with the naked eye. The STD also infects native ladybirds – the harlequin is simply another host for the fungus to live on. (the good news is humans cannot be infected. Sigh of relief!!)

I love reflections in water. The river runs throughout the gardens. Above is the Waterfall Bridge, with its vertical torrent of water on one side, and the calm, reflective pool on the other. Home to wildlife including kingfishers, dippers, heron and ducks. (and tadpoles, lots of tadpoles).

The photographer outside The Poem, a poetically-named mausoleum, built by Henry Davis Pochin. Located in an area of the Shrub Borders within the garden, The Poem is the McLaren family mausoleum. It sits on an outcrop of rock at the end of the valley known as the Dell.

The building below is the known as the Pin Mill. Originally built in 1730 as a gazebo at Woodchester, Gloucestershire, and later used as a pin mill and later still as a tannery, the building was moved to Bodnant gardens and reconstructed in 1938/9 as a pavilion at the south end of the canal terrace. The coat of arms on the building is of the family Surman or Shurmer whose connection with the building is a mystery. (One to solve sometime in the future)

The 2020 Sky Original adaptation of The Secret Garden, based on the classic 1910 novel by Frances Hodgson Burnettwas, was partly filmed in Bodnant Garden. The canopy of the cascading yellow flowers of the Laburnum Arch, the gnarled, fantasy-like woods and Italianate follies, all added to the sense of magic in the film. After a day walking around this glorious place, we could understand why Bodnant Gardens was chosen. It truly is one of, if not the best, National Trust gardens we’ve explored.

Where We Walked #Pen Y Gaer #Snowdon #Yr Wyddfa #Wales #walks #climbs #photographs #MondayBlogs #stiles #humour #holidays

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“A lovely evening walk,” said the photographer. “With spectacular views.”

It was that last sentence that should have warned me before we set off, I thought as I climbed over the stile and looked upwards.

He’s such a clever clogs: climbing the stile one- handed and taking a video. Hmph!!

A little information here: Pen y Gaer is a mountain summit in the Snowdonia – Beddgelert to Conwy region in the county of Conwy, Wales. It’s the location of a Bronze Age and Iron Age hillfort near the village of Llanbedr-y-Cennin. It’s a natural defensive site. There is a long history of occupation.

There are two Bronze Age cairns on the north-west slope, and extensive prehistoric and later field systems, nearby. The remains seen today are mostly of Iron Age origin, but further earthworks, probably of medieval origin, lie on the south-eastern slopes.

The summit can be identified by one of the large cairns.

Pen y Gaer is three hundred and eighty-five metres high with a prominence of thirty-six metres. (My legs and feet can confirm this!)

The photographer was right though, the views are spectacular.

There’s a broad bank of stones about two metres in width, with a partial kerb of large, irregularly placed boulders before getting to the summit; these are the remains of two defence walls, as well as the outlines of a chevaux-de-frise (A defence, usually a timber or an iron barrel covered with projecting spikes and often strung with barbs of glass).

There are two stone circles. Archaeological evidence indicates that in addition to being used as places of burial, the purpose of stone circles was probably connected to agricultural events, such as the summer solstice.

And, of course, sheep – which moved a lot quicker that we did.

The sun was setting, a mist was creeping in. We were (as far as I was concerned) on top of a mountain. At this point there was a discussion: we could carry on having an adventure and take a track (over a stile) to fields and marshland, and meander until we saw buildings, which could or could possibly not be the cottage we were staying in. Or we could take the windy, steep lane that would definitly lead to the cottage where we were staying.

Whilst someone couldn’t resist one last photo … I staggered sauntered past, with that glass of wine in mind, and carried on.

“A lovely evening walk,” said the photographer, gazing admiringly at photographs on the screen of his camera. “And brilliant scenary.”

I have to admit I agreed, as I soaked my feet in a bowl of cool water. Though next time, I decided, I would check out the mileage… and the ascent … of further ‘walks’.

Who am I kidding?!

Where We Walked: Llanwrst – Melin Y Coed – a Five Mile Circular Walk #Walks #Photographs #history #alittlehumour #MondayBlogs @Llanwrst @North Wales

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Our first walk: an easy five mile circular walk. We thought…

We followed a footpath alongside a stream and through a field covered in glorious wildflowers, including one that we later discovered was called the Deptford pink which is nationally rare. I took a photo of the flower: it had a long and deep pink petals with pale spots and ragged edges. Unfortunately, later (not having the expertise of the photgrapher), I saw that I’d had my mobile phone turned the wrong way round and had an image of a red, sweaty face … mine (well it was a hot day).

So here is a photo of the Deptford pink courtesy of The Species Recovery Trust. Apparently the plant has been used in traditional medicine for various purposes, such as treating digestive ailments and as a diuretic.

This area is called Coed y Felin and includeds an ancient oak/ash woodland planted with sycamore, beech and sweet chestnut.

Pathways criss-cross this ancient woodland site, leaving clues to its long-held links with the local population. Its timber has been used to support local mining villages for centuries. But Llanrwst has also long been known as a market town with a history of a whole range of industries over the centuries, one of which is a thriving woollen industry. Apparently it’s historically recorded that in the Middle Ages the price for wool at Llanrwst market set the price for wool throughout England and Wales in that period.The photographs below are the ruins of a woollen mill, Felin Uchaf.

The directions told us to zig zag up a steep lane.

And then continue for about one and a half mile along a lane. Or rather, up a very steep lane!

And this is where the five mile circular walk became … a little longer. The signs disappeared. And there were four turn-offs to choose from. So, three times, we wandered up this lane, (which I swear was at least half a mile long from bottom to top) and then down and then up again.

Until I stopped for breath and the photographer declared joyfully, ‘There’s a lovely view from up here.’

After that I believe the person who wrote the directions became bored, jotted down a few notes about going through fields, and went home. And we more or less followed our noses. Or, should I say, because anyone who knows me knows I have no sense of direction whatsoever, I followed the photographer (who, true to form, was really only looking for “great shots”)

We meandered through fields along vague paths, which I was sure were sheep trails … see the evidence below?

And note … a stile! After last year’s walks in the Yorkshire Dales here and here, the photographer promised no stiles this time. And yet, on the very first walk – a stile.

It was quite a quiet walk back to the start after that…

PS: The following is an interesting article about Y Pont Fawr – the bridge in Llanrwst that, on our way to the cottage we were staying at, we tried to cross three times before being successful. Because of the high crown of the bridge it’s impossible to see if there’s another vehicle coming the opposite way … until it’s almost too late.

As this piece says further down: “The bridge is too narrow for vehicles to pass on it, and its hump limits forward visibility. This explains the local nickname Pont y Rhegi – “bridge of swearing”.” I’m not saying who added to this nickname, but the photographer refused my request to stop to take a photograph of the bridge.

Pont Fawr, Llanrwst

A ford crossed the river Conwy in this vicinity long before it was bridged. The original bridge was declared unsafe in 1626 and preparations began for its replacement, funded by the people of Caernarfonshire (west of the river) and Denbighshire (east of the river). In 1634 four Lancashire stonemasons were contracted to build the new bridge. The year 1636 and the royal coat of arms are shown on a plaque on the upstream side of the bridge, which is known as Pont Fawr (“large bridge”).llanrwst_pont_fawr_watercolour

The workmen who built the bridge inserted the keystones for the central arch upside down. This was not discovered until the opening day, when the arch collapsed! The central arch rises to c.18 metres above the water.

The renowned architect Inigo Jones was professionally associated with the wealthy Wynn family of Llanrwst, and legend has it that he designed Pont Fawr. The pictures of the bridge and Inigo Jones (courtesy of The National Library Wales) were used to illustrate Thomas Pennant’s books about his travels in Wales in the 1770s.

llanrwst_inigo_jones

Pennant wrote that two of the arches were extremely beautiful, marking “the hand of the architect”, but the third was inferior, having been rebuilt in 1703. Inigo had changed Ynyr, his real Christian name, to Inigo or Ignatius when he went to Italy, according to Pennant.

The bridge features full-height cutwaters (stonework shaped like a ship’s bow). The river is the outlet for rainwater and meltwater from across a large area of Snowdonia including Dyffryn Mymbyr (around Capel Curig), one of the wettest places in Britain. Since the western arch collapsed in 1702 and was rebuilt, the bridge has stood the test of countless floods and the advent of motorised lorries and buses.

The bridge is too narrow for vehicles to pass on it, and its hump limits forward visibility. This explains the local nickname Pont y Rhegi – “bridge of swearing”.

llanrwst_pont_fawr_drawing

William Peers may have uttered an expletive on a dark night in 1907 when the traction engine he was driving crashed through the wall at the Llanrwst end of the bridge. After crossing the river, he had misjudged the position of the main road. The stoker and two navvies (engaged in building Dolgarrog aluminium works) jumped clear. Mr Peers fell about three metres onto the riverbank. The engine was said to have made a complete rotation in mid air before hitting the riverbed about six metres below the road.

Courtesy of:

Walking the Samaria Gorge – White Mountains National Park #memories #holidays #photographs #MondayBlogs

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Twenty years ago we went to Crete. Enticed by the write up in brochure in a cafe we decided to walk the Samaria Gorge. The entrance to the Gorge is from Xyloscalo, near the village of Omalos, leads past the old village of Samaria and (sixteen kilometres, that’s ten miles in old money) later eventually ends at Agia Rouméli, a small pretty coastal village with glorious views of the Mediterranean Sea. And tavernas under canopies of eucalyptus and cypress trees. I have to say it was the thought of this last description that persuaded me.

Last week, much to his excitement, husband (the photographer) found some of his photographs taken with one of his old cameras. These reminded me that this was the very first long walk that we actually did together.

Shades of things to come!

When I say “together” I actually mean that, if I didn’t keep an eye on what he was doing, I’d often be walking for ages before realising I’d been talking to myself and he was nowhere in sight. Since then I’ve learned to take a notebook and pen on these excursions so I can sit and write while he takes dozens of different photographs of the same scene, but from different angles, with different lenses, and all that technical stuff.

Armed with strong hiking boots, sunhats, sun cream, bottles of water and snacks we caught the bus at Chania to take us to Xiloskalo at five in the morning. By the end of the hike I was glad we’d started so early; it was sweltering. But I must admit that, at first, I wasn’t quite as enthusiastic as the photographer to be getting up at that time on holiday.

How wrong I was. This is one hike I will never forget.

Declared a National Park in 1962, mainly to protect the endangered Cretan goats (Kri-Kri) which live in the area, the gorge has a rich history dating back to ancient times. Inhabited by people who worshipped the goddess Samaria. It also served as a refuge for Cretan rebels and freedom fighters during various periods of oppression and occupation by foreign powers such as the Turks, the Germans, and the British.

It also is home to the most exquisite plant life…

The Cretan ebony is found only in Crete, with purple flowers that adorn the Cretan mountains. Other endemic Cretan plant species are the Cretan crocus, the beautiful Cretan bell several aromatic herbs that thrive on the island. ( N.B. This is not one of husband’s photographs but courtesy of CRETA MARIS. I couldn’t resist showing this gorgeous plant, which wasn’t flowering at the time we went – otherwise you would definitely be seeing various angles and shots of it courtesy of husband)

The above is the narrowest and most famous section of the gorge – called Portes or The Iron Gates. It’s thirteen foot wide and one thousand six hundred and forty foot high. This was the most rocky part to walk – though as far as I remember we did much clambering over and around boulders all the way. I was very glad of the stout boots.

It took us six hours before we reached Agia Roumeli and relaxed outside a taverna with a cold glass of water and a dakos ( a hard barley rusk soaked in olive oil with coriander seeds, chopped tomatoes, oregano and cheese). I asked how this was made but I’ve never quite managed to achieve that special flavour we tasted that day)

The gorge is only open from May to October; in the first and last few weeks of that period it may close if there’s a danger of flash floods.

And I was glad that I wasn’t told before we set off that the gorge is home to four different snakes, the Balkan whip snake, the dice snake, the cat snake and the leopard snake. Although not dangerous I’m relieved i didn’t see one.

Now husband has discovered photographs from his old camera I’m hoping he can find more from other walks we’ve done over the years. They’ve brought back many memories.

Where We Walked – @Janet’s Foss #Walks #Photographs @Yorkshire Dales 

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Where We Walked – @Janet’s Foss #Walks #Photographs @Yorkshire Dales #MondayBlog

Where We Walked – @VictoriaCave @YorkshireDales #Walks #Photographs @Yorkshire Dales 

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Where We Walked – @VictoriaCave @YorkshireDales #Walks #Photographs @Yorkshire Dales #MondayBlog

Where We Walked – @Janet’s Foss #Walks #Photographs @Yorkshire Dales #MondayBlog

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Our last walk in the Yorkshire Dales was a short early evening stroll to a small waterfall called Janet’s Foss, just outside Malham. The name for the waterfall apparently comes from an old folktale that a fairy queen, Janet (sometimes Jennet), lives in a cave at the rear of the fall. There are numerous stories about this: usually wraiths are not thought to be ghosts or demons, but rather a strange entity somewhere in between the two, similar to poltergeists but much more powerful when appearing as a full-bodied apparition. With Janet, there are claims that she would have practised black magic in life and this eternal damnation is her punishment. So, from the numerous conflicting tales we were told when we asked, she was either a magical fairy, or a vengeful creature.

The waterfall carries Gordale Beck over a limestone outcrop into a deep pool below. The pool was traditionally used for sheep dipping, which drew in local villagers as a social occasion. We were told that there have also been a few wedding ceremonies there. Our resident font of all knowledge in the local pub told us that the pool is occasionally used by all-weather wild swimmers. When I mentioned this to the photographer he announced he hadn’t brought his swimming trunks. Not sure he had the right idea about ‘wild swimming’.

Image courtesy of Annabelle Bradley

The footpath from Malham starts from Malham Smithy, where the female blacksmith, Annabelle Bradley, runs blacksmith experience days, and also designs and hand forges sculptural and functional wrought ironwork. We’d stopped to watch her work from outside the door, earlier in the week. It was fascinating. Just leaving the link here, just in case you’re interested: https://www.malhamsmithyonline.co.uk/

Walking over a short bridge and alongside a small beck we went through fields and kissing gates. (No stiles!!)

On the footpath to Janet’s Foss a couple of old tree stumps have become home to hundreds of pennies where people have left them and made a wish to Janet.

We could smell the garlic even before we entered the wood.

Here I go again … can anyone else see the profile of a face in these rocks?

We stayed listening to the rhythmic flow of the water, and waiting for the mysterious green mist that was supposed to sometimes rise from the water- until the chattering and clattering of boots announced the arrival of walkers, and brought us back to reality.

Time to make our way back to the cottage we were staying in. Time to pack for our return home the following morning. Time for just one more glass of wine.

Where We Walked – @VictoriaCave @YorkshireDales #Walks #Photographs @Yorkshire Dales #MondayBlog

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Remember me saying in the last post about our visit to Catrigg Force – a small but impressive waterfall just east of the village of Stainforth? And that the first time we found it we’d actually planned to call to see it as the first part of a massively, more strenuous, longer walk – a longer walk, planned by the photographer? One where we could take in the landscape from the Victoria Cave in Ribblesdale? And I said, more to come on that another time? Well, this is it. The above is the last (nearly last) part of the track up to the cave

Another of my photographs when I stopped to take a breath on the path (path?!!) on the way up to the cave. The photographer was already there. Give him his due, he did come back to help me to the top.

And here it it, the limestone Victoria Cave, located east of Langcliffe in Ribblesdale and discovered by chance in 1837, the year of Queen Victoria’s coronation.

Until then the cave was unknown. Tinsmith Michael Horner (1813-1878) struggled through a small hole between rocks,searching for his dog and found the cave. Inside tound bones, coins and various metal objects on the sediment floor. Later, on the 28th June 1838, Joseph Jackson, a keen amateur archaeologist, investigated further. The Victorians were fascinated by ‘bone caves’ where there might be a possibility of finding evidence for the earliest humans and extinct animals. Some animal bones were actually found here. It’s thought that hyenas used the cave as a den and dragged bones that had been scavenged into it, including hippos, narrow-nosed rhino, elephants and spotted hyenas bones. After the last Ice Age the cave was used by hibernating brown bears. In amongst the animal bones of reindeer was an 11,000 year old antler harpoon point, the first evidence for people in the Yorkshire Dales. Some items from the cave are held at the Craven Museum in Skipton.

The roof of the cave has become increasingly unstable over the years and roof falls are possible. We didn’t go in!

This is another one of my photos (yes I do know it’s less inspiring than the photographer’s). But I spotted this from up high, from outside the cave – and thought it was a large teddy bear, or the skeleton of a teddy bear!! Of course, when we got closer… it was just a pile of rocks. Note to self – contact optician

Just before we set off on the downward trail, and with an eye on the clouds bubbling up in the distance, a photograph of the next five miles we needed to go.

And it’s here I will reveal a moment of a basic and elementary photographer’s mistake.

” One last photo before the rain sets in,” he says, scanning the vista. “I didn’t realise it had become so dark so quickly.”

I waited, didn’t say a word while he huffed and puffed, and glared at the sky. For quite a while Then I stated the obvious. ” Your lens cap is still on.”

Good job he has a brilliant sense of humour!!

We followed the trail past the rugged terrain of the Warrendale Knotts before descending the hillside on the way back to Settle.

Where we had a well- earned cup of tea and a scone.

Where We Walked @Catrigg Force @YorkshireDales @England #walks #photographs #memories

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This was a walk we did twice when we were in the Yorkshire Dales. The second time we were here was by accident. We got lost – surprise, surprise – and came over a hill to find us again at …

Catrigg Force … a small but impressive waterfall just east of the village of Stainforth. The first time we found it we’d actually planned to call to see it as the first part of a longer walk (more to come on that another time!)

After a snack in the local pub (called the The Craven Heifer in Stainforth – spot a theme in these posts?!!) we headed up a bridleway called Goat Lane. (not sure why it’s called that, we only saw sheep and lambs – definitely no cows… well not at this point anyway!). The track, between parallel stone walls, is a small section of the Pennine Bridleway

We meandered along the upward track for about a mile, past several derelict farm buildings, and stopping to admire the view. In the distance on the moorland, are the Winskill Stones, pedestals of limestone and topped with slate, left behind by ice-age glaciers. Finally we reached the signpost for Catrigg Foss on the left of the track.

No stile this time, a kissing gate, leading to a steep, rocky, narrow, path, down to the stream, Catrigg Beck, which flows from the hills and feeds the waterfall.

The poor quality and lack of any particular viewpoint/perspective in this photograph is because it was taken by me, on my mobile phone, while balancing on the edge of the waterfall and hanging onto a branch of a nearby tree. All without the knowledge of the photographer, who’d wandered off to find the the base of the waterfall.

I followed. Leaving the stream, I made my way down another narrow path alongside a sheer wall of limestone rock and a tree-lined drop to a deep, hidden gully that holds the waterfall and the shallow river, the continuation of Catrigg Beck. There were two separate, quite magical falls, well over six metres in height in the long wooded copse. The sprays of water, a sparkling shower of colours in the sunshine that flickered through the leaves, landed all around us. The only sounds were the waterfalls and the calls of birds. Perfect peace …

Ah well… as I said, this was only the start of a massively, more strenuous, longer walk – a longer walk, planned by the photographer, to take in the landscape from the Victoria Cave in Ribblesdale (discovered by chance in 1837, the year of Queen Victoria’s coronation). This second time we were here was purely by coincidence, and at the end of a quite sedate walk … for us! We ambled through fields, back to where we were staying in a tiny cottage in Langcliffe.

By the way…

Apparently Catrigg Force was a favourite haunt of composer Edward Elgar. He visited the waterfalls and, during his visits to the Yorkshire Dales, was inspired to compose Pomp and Circumstance and the Enigma Variations, his most famous works.

Three fun facts about Elgar – Not only was he a composer, but he was also an amateur chemist. In his spare time, he would tinker with experiments. He was the first composer to fully embrace recording music. And he loved cycling. He had a Royal Sunbeam bicycle that he nicknamed ‘Mr. Phoebus. ‘

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Where We Walked – Oxenber & Wharfe Woods #Walks #Photographs @Yorkshire Dales @England #MondayBlogs #Holidays #memories #PathsandStiles

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I was promised an easy walk on one of the days. This is it; the Oxenber and Wharf Wood and Feizor walk from Austwick. It should have taken around two hours… we didn’t allow for the stiles.

We left Austwick by the Pennine Bridleway and walked over the Flascoe footbridge heading up the path towards Oxenber Wood.

We met the obligatory cow – who followed us along her side of the wall in the next field. In fact, by the time we reached the end of this path, there were six of them jostling for a view of us.

And the first of the stiles. This one was stone, sturdy, easy to climb over. We’ve got this sussed, I thought; easy walk, conventional stiles. The photographer couldn’t resist taking in the view of Austwick and the miles of glorious scenery around Ingleborough and Fountains Fell. Then he casually strode halfway over the stile – and was abruptly stopped when his rucksack decided to stay on the other side. We manhandled it over the wall, and carried on, ignoring the snorts from the cows…

And saw this…

Bluebells! Stretching seemingly for miles. And, miles away on the horizon … Pen y Ghent, the destination of one of our … hmm!… shall I say … more strenuous walks in that week: https://tinyurl.com/3e48vc7a

Hundreds of years ago, this area of woodland and pasture was part of the village quarry, and is still rough underfoot with hollows and dips under the grass. We were told it’s a site of special scientific interest and an area of conservation. The trees (as stated on the information board at the beginning of the walk) are mainly Ash, Hazel and Hawthorn.

As we clambered over the limestone rocks to enter the woods, a young man came puffing up behind us. He was a teacher, supposed to be on a day out with a colleague and their class from his school, but had overslept and was now in pursuit. We stopped to let him pass, pretending we didn’t need the break to get our breath back. That hill was steeper than we thought… or looks.

From the loud cheer that rang out a few minutes later, the teacher had obviously found the children.

In the woodland there were areas of slabs of limestone paving with various wild flowers and plants.

Wood Sorrel

Hart’s Tongue Fern.

Dog’s Mercury

There was quite a lot of the Dog’s Mercury (as stated on the Information Board) We were told, by a man in the pub where we were having a meal that evening – (we did seem to meet the local naturalist, whichever pub we went in) – that it is a poisonous coloniser of ancient woodland. But, if thoroughly dried, apparently (I’m stressing the “apparently” here), the plant loses its poisonous quality. The juice of the plant is emetic, ophthalmic and purgative, and can be used externally to treat ear and eye problems, warts, and sores. And other ailments!

As a writer I couldn’t help thinking about using this last plant in a story … to kill off a character … maybe?!!

We left the woods, through a wooden gate and onto a path which at first gently rose and then zig-zagged down through a jumble of exposed limestone towards the hamlet of Feizor. Where we stopped at a tea room for a cuppa.

Leaving the tea room we climbed over the first of five high stiles in a stone wall, and along a public footpath through four sloping fields.

You may have noticed that I have no photographs of the fields, nor of the stiles here. We were either too anxiously gazing across the fields, knowing we’d have difficulty both going back to the tea room lane or forwards to continue our walk. This was because of the stiles. There was the stile where the first stone step was three foot high in the wall (“You need to get your leg higher,” I encouraged the photographer), having only been able to reach it myself by taking a running jump at the thing. Then there was the one where the middle stone was broken off revealing only a sharp corner that protruded only enough for the toe of our boots (That one resulted in scraped shins). The two wooden stiles had seesaw wobbles enough to cause seasickness, and the next seemed fine until we found that the space in the wall for us to get through was the width off one boot only. (One narrow ladies’ walking boot – which isn’t mine) Which meant a dare-devil leap forward to the next field was the only way to ‘dismount’!)

At this point I said I was never going over another stile again. Before I saw the next one! We were only glad there was no one nearby who could see us struggling, or worse still, waiting for their turn to climb over any of them.

Finally we triumphed over the last stile (more a small hole in the wall, thankfully), and back onto the tarmac lane… when we realised that, if we’d only walked a few metres further along the lane after leaving the cafe, we would have met the main road that eventually led to the tarmac lane.

And on to the first path … where the cows were waiting for us.

And so into Austwick again.

‘Easier today wasn’t it? Rested now?’ He said later. ‘Try for a longer walk tomorrow?’

Where We Walked – @Malham Tarn #Walks #Photographs @Yorkshire Dales #MondayBlog

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Malham Tarn is a shallow glacial lake three hundred and seventy seven metres above sea level, making it the highest lake in England. Situated above the village of Malham in the Yorkshire Dales National Park, it’s owned by the National Trust. It’s also the source of the River Aire; water flows out of the southern end of the lake and disappears underground to reappear as the River Aire at the foot of Malham Cove about one and a half miles away. Later, we were told by someone local that Malham Tarn is unusual because the water doesn’t sink into the ground. Apparently, during the Ice Age glaciers scraped away the the limestone down to the ancient slate layer underneath, and because slate is impermeable, it doesn’t let the water through. Then, when the glacier melted, the mouth of the Tarn was sealed by banks of clay and gravel.

I studied the map. ‘You said we were having an easy day today.’

‘I told you; eleven miles,’ said the photographer.

‘No, you said a mile.’

It’ s all flat, so it is easy… most of the way.’ And off he strides…

Towards some cows. Who look at us with interest and then decide to follow.

All the way as we walked along the shore of the tarn, through a gate and along a path into the woods.

We passed Tarn House, which was built as a hunting box in the late-18th century, and is now now owned by the National Trust. Used as a Field Studies Centre, there is an Orchid House, which usually has an exhibition area. Seeing the exhibition subject on our day, I passed by.

The house itself must once have been quite grand. It still is impressive, though obviously needs money spending on it.

There isn’t a lot of open water in the area, and, in the Stone Age, the lake was inundated with herds of wild animals, and consequently brought hunters from far and wide. Archaeologists have found the remains of their campsites and stone tools along the shoreline. We walked down to the bird hide.

Although we saw Canada geese, a pair of mallard ducks, a greater-spotted woodpecker – and many sparrows, this was the only other wildlife we found…

But what was really impressive was the man-made track that leads to the National Nature Reserve. We leisurely followed the boardwalk through the reserve for the next half an hour.

We came out of the reserve onto an unmade track . I expected to turn right to retrace our steps.

‘No left, we’re only halfway around the walk,’ the photographer said. Earlier on I’d seen this in the distance.

Reassured that he’d said the walk was a flat walk, I’d just admired the shape of Great Close Scar. I said nothing. I was saving my breath … and waiting…

More next time!

Where We Walked – @MalhamCove #Walks #Photographs @YorkshireDales @England #MondayBlogs

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An evening stroll to see the vertical face of Malham Cove. It’s magnificent; standing at around seventy-nine metres of sheer rock, the top of the cove is a strange pattern of blocks of limestone. We could hear jackdaws, but knew it was too soon to see the pair of peregrine falcons or house martins that nest during the summer months. We did, however, see two mallard ducks strutting around the nearby stream, who eyed us for a minute or so before realising we had nothing for them, and strutted off.

Only one stile to clamber over … which made such a change (this is a hint of foreshadowing for the next walk… and the perils of a cavalier attitude towards stiles and the advancement of age!)

Formed along the line of the Middle Craven Fault, Malham Cove has been eroded back by the action of water and ice over millions of years. As glaciers moved forward they gauged rocks from the face of the Cove and carried them away. Then, each time the glaciers melted, the torrents of water also eroded the face of the Cove in the form of a massive waterfall.

The water flows underground now, then emerges as a shallow rocky stream.

There was no one else around… we thought … until we heard voices echoing eerily around the amphitheatre. Two men abseiling down the rock face (see them? Tiny figures perilously hanging from ropes?). I’m sure they knew what they were doing.. probably!

‘I’d like to do that,’ said the photographer.

‘No, you wouldn’t,’ I said. (Mind you, I have seen him hanging (also perilously) over the cliffs at home in Pembrokeshire just to get, “that brilliant shot” – so I know he’d be daft enough to have a go)

‘So … what’s tomorrow?’ I asked, as we plodded back over the stile and scrambled up a short rocky path to a field where a herd of cows watched with interest. And then followed us … closely (What is it with us and cows?)

‘I’ve found a good walk where there’s a gorgeous waterfall on the way.’

‘What do you mean, “On the way?”‘

He didn’t answer…

Where We Walked – #Walks #Photographs @Pen-y-ghent @Yorkshire Dales #MondayBlogs

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In both the Cumbric language and modern Welsh ‘pen’ means ‘head’, ‘ghent’ is either ‘edge’ or ‘border’. So … Pen-y-ghent or Penyghent … ‘Hill on the Border’

We arrived in Horton-In-Ribblesdale quite early in the day and parked in the village car park. Armed with warm clothes, waterproofs, water and snacks.

I was told Pen-y-ghent is the smallest of the Yorkshire Three Peaks in the Yorkshire Dales, England. Although I’d read that it was an eleven kilometre circular walk I was told by the photographer that we would only be walking around the base of it. The photographer told fibs. He always tells fibs, to ” get the best photographs”. You’d think I’d know this after all these years.

It’s just possible in this photograph to see the track way in the distance. Unfortunately, keeping my head down to make sure I navigated the rocks and ruts in the track, I didn’t notice at the time.

Before we began the ascent we did a detour for about five hundred metres to Hull Pot, a collapsed cavern. I’d read that after rainfall there is an impressive waterfall there, and even, after prolonged rainfall, it turns into a temporary lake. However we arrived after a time of little rain. Still the rock formation of grit stone and sandstone was fascinating.

Pen-y-ghent stands at six hundred and ninety four metres. The higher we went, the colder and windier it became. And the higher we went the steeper some of the sections became, and the more breathless I was. A good excuse to have to take more photographs.

Approaching the summit are a series of man- made steps leading to the summit – all two hundred and ten of them.

Unfortunately we discovered we’d walked up the alternative route, which meant that the scramble up to the top from the other side looked like a sheer drop downwards to me. We decided to retrace our steps. We returned to Horton via an enclosed walled lane called Horton Scar, with aching legs and feet. (The photographer wants me to stress that I’m speaking for myself here).

‘That is the longest, highest walk we’ll be doing this week, isn’t it?’ I asked

He didn’t answer.

Where we Walked – #Walks #Photographs @Ribble Way @Stainforth Force @Yorkshire Dales #England #MondayBlogs

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The start to our week of walking in the Yorkshire Dales and we began with an easy stroll along the banks of the river Ribble. The name ‘Ribble’ is thought to derive from the Breton word ‘Ribl’ meaning ‘riverbank’. The river begins in the Yorkshire Dales in Ribblesdale, at at a spot called Gavel Gap high on the moor above Newby Head. It’s a famous salmon river and in the Autumn it’s possible to watch salmon leaping up the various waterfalls along its course.

But we’re here in May, and it’s the time of bluebells and wild garlic.

Ribblesdale is the best known walking area in the National Park and features Yorkshire’s famous Three Peaks – Whernside, Ingleborough and Pen-y-Ghent (more about the last on my next post) – offering challenging walks and amazing views. This short walk is the easiest section of the Ribble Way.

The weir at Longcliffe.

We passed the remains of old cotton and snuff mills, industries long gone now but the houses that were the homes for many of the labourers still stand, strong buildings many built of the local grit stone.

Nearby is the town of Settle where the hydro harnesses the river to create clean, green electricity.

Photograph courtesy of settlehydro.org.uk/

The Hydro is powered by water from the Ribble immediately above the weir, through a sluice gate, down what is called the Archimedes Screw (the turbine) and back into the Ribble just after the base of the weir. Electricity is generated by the falling water rotating the turbine which, in turn, drives a generator. The electricity is fed by a direct line to the old mill building which is now apartments. Any electricity not needed by the apartments is fed into the National Grid.

It was a lovely easy trail, the weather was good, a perfect stroll through the fields and on the Settle bridleway.

And perfect for the photographer to capture two of his favourite subjects… Water and reflections.

Our main aim for this walk was to see Stainforth Force, the two metre high cascade waterfall where the salmon leap in the Autumn.

The photographer was in his element.