From the Buxton – Manchester train, just outside Chapel-en-le-Frith.
Northumberland is England’s northernmost county, and an area that I don’t know well at all. Boasting a National Park, and a coastline declared an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, there’s clearly a lot going for Northumberland if you’re into wide open, wild spaces. This photo from Sugar Sands, just south of the tiny coastal village of Craster, hints at the joys that coastal walking here has to offer.
No snow to report in these parts since the last “Photo Friday” missive, but the recent wet and stormy weather has now stripped most trees of their leaves. Low-lying shrubs are still adding some colour though, as could be seen in Grin Low woods this morning, just above Buxton. In Buxton itself, there was a thick mist, revealed as a low-level valley fog from the modest heights of Grin Low — a beautiful day to be out for a stroll…
If summer 2010 seemed to flash by in the blink of an eye, then autumn’s arrived and departed even more briskly. Barely are the trees past their best with this year’s showy display of fall colours, and an Atlantic depression has swept across the country, hastening the trees’ progress toward their skeletal winter outlines, and blowing in the first lying snow of the winter. It may not last long, but it’s downhill from here for a good few months now…
The Ardnamurchan peninsular juts out into the Sea of the Hebrides, south of Skye on Scotland’s west coast. Perhaps most familiar to the general populace as Ardnamurchan Point (a point of reference in the “inshore waters” component of Radio 4′s shipping forecast), the tip of the peninsular, near Corrachadh Mòr, forms the westernmost part of [...]
If you’re looking for lost people, Esk Pike, or more likely the adjacent Esk Hause, is a rich hunting ground. “Hause” is the local Cumbrian term for a mountain pass, col or gap, and so most “hauses” in the Lake District carry paths well used by fellwalkers.
At the start of a 5-week overland trip through Peru, Bolivia and Chile, we left Lima, and headed south to Nazca.
Snowdonia National Park stretches over 50 miles from Conwy in the north, to Aberdyfi in the south — that’s almost half the “height” of Wales. East to west, the park is less extensive, and indeed can be more or less crossed in a couple of days at the popular northern end, which is exactly what I did this past weekend.
During a recent foray along the Mam Tor / Lose Hill ridge, I observed a common natural optical phenomenon — namely the Heiligenschein (German for “holy light”). Like a number of such common effects, it seems to go unnoticed by many, as it can be quite subtle.
This rather short post is unlikely to be of much interest to you, unless you have a desperate urge to see Buxton’s Market Square as it stood at around midday on Friday 15th October. Rather, I’m trying out moblogging (mobile blogging) for the first time, now that I have a suitable phone.
Having spent two weeks in Norway in 1997, three characteristics of the country had a particular impact: waterfalls, mountains, and tunnels. Actually, there was a fourth too — the price of the beer.
It’s not often that I directly recommend visiting a specific blog, but in the the case of “Tramping and climbing in Aotearoa”, I’m making an exception. You can find this blog at http://southernalps.wordpress.com. In case “southernalps”, and “Tramping” hadn’t already given it away, this is a blog that concerns itself with outdoor adventure in New Zealand. (Aotearoa is the Māori name for the country, meaning “land of the long white cloud”.)
Looked like a pleasant evening, so I went for a bimble up past the Cat & Fiddle Inn today. Parking near Dane Head on Axe Edge Moor (under 10 minutes’ drive out of Buxton) there are expansive views straight away, without having to work for them. Having lost track of how early it’s getting dark these days, I ended up curtailing my planned walk by walking back along the A54 — not much fun in the darm, sans headtorch. Worth it for the prospect out over the Cheshire Plain though, with a 3-day old crescent moon adding a little something special.
In an attempt to impose some sort of structure on the post schedule for “A Wild Vista”, I’m going to be posting a photograph, every Friday. Always my own work, and with some descriptive text, expect each Friday’s image to be closely related to one of this blog’s main themes — exploring the wilder parts of the world.
Over the last year or so, I’ve frequently found myself leaving my digital SLR (a Nikon D70) at home; it’s just too bulky and heavy to carry for day-long mountain walks, and too awkward and conspicuous for spur-of-the-moment ambles. So, with digital camera technology having improved markedly in the five years since the D70 was released, and with a trip to the Alps imminent, it seemed about time to review what was out there in the “enthusiast’s compact”/”prosumer compact” sector of the market.
A little over six months ago, I wrote about one of my favourite short walks in this part of the Peak District. I’ve been back along various bits of the Mam Tor / Lose Hill ridge since then. The last time, towards the end of July, was notable for coinciding with “flying ant day”. The crowds descending from Mam Tor that late summer afternoon were preoccupied with keeping the myriad flying insects out of their eyes and ears and hair — easier said than done when every ant nest for miles around has sent forth a squadron for their annual mating ritual.
Every now and then, the UK weather forecast will make mention of the “Cheshire Gap”, usually in relation to rain showers that are predicted to track through the gap and spoil the good folk of the West Midlands’ day. So what exactly is this gap of which the meteorologists speak?
I’m recently returned from a week based in the tiny village of Arolla, in the Swiss Alps. Arolla is known as a popular base for wannabe Alpinists to start learning the ropes, so to speak, with its easy access to a wide variety of peaks and routes that are suitable for beginners.
It’s been a while since I’ve seen a decent sun dog (or parhelion, to give the more technical term), but now I’ve seen two in the space of a couple of weeks. This particular atmospheric optics effect is relatively common in UK latitudes — you just need to keep your eyes open…
Shining Tor rises to the West of the Goyt Valley, and, if starting from the shores of Errwood Reservoir, gives a good 1000 feet of ascent — at 3¾ miles, the circuit should take about an hour at a fast walking pace. The route shown starts from the Errwood car park, and essentially circles around Shooter’s Clough, visiting the top of Shining Tor (559 metres) before returning to the reservoir.