The golf course hidden amongst the bracken.

Walk checking on my Ambleside walks book started in earnest last week. This is a rewrite of a book first published in 2005, and regularly updated ever since. A contribution to LAMRT is paid for each one sold. NB Update 2019, the Walking Book has now ceased publication, and is no longer available.

Checking the walks in the book on a regular basis keeps them as accurate as possible. This may be the Lake District, but the fact is that walking directions can quickly become out of date. Bad weather or erosion control work often sees paths re routed, whilst forestry operations can soon render directions through the forests totally useless.

Monday saw us visiting Stock Ghyll Falls.This is one of the easiest walks in the area, as well as being amongst the most popular. In 2012 I made a short film of the walk, which can be viewed here .....

Tuesday saw us heading up to Loughrigg. We were not alone. It seems half the tourists in Ambleside had decided to make the most of the fine weather by heading out on to the fell. As is my way, I spoke to quite a few, and was surprised to learn that only one knew that there used to be a golf course on Loughrigg Fell. When told, some refused to believe me, whilst others expressed surprise that the terrain was suitable.

The view across the old first green, with the fells of the Fairfield Horseshoe an impressive backdrop

But exist it did, and for the best part of 50 years it provided a great deal of pleasure to locals and visitors alike. It was situated on the path that leads from Miller Bridge to the Summit of Loughrigg Fell and if you look very carefully the remains of the course are clearly visible today. Most prominent is the old Club house, which upon closure of the course was bought and converted to a private residence named "Pine Rigg". It stands proudly beside the track, just past Deer Hows, marking the start of the course, it's  garden, including the first tee, still immaculately maintained.

The main part of the course was on the opposite side of the track. Dotted around the vicinity of the course are a series of flat, bracken free areas. Thin reeds grow in among the grass, denoting a high amount of water just below the surface. These are, or were, the greens. Continuous cutting and rolling of these areas caused subtle changes beneath the surface of the soil. Once abandoned, they did not revert to their previous state, remaining free of both the bracken, and the long grass that populated the rest of the fell.

The club opened in 1903 as a small, 9 hole course, barely little more than a pitch and putt. But it soon gained favour with both locals and wealthy visitors, and by the twenties had been enlarged. It still had just 9 holes, but they were both longer and harder than before the first world war. An indication of the degree of difficulty faced by those post war golfers is to be found in a comparison of the course records of the time. In 1906 the professional course record was 37, with the amateur record just one shot higher at 38. This was beaten just a year later with a certain CH Stephens going round in just 35 shots. The best anyone could muster on the new, more challenging layout after WW1 was 38. The course record for two circuits was 65.

The golden years for the golf club were the twenties and thirties, when club membership easily topped the 100 mark, and visiting non members paid half a crown a day to play. After the second world war the club started to decline. New members were becoming harder to find, and with less visitors wanting to play, the club struggled through to 1956, when the decision was made to close the course. The old clubhouse was sold off and the tees and greens left untended.

This  video, shot at the start of May 2016, shows the walk up to the summit of Loughrigg via the Old Golf Course.

Honister - I had to do it, and so do you!

I didn't want to go. I'm not a mining type of person. It's cold and wet and dark underground, not my idea of a good place to be. I prefer warm, dry and comfortable. When I agreed to visit and review attractions I specifically insisted upon joining the museums and historic houses department. As for the idea of climbing a rock face with a thousand foot drop, and precious little between you and the ground the best part of 1,000 feet below, well you can forget it. I don't do high adventure. Birds are meant to fly overhead, not people. When you look down and see our feathered friends soaring majestically 500 ft below your feet you know that you are either in a very bad dream, or hanging from a parachute.

No, there was nothing at Honister that I would consider to be the slightest bit appealing, which is why, when asked to go, I tried my very hardest to get out of it. But the big boss man was otherwise engaged. (I say big, he's five foot five!) So I put my prejudice to one side, bit the bullet and did what I had to do for the Cumbrian Tourism industry. (Double pay for the day and an extra day off also helped swing it!)

It is, I think, the first time that I have ever got ready to go on an attraction visit wearing clothes that are normally reserved for the wettest of walking days, but then the Honister web site advises that you wear waterproofs and strong boots, so, kitted up like a hiker preparing to ascend Scafell Pike, minus the ruck sack, I set off.

I had booked an all day pass, or rather I'd had it booked for me. Had I booked it myself it would have been different. It consisted of a mine tour, which was fine, lunch, which was the one part of the day I was really looking forward to, and a climb of Fleetwith Pike via the Via Ferrata. And due to my not booking the day myself, I very soon found out that the Via Ferrata was to be the Extreme version. Oh how I wished I'd pulled a sickie.

OK, so the only thing to do was take the whole trip one step at a time, and look for the positives. As I drove up Honister Pass, I followed a couple of cars full of tourists, enjoying a memorable day in the Lakes. When we got to Honister both the cars in front of me carried on, over the top of the pass. Oh, how I envied them.

As I got out of the car and looked around at the views I was surprised at how good they are. I've lived in the Lakes all my life, and been over Honister more times than I can remember, but until now I've always been going somewhere else, usually walking around Buttermere or heading for Loweswater. This was the first time I had actually got out of the car and taken a good look around. The scenery lifted my spirits. After spending too long gazing up at Fleetwith Pike, I decided it was time to do what a girl had to do, and headed inside.

I'm not going to describe the mine tour in great detail. A mine tour is a mine tour. I've been on them before and in my opinion the difference between an enjoyable tour and a dull one is the quality and enthusiasm of the guide. You are either left with a sense of what it must have been like to be a miner there, or you stay in the dark. Luckily our guide was not so much boring historian, more enthusiastic dramatist, bringing the lives of the Victorian miners to life in graphic detail.

The cavern that has been carved out of the rock over the centuries may not be in the same league at the show caves of Cheddar, but when you consider the sweat and toil of the men and boys that created it, then it becomes even more impressive, especially when you consider that they were working virtually in the dark!

The mine tour is supposed to last an hour and a half, and when we emerged from the mine after what seemed to be only a half an hour or so, I was a bit disappointed. Until I looked at my watch that is. We were actually running five minutes late! I don't know whether it was the fact that, once in the mine we became so absorbed in the tour that we just lost track of time, or whether it is the case that, underground, time really does stand still ...... and no one can hear you scream.

Lunch was good, well worth looking forward to and over all too quickly, and there was time for a browse around the gift shop and visitor centre before my fear inducing Via Ferrata expedition. As I stared at a display of slate house names, I found my mind wandering back into the mine, to a vision of a small boy,  struggling along on all fours in the dark, clutching his pick axe, his dirty knees bleeding, all to hack into the mountain side so that I could have a nice "Dunroamin" sign beside my front door.

Of course, children do not work in the mines any more, and they have used electricity to power their tools and light the way for many years, but it still makes you think about where something as simple as a slate sign actually comes from.

My browsing time was over all too quickly. The hour, or rather three hours, that I was absolutely dreading, was upon me. I could, I suppose, have made a run for it. Raced off in my car, waving gleefully at the Via Ferrata victims struggling up the mountain as I careered down the pass to the ice cream shop at Buttermere. But no. I did not want my fellow Ferrateers to sense my nervousness, especially as there were only a couple of females in the group. I've never been one to let the side down, and I had no  intention of starting now.

For me, the Via Ferrata was not about climbing the mountain attached to a steel cable fixed very securely to the rock. Nor was it about the obstacles that turned that simple mountain climb into a heart stopping adventure. From a purely personal point of view, it was about conquering something far tougher than a lump of rock, or a rope bridge or cargo net. This was about defeating my fears, overcoming my prejudices and lack of self confidence, emotions that have always threatened to hold me back in life. I was about to try to achieve something that I simply did not believe was possible. But I had to give it a try.

So how can I best describe the experience that is Via Ferrata Extreme? Well I could offer you a detailed description of the route, the obstacles that we had to overcome, the views that we saw, and the fact that the weather closed in and we ended up getting really quite wet. But it really would not do it justice, because describing the route gives no indication of what it actually feels like. The Via Ferrata is not a just a mountain climb combined with an assault course, it is an experience like no other. The emotions that you feel are a heady cocktail of fear and exhilaration. At one point I looked down to my right to see the cars driving down Honister Pass towards Buttermere. But I couldn't hear them. They were too far below. All I could hear was the wind and the sounds made by the rest of our group as they moved forward.

I heard the cry of a raptor, possibly a falcon, on the wind, and several birds, jackdaws I think, flapped frantically away from the rock face about 100m below. I had a sense of being in a different world, a real world, natural and alive, and excitingly dangerous, as opposed to the supposedly safe artificial one that we humans have created for ourselves. Now I understood why rock climbers get so addicted to their sport.

The best moment came when, just under 3 hours after setting off, we reached the summit. Despite the fact that by now it was raining steadily, with a stiff breeze whipping across the mountain tops, the sense of achievement that I experienced that afternoon will live in my memory for ever. I had done it. I had crossed the rope bridge, climbed a sheer rock face, scrambled over the cargo net and made it all the way to the top. I had conquered my fears. My prejudices lay in tatters. My self confidence was no longer lacking. I took a huge lung full of the fresh Lakeland air, and wished that I could have preserved that moment for ever. Put simply, I didn't want to come down, and once down, all I wanted to do was go back up again.

On a practical note, it is probably the case that not everyone will get as much out of the experience of the Via Ferrata as I did. It is not for couch potatoes. A good  level of fitness is required and if you have real problems with vertigo then the fear may well take over as to say that some parts of the route are very exposed is an understatement. Of course, in reality you are probably a lot safer on the Via Ferrata than you are crossing the road. The people at Honister know their jobs. All the necessary safety equipment is provided and in good condition, and you get a lot of instruction in it's use, both before you set off and whilst on the ascent. A guide accompanies each group,  and now I have been I think that it would be a brilliant job to have. Helping others to achieve the same level of exhilaration as I did would be wonderful. For now, all I can do is to say that, if, like me, you think that Honister has no appeal, then think again. I can't wait to go back!


You can get more information about Honister Slate mines and the Via Ferrata here ....

A reminder of Summer

It is almost a third of the way through April and we are celebrating the fact that today there is wall to wall sunshine and a temperature of - wait for it - 8 degrees. Compared with March that is positively balmy, but this time last year the landscape had already started to come to life. The daffodils and crocuses had given us a fine show, the first of the bluebells were starting to appear, and the scenery had that fresh, spring feel to it. Today the Lake District is still wearing it's winter coat. The snow capped mountains look lovely, but how we all long for the fresh green leaves to appear.

I took advantage of the weather this afternoon to do a walk that is a joy at any time of year, - Holme Fell, with a return via Tarn Hows. However, instead of publishing the pictures of today's walk, I've delved into the archive and dug out some pictures from a previous visit over the same route in August 2007.

We started from the car park at the bottom of Tom Gill, just beyond Yew Tree Tarn on the A593 Ambleside to Coniston Road. To avoid the road, the first part of the walk is through an adjoining field, and at the other end one of the locals decided that we were not allowed to go any further!

After tough negotiations during which I had to give up part of my sandwich, we were allowed to pass, and crossed the road to Yew Tree Farm.

From the farm we headed along a farm track, before going through a gate and then following a path along the side of the fell. After a short distance this rock (below) was reached. Not being a geologist I have no idea why it stands here. My worn out old copy of Pearsall and Pennington's excellent book on the Lake District has no mention of it. An amateur geologist friend of mine claimed it was due to erosion causing a large lump of rock to break off the crags above and roll down the fell side. I'm not so sure about that, so answers on a post card please

Just beyond the rock, we get a lovely view of Yew Tree Tarn, which is a popular spot for passing motorists to stop and admire. We waved, but no one waved back!!

Not far past the rock the path bears left and starts to climb the wooded fell side. Before long we come across a beck and follow the line of it up the fell. It's not too steep and luckily carries barely a trickle of water. After reaching the top of the slope we bear left again to clamber up the craggy fell to the summit, where a superb view of Coniston Water awaits.

One very noticeable feature of this trip was the abundance of wild heather, coupled with a lack of sheep. The two are linked, since the sheep are more than happy to munch away on the heather, however, the absence of sheep on the fell at this time is an indication that when left alone the heather recovers nicely.

From the top of Holme Fell, Coniston Water is not the only key landmark to be seen. To the north lie the Langdales, with the pikes prominent on the horizon.

We are not returning via the same route. Instead we are heading down the fell towards Hodge Close Quarry, where we can join up with the Cumbrian Way for a short distance. Being a couple of total sissies, we keep well away from the edge! Out of camera, a party from an outdoor pursuits centre are abseiling down the old quarry walls. From the sound of it, they are having no end of fun.

There's a bit of road walking now, along a minor road leading to a farm, and offering superb views of the fells over the wall!

We soon  reach the main A593, and cross over to take the short road up to a gate leading to the track to Tarn Hows. This is not only a popular route for walkers, but also mountain bikers, who like to test their skills on the rocky path. Today however, despite it being the middle of the holiday season, there is no one else in sight.

Tarn Hows is not so peaceful, with families enjoying the fine August weather. That having been said, there is plenty of space for everyone, so it is not difficult to take a picture that makes it look as though we have the place to ourselves.

From Tarn Hows we head down a footpath following the line of Tom Gill, the beck that drains the tarn.
Nowadays this is known as "Glen Mary", after the wife of James Marshall, the man who first developed Tarn Hows by damming the stream at the top of Tom Gill to make one large tarn from three smaller ones. It is reputed that John Ruskin was responsible for persuading Marshall that the name Tom Gill was not suitable for a place of such beauty, and suggested the name "Glen Mary" instead. Whether the story is actually true or not remains open to speculation. Marshall died in 1873, not long after Ruskin moved to Brantwood.

Midway down the slope is "Glen Mary" waterfall, which, because the flow of the beck is controlled by the dam at the tarn, always seems to have roughly the same amount of water flowing over it.

From the falls, it is a short distance down the hill to a bridge at the bottom, and beyond, the main road, the car park, and a freshly brewed cup of tea.

Roll on Summer!!!