Outside, looking in
And almost penultimately - a long walk around the outside.
In September.
Somewhere at the beginning, I did promise you some out-takes and a director's cut - or something like that anyway.
Then, somewhere in the middle, it struck me that the thing that was missing from an exploration of the Howgill Fells was a long walk. That is to say, a walk that might well take more than a day. A walk with B&Bs, pub meals, full English breakfasts and no wandering about in circles.
So here it is - a long weekend walk around the Howgills.
The only thing is - it's not through the Howgills, it's around the Howgills - that is to say, around the outside, looking in.
I think it's quite a good walk.
First a word about the preparations for the walk.
Firstly, the route.
It seemed to me that whilst you could start almost anywhere, the best place, for reasons that I can't really bring to mind just now, would be Sedbergh. It's, sort-of, the main town I suppose. The only problem with Sedbergh, though, is that at first sight, its not an ideal place to leave a car for a couple of nights. It has two pay-and-display car parks which would be outrageously expensive to park in for such a length of time and there are other discouraging points such as the problem of actually buying the tickets and the "no overnight parking" signs. A nice lass at the Tourist information place suggested that I leave the car on the main road into Sedbergh as there was a lot of "coming and going" and nobody would notice a car parked there for several days. So this is what I did.
The route out of Sedbergh is a choice between a riverside path and a field path. I plumped for the riverside path, mainly because its prettier. This joins up with a bridleway which runs up to Cautley and then continues to Ravenstonedale after splitting at Narthwaite. Part of the bridleway is on a tarmac road, so I put in a bit of hill-walking to get around this.
From Ravenstonedale, my intention was to go direct to Smardale. Unfortunately, I couldn't find any accommodation in Ravenstonedale, but did find a place at Newbiggin-on-Lune. A couple of days before the walk started, I got a panic call from this place apologising and saying that they'd double-booked due to a family wedding, but that they'd found me an alternative at Brownrigg Hall if I'd care to take that one up. So, in the end, I only stayed in Ravenstonedale long enough to drink two pints of Black Sheep and then hobbled off to Newbiggin.
As it happens, Newbiggin isn't all that far from Smardale anyway, so it wasn't a big problem. The bottom line is, the walk now goes to Newbiggin.
From Smardale, there's a rather attractive broad limestone ridge which runs East-West (or West-East if you're looking at it the other way) and ends up roughly somewhere around Shap. This karst hill-country provides mainly very easy walking with good views into the Northern dales of the Howgills. It also has the Coast-to Coast path which provides bits of quite good waymarked paths as well. So that's where I went - ending up with two more pints of Black Sheep at Orton.
From Orton, it's a relatively easy matter to turn South, using bridlepaths and footways to Tebay, thence through the Lune Gorge and by the Dales way and other small paths and off-path bits back to Sedbergh.
And there we have it.
Here is the tale...
Day One
Sedbergh - Cautley - Ravenstonedale - Newbiggin-on-Lune
14 Miles - 2000 feet of ascent.
I parked the car on Long Lane, the main road into Sedbergh from Kirkby Stephen. This was on the recommendation of the lass in the bookshop aka Tourist Information..er...place. I had a bit of trepidation about leaving it there - or "abandoning" it as the lass at the bookshop called it. But then I thought - it's an old car; it doubles its value when its petrol tank is filled - no, it might not be such a bad thing if the Sedbergh 'twocers' had away with it, or the local milk tanker skidded whilst avoiding a fluffy kitten and flattened the damn thing*. No, I would leave it without any qualms.
*The car, not the kitten - outrageous - what are you thinking?
...And headed down to river bank at Settlebeck Bridge, becoming just a bit confused by signposts pointing out footpaths to the river which lead me into a car park. In the end, I just followed the road. If you're doing this route, for speed and simplicity, I am suggesting that you do the same. It's up to you, though, obviously. I often seem to have problems navigating my way out of Sedbergh for some reason.
Anyway, I soon caught up with a lass and her dog from somewhere in deepest Lancashire a who were out on a route which avoided cows. As I didn't have Bruno with me this time, the cow issue wasn't a problem, except possibly for the fact that Foot and Mouth disease was grumbling away again somewhere in Surrey and all cattle and sheep movements had been stopped. I was, therefore, expecting some problems with farmers being protective of their stock. I wasn't quite sure how any contacts with farmers might turn out, though I suspected that my presence might not be ecstatically welcomed.
The walk went well enough, though and the riverside path was its usual pleasant self. I crossed the main road at Straight Bridge, (so-called because it's a bit skewed - a typical British use of ironic nomenclature) and continued up to Buckbank Farm where I met with an enormous random pile of hay bales; the big, round ones. Forget big, they're enormous. And they're quite difficult to climb over. The farm yard was completely blocked. I suspected the worst from the farmer. I was sure he'd done it on purpose to block the footpath during the crisis. Maybe I should phone the National Park Authority about it. Maybe I should just forget about it and continue on my way. I had some sneaking sympathy for the approach, if that's what it was. I know that as a hillwalker and countryside user I should take a more responsible approach to the discovery of this heinous crime. But it was just a temporary blockage. It would soon be tidied up, I was sure. Bugger it. Nothing to do with me. What a disgraceful attitude.
I continued along the pretty lane past Fawcett Bank and on to the bridleway to Cautley. It was all very pleasant. The farms all seemed deserted. There were a few cattle in the fields and many more sheep. There was little sense of impending doom.
At Cautley, I decided to explore the ancient stone-lined path to the foot of the Spout. I couldn't identify any stone lined path, but the foot of the Spout is easily reached. There, there is a small waterfall and a pool, overhung by a Rowan tree. It wouldn't take much to imagine this as a magical, enchanted, special place. I sat and ate my lunch and listened to the waterfall. I even drank some of the water. It's a good place for sitting and not doing very much, really. I must do it again. Recommendation number two (if you do this route) is (providing the weather is clement) - have a sit just here for a while.
Then I got the call of the Cross Keys, which was open for business, so I sat in the conservatory and had a pint of sarsaparilla, a pot of tea and a toasted teacake whilst watching the chaffinches on the bird table. Recommendation number three is that you allow yourself to be commercially exploited by the Cross keys Inn. You won't be able to buy a pint of beer here, but the non-alcoholical stuff is fab. It wont be a sacrifice.
Following my dawdling around Cautley, I set off in a determined fashion along the bridleway to Narthwaite where, in the yard, two farmers and a dog or two were bossing some cattle around. I have no idea what they were doing, to be fair, except to say that it involved a fair amount of shouting, some barking, the use of stout sticks and the cattle running about a lot with sulky looks on their faces. I waited by the gate until one of them made a way for me through the beef. One of them remarked that I should be careful not to lose my cup (strapped on the back of my pack) and the other asked me my destination. I told them I was going to Newbiggin and they pointed out the way. It was all very friendly - not a hint of walker-abuse. I went on my way a bit relieved about that.
My route next took me along the side of Wandale Hill to Narthwaite where I was barked at by a farm dog and waved at by two lads mechanising under a vehicle - but still no abuse. Now back on tarmac, I climbed the hill almost to the summit and then took off at a tangent over the fell. I contoured around Adamthwaite Bank and crossed Gais Gill, then northwards to join the footpath to Ravenstonedale. My route was intended to avoid as much uphill work as possible. If you do this walk, I suggest that you try to do the same. Look on it as a challenge. The footpath will deliver you soon enough to Ravenstonedale's Town Head, so enjoy this bit of fell walking whilst you can. Obviously, if its late in the day, or your energy levels are low, you can just slap on down the tarmac into Ravenstonedale. Thats quite a nice walk too.
Once in Ravenstonedale, I called in at the Kings Head for a couple of beers and then across fields and some fairly complex shenanigans to find my B&B at Newbiggin on Lune. It's a long way back to Ravenstonedale for any more beer and an evening meal, so if you're staying in Newbiggin, be sure to make suitable arrangements to have your biblious and gastronomic needs met. Get somebody to take you back to the pub, for instance.
Day Two
Newbiggin on Lune - Smardale - Nettle Hill - Mazon Wath - Sunbiggin - Orton - Tebay.
13 Miles 1350 feet of ascent.
Day two dawned fine and after a fine breakfast (long after dawn, it has to be said) my way now took me along the bridleway to Friars Bottom (snicker snicker) Farm and thence to Smardale Bridge, where Wainwright's Coast to Coast route is. The rest of the day would be spent by my route flirting with Wainwright's. Ultimately, the affair would end in tears, though, with Wainwright's explaining tearfully that it wanted to go out with Dave but that it was still very fond of my route and wished it all the best and that no doubt it would soon meet a route which would be much more suitable and they would get married and have lots of short rambles with the dog... I hoped that I would never accidentally come across Wainwright's out shopping in the High Street. (sniff - must get drunk...)
Anyway, I followed the CtoC towards Saint Bees for a short way and then hopped over a stile to follow a footpath which headed towards Crosby Garrett. The idea was to get a good view of Smardale Viaduct, which my route singularly fails to do unless you climb over a gate and blunder through some wet wasp-infested bracken. (wet bracken, not wet wasps... a wet wasp would be a very sad thing, now wouldn't it?) Its probably not worth it, although if you were to follow the old railway line from Newbiggin to Kirkby Stephen, you would have a fabulously easy walk through some quite smashing countryside.
But not today, my friends. No. Today, our route is rufty-tufty in an adventurous sort of way and now avoids the attentions of some frisky bovines to follow a wall westishly past the site of an ancient settlement to yet another bridleway. This is followed towards Crosby Garrett yet again, a target which my walk will utterly fail to achieve despite the fact that it might have a pub. No, once again, we will turn our faces away from the fleshpots of CG and head uphill to the nettly summit of Nettle Hill. Quite a good name for this hill as there are nettles on the top. This is absolutely fascinating stuff, I'm sure you will agree.
The significance of Nettle Hill is that it's the highest point on the fabby-whizz limestone karst ridge which runs from the M6 to Kirkby Stephen, particularly if you ignore the other high points such as Knott. Anyway, it's a top. We do need to bag a top on our walk. Lets have some agreement on that at least. The view of the Howgill fells from this mighty eminence is probably really good. By the time I had reached this point, it was getting quite hazy. Almost foggy, really. Lets just say that I expect the view would normally be quite good.
I now stepped out over featurless fell to find a junction of bridleways (one of which headed towards CG) and then along a slight escarpment to a scree slope overlooking Potts Valley.
I descended the scree rather carefully and found a footpath by a fence which isn't marked on my map. The path leads not to Crosby-bloody-Garrett but South and West to the road at Mazon Wath. Another farmer in a 4 wheel drive was patrolling his cattle and sheep just here and he waved cheerily. Clearly my worries about confrontations with wild-eyed sons of the soil were proving unfounded.
About a mile of road walking (on a very quiet road) brought me to another section of CtoC, which runs North of Spear Potts to Sunbiggin and then along various bridleways and footpaths to Orton where the pub was open and occupied only by two young lasses and a baby.
I allowed myself once again to be exploited to the tune of two or three pints of lovely Black Sheep bitter. Herein lies suggestion number four. I think we're up to four now, anyway. If we're not, I'm not that bothered. Don't write in.
Orton is a significant and strategic point on our walk, for it is here that we turn a corner and start heading back to Sedbergh. But first there is the little matter of a night's carousing in Tebay. I headed there immediately and with very little ado. In fact, there was no ado at all, truth be told. I'm not one for having much in the way of ado, as many of my friends and some of my enemies will attest. I've never been accused of ado. In fact, adon't (arf arf) (Right...I'll get me coat...).
Just South of Orton City Centre, a bridleway heads along Martingap Lane to Martingap, which is a house. From Martingap, we go ESE to rejoin the main road and after passing the telephone exchange, a road goes left to Coatflatt Bridge where a nice path goes to Coatflatt Hall. Its all very nice. Specially after the beer. Loads of places to have a quiet wee, and one or two where you could have a noisy wee with lots of groans of relief and splashing.
The paths cross the road at Tebay Bridge and then head into Old Tebay and then via the road into Tebay (?New Tebay??) Anyway, it's all very pleasant, as I said.
Note that there's a truckstop near the roundabout in Tebay which will do good scoff for anybody who needs good scoff. I went to the pub which also does good scoff and beer as well. On this particular night, it was visited by a large group of young ladies (and I use that word only very loosely) dressed in cowboy outfits and who were going out with the express intention of "destroying Lancaster". I expect that they might well have succeeded. It wasn't on the news the next day, though. It was all very jolly and outrageously good fun. There was a bit of ado, though, I noticed.
I stayed at the Old Schoolhouse (the place next to where I parked the car some walks ago). Quite a good place to stay, I would say.
But then I was fairly drunk.
I enjoyed Tebay.
Day Three
Tebay - Lune Gorge - Dalesway - Sedbergh
12 Miles - 1250 feet of ascent.
It was absolutely chucking it down when I popped my head out of the Old Schoolhouse. By the time I'd reached Tebay church I was wet through. My way took me down to the river Lune, crossed on a footbridge, under the railway and the M6 (brief respites from the rain and gale) and on to Roundthwaite.
I stayed on the road as far as the main road and recrossed the M6, railway and river. The path shown on the map didn't look too evident on the ground and the weather was making me reluctant to explore.
From Lune Bridge, I headed South along the road to Brockholes farm where the path diverts around the West side of the farm, passing an obstacle course of rubbish and, well, just piles of soil and rocks and, and, well, y'know...stuff.
A good path leads on by the river and then to the road at Salterworth Bridge. I followed the road (very quiet ) and noticed a disinfectant spray left out by the farmer at the entrance to High Carlingill farm - the first explicit sign of any concern about Foot and Mouth disease.
I walked along the road as far as Carlingill Bridge. By the time I'd reached here, I couldn't have got any wetter. It was now through to the underpants. My waterproof socks were wet.
Everything was wet. I was just pleased not to be out walking....
At Carlingill bridge, I finally left the road and headed down the steep hill to the riverside. I wasn't sure how the next part of the walk would go. It could have been too rough, but it wasn't.. There isn't a path alongside the river, but, for the most part the going is relatively easy. It's just a bit of a scramble in parts, and there is bracken and gorse, but there's always a way through. Towards the end at Howgill Head, a path can be seen heading diagonally uphill through the bracken. Head for this. (If you're doing this walk).
Once through the intake wall, the field paths passing Howgill Head, Mire Head and Brunt Sike are relatively easy to follow, given close attention to the map. All appeared to be deserted when I passed, except Brunt Sike, where I was summarily adopted by a collie puppy, a charming, friendly, enthusiastic little dog which I unfortunately had to return to the farm.
I then followed the field path down to the Crook of Lune bridge where I joined the Dales Way. This is well waymarked and doesn't need much description from me. As it had stopped raining, I quite enjoyed this bit and I rested on the riverbank at Crook of Lune wood and had a brew.
At Bramaskew, I left the Dales Way and headed for High Branthwaite and Height of Winder where it started bloody raining again, only this time with even more enthusiasm than before. I struggled up to the intake wall and crept along behind it towards Sedbergh. By the time I got to Lockbank Farm I had really just had enough. And I was pleased to slop through Sedbergh to find my car just where I'd left it with no rude notes on it from the National Park or the Police or the Festival of Light (Sedbergh) or anybody else. Don't let this put you off, though. It's a good route. It was just, just that it was soooooo bloody wet.
Then I went home and wrote this.
This is now the end.
The final last bit ever about the Howgill Fells.
I've finished with the Howgill Fells. Or maybe I haven't. The other day, me and the wife and Bruno and the other dog were coming back from Wales and we stopped for a picnic at the place where you can park just about everything including your Challenger tank and, as I was munching my turkey butty, the view from the car was of Green Bell and Hooksey and all those rather lovely Northern valleys. And I thought what a great place were the Howgill fells.
It's a squeeze trying to get twelve walks out of the Howgills, and to be honest, I failed to do this. There's really only eleven in the preceding scribblings. But even so, if I think that I've finished with the Howgills, it feels like I've given up smoking. It feels like it might be an addiction. Obviously, there's no reason for me not to have a walk in the Howgills again in the future. Whenever I feel like it. I think that says something about the place.
Secondly, it was supposed to take me twelve months. It took me considerably longer. It shouldn't normally take that long.
I hope that people reading this (if anybody actually does read it) will try to follow some of the routes at some point. They will have fun if they do.
Dammit, I forgot to camp at Braithwaite Bottom....
