Not the Lake District...

A brief visit to Ambleside to allow Steve Horner to buy the brightest shoes he could find, followed by a chat in a pub, ended up with a sharp, northwards diversion into Scotland to the southern most Munro, Ben Lomond.

Reacquainting myself with the familiar place-names of Drymen, Balmaha and Rowardennan was welcome but strange, reminding me of the West Highland Way I'd walked back in the summer. It felt like years ago, though in fact was only 3 months previous. It was strange to see these places with little effort other than Steve's driving; I hadn't had to walk there this time and that lent a distinctly different feel to the place. It was exciting in a sense but looked so different to the warmer days I had spent walking to and around the Loch. The Clansman bar at Rowardennan was revisited too, of course, before setting off around 1pm up the Ptarmigan route, dehydrated from the night before and tired before walking. BUT! It was fantastic to slowly, steadily gain height and to catch sight of what we'd driven up to Scotland to see; SNOW!

The views out over Loch Lomond were stunning, with a sweep of cloud streaming from the east, allowing shafts of sunlight to pierce through to the many islands. The hillside was shining ochers and umbers and the cloud colours reflecting back in the water. Further north the hills were teasing with sugar icing caps and the promise of more in the distance...

I haven't done any real winter walking for many years and I was concerned at the kit I'd got. Because we had been overly optimistic about the snow (i.e. there wasn't really that much of the stuff) I again opted out of wearing my now usually discarded Brashers in favour of my almost tread bare inov8 Terroc 330s. This despite my incredible falling over ability. It was a reasonable decision as it happens, though I managed a record 5 times I think! I also was making do with a number of thinner baselayers and my fleece, with either my Montane LiteSpeed windshirt or my Mountain Equipment Seraph jacket. One day I'll buy a primaloft or down jacket, but that time isn't now and I have to make do with what I've got! This was fine for on the move (albeit slowly) but as soon as we stopped for any length of time I would start to get a bit chilly.

This was also the first bigger outing for about 4-5 weeks since I messed my knee up when I last went walking in the Lakes, so was going to be a good test. The walk up the Ptarmigan route is pretty easy but unfortunately I was wiped out before getting to the last approach to Ben Lomond, so at about 3:45 we found somewhere decent enough for two shelters to be pitched on pretty flat ground (yippee, no NeoAir surfing for me this time). It looked to be a reasonably sheltered spot if the wind acted as predicted, plus I very generously gave Steve the benefit of my Trailstar giving his some additional protection (well, I moved to a flatter spot in reality!).

Rather than using the Team IO tarp I'd used on my last overnighter, I had decided on the MLD Trailstar. I want more practice using my tarp in less exposed conditions whereas I hoped I'd be camped on the side of a hill at some point over the weekend and at present feel more confident with the protection the Trailstar provides. It was a decent decision although as it turns out the weather wasn't especially harsh, just cold. I could have used a low pitched tarp but it was pretty pleasant to be in the Trailstar, secure in knowing it was pretty solid, especially when my warm breath condensed on the shelter, turning into frost by the next morning!

Using my lovely Caldera Cone (I wonder if I could ever be parted from it!) and using the burner rather than Steve's Prodigy like approach with his exploding Esbit and GramCracker (it seems he nearly set fire to his shelter the next morning) I quickly had water for coffee and dried Chili Con Carne. Steve popped in my shelter to eat the rest of his food while I was still waiting for my food to be ready, being careful not to spike my NeoAir with his new banana shoes (woe betide him if he did that!!). My food was welcome and I could feel myself getting a little warmer as a result. I don't feel any qualms about using the Caldera Cone set up in the middle of the Trailstar, near the centre point next to the pole. For me, I think if you are careful and aware then using this in the shelter is reasonably safe. My exit was clear (apart from Steve) so if I needed to bail I could, but it is such a contained system that I felt perfectly happy brewing up there rather than in the doorway or outside.

A little later and settling down for the night I embedded myself with a silk liner, a Golite Adrenaline 3 Season sleeping bag and the Rab Survival Zone bivy bag I'd used tarping. When I returned home I found this had generated a few tweets in my absence after Steve broadcast I'd been cold. I'd not used the sleeping bag before, and I do sleep pretty cold, even for a woman, so wanted to try out a different approach to see if I could find a way to sleep a bit warmer. (The bag is rated to 20F, or -7 degrees C.) I think I need to try a different approach again (or get some down booties) as, not that long after I got in I started to not feel my feet so well! It was at freezing point at about 4pm, just before dark; I didn't record temperatures after that but am pretty sure it went reasonably below that. Trying to recall how others managed the cold, I restarted the Caldera Cone and heated some water to part fill my trusty Tango bottle and popped that down to my feet. Ah, bliss! I was pleased with my resourcefulness, though I know it's something other people also do. It's things like that that make me feel more self reliant, that, despite Steves mention to wake him up if I was too cold and we'd walk out, I was capable of managing a situation with enough thought.

I repeated this process at least twice more through the night, enjoying the feeling of warmth once again permeating through me...

With almost 15 hours to pass in darkness I had brought my iPod with me and listened to a series of podcasts umpteen times before switching to listening to some music. I prefer to listen to music I know reasonably well because then I know most of the lyrics and my brain isn't guessing what the words are; it can relax and switch off. Which it did a few times during the night (ie through sleep)!

The next morning I'd been awake for a while, hearing Steve stirring. I made a brew, trying not to disinvest myself of my sleeping bag too much to keep the warmth in. Hot chocolate and porridge was warming and energy giving and after a few minutes I felt more spritely. It sounded as if he was packing up so after confirming this by yelling at him(!) I did the same. We both got to the point where we'd packed everything apart from the shelters, which took a bit of a shake to get our created 'snow' off them, being rather crunchy. The frozen white particles span off, the Trailstars revealing negative patterns on the hill.

We'd pitched not far from the snowline so very shortly got to wander on something with a little more substance than a dusting. It was great fun to feel the snow under my feet and far easier walking on the snow than it had been on the ice. Different bird and animal tracks were evident and I enjoyed trying to work out what they were. It wasn't long before we made the last climb up to the top of the hill and the trig point sought for a Kuksa photo. The views over the hills towards the Cobbler and farther North were enticing, different cloud formations snaking around the tops and creating false ridges into the air and causing some debate.

Although thoroughly enjoying the views, it wasn't long before we headed down again on the path that would take us back to the car park at Rowardennan. I was a bit disappointed to leave the snow behind. It's so interesting! Virgin snow sparkles and glitters, where other snow looked as if mountain bikers had been up, with some pretty fat tyres too. Paw prints were about, some very much dog like, but some more reminiscent of cat prints. It looked as if hares had been around, and on the way up we had also seen a Ptarmigan almost in it's full winter white plumage.

Before we left the snow for good I said I wanted to boil some up, just 'because'! One of the great things for me is that I have chance to do all this for myself now, rather than someone else taking over and running the show, so Steve waited while I gathered snow, enough for two very small espressos! The Cone again performed brilliantly. It was a bit tricky to light the meths but once alight it didn't seem too long to me to wait for a brew. Plus we had ringside entertainment, watching more people heading up the hill as we were headed down. I always find it interesting to look at what rucksacks people are carrying and wasn't disappointed in seeing a couple of very old Karrimor packs, of the days of the late 80's when design was clean and functional. Steve provided the ubiquitous Starbucks Via which always tastes great and soon we were on our way again.

I often feel a bit sad towards the end of a walk. I seem to easily integrate into a mind set of just wanting to keep going and enjoying the scenery around me. But on this occasion a last visit to the Clansman was a reward before heading back down south to England (and trying to ignore a dump of snow south of Glasgow!).

As a last point, all credit for photos on this post should go to Steven Horner...who took many photos of me and my kit without my permission ;o)

My Inspiration

Last night I caught sight of a short discussion on Twitter where a couple of my friends were commenting on the TGO magazine content, that there wasn't much in the way of coverage non 'pointy bits' walks. It was added to with passionate description of walking on wild moorlands, forests, through arable lands with wide open spaces and skies.

During the day I had been wrestling with something in my mind and I needed release. I had planned to go into the Peak District but the proximity of people and the familiarity with the hills just put me off. I felt dissatisfied and anxious. I set off in my car for the opposite direction towards Sherwood Forest but again felt that dissatisfaction and 'angst' of wanting to spread my wings but feeling confined. It was as much about some personal circumstances for me as to the available countryside. I turned the car around and came home.

So reading that discourse was useful to me. It reframed different environments for me, helped me value what is available on my doorstep and so I set off this morning for a short 5 mile walk around Clumber Park.

My enjoyment of the countryside is not limited to mountains. I have been lucky enough to walk in Alpine environments (though not for some time; I will rectify this soon I hope), as well as the flat lands of Norfolk. I remember walking with a partner in Thetford Forest, maybe 15 years ago. We had kit for an overnighter and came across a load of soldiers on exercise. They laughed at us two and said "We get paid to do that" (ironic as I almost joined the Army out of University), but they also took the time to point out a very idyllic spot to camp, next to a deep pool, surrounded with mixed deciduous and coniferous forest. For some reason the slug I found in my boot the next morning really sticks out in my memory but I will never forget that weekend...

I positively enjoy walking in valleys, woods, classic English arable countryside as well as higher places. They each have something very valid to offer my soul. The walk this morning in Clumber salved my soul, too. I wasn't especially early; got there about 9. But I wasn't bombarded by hoardes of people (as I imagined in the Peaks) and largely walked in areas less frequented by others. The scenery consists of manicured parklands as well as heath, plantations, old deciduous woodland and the famous avenue of Lime trees. With a bit of planning I walked for about two hours and saw just a handful of people, most just out for an early Sunday morning stroll, unhurried, no agenda, just there for pure enjoyment. Isn't this what it's about? An elderly couple passed me and looked in amusement as I could barely wrestle away my attention from the jewel like Yew berries to say hello. I had such fun listening to the crunching sound of beech nuts and leaves underfoot as I kicked and stomped through them! I enjoyed one potentially boring, dead straight walk towards a plantation, where I saw a Jay bathing in a sunlit pool. It wasn't keen on being disturbed and the raucous hack it gave clearly showed that. I saw plump, furry squirrels up close. Canadian Geese, Berwick Swans, listened to woodpeckers, noticed the light cast through the leaves. Woodland fascinates me. I remember watching as a kid and then a few years ago reading, BB's 'Brendon Chase'. The idea of running away and living in the woods in a log cabin is still one of my dreams!


When I go to the hills I do it for pure enjoyment too. I feel exhuberant about the sensations I find there, maybe in a slightly different scale, but often the detail on high is just as relevant to me as down low. They all have their own qualities. Different birdlife, trees, shrubs and plants. Different geology. Different sounds and smells. The walking surface is different.

I could have gone to the Peaks and found lesser frequented areas, but I think it did me good to do something a bit different for me and to go and kick fallen leaves around and enjoy the vibrant colours still found in the woods.