The Journey North. Day 7. Saturday 28^th Apr 2018

From: Hadrian’s Wall Camping, Melkridge.  To: Crainlarich GR:NN386253  Mileage: 177

We wished the staff farewell at Hadrian’s Camping and made our way to Solway Aviation Museum. This is on the edge of what is euphemistically called Carlisle Airport! There is a runway and they are resurfacing it. Apparently some time in 2018 it is intended that flights will operate between here and London area. It is hoped this will bring in more tourists.



The Pilot going on board.



From the upper flightdeck in the Vulcan.

From the Nav, engineer and bomb aimers deck looking up to the pilots seats and deck.

 

The entrance fee of £4 (OAP) or £6 adult also included a cockpit visit to the Avro Vulcan XJ823. I say cockpit. You can climb inside the crews’ quarters, or rather the flight deck area but are no longer allowed up the next ladder into the cockpit proper where the pilots sit. Apparently far too many bits and pieces were being nicked by visitors. You can thankfully pear between the seats and out the window. There is little or no room in these things. The flight engineer, bomb aimer and navigator had a six foot wide bench upon which they all ‘worked’. There was an area perhaps where one person might stretch out and sleep, not a bunk but a storage area. This is where the chemical toilet was tied in, splashes of chemical from it still stain the glass and metal plates! These days you are accompanied ‘on board’ by a volunteer at the museum who gives a very informative chat on the subject pointing out such things as radios, radars, bomb release, remote joystick to control the aircraft and of course the personal bladders into which one could pee. Jackie was all over the flight deck like she was ex aircrew. Snapping away with the camera.

Phantom.

Whirlwind. It was very much a rotting shell on closure inspection.

Meteor. Late 1940's

Lightning



Canberra, with cockpit access.

There were other static aircraft on display from one of the earliest Whirlwind helicopters to a Lightning, Phantom, Jet Provost, Canberra and a Percival trainer (Chk this Mike). There was also an indoor display area which held a Vampire, Cessna 152 and a few other aircraft. The main building held a very informative display of WW2 memorabilia from local pilots and parts off Spits and Hurricanes. The 5 staff on duty were great fun and all liked a good joke. God bless volunteers eh?

After about three hours we headed North up the M7/M74. We were now in the lowlands of Scotland with hills away on either side, growing taller as we drove North. We passed through Glasgow on the motorway system. It had nothing to recommend it. Passing over the Erskine Bridge we turned left through Clydebank, for a moment we were tempted to swing left for five miles and visit Jackies relatives at Helensburgh. No we had to press on. We were now on the A82 skirting the West side of Loch Lomond. Leaving the North end of the Loch we started to climb out of the ‘valley’ Our target for tonight was Crainlarich. This is a small village on the, just off and way downhill, West Highland Way. A renown walking route from Glasgow to Fort William.

Now in Glencoe.



Still snow on the mountain tops.

We had found on Brit stops a pub, The Rod and Reel in Crainlarich. It’s press was better than the reality. Of course that might be true of so many things in life. We walked in. I checked. Yes they  allowed use of their car park overnight if you bought food within. The last 177 miles made us feel tired and lazy. A quick meal sounded good. Yes we could stay FOC. Mike had a steak pie that was rammed with meat, carrots, long beans, chips and gravy. Jackie went for the healthy Salmon.

A couple of ladies walked in shouldering large bergans, they were Dutch. They had been 4 days on the West Highland Way headed for Fort William, another three days walk. We engaged them in conversation before they left to set up tent for the night not far away.

Whilst eating our grub we spotted a camper van in the public car park opposite. It was on the level, our pub stop dictated a distinct downhill slope. On leaving the pub we upped anchor and drove across and hulled down. Out came the books and we started to chill. Various campers came and went. We were opposite the local ‘nick’. In my mind security. No boy racers, no dogging! Whilst looking up to the mountains, now starting to get rather impressive, I noticed not far away across the fields a green tent with a couple of figures. Thinking it was probably the two Dutch girls I returned to my reading. Not long later I noticed the tent being struck. You don’t pack up at 2000 hrs for no reason. I bet its those girls and they have pitched on the cattle trail, we could see cows and calves wandering nearby. The girls disappeared from view for twenty minutes until they reappeared at our camper window. I waved and jumped out to chat. They had indeed been frightened off by the cows and were on their way back to the pub to seek advice. I suggested the camping on the green next to us but they had already asked locals and they were told no. They made their way into the pub. Not long after it started to rain. I hope they managed to get established before that.

About an hour later we heard some noise from outside despite the patter of rain on the roof and looking out I saw the girls taking down the tent again from the green. If they had ever managed to erect it? A man in an umbrella was chatting to them he must have said follow me and offered them some sort of better option as they soon picked up traps and followed him down the road opposite us. Mike peering out from behind the curtains. Can’t wait to catch ‘em up soon and find out what happened.

The Journey North.    Day 6       Friday 27^th Apr 2018

From: Hadrian’s Wall Camping, Melkridge.         To: na                Mileage: 0000

Hurrah the wind has dropped to virtually nothing and the sun is shining. Let’s grab a quick healthy breakfast of Weetabix, grapes and blue berries, swallow a mug of T and get off.

It is our intention to walk to Sycamore gap today. For those of you who may be at a loss to realise where that is, that is the spot in the film Robin Hood Prince of Thieves where Kevin Costner and Morgan Freeman first meet with the Sherriff of Nottingham’s men. The Sherriff’s men are chasing a young boy for poaching and he has climbed up said tree in an attempt to escape the dogs. Ever since the Hollywood blockbuster it has been one of the most visited spots on the wall. Well. Sort of. It is a shortish walk from the nearest car park and this section of the wall is a bit hilly. So you don’t get many vehicle borne ‘walkers’.

I apologise here for I am not using the O.S. letter co-ordinates but hey all you need to do is find Haltwhistle, trace North to the wall and the six figure GR will log you on.

Depart Hadrian’s Wall Campsite GR731658 and walk N. Just before the B6318 we checked out two Roman lime kilns in a field on our left which, after 2000 years were starting to look a bit dilapidated.

 Crossing the main road we entered a field and walking the public footpath joined the wall at the tarmac road to the East of Turret 41a. GR 727668. There is an obvious foundation feature on the ground. We turned East and followed the line of the wall. The wall sits on top of the crags and is not the 3m x 6m high structure it once was. In fact it is barely a metre wide and a metre and a half tall. In this terrain seemingly little of the wall has been robbed to build elsewhere. It’s too difficult to access and remove it. In any case this practice was outlawed in the early 1900’s. The vast majority of the wall has disappeared, removed for farm buildings, pubs, houses, walls and roads.

Today we will meet a few walkers and as is the way of things one normally asks, Where are you going? Where have you come from? This then elicits more stories especially if they’re local. One guy related a story about Brian Adams, he of ‘Everything I do I do for you’ the Prince of Thieves Film soundtrack. When he was visiting Newcastle for a concert a while back someone asked him if there was anywhere he particularly wanted to visit and he said Sycamore Gap.

The Tree at Sycamore Gap.

Same spot as Morgan Freeman sat in the film. I think!

How about that. Two for the price of one.

The Journey North. Day 5.  Thur 26^th Apr 2018

From: At Hadrian’s Wall Camping, Melkridge. To:  na   Mileage: 0000

The wind had been blowing strong all night. Sufficient to rock the Camper. Here it comes straight in off the North Sea and runs straight across to Newcastle on the East coast with nothing to stop it. Except Mike and Jackie’s camper.

We had intended walking part of the wall again today but thought that given the winds, 37 mph and 5’C a more sensible option might be to visit the Roman Army Museum at Brampton. We are only a half mile from the B6318 and according to Google maps there is a bus stop there. However yesterday’s recce showed no sign of it. Neither could we find info on the AD112 website or from the campsite staff. Every question I asked the staff about the bus met with a “Sorry don’t know”. The lady must have read the look of disbelief in my eyes for she qualified her answers with “We’ve only  been here a week”. Up until that point I thought she and hubby, busy moving earth around the site with a rather splendid Land Rover and trailer were the owners. “In that case” I asked “how many ducks do you have on site?” “Seven”. came her immediate reply. “Pity” said I “I was rather hoping you might not miss one, we have plenty of oranges but no duck, what do you think?” “OK by me, we need to reduce the numbers to five, that’s an easily managed number, seven make too much mess”.

Back to the bus….It seems they might well want £9 return for the five mile journey or £12-50 each for a day rider this seemed rather expensive to us. We could tab the 10 mile return and build it into the day walking along the wall but honestly the wind, blowing into our faces for five miles and at such strength was not a pleasing option. We thought we might as well take the camper. All it meant was unhooking from the mains and perhaps leaving some sort of sign to say occupied. “No need,” said the lady “I know you’re there.” Resolved.

We arrived at The Roman Army Museum a little after they opened at 1000hrs. The car park was neigh on empty. I thought ‘Great I can study things in peace’. With that a coach load of junior’s from one of the local schools burst into the reception area. “Good morning boys and girls” I said. “Good morning sir". they all chorused back. That was really great. Brought a smile to my face as well.

The museum, situated off the B6318 at Greenhead is run by a private charitable trust in conjunction with Vindolanda a few miles away. £21 saw us both in the door and enrolled as Roman Auxillaries. We could not be Legionaires as we were not citizens of Rome. We passed a couple of hors here before driving to Vindolanda. This Roman fort and Visus ‘village’ predates Hadrian’s wall AD122-128 slightly North by forty years. This has proved to be one of the Roman world’s most productive archaeological sites. The fact that four or five ‘forts’ were built over on the same site over hundreds of years and the peat has provided archaeologist with numerous rare finds. Wax writing tablets and letters home detailing everything from Military life and requests to party invitations, boxing gloves, found nowhere else in the empire  and Chanfron, head armour for a horse. The museum is extensive and as such we needed a break for late lunch half way through the afternoon. We were one of the last visitors to leave the site.

The wind had abated somewhat and it was a clear evening. We were now relocated onto a hardstanding next to the duck pond. We hoped that we might get some walking in tomorrow, the MET seemed promising and so we asked if we might book in for another night. Yes.

The Journey North. Day 4. Wed 250418

The Journey North. Day 4 Wed 25^th Apr 2018

From: Glenridding        To: Hadrian’s Wall Camping at Melkridge.    Mileage: 57

Lazy start to the day. It was drizzling but we had decided last night that we would breakfast at Fellbites Café/Resto this morning. We took the path parallel to Glenridding Beck and soon arrived at the village. Walking through Fellbites door at 1000hrs there was one solitary customer. His back to us. Obviously lost in his own world. My ‘good morning’ registered no reaction. Soon a staff member appeared and took our order, scrambled eggs on toast for me and a veggie grill for Jackie. We sat there drinking our coffee and studying the wall map of the fells. Tracing routes we had taken these last few days. It’s always easier ‘going’ somewhere on a map than actually tabing!

1300hrs and we were packed up at the campsite ready to roll. We bade farewell to Glenridding and wondered if we would ever get back again?

1335hrs Refuelled at Rheged Sevices at junction 40 on the M6. The shop inside the petrol station was more akin to a Waitrose or upmarket deli. Everything food wise was seemingly available. As  Jackie was busy adjusting the seat in the drivers position for the next leg it was I who was in the shop paying. £95 for diesel! That filled the tank from empty. My eye was taken by some locally made Cumberland sausage rolls. Now I do not normally buy s rolls. To my mind they are pretty naff. These looked delicious and even with a £3 price tag I was determined to buy one. I also bought two of the seven varieties of scotch egg on display and some locally made cheese and onion bread. Fresh in.  The sausage roll was gone by the time we made the on ramp to the M6.

Jackie drove North giving me disgusted looks at the way I was devouring the sausage roll. “You paid how much, I cannot believe it”. I ignored her and munched on.

Junc 43 Carlisle was our exit point. We then drove along the A69 passed Haltwhistle and turned N at Melkridge to Hadrians Wall Campsite www.hadrianswallcampsite.co.uk where, due to my charming personality we managed to get two nights with hardstanding and electricity where upon arrival we were told they were full. They weren’t full but due to the recent rains and wet winter the pitches were sodden. There were a few cars and tents but they were not allowing motorhomes on. What few hardstanding’s there were, were taken. In a conspiratorial voice the lady directed us to ‘our spot’. We soon had a brew going and sat for a while reading.

1600hrs We decided to get some exercise and walked the mile or so up onto Hadrian’s Wall. Most of the wall is now never more than a metre or so high by a couple of metres wide. We walked in at Caw Gap. It was a windy evening but clear skies. Away to the West rain clouds seemed to be approaching. We mooched around the wall, taking photos, gazing North into the border lands and chatting to a few through hikers.  Yet another one from Saltash, then returned to the lorry for some Doritos, a cider and to prepare dinner.

The Journey North. Day 3. Tue 240418

The Journey North. Day 3. Tue 24 Apr 2018

From: Glenridding.  To: Hellvelyn and Striding Edge   Mileage: 000

We were away by 0945hrs. The day was sunny with clear blue skies. It would not last.

We exited the campsite, turned right and started straight uphill. Mercifully, we soon picked up a path that contoured around to the old mines. This ran parallel with the sheep wall and in inclement weather would be a great aide to navigation. Once we joined the path from the mines/YHA we knew that a further ninety minutes would bring us to Red Tarn. This lake sits beneath Hellvelyn and is invariably topped up with water running off the ‘horseshoe’ that surrounds it.

Reaching Red Tarn the wind had picked up and it was cold. Enough that Mike needed to put on woolly balaclava and gloves! Jackie had already decided before we set out that she would not climb up to the Hellvelyn Plateau. “I’ve done it once, I have nothing to prove.” She would say. “Well I’ve done it twice and I’m not sure I need to prove anything to anyone either.” I replied. “That’s a joke.” she snorted.

We  had a quick coffee each from the duty flask, adjusted our bergans and as agreed I continued the climb up to Swirrel Edge to  gain the plateau and Jackie retraced her steps back down to Gillside Farm Camping. Jackie, once more attempting to talk me out of the walk as the summit was now shrouded in mist and the Met was not good for the remainder of the day. We made comms arrangements, very intermittent here in the hills and valleys, I ensured she was confident of the route back and with a “Of course you might never see me again.” As my parting comment, I took the high road and she the low road.

The wind was pretty strong on the path up to Swirrel Edge. Once upon it, the path disappears and one is scrambling up through the rocks. There is a sheer drop on either side. You do need to keep your wits about you and a firm hold of the rocks! The rock was wet and slippery from the mist and fine drizzle. In one or two places, as I looked back down, the thought did cross my mind were these the right conditions for this today? Especially after two rather interesting leaps of faith. Always keep three points of contact on the rock!

Out of the mist descending gingerly towards me I could discern a couple, seemingly in their thirties. As is the way in the hills you usually pass a few pleasantries. He asked me “Are you going up?” Trying to remove as much sarcasm as I could from my reply I said “Strangely yes.” “Well, if I was you I would turn around now and descend. It’s not very pleasant up there.” My reply was simply “It’s no fun coming up this route and I don’t fancy going back down it. I’m about fifty feet from the plateau now, I’ll nip up, plant my boots on it then consider my options.” “You might run out of options by then.” The lady replied joining the conversation. “That wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had my back against the wall.” I said with a smile, “You guys take it easy.” Within a few minutes I was on the plateau.

The full force of the wind hit me first and then the cold. Visibility was down to twenty meters. When I was last up here in similar conditions some years ago I almost took the wrong ‘path’ off the plateau in the mist. I mean the wrong path, there was no path only a sheer drop. I was determined not to repeat that again, so made it double quick, to first, the cross wall seat, there is always cover from the wind in one of its quarters, where upon someone popped up and near scared me to death. “I thought I was the only fool up here today.” I said in a voice slightly higher than normal.” “Tha’s not, there be quite a few ol’ fools up ‘ere t’day.” Replied the Jack in the box. “Well I’d love to stop and chat but I need to get off this feature PDQ, be seeing you.” And off I went.

I could just about make out a path down to which I hoped was Striding Edge through the mist. There is a steep climb down towards the ‘edge’. In the rain, now it was quite slippery.

I made sure the boots were locked in before I let go with the hands. It was a bit slow at first but gradually I lost height. As I descended I could see various couples and small groups approaching. Climbing up towards me. The ‘edge’ now quite distinct in places. Every now and then one would need to scramble up through a small gully to gain a crest to drop down the other side. The wind seemed to have abated somewhat but there was now a fine rain. At what point do I don my waterproof over trousers I thought?

A couple were climbing up towards me. I recognized them as having shot past Jackie and I earlier. Both were wearing running trousers and lightweight cagoules. He had on a mountain marathon nylon day sac. “Hello again.” She smiled. “Hi,” I replied “I’ve lost the wife.” She was mortified for a moment until I explained that Jackie had turned back at Red Tarn. They, I noticed had decided against Swirrel Edge and had come up the slightly easier, only slightly, Birkhouse Moor approach.

Not  long after a group of old farts passed me as I stood to one side of the track. They looked as though they had taken the wrong turn off the 18^th green. Tiltleist hats and golfing windcheaters was their dress code with running shoes. It would transpire that only two of the four made the traverse and horseshoe.

Now I was off the ‘difficult’ bit and on my way to ‘the gap in the wall’. Here I put on my over trousers, it was raining hard, had a quick sarnie and a mug of coffee from the flask and  left a message on Jackie’s phone as agreed. Not really much good as where we were camped in the Ice Cream Lorry there was no signal reception. It was now all downhill on initially a pretty level path back to Red Tarn then swing down to retrace the route up. Looking across the valley I could see a couple of different groups about a couple of miles ahead. I thought ‘Let’s smoke ‘em’ and started doubling. All went well until arriving at the Red Tarn, Swirrel Edge junction. I was stopped by two guys who seemed to recognize me. They had bottled it on the last climb up towards the plateau they told me. It was too difficult for them. “No shame in admitting that.” I said “But how did you get here before me?” “Oh we scrambled down that gulley”, pointing away across the valley, “not long after you stood aside on the path for us.” The golfers. “Forgive me for saying but I don’t believe it, I would never have done that it’s far too dangerous.” I suggested. “Tell us about it.” they chorused. “We came down on our backsides hanging on for grim death.” With that they proudly bent over and showed me their wet, earth stained trousers. I think it was earth. They were waiting for the other two in their party that had continued. I bade them farewell and mindful of the two groups up ahead I was determined ‘to smoke’ doubled away.

It occurred to me that only a few days ago we had been speaking to some friends of Tracey’s who were visiting them. Tracey was out banging out a quick forty mile bike ride before their arrival, she was late. They talked about her competitive spirit. I said “I don’t know who she gets that from. Neither Jackie or I are competitive.” Yet here I was doubling down a mountain path, in the rain after four hours of uphill climbing trying to overtake a couple of groups of people just so I could say to myself. I smoked ‘em. I did as well. Childish I know. Sometimes you need these challenges to keep you going. Well some of us do. I wonder what Freud would make of that?

Just entering the campsite and there is Jackie making her way over to the showers. “What no tearful heroes welcome for me?” “Don’t be daft, you’ve only been up the hill, put the kettle on I’ll be back for a brew in a moment.”

1845hrs. Now curried and combed we took the Glenridding Beck path down through the woods towards Glenridding village. Dave Hargreaves, who was here a few weeks ago recommended Fellbites Café Restaurant. When we arrived, today Tuesday, was the only day they closed at 1700hrs! Back up the hill on the other side of the river to The Travellers Rest pub. “Mind the paint”.

There were ten people in the bar and that pretty much filled it. Whilst I ordered, Jackie went and arm wrestled with some gorilla and managed to get us a couple of seats. It was all pretty good humoured stuff. Mainly fellow hill walkers. Needing to build up my carbs I tucked into a Beef burger and chips with bacon, egg, salad, coleslaw, pineapple and onion rings. I am ashamed to admit, I could not eat it all. Jackie meanwhile was tucking into Curry, chips and rice. Even this far down the valley, off the hill, there was neither phone nor internet. We made our way back to the truck. It was a lovely evening. No wind and clear skies.

A great day. Tick that one off the list.

The Journey North Day 2. Monday 230418

The Journey North. Day 2. Mon  23 April 2018

From:  Glenridding in the Lakes. To:      n/a          Mileage: 000

It was somewhat overcast but after a rather relaxed start to the day and a healthy dollop of porridge we were determined to stretch  our legs.

We were last in this area twenty plus years ago. We exited the campsite and took the tarmac road to the Youth Hostel and the old lead mines. This was gradually uphill and our thinking was it would lead us into the walk gradually and get the legs and lungs used to the terrain before, well, before they gave out.

There was a chill in the air and the wind was blowing.  Crossing over the beck we were soon on a well-marked path that lead towards the old sheep pens and the left fork of the stream that would eventually, after another hour  take us to Red Tarn. The going, fairly easy underfoot, was starting to get steeper. As we climbed it also became considerably windier as we left the protection of the valley floor. Around all sides, loomed ever taller more menacing peaks. Eventually Hellvelyn itself came into view. Some snow was evident on the Northern slopes. We would not attempt Hellvelyn today but we  would lunch at Red Tarn, at the base of the Hellvelyn Horseshoe and return via Birkhouse Moor.

For lunch, we sought shelter, such as it was in the lee of some rocks. It afforded us little. We took enough time to eat a sarnie, swallow some coffee we had brought in a flask then shouldering our bergans we were off again. This time the track contoured, running parallel to Striding Edge higher up the hill till it met with ‘Gap in the Wall’ mentioned in Wainwright’s guide, from here it was fairly level for a while following one of those Lakeland walls that run for miles and form the boundaries to ‘fields’. That is until we needed to drop down into the rear of our campsite and the track to Glenridding. Now came those steps which the National Park put in slippery dangerous places but seldom meet E U Guidelines for distance between riser and tread. Ever noticed that? Also the steps seem to get more difficult in proportion to the distance covered.

Back at the Ice Cream Lorry we shrugged off our bergans and walked the half mile to The Travellers Rest pub for a late afternoon cider. It was being painted and we were therefore directed in through the cellar door, out into the rear yard, back into the kitchen, through the owners lounge and into the Lounge bar. All the time being told “Mind the wet paint”. The room was empty, no lights on. We sat at a table and from somewhere a voice boomed out “No not there, in the public bar”. We stood up walked, as directed through some more rooms and passage ways and ended up at the front door. “Mind the paint”. A worker shouted in from outside. “Never mind the paint” I said “where’s the bar we’re gasping”. “Int thar”.

We ordered two ciders and a plate of Nachos with extra Jalapenos. We needed the cider. More to combat the heat of the Jalapenos than to quench our thirst  from the walk. They were hot. The ‘bar’ seated perhaps twenty customers. There were only six present. Still it was an authentic village pub. Well stocked and did a large menu card for food. After a while we finished our drinks and bade the landlord farewell. “Mind the paint on the way out” he said. “Yes”, I remember that, “it’s the way out I can’t remember!”

Back at the van we changed and took advantage of the showers. Twenty pence a session. By now the rain had started, not heavy but enough to hear it upon the roof of the van. Never mind we were going nowhere else tonight.

The Journey North Day 1 Sun 220418

The Journey North. Day 1. 22 April 2018

From: Plymouth      To: Glenridding in the Lakes.    Mileage: 386

We had hoped to be away by 1000hrs on this sunny Sunday morning but by the time we called to see the young Corco’s, it was another time of day. Tracey was out on a forty mile bike ride, Callum was next door playing with the girls and Mikey was entertaining the Wiltons These guys were off out for lunch so hopefully Tracey would remember and not become ‘lost’ in her ride.

We refuelled at Sainsbugs and apart from two quick ‘rest stops’ we were at Gillside Campsite, Glenridding by 1800hrs. http://www.gillsidecaravanandcampingsite.co.uk/ The main delay being caused by 50mph speed restrictions on the M6. I was dreading the journey up but it went quite quickly.

I rather foolishly did not read the Reception sign and instead drove up the side of a mountain and into the farmhouse yard. The booking in was warm and efficient. I was questioned in a friendly manner “Why did you drive the difficult road into the yard? We struggle to get the tractor up here.” I was informed. “No worries, I’ll get Jackie to reverse it back out around the bend over the temporary bridge and back down the hill.” I replied. “Really. Watch out for the bridge, it has no parapet and is a bit of a drop into the river”. She looked a bit astonished. Not as much as me when I reversed down the road with Jackie in rear shouting “Come on plenty of room. What are hanging about for?”

As we drove into the camping area there if front was a spot under the trees. “That’ll do.” and so we dropped anchor. Mike hooked up the ‘leckie’ and we soon had the kettle on and some of Jackie’s magic soup warming on the stove.

We were not late to bed that night.