Autumn Sheffield Park

It's been a week of mixed weather down here in East Sussex, starting off with grey miserable low cloud and rain up on the Forest. Today though we woke up to blue skies with just a touch of fluffy white clouds, the sort of day that makes you feel great to be alive. I love autumn, it is my favourite season and over the past few days I have noticed that the leaves on the trees are beginning to take on their autumnal hues of reds and yellows.

Mrs C and I began the day with toasted bacon sandwiches and mugs of steaming coffee before clearing the back garden of the remains of a palm tree that we took down yesterday. It was a shame to fell the tree but unfortunately we had no choice as it was growing next to a retaining wall of old railway sleepers which it's roots were starting to push apart. With the onset of blustery weather, one strong gale would possibly (probably) blow the tree over into the rear of our house, bringing the retaining wall down with it.

After making several trips to  the local tip with a car load of palm fronds our work was done so we decided to relax and make the best of the weather by visiting a local beauty spot. Mrs C suggested that we visit Sheffield Park Gardens as we have recently returned to the National Trust after a long absence, so could get free admittance and parking. I thought that it would be a great chance to take some photographs of the autumnal colours, so off we set.

It was the perfect decision as the gardens, lakes and trees were absolutely stunning. I wasn't alone in wishing to snap the changing autumnal colours, everywhere we walked the pathways and lawns were filled with amateur photographers and 'Leaf Peepers' making the most of the scenery and weather. I took quite a few pictures and I hope that I have done justice to this beautiful landscape.

Helvellyn

The first mountain that I ever climbed was way back in 1984. It was in the English Lake District and goes by the old Nordic name of Helvellyn which apparently means pale yellow moorland. I was with my Brother-in-law and we climbed the steep path from Wythburn church next to Thirlmere in blazing sunshine. I remember that we were wearing jeans and heavy leather boots, this was before the days of designer light weight walking gear.

Since then I've climbed numerous mountains throughout the UK and Europe in all weathers but Helvellyn is still my favourite. From the west it appears like a giant beached whale with smooth convex sides however upon reaching the summit it drops off vertically for several hundred feet. Even on this eastern side there are paths though, along the knife edge ridges of Striding edge and the slightly less exposed Swirral edge. I've climbed these paths in both summer and winter and they are both a bit of a 'bottle' tester (Five people have died on Striding edge this year).

Last week Mrs C and I were holidaying in the Lake District with our friends and I had previously promised that I would take Vince up his first mountain. Being a complete novice in the hills what better mountain could there be than dear old Helvellyn. We were staying in Grasmere so took the path alongside Little Tongue up to Grisedale Tarn which gave us fabulous views back towards Grasmere village. Apart from a couple of short sharp inclines the going was fairly easy.

After a short rest break we began the steep traverse up to Dollywagon pike where we got our first glimpse of Helvellyn summit and off to the east Ullswater and the Pennine Fells in the far distance. During this ascent we got into conversation with several other walkers  (it was a good excuse to take a rest). One man in particular stood out from the crowd as he was carrying a mountain bike on his back. His intention was to ride the length of the whale back and descend into Thelkeld village then cycle along the road to Keswick.

After claiming Dollywagon Pike Vince's first mountain summit we followed the path across Nethermost Pike (his second) to the top of Helvellyn. We had fantastic views down to Striding edge which as usual had a long crocodile of walkers making there way steadily along it's knife edge ridge. Although it was a clear sunny day there was a cold breeze blowing across the tops from a westerly direction encouraging us to put on fleeces, windproof jackets, hats and gloves.

We sat in the lee of the cross shaped shelter wall and ate our lunch, then posed for a few photos before retracing our route home. It was hard going on the descent as I could feel every jolt in my knees (one of the problems with getting older). A couple of hours later we celebrated his first mountain climb, up the third highest peak in England with a couple of well deserved pints in the Travellers Rest.

The Lyke Wake Walk (Part Three)

After a brief stop to take on water, snacks and for a few a change of socks, we struggled to our feet. It was now about 4:00 p.m. and although we all had aching legs and backs our morale was still high. We had completed approximately twenty-eight miles which is the longest distance that I had ever walked in one day (so far).

The large boggy area was behind us and the path ahead appeared to be made up of a large expanse of heather growing over a firm sandy top soil. It looked to be fairly easy going until we discovered that the heather was hiding thousands of large pebble like stones and boulders. It was impossible to maintain a steady stride as we tried to avoid stubbing our toes or twisting our ankles as we negotiated our way through this hidden minefield.

Our path rose gently for nine miles to the next check point just below Fylingdales moor. We could clearly see our destination in the distance as it's presence was indicated by a small white building on the sky line in the centre of the ridge. We set off in single file, I was at the front with a couple of the cadets as the team began to form a straggling crocodile behind us. Every few hundred metres we stopped to allow them to catch up and have a short rest before carrying on.

All the team were now starting to feel the strain, we were tired and sore, our feet were hot and in some cases blistered. Our rucksacks were rubbing against our aching shoulders but everybody was still able to crack a joke and manage a smile. As we got closer to the check point the small white building turned out to be a rather large concrete structure containing a military Early Warning radar. We dropped down to the North Yorkshire railway line then struggled up the short steep ascent to the minibus where we flopped on the ground exhausted.

There was only eight more miles to the finish line near the coast at Ravenscar with a further checkpoint just two miles from the end. The weather was still clear although there appeared to be a few ominous black clouds on the horizon so the staff members made the sensible decision that we would leave our rucksacks on the bus, carrying on with just our rain jackets and a bottle of water each.

The sun began to go down in a blaze of glory as we struggled onwards and upwards across the heather clad moorland. Unfortunately the breeze also dropped which was the signal for swarms of midges to rise out of the heather and attack us without mercy. We were all now absolutely 'chinstrapped', the joking and singing had stopped as we limped in to our final checkpoint. Several voices were heard to say that they were shattered and didn't wish to carry on to the end. However after a short rest and realising that we were only two miles from the finish stone we all rallied for the final push.

With forced smiles we struggled up the short sharp climb back on to the moor where I led the way, pace counting out the route and stopping every 100 metres for a short rest. Some of the team were suffering from muscle strains, blisters and even one case of double vision but everybody helped each other along. Slowly but surely we limped along until out of the dark we saw the headlights of our minibus next to the finish line. I counted down the last couple of hundred metres for the benefit of the team as we closed ranks and walked with heads held high up to the bus where we all collapsed exhausted but elated with our formidable achievement.

It was just before midnight as we crossed the line, we had set off twenty hours and forty-two miles earlier and after factoring in rest breaks we realised that we had actually been walking for eighteen hours. Unable to see the Lyke Wake stone in the darkness (We discovered later that the mini bus had parked in front of it) we decided to return in the morning for our finishing photograph.

We were now members of the elite Lyke Wake Club and they weren't lying when they said that the only way to gain membership was by enduring pain and torment. All of the staff members are experienced walkers and mountaineers and we all agreed that this was definitely the most difficult single day walk any of us had ever done.

Note: The map image is courtesy of the New Lyke Wake Club website and the Ordnance survey.

The Lyke Wake Walk (Part Two)

It was 3:30 a.m. on a warm summers morning, I'd only had approximately two hours sleep and was about to embark on one of the toughest walks that I had ever done, forty-two miles across the North Yorkshire Moors in twenty-four hours or less. I must be mad, but it's a challenge walk that I have always wanted to do and it's the only way to gain membership to the elite Lyke Wake Club.

The team consisting of myself and twelve other Staff members and Cadets from Bromley Volunteer Police Cadets were posing for photographs by the Lyke Wake stone at Scarth Wood Moor near Osmotherley before setting off on our epic adventure. At 3.44 a.m. we set off by torch light in high spirits following the road northwards before turning east and climbing gradually up onto the moor.

The first few miles of the path followed a series of short sharp ascents and descents along the ridge of the Cleveland Way with panoramic views across the plain towards the bright lights of Middlesborough. We were all feeling the burn in our calves and thighs and some of the less experienced walkers were finding the terrain tough going. The stunning views of the sunrise along the ridge more than compensated for the pain though.

After approximately ten miles we reached our first check point at about 8:00 a.m. However we were ahead of schedule  so had to sit around for a little while until our support vehicle made it's way to us with food and water. We had walked a quarter of the distance  and apart from a few aches we all felt in good shape. After eating our breakfast courtesy of the Youth Hostel and replenishing our water we crossed the road and ascended back up on to heather covered moor.

On this next section the going was much easier because we followed the path of an old railway track. Some of the younger members took advantage of the easy going and decided to speed march to a junction where our route split from the Cleveland Way. They would live to regret this decision later in the day. The sun was fully up now but fortunately there was a lot of cloud cover and a steady breeze blowing towards us. Part of the way along this track I hit the wall and we had only travelled approximately one third of the distance. With gritted teeth I started reciting my old walking chant (One two three four....I love the Marine Corps) over and over to myself and after an agonising couple of miles I got my second wind, thank God!

Several miles and some hours later we reached the Lion Inn Public House on Blakey Ridge where we were met by John and Ed our support team who walked out to greet us and lead us to the minibus. The aches and pains in our legs and bodies were now starting to kick in, after sitting down to eat our lunch we got up feeling like octogenarians. Anyway Ultreia (Onwards) as they say on the Camino, we hobbled off along the road which followed a drawn out hairpin bend along the ridge. Our legs soon loosened up but half an hour later after following the hairpin it seemed that we had hardly covered any distance as we looked back across the narrow valley towards the Inn.

At a junction in the road we headed off across country again into an area shown on the map as being several miles of a large boggy morass. This was going to be tough going I thought to myself. However the Spirits of the moor were on our side, while the rest of the country had suffered from intermittent rain in the previous weeks, up here in North Yorkshire it had stayed dry. Apart from the odd section of dark muddy bog the peat was dry and springy underfoot making it heaven to walk on. Morale was still high as we trudged into the next checkpoint for a well earned rest; some of the team took this opportunity to change their socks and footwear.