Getting away from them all

I go walking to get away from other people. Not completely – a cheery ‘hello’ is always welcome, as is a good walking partner (i.e. one who doesn’t talk too much) – but, like many walkers, I want to avoid the crowds. I want to ‘get away from it all’, ‘head off the beaten track’ and other such clichés.

The problem is that walking is too damn popular these days. Everyone’s at it – old, young, fat, thin, Duke of Edinburgh groups, Ramblers, people trying to get fit, groups raising money for some charity or another – and the great outdoors is taking on the characteristics of our busy day-to-day lives; noise, hustle, and even more bustle. I have seen walkers searching for a space to sit down at the top of Helvellyn, and (from a distance, fortunately) people queuing to go along Crib Goch – madness. I have even heard pub discussions about whether to limit numbers on popular hills – it works in New Zealand, after all. But how would that work – bouncers at Pen-y-Pass? 'Not going up in those boots, Sir.'

It can be immensely frustrating, especially if, like me, you share that sense of entitlement found in many regular walkers – that these people really shouldn’t be there, that I was there first, and they should respect my privacy by finding a different pastime. But there are ways around this irritation.

The first would be to try being a bit less antisocial. But let’s skip that one for now. An alternative is to pick more obscure, unknown hills. They can still be found, even in the Lakes or the Yorkshire Dales – you will rarely find a soul on Black Combe, for example. But then there’s a reason why peaks like Helvellyn are popular – it’s because they’re good, they’re dramatic, they offer the most exciting challenges. So it takes a bit of careful planning to get them to yourself.

Setting off early afternoon is a pretty simple trick. Catch the last bus or train of the day to your hill of choice, and you’ll arrive just everyone else is heading home. I have had the unrivalled experience of enjoying the summit of Snowdon by myself, on a sunny summer weekend, without a soul about except for the crows and seagulls feasting on the remnants of 1001 packed lunches. Heading up at 3pm, I passed the many hundreds of walkers, oozing down the Pyg Track and Miner’s Track like treacle, with only a few curious glances for my troubles. By the time I reached the western edge of Glaslyn, they had all vanished. Perfect.

On a mountain like Snowdon, with clear tracks to follow, it’s easy to plan for the walk down in fading evening light. Another way, and useful for trickier summits, is to camp out wild in the hills. This has the added advantage of getting them to yourself again the next morning, before the hordes begin their march. Nothing beats a cup of tea brewed as the sun goes down behind your favourite peak, when there’s not a sound apart from the gentle crash of a stream or the birds overhead. So if you can’t beat them, avoid them – it’s not always as hard as it seems.


Posted by Tim

Island walking

The Isle of Wight is an ideal location for a car-free walk - its size means many interesting walks are easily reachable, and the remoteness of many locations and the island itself mean many of the island's inhabitants rely on the local bus and train services. The train runs along the eastern side of the island from Ryde to Shanklin, with converted tube carriages meandering along quite frequently. One company, Southern Vectis, runs the majority of the island's buses and they are quite reliable - except when it snows.

Before setting off for a January break on the island, I was told by a family member that 'it never snows on the Isle of Wight'. As we arrived at our cottage at the start of the week, laden with a rucksack each and some emergency shopping, a fellow bus passenger told us about the last time it had snowed on the island - the 1970s. But no one had reckoned with the cold snap that hit the UK over the new year, and the Isle of Wight certainly didn't escape. The good thing about all the snow was that we couldn't have used a car even if we had wanted to, so the walks we had planned were solely reliant on boots, backpacks and the emergency shopping.

Although unexpected, it was good to get some experience of snow walking as it is noticeably different to good weather trips. Progress is a lot slower than the average 3mph when you are walking through knee-deep drifts or negotiating downhill tracks with pockets of ice. So we had to plan accordingly, bearing in mind how early it gets dark, and take extra food and water. And torches. My wind-up bicycle lamp did the trick. The snow also made it harder to find the way, with many signposts coated in thick white and the terrain difficult to relate to the map - roads, tracks and fields all look pretty similar under a blanket of snow. Fortunately some gregarious locals had written signs in the snow - much appreciated.

The Isle of Wight's climate is normally far more agreeable, offering excellent year-round walking, and even in January we noticed the temperate rising in the undercliff of St Lawrence on the southern side of the island, where the variety of plants and wildlife were still evident. A palm tree with its branches laden with snow is a peculiar sight in any part of the world.

It is also a haven for birdwatching and perhaps some residents were feeling the chill beneath their feathers, because plenty were about searching for sustenance. In Niton, we saw flocks of redwings, ravens, black caps and a solitary pied wagtail. On the coast near St Catherine's lighthouse, a buzzard was circling; near the Ryde ferry terminal we spotted avocets and gulls. And there were plenty of more familiar names too - tits, blackbirds and thrushes.

The Isle of Wight is a great learning ground for the novice walker, because of the pleasant temperate climate and the (usually) well-signposted routes. The excellent bus and train network make it ideal for the car-free walker. And the impressive number of pubs, accustomed to catering for people with a friendly welcome and pint of a local brew, make it perfect for all kinds of walker.

By Penny Woods

For more photos, visit Car Free Walk's photo gallery

The Keswick conundrum

Keswick presents problems for an indecisive walker. The town’s reputation as the hub of outdoors activity in the Lake District is well deserved. The giant peaks Skiddaw and Blencathra rise up to the north, provide a challenging day for anyone keen to scale the heights. To the southwest, the fells that circle the Newlands Valley form a classic horseshoe, while a stroll around Derwent Water will attract those looking for something more leisurely.

This tempting array of possible routes spun around my head as the 555 bus ambled through the Lakes. Being more familiar with the southern fells – the nearest during student days at Lancaster University – all the options were appealing. I was still undecided upon arrival at Keswick, but the imminent breaking of a fierce looking black cloud dictated that erecting the tent as swiftly as possible took priority.

The tent was positioned to avoid the rapidly expanding puddles in the Keswick campsite, but the aspect unintentionally signalled the way forward next morning. The doors opened to reveal Cat Bells glistening brightly in the morning sun. Decision made; I set off to Portinscale and the start of the Newlands Round. A bus service runs from Keswick to the foot of Cat Bells during summer months, but it would have been a shame to miss the early morning sights, sounds and smells of Overside Woods, with the few remaining bluebells struggling to compete with the wild garlic.

Cat Bells attracts the full spectrum of Lakeland walkers. Maybe it’s the easy access from Keswick, the relatively short climb, or just the indisputably cute name. Early on this overcast Sunday morning (the early rays long since departed) the carefully constructed zigzag path was rapidly filling up. Seven teenagers, heads down, rucksacks full, trudging silently in single file – they could only be a Duke of Edinburgh group, and the weary expressions and mud-splattered kit suggested they were at least three days into their expedition. Near the summit, two athletic looking men nodded a brief greeting as they hurried past, clearly heading for bigger challenges than humble Cat Bells can provide.

On Maiden Moor, I found myself having a late breakfast of Babybels and an apple next to a Dutchman heading for Buttermere. As we chatted, he told me this was his first visit to the Lake District and he was clearly enthralled.
"We have nothing like this in Holland…just look at that view", he said, gesturing towards High Spy and Dale Head.

By this time, the slate grey clouds were forming an angry mob over the summits, casting the landscape in a brooding, pallid light. I had seen the fells look more attractive, but it seemed a little churlish to quash his moment. Grinning wildly, he headed off into the murk and drizzle.

The light waves on Derwent Water were catching the few rays of sun that sneaked through, shimmering brightly in contrast to the gloom ahead. Tiring of the constant buzz of human chatter, an incessant line of hikers on all sides, I decided to drop down and return to Keswick via the lakeside. The map showed a clear path down between Maiden Moor and High Spy, so I took a bearing and veered off from the crowds heading onwards.

It felt good to be alone, a sense of rebelling against the masses – similar to playing truant from school. The walking clichés all applied – choose your own adventure, get off the beaten track, go against the flow – the experience many walkers crave. This preoccupied elation almost proved disastrous.

As I headed over the edge of Blea Crag, the valley scene attracted my attention, rather than the ground below. Instead of heading down Low White Rake, I found myself halfway down Nitting Haws, trapped on a narrow, exposed and slippery ledge. A bulging rucksack prevented an easy about-turn and scamper back up, and the free-spirited sensations of a few minutes ago quickly dispersed; solitude was now the last thing I wanted.

It took several anxious minutes, a Chaucerian selection of curses, and scrambling moves that you won’t find in any training manuals to get to the safe ground near Cockley How. Looking back, the obvious scramble down the rake was clear about 10 meters to the right; its taunting simplicity a stark contrast to the precarious drop I had been scrabbling above.

Mushroom soup was required to calm frazzled nerves and as the pan bubbled slowly, I looked over towards Skiddaw and Blencathra, both bathed in sunlight. Would I have had a more satisfying day there? Or on Castlerigg Fell, radiant in the midday sun across Derwent Water? Perhaps, but that’s the thing about Keswick – the wonderful array of options provides the perfect reason to return, again and again.

Posted by Carfreewalker

Photos by me as well

Going to walk on an egg

A fried egg sandwich with a cup of tea is a welcome snack at any time. As an unscheduled breakfast before venturing into a thunder storm for two days, it assumes previously unknown qualities – comforting, motivational and warming – not to mention a boost of caffeine and grease, those two staples of the UK diet.

Our expedition to walk across the Howgill Fells had suffered from an inauspicious start. Gary had managed less than two hours sleep on the overnight train to Carlisle, thanks to the snoring passenger in his carriage. The bus that was supposed to take us from Kirkby Stephen to Ravenstondale had sped past – the driver oblivious to our frantic hand gestures – meaning an unwelcome trudge next to the busy A685 at 7am. Dark grey clouds were swirling overhead; an ominous sign that the unpleasant forecast was likely to be correct for once.

Trying to delay the inevitable soaking, we wandered into the Black Swan Hotel in search of some comfort. Their delicious egg sandwiches rescued the trip from being abandoned in favour of two days in the pub, and all for a bargain three pounds each.

After draining the last drops from the teapot, we set off through Ravenstondale, which sits on the northern edge of the Howgill Fells. The day’s route was undecided, with no particular summit or ridge in mind. All we had planned was to ramble through territory unknown to us both until we found a suitable place to wild camp. The following day, we would complete whatever distance remained to Sedbergh, located on the southern side.

This approach to walking makes a refreshing change from a fixation on one mountainous target, or having to be back by a certain time for the bus. No rush, no pressure and time to enjoy the beautiful surroundings of the Howgills.

You have probably seen these steep, tussocky hills, even if you didn’t realise it. Anyone travelling to Penrith from the south will have noticed them sloping away to the right, opposite the more dramatic skyline of the Lake District. These fells are often overlooked in favour of their illustrious neighbours to the west, but this is to their benefit. They are much quieter, unscarred by a criss-cross of ever widening footpaths and, in the central valleys, offer a sense of solitude that is hard to find in the Lakes.

Fortunately, the forecast rain didn’t arrive until we reached The Calf, the highest point in the Howgills at 676 metres. Despite it being just past lunchtime, we decided to head for Bran Rigg to camp for the night – an afternoon doze suddenly seemed very appealing, with the rain getting heavier by the minute. A flattish hollow next to the small stream looked promising, with views down the valley to Castley and Crook of Lune – at least when the rain stopped for very brief interludes. The three dead sheep just upstream didn’t deter us – it was the only space large enough for two tents in this steep sided, v-shaped valley, and neither of us wanted to walk any further that day.

The bright sunshine next morning lasted long enough for us to take down the tents and have breakfast. By the time we reached the top of Brant Fell, however, the clouds had settled in for the day, making themselves comfortable on the rounded plateau between Arant Haw and The Calf. Heads down, we moved swiftly to the top of Cautley Spout, the highest waterfall above ground in the UK (Gaping Gill is bigger, but in a cave). This is one of the highlights of a trip to the Howgills; the path down sits alongside the series of falls, and the best viewpoints marked by the worn-away patches of grass where previous admirers have tried to capture the perfect photo.

The sun returned for the final stretch, along the valley from Cautley to Sedbergh. The warming rays lifted the scent of wild garlic into the woodland air, and wild gorse coloured the fields stretching up towards the Howgills. The contrast with the walk in to Ravenstonedale couldn’t have been starker – or maybe the warm, feel-good glow of the egg sandwiches was still working its magic. They really were that good.

Getting there
Kirkby Stephen Station is on the Leeds-Carlisle line, and there are occasional buses to Ravenstonedale (when they stop!). Sedbergh is served by many buses to all nearby towns and several villages. There are regular buses back to Kirkby Stephen to get a train home.

Where to eat, drink, sleep

There's nowhere that near Kirkby Stephen Station, but the Black Swan Hotel in Ravenstonedale offers a very warm welcome. Sedbergh has a wide selection of accommodation and places to eat, drink and be tired.

Photos by Tim and Gary, using Laura's camera

The Tongariro Alpine Crossing

The world’s most famous car-free walk?

New Zealanders proudly proclaim the Tongariro Alpine Crossing as “the world’s best one-day walk”. It’s a challenging 18.5 km hike across dramatic volcanic landscape in the heart of New Zealand’s North Island, where dark red craters with smoking fumaroles rise up amidst ancient lava flows that spread across the valleys. The sparkling Emerald Lakes provide the perfect lunch stop at halfway, followed by the Blue Lake and Ketetahi Hot Springs – the natural wonders along this walk get more spectacular with each step.

At times, the region seems like something from another world. It’s no surprise the mountains of Tongariro provided the setting for Mordor in the recent ‘Lord of the Rings’ film trilogy, with the textbook volcano of Ngauruhoe doubling as Mount Doom. With so much to see in one day, and the route being achievable for most walkers, the Kiwis have a strong claim to the “world’s best walk” title.

Another great feature of this walk is that it is easy to reach without a car. Many of the thousands of walkers who visit each year use the specially arranged buses that serve the start and finish of the walk. Early morning, buses drop the eager ‘trampers’ (the local name for walkers) at the Mangetepopo Valley – the start of the route. After a memorable day’s walking, the weary crowds finish at the foot of the Ketetahi Track. Sitting in a forest clearing, they can check the day’s photos as they wait for the pick-up buses.

This is how walking should be – taking time to explore stunning scenery, walking from A to B, with no need to back-track halfway around and return to the car. The linear nature of the Tongariro Alpine Crossing – the famous geological features are handily spread out along the route – makes these buses essential to many visitors.

The transport system in this part of New Zealand runs so smoothly that few people even consider other options – a big achievement in a nation where many people are dependent on cars. Fourteen local bus companies collect people from nearby Turangi or Taupo – many of these are run by the backpacker hostels and guesthouses in these towns, making it an easy option for the backpackers that flock to New Zealand to go hiking. The several pick-up buses run throughout the afternoon and evening. This means there are no long waits for walkers who arrive earlier than expected and no rush to get a particular bus, allowing people to spread out along the route, going at their own pace.

It’s the same set-up for all of New Zealand's Great Walks – when you book up the route, the Department of Conservation staff will help you to arrange transport to and from the walk. For walkers, it’s a cheap, reliable and efficient system. For the park managers and local conservationists, encouraging people out of their cars helps to prevent congestion and pollution on the roads that take people to New Zealand’s wild and wondrous outdoors.

Could similar services run in the UK’s most popular walking regions? there are few services than run specifically to meet the needs of walkers – the Snowdon Sherpa being a notable exception. Many popular walks are circular by nature – the glacial valleys in the Lake District provide many famous ‘horseshoes’, such as Fairfield – and many people take the easiest or most popular route to go up and down mountains. Starting and finishing walks at the same point encourages people to go by car. But there are many, many routes in these islands that are crying out for their own, tailor-made walker’s bus service, which would reduce congestion and open up whole mountain ranges to the joys of linear walking – completing a ridge in one go rather than going round in circles. Here are a few possibilities that spring to mind:

The Brecon Beacons, South Wales
Most walkers tackle the three highest peaks – Corn Du, Cribyn, and Pen y Fan – as a circular walk from either Brecon or Storey Arms. A better day out is to complete the whole range in one go, continuing on to Fan Y Big and Waun Rydd . Buses could collect walkers from near the Talybont Reservoir and return them to the nearby towns, villages and campsites.

Aonach Eagach, Glen Coe
This fantastic ridge demands to be done in one direction; there’s no easy short cuts down. A dedicated and regular bus service for walkers could drop people off at Alt-na Reigh and collect them at the Clachaig Inn, which would also enable a linear traverse of the Three Sisters on the opposite side of the valley. This would reduce the number of cars speeding along the A82 and make the road considerably safer for everyone.

Of course, there are many pitfalls that would need to be overcome, such as cost recovery, reliability, seasonality and persuading enough people out of their cars to justify the service (a bit of stick as well as carrot would be needed). But with so many keen walkers in the UK, it’s hard to believe the potential demand is not there. More buses run specifically to meet the needs of walkers would also help to further promote the UK as an ideal walking destination, especially for tourists who visit without cars. And who knows, one of our mountain ranges could start to challenge the Tongariro Alpine Crossing for its ‘World’s Best’ title.

(Thanks to Jimmy Johnson at DOC for the photos)