Ennerdale: Half a Horseshoe

December 7, 2024 Mark Richardscumbria, hiking, Lake District, Walking13 Comments

Sunday

PXL_20240728_103113192 — *The River Ehen flowing out of Ennerdale Water.*

You could wait in vain for a patch of settled weather this summer just gone, but at the end of July the forecast finally looked promising, for a couple of days at least. As usual, I had grand plans, with built in get out clauses. As usual, I didn’t set-off very early and, after a lengthy drive, it was almost midday when I parked by the side of the road close to the two, very full, car parks at Bleach Green near the western end of Ennerdale. Note to self: when you have grand plans it probably makes sense to get an early start. Doh!

PXL_20240728_105931545 — *Ennerdale Water.*

With a little forethought I might have decided that the most logical route for a horseshoe would have started by climbing Crag Fell and Iron Crag. This is the route recommended in Ken Wilson and Richard Gilbert’s ‘Big Walks’ which I have on a bookshelf, having nicked it from my dad, but I didn’t check. So, instead, I started out along the lakeshore.

The walk along the southern shore of the lake, occasionally through trees, was delightful. The sun shone, but it wasn’t too hot, the views were terrific, the heather was flowering, there were orchids and butterflies and dragonflies and I saw several basking Common Lizards.

PXL_20240728_110322461 — *Herdus, Great Borne, Bowness Knot, Starling Dodd.*

PXL_20240728_112132774 — *A Common Lizard*

It was hard to photograph the lizards. They generally shot off into the undergrowth much faster than I could be ready to get a shot. This was the best I managed. Common Lizards are also known as Viviparous Lizards, because they give birth to live young. I think this must be a pregnant female.

The underside of Dor Beetles is incredibly colourful. I suspect that what was going on here was a spot of cannibalism. But I could be wrong. Maybe the upright beetle was imploring their capsized companion to get up and stop messing about. Who knows?

PXL_20240728_120136296 — *Heath Spotted-orchid.*

PXL_20240728_120139873 — *Heath Spotted-orchid.*

I’m reasonably confident that these must both be Heath Spotted-orchids, but they do demonstrate the difficulty with orchids, in as much as the flowers vary so much in shape, colour and markings.

PXL_20240728_120528841 — *Looking back along Ennerdale Water to Crag Fell, Angler’s Crag and Bowness Knot.*

From the end of the lake, I turned uphill through forestry. A couple of sturdy footbridges took me over first Silvercove Beck and then either Woundell Beck or Deep Gill depending on whereabouts the name of the gill changes from one to the other.

PXL_20240728_123213139 — *Footbridge over Woundell Beck/Deep Gill.*

Here in the trees, without the benefit of a breeze, it was hot.

PXL_20240728_123313954 — *Woundell Beck/Deep Gill.*

I resisted the temptations of dip in the beck: I had a long way to go.

PXL_20240728_125621385 — *Silver Cove and Caw Fell.*

It was a relief to get out of the trees and on to the long shoulder between Silver Cove and Great Cove. Of course, these days Ennerdale has been rebranded as ‘Wild Ennerdale’. On this shoulder, a blanket covering of bracken is eventually superseded by tall bushy heather. I suspect that the latter may owe its vigour to the reduction of the number of sheep grazing these slopes.
I met a few walkers heading the other way (it was more that time of day). One lady enthused about her good day and how lucky she had been to get a view. The tops, at this point, had mostly disappeared into the clouds.

PXL_20240728_144400022.PANO — *Pano: Iron Crag, fells on the north side of Ennerdale and the North-Western Fells beyond.*

Fortunately, as I climbed, the cloud began to lift again and the views opened up. Iron Crag looked particularly fine. I’m pretty sure that I’ve never been up there. It’s a Birkett, although he calls it Ennerdale Fell, so I have a ready-made excuse to come back to climb it.
The path hits the main ridge between Caw Fell and Haycock, so I did a small out-and-back to tick-off Caw Fell. I think I have been here before, but it was a very long time ago.

PXL_20240728_150154482 — *Iron Crag and Great Borne from Caw Fell. Knock Murton between and maybe Blake Fell poking out byond Herdus. Criffel in the distance?*

On Caw Fell, I watched a couple Kestrels hovering, as they do. It was to be a feature of the day.

PXL_20240728_150206664 — *Steeple, Scoat Fell, Little Gowder Crag and Haycock from Caw Fell.*

I didn’t see any cattle on the fells, but there were ample signs of their presence. Every cowpat I saw had its own contingent of these small brown toadstools.
As I followed the path which skirted around Little Gowder Crag I was thinking that it was probably a Birkett and that I should probably climb it while I had the chance. It is. I should have. Oh well, I shall have to come back. Shame!
It seemed to be getting steadily clearer and the view to the Isle of Man and the hills and coast of South-West Scotland were excellent.

PXL_20240728_163414744 — *From Haycock*: *Little Gowder Crag, Iron Crag, Ennerdale Water, Great Borne, Criffel.*

Then, of course, there were the hills closer to hand.

PXL_20240728_154502529 — *From Haycock: Steeple, Scoat Fell, Red Pike.*

A sturdy wooden beam had been balanced in the lee of the wall near the top. It made a very comfortable seat which seemed like a good opportunity to stop for some tea.

PXL_20240728_160338979 — *Tea – filled pasta and powdered tomato soup.*

A meal of pasta and powdered mushroom soup, consumed at an Alpine bivy, has become legendary as a culinary low-point in a very crowded field of gastronomic disasters amongst our group of old friends. It set into a sort of jelly-like pasta-cake. So this may have been a brave call, but it was surprisingly good. To go with the fantastic views I had mealtime entertainment from another pair of hunting Kestrels.

PXL_20240728_162030000 — *The isle of Man.*

PXL_20240728_162047408 — *From Haycock: Red Pike, Scoat Tarn, the Scafells.*

PXL_20240728_162108590.PANO — *Pano looking west from Haycock.*

Cordon-bleu it was not. But with the top to myself and views like these it tasted just fine!

PXL_20240728_170633313 — *Looking back to Haycock and Little Gowder Crag.*

Eventually, I set of for Scoat Fell. As I climbed, I could see maybe a dozen birds of prey hovering over the open slopes of the fellside. I’m so used to seeing Kestrels as solitary hunters that at first I was racking my brains trying to figure out what they were. It took quite a long time to realise that they actually were Kestrels. I’ve never seen more than four at one before I don’t think.
Is this one consequence of the enlightened management of this area now?

PXL_20240728_173119205 — *Steeple from Scoat Fell. High Stile ridge and Grasmoor beyond.*

I left my bag on Scoat Fell for the out-and-back to Steeple. Another walker with a collie dog came through. I saw them again the following day, so I guess they were camping too.

PXL_20240728_174052038 — *Pillar and Black Crag from Steeple.*

PXL_20240728_174117837 — *Scoat Fell from Steeple.*

PXL_20240728_180631114 — *Great Gable, the Scafells, Red Pike.*

I remembered a good source of water to the south of the top of Scoat Fell and considered spending the night in this vicinity, but I had envisaged being much further around the circuit than this, so elected to press on. The map showed a stream very close to the top of Black Sail Pass, so I would head for there.

PXL_20240728_181611272 — *Red Pike and Yewbarrow.*

Once I left Scoat Fell, I didn’t see any other walkers. The light was superb, although it did gradually cloud up again, from the west.

PXL_20240728_181736478 — *Kirk Fell, Great Gable, the Scafells and Mosedale.*

PXL_20240728_182655951 — *The route up to Pillar.*

PXL_20240728_184621064 — *Looking back to Black Crag, Scoat Fell and Steeple.*

PXL_20240728_191658615 — *Ennerdale Water from Pillar.*

My decision to press on meant that I didn’t have a grandstand view of the sunset. Once again, my new bivy and sleeping bags kept me warm and dry. Once again, I probably should have left myself a bit more daylight to find a less lumpy more comfortable perch for the night. Suffice to say, I was awake on quite a few occasions to watch the clouds scudding overhead.

Monday

PXL_20240729_045353438 — *Misty sunrise at Black Sail Pass.*

By the time the sun made a welcome appearance, I was packed up and ready to get moving: it was pretty parky.

The very steep ascent of Kirk Fell was just the job to get me warmed up.

PXL_20240729_050800972 — *Black Crag, Pillar and Looking Stead from the climb up Kirk Fell.*

PXL_20240729_053808081 — *Starry Saxifrage.*

I read that Starry Saxifrage is a common plant in our mountains, so I’m not sure why I’m not more familar with it. I’m slightly annoyed with myself, that I didn’t check my photos, or take more, but I shall be on the lookout for more of these flowers in the future. Apparently they grow in steep rocky places where water trickles. This seems to be another plant with two different latin names, both Saxifraga stellaris and Micranthes stellaris. No idea why. Apparently, saxifrage comes from latin words mean ‘rock’ and ‘to break’ because it used to be thought that saxifrages could actually split rock.

PXL_20240729_054152689 — *Pillar, Looking Stead, High Stile, High Crag.*

PXL_20240729_060334526 — *Great End, Broad Crag, Scafell Pike, Lingmell, Scafell from Kirk Fell.*

I breakfasted in the rubble shelter by the top of Kirk Fell. It was still cold, but the views made up for that fact and the instant porridge I’d brought was at least warming.

PXL_20240729_060340825 — *Whitfell, Burnmoor Tarn, The Screes, Wastwater, Yewbarrow, Middle Fell from Kirk Fell.*

PXL_20240729_060348930 — *Great Gable from Kirk Fell.*

PXL_20240729_075643938 — *Wastwater from the ascent of Great Gable.*

Not many photos from Great Gable because the clouds descended for a while and I didn’t get any views. It had been far too long since I last climbed Kirk Fell and Gable. Gable and I have history. I have a large scar on my right shin from a rolling rock which had a very sharp edge and which cut my leg down to the bone. That was, I think, back in 1985, the first time I camped in Wasdale in May for the Spring Bank Holiday weekend. I was camping then with some of the same people I was back with this May. We haven’t returned every single May since, but we have been back many, many times, so it makes even less sense that it’s so long since I last climbed Great Gable.

PXL_20240729_084138880 — *The Fell and Rock Club memorial on Great Gable.*

Given that I didn’t get any views, I shall have to go back before too long.

PXL_20240729_090457211 — *Langdale Pikes, Allen Crags, Seathwaite Fell, Bowfell, Esk Pike, Great End, Sprinkling and Styhead Tarns.*

PXL_20240729_093300801 — *Great Gable from Green Gable.*

PXL_20240729_093306688 — *Seatallan, Kirk Fell, Scoat Fell, Black Crag, Pillar and upper Ennerdale from Green Gable.*

PXL_20240729_093331100 — *The High Stile Ridge, Buttermere, North-Western Fells. Haystacks and Brandreth closer to hand.*

PXL_20240729_100422834 — *Green Gable and Great Gable.*

I sat down on Brandreth for another brew and a chap stopped to ask me which would be the safest way to take his dog up Gable? At least he didn’t ask for directions to his car! Due to my extensive knowledge of doggy hill-climbing I was able to give him some valuable advice. Or not. I’m not sure what it is about me that makes complete strangers take me for some sort of wandering Ask Jeeves. Although, in this case it may just have been because there was nobody else about to whom his enquiries could be directed.

PXL_20240729_111534602 — *Lots of Bog Asphodel. Haystacks and the steep ascent onto High Crag ahead.*

Originally, I had intended to continue along the northern side of Ennerdale as far as Great Borme, bagging Wainwrights galore. But the relatively minor ascent of Haystacks took me an age. I must have looked all in, it was quite busy by this point and several people told me quite solicitously that I was ‘nearly there now’.

PXL_20240729_121445618 — *High Crag from Haystacks.*

The thought of the long, steep ascent onto High Crag was very off-putting. What a wuss!

PXL_20240729_133514158 — *Green Gable, Great Gable and Kirk Fell from Ennerdale.*

So instead, I descended into Ennerdale and walked back along a forest track and then around Ennerdale Water. It had remained cold on the fells, but down in Ennerdale it really felt like July. What a contrast. I hugged the shade wherever possible.

PXL_20240729_163902247 — *Crag Fell and Angler’s Crag across Ennerdale Water.*

It’s a long way back down the valley and it was pretty late when I got back to my car.

PXL_20240729_171516230 — *A last view across Ennerdale Water.*

PXL_20240729_172354631 — *Marsh Woundwort.*

MapMyWalk gives around 11 miles and around 1100m of ascent for my first day. Due to issues with a portable charger, I daren’t use the app on the Monday, choosing to save my phones battery for navigation and photos. But I think it’s fair to say that the second day was quite a bit further (it certainly felt like a long way at the time!), although with less ascent.
In ‘Big Walks’ the full horseshoe is given as 21 miles, although more modern reports, no doubt with the benefit of GPS, give either 23 or 24 miles. Even that seems like a bit of a stingy underestimate. Of course, it’s a challenge walk and people knock it all off in a single day. There’s an annual fell race around the route.
Maybe I’ll come back at some point and complete the whole route. Over three days!

Anyway, it was a highly enjoyable outing and has definitely refreshed my appetite for more high wild-camps or bivys. Just need to sort an ultra-comfortable sleeping mat. Oh, and carry less food – I took far too much.

Wainwrights: Caw Fell, Haycock, Scoat Fell, Steeple, Pillar, Kirk Fell, Great Gable, Green Gable, Brandreth, Haystacks.

Birketts: all of the above, and Black Crag, Looking Stead, and Kirk Fell has two tops, apparently.

Swarth Fell and Wild Boar Fell

July 31, 2023July 31, 2023 Mark Richards11 Comments

20230513_105702 — *Cautley Crag and the Howgill Fells.*

Another Lune catchment outing, which, once again, didn’t disappoint. I had splendid views of the Howgill Fells all day. I’d parked down by Rawthey Bridge and when I left the minor road which leaves the A road there, took another version of this view which was rather spoiled by the foreground of dessicated Mole corpses hanging from the barbed wire fence – a grisly traditional method for a mole-catcher to show the success of his labour.

The field path took me past a series of old farmhouses, heading up the valley of the Rawthey.

What intrigued me about this farmhouse was the unusual tall building with the pyramidal roof, which is a coach house apparently, according to Historic England, added in 1914 to a building which is “probably early/mid C18”. I should have taken a photo back down the hill at Wraygreen, which is considerably older. Next time.

20230513_112728 — *Approaching Needle House.*

I’ve included this photo because it shows the trees beyond the house, clearly planted, looking almost like an arboretum, of which more in a moment.

I was surprised to find that the very striking Needle House is not listed. I did find a fascinating history of the Frankland family, who lived here and modified the house, written by Dr Helga Frankland, whose father seems to have been taken with all things Scandinavian (so hence Helga?).

20230513_113134 — *Barn by Needle House.*

“Unusual features created by my father include the belfry on the gable end of West Laithe in the yard at Needlehouse. It is based on belfries seen on farms in Scandinavia. We used the bell to summon people to the house from the fields.”

Laithe is a northern word for Barn, apparently.

20230513_113352 — *Bridge over Needlehouse Gill.*

“My father planted all the woods on our land, except for the much older Uldale Wood and the natural woodland in the gills. Scandinavia held a strong fascination for my great grandfather, grandfather and my father. By skillful placing of relatively small, largely coniferous woods, my father managed to create a landscape that looks more wooded than it actually is and therefore, has echoes of Scandinavia.”

In the woods beyond the gill, I was delighted to spot four or five Red Squirrels, or, very possibly, the same Red Squirrel four or five times. I have one very blurred photo to remind me, but if I hadn’t taken it myself, I don’t think I would know that it was of a squirrel. Much of the walk to this point had been accompanied by the sound of Cuckoos, but, as usual, I didn’t see them at all.

20230513_114418 — *Needlehouse Gill again.*

I watched a largish bird of prey fly up and along the gill. I don’t know what type sadly.

Part of the reason for choosing this route was the fact that I haven’t climbed Wild Boar Fell for far too long. It used to be a bit of a favourite. I always used the same route: up the Rawthey, over Holmes Moss Fell, which was invariably very wet, then onto Swarth Fell, Wild Boar Fell and down via Fell End Clouds. This time I intended to ring the changes and explore some more Lune feeders. My original plan had been to hop over the fence here, onto access land, and follow the gill upstream, but the going looked like it might be difficult, due to the steep banks and fallen trees, so instead I almost doubled back on the track and then took to the open fell-side.

20230513_120144 — *Looking back towards the Howgills.*

It wasn’t half as wet underfoot as it might have been I suspect.

I found a hint of a path, which took me down into Grain Gill, and then followed the gill down into Needlehouse Gill which at some point becomes Uldale Gill.

I took lots of photos of small falls and cascades, but this was the best, so can stand in for them all.

I watched this Dor Beetle as it wandered around in the rough vegetation, laboriously and seemingly with quite a lot of effort, going back and forth over the same ground for reasons I couldn’t fathom.

20230513_125102 — *Looking back down the gill to Cautley Crag.*

On the left of this photo you can see a small sliver of white, which is where water was spouting from a hole in the crags and pouring under the wall into the stream. The boulders in the foreground are, I assumed, the dry bed of a tributary stream where a spring would emerge in wet weather.

In the absence of a path, following the stream turned out to be quite heavy going, so I decided that it would be a good idea to climb up to the left, above the northern bank of the gill. I was wrong. That bright idea brought me into very boggy ground with tall reeds. The only upside was that I saw a number of Common Lizards…

…which were all too fast for me to get any decent photos.

Fortunately, when I climbed high enough, the going got much easier.

20230513_132118 — *Looking back to the Howgill Fells.*

I’m reliably informed that this spider, on an impressive web stretching between sedge stems, is Larinioides cornutus, the Furrow Orbweaver. They like damp places, which fits. This must be a female, which makes a silken cocoon and then produces pheromones to attract a mate.
At the time, I thought the cocoon might be full of babies, but with hindsight, it looks more like a larder.

The ‘furrow’ in her name refers to the pattern on her back, which sadly she never deigned to reveal to me.

She was intent on running repairs of her web.

But then I must have upset her in some way and she disappeared into her lair.
I’m well aware that not everyone likes arachnids, but as you can probably tell, I was entranced.

20230513_135208 — *Looking back from near the top of the gill.*

20230513_143031 — *Cairn on Swarth Fell.*

20230513_143205 — *Wild Boar Fell from Swarth Fell.*

20230513_152856 — *Looking south from Swarth Fell. That’s Whernside and Ingleborough peeking out from behind Baugh Fell.*

I found a very comfortable spot amongst the boulders on Swarth Fell, made a brew and then had a little nap in the sun whilst it cooled down. You can’t beat a bit of a snooze during a hill walk if you ask me.

On the way back down to the col, I followed the steep eastern edge…

20230513_153338 — *The eastern edge of Swarth Fell.*

The rivers both Eden and Ure rise down there somewhere. The first is heading for Carlisle, the Solway Firth and hence the Irish Sea, whilst the other, via the Ouse and the Humber, heads through York to the North Sea.

20230513_160533 — *Looking back to Swarth Fell.*

This path, around The Band to High White Scar, is not marked on the OS map, but it is an absolute delight. As I walked along it, I watched a Buzzard gliding out across Aisgill Head.

20230513_161705 — *Ais Gill and Swarth Fell.*

20230513_162654 — *High White Scar. Mallerstang Edges beyond.*

20230513_163240 — *A proliferation of cairns*.

Wild Boar Fell has a large summit plateau and two tops, both with a spot height of 708m.

20230513_164302 — *Looking back to Yoadcomb Scar.*

20230513_164958 — *The Nab, Eden Valley, Northern Pennines.*

Here’s ‘the other’ top. Not quite as exciting as the one to the east, to be honest.

Forcepot Sike apparently drains Sand Tarn, although there wasn’t an obvious or easy to spot outflow. The hills opposite are Harter Fell (there’s a few of those about!) and Green Bell. I don’t think I’ve ever climbed the former, and it must be about thirty years since I climbed the latter – and since the source of the Lune is said to be on its slopes, it’s high on my to do list. Of course, we know that the Lune, like any river, has countless sources, but we’ll let that lie.

This was pathless going, but much easier than that had been by Uldale Gill. The stream gradually grew as it absorbed lots of other rivulets, at some point becoming Clouds Gill. I’ve come down these slopes a few times before, but always heading for Fell End Clouds, never sticking with the gill. As the terrain changed to limestone country, that brought unexpected bonuses. The stream began to appear and disappear underground.

In some spots I could see the water flowing through a narrow channel to the left and below the exposed rocky riverbed. In other places the river had eroded large deep pots which were full of stagnant water. And also full of tadpoles.

Many moons ago, I used to walk to school with friends. Our route took us across fields and via a small footbridge over Johnny’s Brook. Armed with coffee jars or buckets, we would collect frogspawn, tadpoles, frogs, sticklebacks and other unfortunate denizens of the brook and take our finds to school. There was an aquarium tank in one of our classrooms, I remember. Whether the aquarium was a result of our enthusiasm or its cause, I don’t recall. I do know that I’ve never seen tadpoles in this profusion before, pool after pool, deep or shallow, were full of them. But then suddenly – no more.

I’m assuming that this is a Mayfly, although my field guide describes them as ‘flimsy’ whereas this looked quite sturdy to me. Apparently, there are 47 different species in the UK. The winged stage of their lives lasts for just a couple of hours or up to a couple of days, depending on the species. The nymphs, living in the water, often live for a year or even two, although, again, that depends of the species.

P1370198 — *Mayfly nymphs? About to emerge?*

Limestone, of course, erodes in interesting ways. Here the stream had created a narrow gorge and a huge rock overhang.

I’ve begun to think that certain creatures are emblematic of the landscapes of the Lune, particularly Curlews and Hares. Maybe Grey Wagtails as well.

P1370205 — *Cloud Gill and Harter Fell.*

I had planned to cross the valley and have a wander through the woods of Murthwaite Park, but it was getting late, so I just wandered along the minor road back to the car.

P1370212 — *Another view of Fell End Clouds.*

P1370225 — *Valerian, host to tiny flies. St. Marks flies or something similar?*

When I got back to the car it was covered with Mayflies. These did look flimsy.

There had been lots of cars parked along the road near the Cross Keys, presumably for the walk up to Cautley Spout and beyond, which is a very fine walk and another which is high on my ‘to do’ list. But I’d met a couple on Swarth Fell, another couple at the Nab and two blokes and their dog by the trig pillar on Wild Boar Fell, and that was it. On a sunny Saturday in May. I can’t think why Wild Boar Fell is not much more popular, but I’m not complaining!

A little over 11 miles, but largely pathless so harder work than that might sound.

The Lune, Birk Beck, Wasdale, Bretherdale

July 26, 2023July 27, 2023 Mark Richards8 Comments

A Circuit from Old Tebay

20230507_104211 — *The Lune near Old Tebay.*

In my own haphazard, arbitrary fashion, I’ve been seeking out the tributaries, and catchment hills of the River Lune since an exchange in the comments section of this blog back in 2017.

“That’s a pretty full set of experiences for an evening walk. Flowers, birds, deer, caves, gorges, rivers.”

“I may continue this theme of exploring tributaries of the Lune – a walk which starts low in the Lune valley and then climbs up into the hills gives a tremendous variety of scenery, flora, fauna etc.”

“I think your suggested tributary project is a good idea.”

Isn’t it amazing how far a little encouragement can take you!

Having rather neglected the Lune, and it’s legion of sources, in my rush to tick-off Wainwrights by the dozen last year, I’ve been itching to get back to a little exploration. With a dodgy forecast which suggested that the higher hills, and the western Lakes in particular, would be best avoided, I drove up to Tebay in first drizzle and eventually heavy rain and dense cloud. Only as I emerged from Tebay gorge did the cloud suddenly clear, revealing huge swathes of unexpected blue sky.

20230507_104925 — *The Lune from Tebay Bridge.*

This is a route I’ve been wanting to walk for a while, because it crosses almost entirely virgin territory for me, but it’s a good job I didn’t leave it for an evening walk, as I have most of my previous Lune Catchment walks, since it turned out to be a fairly long wander. When I plan routes I have a tendency to be fairly ambitious regarding how much I can pack in, and also to not bother checking the length of the route before I embark.

I saw quite a lot of butterflies during the early part of the walk, particularly Peacocks.

I’ve always liked walks which follow rivers or streams and this route along Birk Beck was no exception.

20230507_105124 — *Looking towards the Howgills and Tebay Gorge.*

Although I was enjoying glorious sunshine, the nearby Howgills remained draped in cloud for most of the morning.

20230507_105632 — *Under the M6 motorway.*

This was a walk with a wide assortment of bridges. I’m a sucker for a bridge, even modern concrete ones, so that was another bonus.

20230507_111732 — *An uninspiring view of…Tebay Services.*

Back in the days when I first met the people who are still my most frequent companions in the hills, when we travelled up to Scotland every New Year and every Easter and occasionally at other times of the year too, we habitually stopped at Tebay West services. It was a bit of a ritual, never to be missed. So I was pleased to be able to send them this view of the services, admittedly rather hidden in the trees. Not one of them recognised them; they must be getting old!

Climbing up the little minor road towards the services, from the hamlet of Greenholme, I passed a tree occupied by a charm of Goldfinches and managed to snatch a photo of a few which were pecking at Dandelion flowers on the verge.
All along the beck I could hear and occasionally glimpse small birds, tits and finches, but, with the trees now in leaf, it wasn’t generally possible to get photos.

Leaving the road, on a path which would take me back down to Birk Beck, I encountered this gate which had been wired shut. It was the first of several such obstacles I came across and I really should have contacted the local footpaths officer. There was no other recourse but to clamber over the gate, which as you can see was a bit decrepit, but fortunately it didn’t collapse from under me.

20230507_120140 — *Across the beck to another minor lane.*

20230507_122325 — *Looking back to Scout Green.*

I’m not sure why I didn’t take any photos whilst I was passing through Scout Green, I remember it as a charming spot.

From this point the path was crossing much rougher grassland, often quite wet. Now there were Curlews, Lapwings and Ravens to be seen and heard. The path climbed a little above the beck.

One of the things I had been particularly looking forward to was the waterfall Docker Force.

Since there’s a good photo of it on Geograph, I’d assumed that it would be easy to access. Not a bit of it. It’s well below the path and can be heard from there, but not seen. Once again, I clambered over a gate, but this time because I was trespassing, and then I made my way down through some extremely squelchy woodland. At the bottom, there’s a small cliff and I couldn’t see an obvious way down, so I made do with this sideways on view.

20230507_131753 — *West Coast Mainline and Crosby Ravensworth Fell.*

Once again, I feel the need to disclaim any impression I might be making of train-spotterish tendencies; it’s just that somehow I’m compelled to take a photo whenever a train passes. Do you think I might be in denial?

20230507_132238 — *Clapper Bridge over Trundle Beck.*

At the back of the Shap Wells Hotel, up a little rise, is this monument.

20230507_133404 — *Celebrating Queen Victoria’s coronation.*

Which seemed quite appropriate since this was the day that ol’ Big Ears got crowned. Visiting this monument was as close as I came to joining in the celebrations.

It seems like a very out-of-the-way spot for a monument. Come to that, it’s a bit remote for an enormous hotel too.

Aside for a trio of bird-watchers in the grounds, the hotel seemed to be deserted. In fact, I hardly saw anyone all day – another advantage of these Lune tributary wanderings, there’s plenty of solitude on offer.

Having visited it’s more famous namesake in the Western Lakes so many times over the years, it was nice to finally get acquainted with the less well-known Wasdale.

P1360919 — *Green Hairstreak Butterfly.*

I’ve seen quite a few Common Lizards this year on my walks, but they’ve almost always been too quick for me to catch in a picture. I would hazard a guess that this was the largest of all the ones I’ve encountered this year.

The path climbs a little above the beck, along the boundary of a conifer plantation which looks to have been clear-felled and replanted. There was a very cool breeze blowing and I’d been on the lookout for a sheltered spot in which to stop for a brew. I found a place, down by the fence, between a large tree-stump and a small grassy bank, which I thought might be as good as I would find. As I was fiddling with my stove, a large (i.e. female) Buzzard swept down along the course of the stream, flying unusually low for a Buzzard, so that I had a marvellous view from above. I have to confess, however, that I was relieved when she swerved away from me and across the slope opposite.
This spring and summer, we’ve had gulls nesting at work and they have been extremely protective of their nest: to venture into the car park has meant risking several swooping attacks. I don’t think anyone has actually been clawed at any point, but I think lots of us have had our hair ruffled a few times. I never managed to be as composed as one or two of my colleagues who strode confidently across the tarmac unflinching under the barrage, but, on the other hand, I didn’t take to cowering under a brolly either.
Past experience tells me that Buzzards are equally concerned parents; I’ve been ‘warned off’ a few times. When the female was joined by a tiercel, even though they initially settled on a distant dry-stone wall, I began to pack-up the stove and prepared to make myself scarce. In fact, they didn’t actually come too close, but I knew I wouldn’t have a restful cuppa whilst they were circling, so I moved on.

A little further-up I encountered more footpath obstructions, firstly a collapsed stile, which wasn’t too much of a problem, but then felled trees which made life very difficult. Much of the brashing had not been removed, leaving the track covered in heaps of broken branches and twigs, and clearly heavy machinery had been used so that the track was deeply rutted and pocked. It was really quite unpleasant.

Fortunately, it didn’t last too long.

At Wasdale Old Bridge, I finally did stop for a cup of tea and watched a pair of Dippers flitting in and out from the underside of the bridge, where I assume they had a nest. I managed to scotch any possibility of another brew-stop by clumsily tipping my unused tea leaves into the stream.

20230507_152754 — *Packhorse Hill, Yarlside, Shap Pink Quarry.*

The next section of the route was all on a broad gravel track. Not the most attractive path, but at least easy going. I thought Packhorse Hill looked worthy of a look at some point. Likewise the hills around the upper reaches of Wasdale and Crookdale.

20230507_152627 — *Looking back towards the Pennines.*

Along the track, the vegetation on the left was dominated by heather, whereas to the right it was all grasses. I can only assume that the stark contrast is due to a different grazing regime.

P1360930 — *The path over into Bethersdale.*

P1360934 — *The hills around Crookdale.*

There were Stone Chats all along the wall here. Curlews were circling and calling too, but much harder to catch on camera.

Crookdale Crag has been added to my ‘to visit’ list too. Along with the Birkbeck Fells. An ever expanding list!

20230507_162210 — *Looking towards Bretherdale.*

The path, which had started well, seemed to peter out, or at least, I lost it for a while. It was rough and fairly boggy ground. Bizarrely, I was just thinking that it was perfect territory for Short-eared Owls – one of my few previous sightings was above nearby Wet Sleddale – when one came sweeping low down the hillside from behind me. I scrambled for my camera whilst trying to keep an eye on the owl. It hunted, nearby, apparently not much bothered by my presence. It’s behaviour reminded me of Kestrels: hovering quite low and then plunging into the grass. Not surprising I suppose since both hunt voles.
Landing some distance away it scanned the surroundings – I have photos of it looking straight at me, but also with its head turned to the extreme left and right.

Fortunately, it eventually flew back towards me to hunt again, before finally leaving. Of the many photos I was able to take, these two are by far and away the best. A beautiful bird and a magical experience.

I suppose after that I was predisposed to fall in love with Bretherdale, which I duly did.

P1360970 — *Thorny Bank and Bretherdale.*

Thorny Bank is yet another hill I shall have to climb at some point.

P1360973 — *The Drinker Moth caterpillar.*

20230507_164858 — *The Drinker Moth caterpillar.*

P1360979 — *Broken egg shell and tiny spider?*

20230507_165717 — *Thorny Bank and Bretherdale again.*

There was a sketchy path here, but it was very wet underfoot and once again I was very glad to have M’s boots.

I’ve decided to buy Parrocks and do it up. When my long lost wealthy relative leaves me a surprise legacy of millions, obviously.

This latch was rusted shut and since the fence was topped with barbed-wire, there was no other option than to climb the broken gate, which felt decidedly like it might give way under the strain.

20230507_172655 — *Simple bridge over Bretherdale Beck at Greenhead.*

20230507_172718 — *More ruined farm buildings.*

I think that there was a for-sale sign at Bretherdale Head and the gate was locked and festooned with barbed wire. I had been thinking that the land here was being managed for conservation, but now began to wonder if it had just been too uneconomic to farm and was abandoned. Later, I did see a chap on a quad bike, at Midwath Stead, who I assume was a farmer, so some of the area is being worked, but I didn’t see many sheep on the hills.

Breasthigh Beck is yet another feeder of the Lune and since Breasthigh Road follows it upstream and then over into ‘the other’ Borrowdale, this is somewhere else I shall have to come back to.

20230507_173105 — *Maybe that road sign wasn’t unique after all!*

20230507_175816 — *Primroses – the road verge was full of them.*

20230507_180615 — *Stepping stones in Bretherdale Beck and more ruins!*

20230507_182745 — *Confluence of Bretherdale Beck and Birk Beck.*

It was rather late in the day, otherwise this looked like a good spot for a dip. I shall bear it in mind!

At the end of my walk I was following Birk Beck again, but on the south bank this time. A Hare sprang up from where it had been hidden in the grass and raced away from me. Seemingly by coincidence, a Buzzard soared in from another direction, but their paths converged and for a few seconds the raptor flew just above the Hare. I couldn’t decide whether the Buzzard actually hoped to catch the Hare, but it seemed like an uneven contest – the Hare was so fast and soon away and safe.
Shortly afterwards, I stopped to check my position on the OS app, put my phone back in my pocket and then realised that there was another Hare right by my foot. It seemed to be trying to press itself down into the sward and with its eyes, either side of its head, was able to look straight up at me without lifting it’s head at all. We stared at each other briefly, then I reached for my phone again, the spell was apparently broken and the Hare, well….hared off at great speed, much too quick for me to get even a rubbish photo.

20230507_185837 — *M6 bridge over the Lune.*

20230507_190130 — *M6 bridge over the Lune.*

Although the OS map shows the footbridge, it also says ‘Ford’ by the path, so I was very pleased to discover that the bridge was for public use and I wouldn’t have to finish my walk by immersing myself in the Lune.

20230507_190158 — *Footbridge over the Lune.*

MapMyWalk gives 16 miles and 400m of ascent. A very full day in many ways.

I have several more Lune Catchment posts to come and can’t pass up this opportunity to share again the marvellous online book ‘Lands of The Lune‘ by John Self, which if you have interest in the area is a must read.

The route – should you wish to trace it on the map and/or on the ground: park at Old Tebay, follow the Lune north-east, cross the Lune, through Bybeck, under the motorway, left on the track to Birk Beck, follow Birk Beck to Bridge End, right on the lane, path off to the left, cross Birk Beck and take the minor lane to Scout Green, paths by Birk Beck to Shap Wells Hotel, path up Wasdale and keep that direction to cross the A6, turn left to recross the A6 over Bretherdale Bank and down Bretherdale, minor road to Bretherdale Hall, turn left and cross the beck, turn right at the meeting of paths, then along Birk Beck and the Lune to Tebay.

Gardadale – Local Walks

December 31, 2021December 30, 2021 Mark Richards4 Comments

When the Herefordshire Holidaymakers had to cancel their planned summer trip to Lake Garda, due to Covid restrictions and uncertainties, and us with no plans of our own, for the same reasons, the obvious thing to do seemed to be to invite them to join us in Sunny Silverdale instead. Happily, they agreed. We drove home from Towyn to tidy up a bit and inflate some airbeds, whilst they had the more onerous task of returning home, getting all of their washing done and hoping back into their cars for the long drive north.

In the early part of the week, we even had some half-decent weather, and, I think fairly soon after they had arrived, we had a wander up to the Pepper Pot and then down to The Cove.

TBH insisted that we should have a wander on the sands, which turned out to be quite wet and very sticky. Andy was in new shoes. It seems to me that it’s the destiny of walking shoes to eventually get muddy, but Andy was mortified that his pristine trainers were sullied by Morecambe Bay sludge and complained bitterly at every opportunity for the rest of the week.

20210805_125523 — Later in the week, we repeated our favourite route, around the coast to Arnside and back over the Knott. It was raining when we came over the Knott, so I understand why I didn’t take any photos then, but it’s a bit rum that I only took one as we walked around the coast. Probably too busy wittering.

20210808_113427 — *Knapweed in Clark’s Lot.*

20210808_120114 — Towards the end of the week, when we walked around Jenny Brown’s Point, the weather was decidedly un-Italian. Still, with good company, you can still enjoy a walk and I quite like some dark clouds when there’s some sunlight to reflect off the sea.

We finished the week (I think) with another short climb up to the Pepper Pot. It was a lovely week, as always when the Herefordshire Hearties visit. We had a number of trips out too, so more posts to follow.

The Wrong Trousers

October 4, 2021 Mark Richards5 Comments

20210509_110228 — *Ward’s Stone from Baines Cragg.*

Early in May, we met up with our old friends for a walk, and to celebrate Andy’s birthday. We had the least far to travel, since we were meeting at the Littledale carpark on the edge of the Forest of Bowland, not too far from Lancaster. So, naturally, never knowingly on time for anything, we were the last to arrive. I think the last of Andy’s bacon butties had yet to be washed down with a mug of tea at that point, so we may not have delayed things too much.

Leaving the cars, we started with an easy ascent of Baines Cragg, which, despite many previous visits to this area, I’ve never climbed before – it turned out to be an excellent viewpoint. It’s a shame the skies were so grey – I shall have to go back and have another look when the weather is more clement.

20210509_110808 — *Bluebells in Cragg Wood*

20210509_112825 — *Crossing Ottergear Bridge, part of the Thirlmere Aqueduct.*

Apparently the Thirlmere Aqueduct, which transports water from the Lake District to Manchester, is the longest gravity-fed aqueduct in Britain (source).

The track which crosses Ottergear Bridge was presumably constructed as part of the engineering work related to the aqueduct. It took us to the path which climbs Clougha Pike from the Rigg Lane car park.

When we lived on The Row, we used to see Slow Worms in our garden quite often. They seemed to like our compost heaps. B did once find one in our current garden, but that was years ago.

They are thought to be the longest-lived of all lizards; the remarkable age of 54 years has been reliably recorded.
from ‘Fauna Britannica’ by Stefan Buczacki

20210509_121424 — *Brew/lunch/cake stop number 1.*

20210509_134613 — *Looking over Caton Moor towards Ingleborough.*

20210509_142214 — *Andy Goldsworthy sculpture.*

20210509_142512 — *TBH in one of the sculptures.*

Below the sculptures we found a sheltered spot, out of the wind, for our second cake/brew/lunch stop. For me, this was a highlight of the day. The heathery slope was comfortable, the view to the north, if somewhat hazy and grey, was still extensive and, above all else, the company was excellent.

Andy had been keen to tick-off Ward’s Stone, but the weather wasn’t great, so we decided to follow this track which looped around Grit Fell and then come back over the top of Grit Fell.

It was along here somewhere that ‘the trouser incident’ occurred. J has a pair of waterproof overtrousers, apparently designed for cross-country skiing, with zips down both the inside and the outside of both legs – making it possible, in theory, to put them on whilst wearing skis. However, with all 4 zips undone, and in a strong wind with driving rain, the trousers had 4 long flapping pieces and even without the encumbrance of skis, try as she might, J couldn’t get them on. It didn’t help that she got the giggles, which turned out to be infectious and soon, whilst TBF and TBH tried to help, the rest of us were doubled-up laughing and making entirely unhelpful suggestions. Eventually, the trousers were tamed, just about in time for the fierce shower to come to an end.

20210509_160840 — *TBF, J and TBH heading to Grit Fell, Ward’s Stone behind. Hats, gloves, full waterproofs – a wintery May!*

20210509_161104 — *Ingleborough. And showers over The Lune valley.*

20210509_171611 — *Brew stop number 3. It started to rain moments after we sat down.*

*My phone batteries packed up (temporarily) near the end of the walk – I think it may have been because I let my phone get too we*t – hence the gap in the route.

Andy’s account, with a better map, better photos etc is here.

Whose birthday is next?

Cirque des Baumes Again

March 2, 2021 Mark Richards6 Comments

Last time we came this way, we drove up to the view point at Point Sublime, left the cars up at the rim of the gorge, and walked back down to the campsite. It proved to be one of the most memorable mornings of the trip, so, naturally, we were keen to repeat that outing this time.

The views from the top of the gorge defy superlatives. I think I’ll just let the pictures speak for themselves.

P1320096 — The campsite is down there somewhere, in the trees.

P1320097 — The top of Cirque des Baumes – looks steep. It is.

Last time we visited, I was absolutely fascinated by the vultures we regularly saw overhead, and spent quite a bit of time both watching them and photographing them, mostly producing fairly useless photos. This time, perhaps the novelty had worn off a bit and I wasn’t as engaged as I had been. Never-the-less, they are amazing to watch and from the top of the gorge we had great views.

Of course, having not been so intent on getting a photo of the vultures, I actually got my best yet. Inevitable perhaps. There’s probably a moral there somewhere, for a clever person to tease out.

P1320127 — B *nonchalantly* *standing much too close to the edge*.

P1320132 — *A vulture on an even more airy perch.*

P1320133 — *The head of Cirque des Baumes again.*

P1320140 — *I suspect that this is a Common Lizard – I think the most widespread reptile species, but I’m not sure*.

P1320144 — *Descending into the cirque.*

It’s quite a sketchy path through really impressive scenery. Some of us were taking our time to save our aged knees (and take photos) and the kids raced ahead of us, only to reappear above and behind us somehow.

As we dropped past one of the large towers, a vulture wheeled just overhead, the closest encounter I’ve had by far. Sadly, my hasty photos, with the light behind the huge scavenger, didn’t come out too well, but it was a very exciting few moments.

P1320185 — This looks like a Meadow Brown, except they usually have some orange on the underwing. So, I’m hoping that it’s actually a Tree Grayling which would make it another new species to me, in what was a bumper year for butterflies.

P1320187 — *Common Blue, I presume. There were a lot of them about.*

P1320194 — *Actually, this might well be a Tree Grayling.*

P1320232 — *Silver-washed Fritillary. Possibly.*

P1320235 — *Unidentified, but colourful grasshopper*.

P1320240 — *Unidentified, but rather lovely moth.*

Last time we visited, the Best Butterfly Moment of the holiday – surely everybody has ‘Best Butterfly Moments’ in their holidays? – was the Small Purple Emperor I spotted by the Tarn. This time it was a number of Southern White Admirals which were flitting about near to the end of our descent, where the trees started to get bigger, but there was still plenty of sunshine filtering through.

Stunning creatures. It was a species I didn’t know existed until this summer. Marvellous.

P1320247 — *Looking back up the Cirque.*

P1320260 — *A member of the Dead-Nettle family, I suspect.*

Most plants seemed to have finished flowering, perhaps as a result of the tree-cover and also the heat, so it was nice to find this small but attractive flowers.

As I approached the bottom of the ravine I met a group who asked if they were going the right way for Point Sublime. They weren’t, having taken the the turn which leads up to La Chapelle Saint-Hillaire, a tiny church nestling under cliffs. My attempts to produce “Go back and turn left” in my rusty school French met with blank looks, but fortunately one of the group spoke very good English. I didn’t envy them the steep ascent in the midday heat, but they were at least young and they all looked very fit.

Sadly, a locked gate blocked the last part of the path to the church, so no photographs this time, although there are a few on my post from our last visit.

P1320266 — *Almost down: looking into the steep-sided ravine at the bottom of the gorge.*

My own short climb up to the chapel wasn’t wasted energy, partly because the views from near the church are superb, but also because I actually managed to catch a hirundine in flight. Not the sharpest photo, but better than I expected. Crag Martins are apparently quite similar to our own Sand Martins, but with broader wings, lacking a darker band on their chests and with ‘diagnostic’ twin white patches on their tails. I’d been enjoying watching the martins deftly skimming across the surface of the huge cliff which looms over the latter part of the descent, so was very happy to have a closer encounter and a chance to take some photos. You can see in the picture how closely they hug the cliffs in their long sweeps, a bit like watching swallows in their low sallies across a pond or field, but with the different challenge of a vertical surface to follow.

P1320274 — *Looking back at Cirque des Baumes from the road.*

P1320279 — *The Tarn from the ‘Mushroom Rock’. The campsite is in the trees by the big shingle bank on the left.*

Of course, one consequence of walking down and leaving the cars is that somebody has to go back later to collect them. What a hardship!

P1320282 — *The same view later in the day.*

More Point Sublime photos to come.

Wildlife Pics from the Dordogne

February 14, 2021 Mark Richards17 Comments

P1310508 — *Shield Bug, Pale Clouded Yellow, Meadow Brown, Knapweed Fritillary, and wasp, sawfly or ….a?*

Conspicuous by their absence from my last post – I know, my last epistle was quite some time ago, suffice to say that online teaching is, despite what the gutter press seem to think, pretty all-consuming and involves spending most of the day stuck in front of a screen, so blogging has dropped out of favour as a spare-time activity – anyway, as I was saying, notably missing – notable, that is, to long-suffering followers at least – notably missing from my account of our trip to the Dordogne last summer were the plethora of wildlife photos which usually occupy around nine tenths of most of my posts. Fear not, that’s because I’ve saved them all up for one gargantuan holiday-snap snore-fest, with no people or views at all! (You can’t say you weren’t warned.)

This first photo neatly epitomises one of my favourite things about our trips to France – the sheer abundance and variety of the flora and fauna, well – particularly the insects.

Although there’s a lot of photos here – some might say too many – it’s a tiny sample of the many I took. Whilst my family and friends were floating down the river on rubber rings, or reading their books, or swinging through the trees doing their best Tarzan impressions, I wandered around the local woods and fields, camera in hand. Sorting through the vast assortment of resulting shots, choosing some favourites, and then trying, with varying degrees of success, to identify some of the more exotic species has been a highly enjoyable but fairly lengthy process. Not that I’ve restricted myself to the more exotic species here, I’m almost as happy to be photographing things which are very common at home…

I generally consider my memory to be atrocious, but weirdly, I’m confident that I can remember where each of these photos were taken. This Horse Mint, for example, grows behind the wall which runs alongside the road into the village. Whereas this thistle..

…was growing in a field next to the river, upstream of the campsite, a particularly happy hunting ground.

Every trip seems to bring something new. I didn’t know, for example, that there was such a thing as a Pale Clouded Yellow.

Ordinary, bog-standard Clouded Yellows sometimes appear in Britain as migrants. I saw one near Arnside once, a couple of miles from home, which really confused me at the time, because I knew what it was, but really didn’t expect to see it flying in a field in Cumbria, having only previously spotted them in France.

I don’t think that Cleopatra’s occur in the UK, I’ve certainly never seen them before.

They proved to be quite elusive, so I was quite chuffed to catch this one on my phone, although, with its wings closed, it looks very like a common-or-garden Brimstone. When they open their wings however….

…they’re quite different.

We were a few days later into the summer this trip. It’s amazing what a difference those few days made. Some butterflies have a brief lifespan in their adult phase. On our last trip we saw quite a few Swallowtails and Scarce Swallowtails, as well as numerous Silver-washed Fritillaries. Not this time.

But I did see lots of fritillaries. At the time, I was convinced that there were two different species, but looking at the photos now, it seems to me that they are probably all Knapweed Fritillaries.

P1310546 — A pair of *Knapweed Fritillary*

I usually saw them in pairs, and often with one of the pair raising the back of its abdomen in what I took to be part of some sort of wooing process.

This little chap was compensation for a long and fruitless chase of a much larger butterfly, which may or may not have been my first, and so far only, sighting of a Camberwell Beauty.

I’d already had an uncommonly good summer for spotting and photographing Common Blues around home, and they were abundant again both in the Dordogne and then, after we moved on, in the Tarn Gorge. Somehow their blue seemed even more vivid in the French sunshine.

20200818_155810 — *Holly Blue. I think.*

If anything, grasshoppers were even more abundant, more elusive, more variable and more difficult to identify than the butterflies.

Some of the larger ones have very striking red or blue wings, sadly only visible in flight.

P1310926 — *Striped Shield Bug on Wild Carrot.*

P1310452 — *Striped Shield Bugs – mating?*

P1310771 — *Striped Shield Bug on Wild Carrot with a passenger.*

There are thousands of species of Assassin Bug apparently, of which this may be one.

My first thought was that this was a Carder Bee, but it has no pollen baskets, so now I’m wondering if it’s even a bumblebee at all. I’ve concluded that, not very confident at identifying bees on my home patch, I shan’t even attempt to do so with these French bees.

I will say that this isn’t a bee, but something imitating a bee’s markings. I’m not sure whether it’s a bee-fly or a hoverfly, although I’m inclined to the latter.

I saw a few of these large and strikingly ugly black and orange flies.

As with the bees, I saw a number of wasps, or wasp like creatures, which don’t seem to be in my ‘Complete Mediterranean Wildlife’ guide. There were some very thin waisted black and orange bugs which I think were ichneumon wasps of some kind. But I’m not sure whether the black and white creature below, sharing a flower with a burnet moth, is a wasp or a sawfly…

Here’s another…

…with a fritillary. And something similar, but yellow and black…

Last time I took lots of photos of damselflies, dragonflies and demoiselles. Not so much this time, although the demoiselles were still present in large numbers by the river. Here’s a solitary damselfly…

And what I thought was an unusually hairy, stunted and unglamorous dragonfly…

…but which I’m now pretty sure is a species of Robber Fly. Having said all those uncharitable things, I should say I’m actually quite chuffed to have spotted this, if only because I’ve never seen anything quite like it before. That short, stout proboscis is for piercing prey and injecting venom. And the stiff hairs on its face, visible here, are called the mystax, from the Greek mystakos, also the origin of our ‘moustache’, via Latin, Italian and French. Which is the kind of trivia I find very satisfying.

All of which brings me to the last section of my insect photos, the moths.

One of the wildlife highlights of our last trip had been the almost daily sightings of Hummingbird Hawkmoths, This time, the Meadow Clary which they seemed to favour had mostly finished flowering and to begin with I saw far fewer. Then, after my pursuit of the suspected Camberwell Beauty, I wandered into a part of the campsite I hadn’t previously ventured into. Having said there would be no views, here it is…

It was unmown, full of wildflowers and a haven for butterflies. And in one corner, there was lots of Meadow Clary still in bloom, and loads of Hummingbird Hawkmoths too..

I have to confess that I was fascinated by them.

An example, I believe, of convergent evolution, Hummingbird Hawkmoths have evolved in a similar way to hummingbirds in order to occupy a similar ecological niche. Like hummingbirds, they use very rapid wingbeats to hover close to species of tubular flowers and use their long tongues to reach the otherwise inaccessible nectar.

P1320020 — *Hummingbird Hawkmoth* *on Meadow Clary*

I guess they must land and rest sometimes? But those legs don’t look particularly practical.

Whilst the insects sometimes left me bewildered, the flora is even more diverse and confusing. I think I would have to move to France, massively improve by rusty schoolboy French, buy a comprehensive local field guide, live in the Dordogne for a decade or two, and then I might muster the same semi-confident familiarity that I’ve grasped with the plants around home.

A couple of very distinctive species did stand out however…

This one, it turns out, is no more at home in the region than me, being native to North America.

I was struck by the way the seedpods form in the nodes, where the stems branched, which seems unusual.

Don’t be fooled by the presence of the word ‘apple’ in its name, because apparently the whole plant is poisonous.

P1310597 — *Thornapple* *seeds – highly poisonous.*

They were growing in amongst the sunflowers and where the height of the sunflowers had forced them, they had grown to around two metres high.

Although I think this is Field Eryngo, I actually saw it, not in the fields, but growing in clearings in the woods. It looks like a thistle but is actually related to our own Sea Holly.

Unfortunately, I have no idea what this plant is, with its striking red stems, tiny white flowers and colourful berries.

It was growing by the cycle path at the edge of the village, and I suppose might have been introduced.

P1310817 — *Seedheads of a mallow? I liked the shapes.*

These four photos are all, I think, of the same lizard, which was basking on the wall one morning when I walked past on the way to the bakery and still in the same spot when I came back.

This last is on the wall of the Chateau we visited, so definitely a different lizard!

And finally, this toad had apparently been our lodger and was revealed as such only when we took the tent down in preparation to move on the Tarn Gorge.

Lockdown Birthday

May 13, 2020May 12, 2020 Mark Richards19 Comments

Townsfield – Holgates – Hollins Farm – Arnside Knott – Redhill Woods – Black Dyke – Middlebarrow Quarry – Eaves Wood.

April is not the time for garden tiger caterpillars, which this at least resembles, so I’m not sure what it is.

On my birthday, I climb a hill. I’m not sure when this became a routine, but probably in my twenties, when I usually spent Easter in the Highlands with friends, my birthday conveniently often falling into the Easter break. I can remember climbing Liathach on my 27th, half a lifetime ago, and by then it was definitely already a confirmed idea. I’m not precious about it; sometimes it’s the day before, sometimes a few days after, but at some point I climb a hill to celebrate another passing year. It’s as good an excuse as any other.

There have been some cracking excursions in recent years, shared with the family, and it has become as much a fixed idea with the kids as it has with me: dad, predictable in every way, wants to climb a hill on his birthday. They fall in with this ritual, so when it came to this year’s big day, we didn’t need a three line whip, as I had feared; everyone knew that we would be going for a walk and nobody complained. They may even have enjoyed themselves.

Options, obviously, were a bit limited. Should we go back to Coniston Old Man? Helvellyn? Pen-y-ghent? Or should we move on, try pastures new?

Another Old Post Box, opposite Hollins Farm

Unsurprisingly, we eventually settled on Arnside Knott.

Common lizard. Well, the tail of a common lizard. Apparently, it was sunning itself on the path and, according to B, I almost stood on it, poor thing.

Crow with nesting material.

Arnside Knott view. A bit hazy, but still pretty special.

Chiff-chaff.

Wood ants nest.

Marsh tit on ash flowers.

‘Little’ S on the trig pillar.

Blackbird with lunch!

Herb Paris.

I’ve know for years that herb paris grows in this area, but it wasn’t until a couple of years ago that I actually saw any. I didn’t know whether to be pleased or dismayed by my poor of powers of observation, when I spotted this large patch of it, growing right alongside the main path which climbs the Knott from Silverdale Road in Arnside, and which I must have walked past hundreds of times.

It’s an odd plant with four broad leaves symmetrically spaced at the top of a single stem. The flower is also odd, but none of them were flowering, so you’ll have to wait for that pleasure. Since then, I’ve found it in several more places, including right by the principal path into Gait Barrows and by Inman’s Road in Eaves Wood. There’s undoubtedly a moral to this story, but I’m not sure that I can see what it is yet!

We dropped down the path which runs along the boundary of Hagg Wood (this is a different Hagg Wood to the one I often refer to, which is beside Bottoms Lane in Silverdale).

As we started along Black Dyke, we saw lots of butterflies, chiefly small tortoiseshell, and our first swallows of the year. Later, I saw that Cumbria Wildlife Trust were reporting the first sightings of Swallows, in Cumbria, this year, on that day. I’m not sure why I was chuffed to be amongst the first to see the returning swallows, but I was. Maybe it’s my competitive streak.

Small tortoiseshells.

Willow catkins at Middlebarrow Quarry again.

Honesty on the Coronation Path. Still flowering in April, even though the first flowers appeared at Christmas.

Most of my presents didn’t arrive until later in the week, so I won’t mention them for now, but I did get several pairs of socks, a newish custom of which I thoroughly approve.

It being my birthday, I’m going for two tunes. Firstly, for obvious reasons:

And then, my all time favourite tune, of all time, which, for some reason, I don’t think I’ve posted before:

Hercules by Aaron Neville, written by the amazing Allen Toussaint.

Actually, I’m going to be greedy. Here’s a third video. Same song, same singer, but this time live on Daryl’s House. Daryl being Daryl Hall, of Hall and Oates fame. If you haven’t watched Live from Daryl’s House, I strongly recommend it.

More Views from the Jonte

October 22, 2018 Mark Richards4 Comments

After our underground adventure, there was still a nature trail to enjoy in the grounds of the show cave.

The Jonte valley is perhaps not quite as spectacular as the Tarn, but it’s pretty impressive nonetheless.

The nature trail was short, on a rather rough path, but it certainly held plenty of interest.

Wall Lizard.

This looks different than the other lizards we saw during our trip. I think that it might be a Large Psammodromus. B had just spotted another lizard, which he told me was really long. The Large Psammodromus has an extremely long tail, which unfortunately we can’t see here, but also the dark stripe with pale borders.

Griffon Vultures were flying around the cliffs below us, sometimes quite close, but whilst I have many photos, not one of them is in focus and sharp. We did see several birds on a nearby ledge however…

I think that these two might be juveniles.

Giant Banded Grayling.

There were more Marbled Whites about too, but my photographs didn’t come out too well.

My guess is that these are some sort of Dianthus, something like our own Cheddar Pink which flowers in July and August and likes limestone. I noticed today that we have similar flowers in our own garden, still flowering in late October, which is a nice reminder of the summer.

On our return journey we drove down the Jonte valley to it’s confluence with the Tarn, stopping to admire the views and the sight of many more vultures soaring around the cliffs high above.

Cirque des Baumes.

September 27, 2018 Mark Richards11 Comments

Whilst we were camping in the Tarn Gorge, I’d mooted the idea of a walk from the rim of the gorge back down to the campsite, hopefully, by walking downhill, mitigating the worst effects of the heat; but when most of our party completed a walk, TBH and I had driven B to the hospital in the town of Millau instead, to get a painful ear checked out. (He’s okay now, although the problems continued for quite some time after our holiday ended.) That trip was not without it’s own interest – when we drove out of the town, onto the hillside above, we saw a great host of circling Red Kites – but I was extremely disappointed to have missed out on the walk, and so was very pleased when TBH and J agreed to an early morning foray, in J’s case for a second time.

We parked at Point Sublime, with fine views into a misty gorge.

There were plenty of distractions on hand too, with both butterflies and Wall Lizards about to keep me and my camera occupied.

Wall Brown.

I think that this is a Silver-washed Fritillary, you can perhaps see why its called that in the photo below.

Five-spot Burnet Moth.

We passed no end of these silken tents, apparently constructed by the caterpillars of the Pine Processionary Moth.

Another Blue-winged Grasshopper. I think.

The path was steep and narrow, but well worth the effort as it descended past a series of huge rock towers and cliffs.

J, you will notice, is wearing a shocking pink hat. She has pink Crocs too. Her children are appalled by both, which is, of course, entirely the point. She is making up for the sobriety of her youth. I’m sure she completely sympathises with Jenny Joseph’s poem ‘Warning’ which begins…

“When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.”

Wall Lizard.

I thought I saw a bird of prey alight on top of a distant tower and the amazing zoom on my camera helped to confirm that fact.

It was exhilarating to watch the raptor soaring above the hillside, in and out between the karst features, eventually landing not too far above us…

I have quite a few photos of the bird in flight, none, sadly, very sharp, but I think they show enough detail to suggest that it was a Rough-legged Buzzard, not something that I’ve seen before.

Wall Lizard.

Karst scenery.

This was a terrific walk for butterfly spotting and on this steep hillside section there were a great deal of quite dark butterflies flitting through the trees. They were hard to catch in repose and generally, I think, belonged to species not found in Britain. Frankly, I’m not sure what this is; continental Europe seems to have numerous types of Grayling – I wonder whether this is one of those?

It was J’s turn to pick out a large bird on a distant rock tower – this time on the one seen ahead in the photo above.

A Griffon Vulture; soon joined by a companion….

They didn’t seem to be very busy and I continued to take occasional photos as we descended past the tower.

A Dusky Heath?

Another Grayling of some description?

Looking back up into the Cirque des Baumes.

Striped Shield Bug – less prevalent , it seemed, than in the Dordogne, but still around.

The Dryad? Love the eye-spot.

This small butterfly led me a merry dance and I only managed to photograph it from some considerable distance. Could it be a Glanville Fritillary?

Having reached the bottom of the valley, we climbed a little way back up to a point under the cliffs…

Wall Lizard.

Where there was a tiny chapel…

La Chapelle Saint-Hillaire.

Sadly, the chapel was locked, but I managed to get an image of the interior through a small hole in the door…

One final look back up into Cirque des Baumes.

We were down in the valley now and walking along the road, which for me was saved by the butterflies and flowers along the roadside. We passed a garden where a Buddleia was festooned with butterflies and moths, particularly fritillaries which I took to be more Silver-washed.

Clouded Yellow.

When we were almost back at the campsite we paused by the ‘Mushroom Rock’ to take in the view and wave to friends and family below, then J and TBH rushed ahead to get out of the full glare of the sun and to get a cool drink, but I was distracted again by more butterflies and moths…

This is a new species to me, a Jersey Tiger Moth, there had been several on the Buddleia earlier, but they were a bit too far away to be photographed very successfully. Unfortunately, you can’t see the stunning red underwings in this photo.

When I took this shot of another Five-spot Burnet Moth I didn’t even see the two rather striking shield bugs nearby. I wish I had; the purple one in particular looks like it was stunningly patterned.

Small Skipper.

Perhaps not surprisingly, this striking insect is not in my ‘Complete Mediterranean Wildlife’. It will have remain a mystery.

The underside of a Jersey Tiger Moth.

Small Skipper and Silver-washed Fritillary.

Jersey Tiger Moth.

When we’d been kayaking on the Tarn and had pulled our boats onto a shingle beach to jump into the river and swim, a Scarce Swallowtail landed on the end of one of the kayaks. I managed to get very close to it with my phone, but none of my photos came out well. I was really pleased, then, to get another chance for some photos.

Large Skipper.

Only a mornings stroll, but the views and the wildlife will stick with me for a long time I suspect.

Beating The Bounds

A Blog about walking, thinking about walking, reading about walking…….and maybe other stuff

Lizard

Ennerdale: Half a Horseshoe

Swarth Fell and Wild Boar Fell

The Lune, Birk Beck, Wasdale, Bretherdale

Gardadale – Local Walks

The Wrong Trousers

Cirque des Baumes Again

Wildlife Pics from the Dordogne

Lockdown Birthday

More Views from the Jonte

Cirque des Baumes.