#PitchperMonth2022 - Part 2

 It's currently a wet, grey Saturday afternoon at the end of October. I haven't written a blog for a while, so thought today would be an opportunity to do my next blog in the 'Pitch Per Month' series.

Quarter Two

- APRIL -

April began with a still quite wintery wild camp in the Yorkshire Dales. There were still patches of snow on the tops, and hail showers blowing through. Starting from the small hamlet of Stone House in Dentdale, you could have been forgiven that it was a mild spring day, as daffodils lined the verge along side of the road.

Heading along the track up through the hamlet, I followed the Pennine Bridleway along Arten Gill. Ahead lay the impressive Arten Gill Viaduct, which lies on the Settle to Carlisle railway. There are a number of viaducts along a few miles of railway line, the longest, and most famous being Ribblehead, just 3½ miles to the south. But Arten Gill viaduct was still impressive, especially as it had a small watercourse and the path headed through the arches.

Continuing past the viaduct, the bridleway reaches a crossroads at the top of Arten Gill. Continuing straight on for a short distance, a footpath heads off to the left, climbing up onto Great Knoutberry Fell. Following a drystone wall which crosses the fell, the summit is reached, marked by a trig point, which at the time was in the middle of a small frozen pond.

I set up camp on the dryest patch of ground I could find, managing to set up just as a hail storm blew over. From my pitch I could see all three of the Yorkshire 'Three Peaks' (Pen-Y-Ghent, Ingleborough & Whernside). Cooking dinner, I settled down to watch a stunning sunset dropping behind the distant Scafell massif in the Lake District.

It was a cold, clear night, and I recorded a temperature of -3.8C outside. It was time to cosy up into my tent.

The next morning started grey, as I woke up to low cloud shrouding the top of the fell. After breakfast, I packed up and headed back down the fell, out of the cloud and into quite a nice sunny day. It was a pleasant surprise to see a Golden Plover and a paid of Lapwings flying around the moorland. A sign that spring wasn't that far away after all.

- APRIL -

Easter fell a couple of weeks later, and this time the northern mountains of Snowdonia were where I was to explore. The Carneddau range (translated to 'cairned mountains') are large grassy mountains lying between the North Wales coast, and the Ogwen Valley to the south. I starting from the small car park at the roads end, past Aber Falls, I had only been walking for a few minutes before I spotted one of the things that I had hoped to see on this trip: Mountain Ponies. A small family of them were settled in a clearing in the heather, rolling on the ground, grooming each other, and browsing for food in the undergrowth.

I continued along the track, passing another group of ponies, before reaching a sign posted crossroads. Heading right, I began the climb along a track to the curiously named hill: 'Drum'. It was a straight-forward climb along what I presume is an old miners track. The weather started to turn as I approached the summit of Drum. Dark clouds loomed overhead, and a cold southerly breeze was felt as I got closer to the top. But I found a sheltered spot to grab some lunch. My next destination was the neighbouring hill of Foel Fras - although at 3,097 feet - it can really be classed as a mountain, and is one of the 'Welsh 3000's - the 15 mountains in Wales which are all above 3,000 feet. (Fun fact: there are only 4 mountains in England above 3,000 feet - all within the Lake District). Before I set off from my lunch spot though, I had to layer up, and throw on my waterproofs. Low cloud now covered the top of Foel Fras, and with the cloud came the rain.

Thankfully, a few minutes before reaching the summit of Foel Fras, the rain stopped and the cloud began to lift. Considering the path up the mountain was on grassy slopes, the top of Foel Fras was very rocky. A trig pillar marked the top, and other-worldly rocks poked up from the ground, making it more reminiscent of the rocky Glyderau mountains a bit further south.

From the summit of Foel Fras, I headed north-west down the hill and across a plateau, passed another small group of Montain Ponies, and up to the hill which would be my home for the night - Llwytmor. The wind picked up once again as I began to reach the top, so I headed to the northern slopes, overlooking the North Wales coast to find a spot for the evening.

And what an evening it turned out to be. The clouds broke, and I had blue skies above me, with yet anther stunning sunset looking out over the Menai Straits to Anglesey.

It was a pleasant start to the Saturday morning, so I retraced my steps back to the summit of Foel Fras, and had planned to summit three more of the 'Welsh 3000's to complete my set for the Carneddau range. A mile south west of Foel Fras is Carnedd Gwenllian (3,038 ft), named for a Welsh Princess. It was a pleasant walk to the shattered rocks marking Gwenllian's summit. From here heading due south I soon reached Foel Grach (3,202 ft), and this is where things started to turn. A strong southerly wind picked up. My final Welsh 3000 in the Carneddau was Yr Elen, but to get to it meant heading over & around the higher peak of Carnedd Llewelyn (which I had previously summited in 2019). It was a tough climb in the wind, with the gusts becoming stronger with height. About half way up, I stopped to make a decision. The wind was getting stronger, and the cloud was gathering & beginning to drop. I knew the route from Llewelyn to Yr Elen involved a narrow traverse between the two. I decided it was too risky to attempt in the current conditions, so turned back and returned to Carnedd Gwenllian. My route then headed north-west, past the lower peaks of Bera Back & Drosgl.

It was a long, tough walk battling against the wind, but as I dropped in height & got closer to the coast, the conditions calmed. I eventually reached the village of Abergwyngregyn (just known as 'Aber' for short), and from here, I picked up the road back to my car.

- MAY -

It was time to tick off one of my 'bucket-list' camping spots. I had climbed this Wainwright before, and had also seen a few people posting tent photos from this location, so I headed up to my favourite valley in the Lakes: Great Langdale.

I followed a path I had walked a few times before, out from the National Trust car park at Sticklebarn, along side Dungeon Ghyll and up onto the fellside of the Langdale Pikes. Upon reaching the top of Loft Crag, I could see my final destination not too far away. The Pike of Stickle.

Whilst sitting at 2,326 feet means its not the highest of the Langdale Pikes, its domed shape, and sheer 1,900 foot drop-off into the Mickleden valley below, make it an immediately recognisable peak. I'm sure I could find somewhere to perch my tent on the top.

A man-made rock staircase takes you about half way up, with a short rocky scramble then bringing you out right at the small summit cairn.

Just down off the summit reveals a small grassy ledge, which has plenty of room for a tent, and stunning views to the south.

Looking out over Loft Crag (L), to Blea Tarn & Coniston Old Man (R)

- MAY -

Mid May, and the weather was picking up nicely. Heading back over to the Yorkshire Dales, but this time to the eastern side, and the village of Buckden to head up the hill that givens the village its name: Buckden Pike.

I parked in a layby just outside, and headed through the village where I picked up a farming track which headed up through Rakes Wood onto the tops. The track was flanked by dry stone walls on either side, before I reached a gate where the fellside opened up.

A fingerpost marked where a path left the farmers track to head across the fellside and up onto Buckden Pike itself. It had turned into quite a warm day, so there were plenty of times where I stopped to take a sip of water. I reached the top of Buckden Pike, where a white trig point and a conical stone cairn mark to top. I had a few minutes rest at the top, watching as Swift's flew past at amazing speed. I had spotted some else had pitched a tent just on the opposite side of the stone wall which crossed the top, so out of respect to their privacy, I decided to head along the summit ridge to find somewhere else to stay for the night.

Buckden Pike Summit

Following the wall south from the summit, after just under a kilometre there is a stile to cross over the wall. On the other side of a wall is a war memorial. Erected in memory of five Polish airmen whose plane crashed in January 1942. It's quite a story of survival, as one man, against all odds managed to survive the crash, and find help in the middle of a harsh winter storm. I recommend you google search "buckden pike fox" for the full, fascinating story.

From the war memorial, I headed back over the wall and followed a wall south west, dropping down off the ridge slightly. It was here that I found my spot for the night, looking out over the rolling Yorkshire hills.

- MAY -

I was racking up the wild camps now, and for my third camp in May I returned to the Lake District, to the north-western valleys of Loweswater and Crummock Water. I started the day with a lovely walk around the forested lake of Lowewater, hearing cuckoo's, and skylarks and walking past waterfalls and bluebells. But this was just the warm-up.

Parking at the National Trust car park just outside Buttermere, I walked into the village, and picked up the track leading its way around Crummock Water. A quarter of the way along the western shore, my footpath broke left heading up the valley of Scale Beck towards Scale Force - the highest waterfall in the Lake District, with a drop of 170 feet.

From Scale Force, I headed over to the opposite side of the valley to begin the climb. The ascent is in two main parts. The first climbs north east to the subsidiary summit of Scale Knott, before the steep northerly ascent to the top of Mellbreak.

After slogging up the steep slope to the top of Mellbreak, I finally reached the summit. The ground was quite boggy and uneven around the summit plateau, and it didn't really have the views down the valley I was hoping for, so I explored, and found an outcropping not too far away with stunning views down the whole length of the valley.

It was another cracking evening. I could see lights at the far end of Buttermere, and the faint sound of music. It looked as though there was some sort of festival on at Gatesgarth Farm (which I later found out was the Lakes Trail Race Festival). As the sun dropped low in the sky across the valley, the mountains of the Grasmoor massif became covered in a beautiful pink glow, before the sun finally dropped below the horizon and the day came to an end.

My next adventure would take me the furthest north I had ever been, on an epic wild camping road trip north of the wall into Scotland, and I think that trip will need a blog all of its own...