My 1200 Mile Summer

Epilogue

2011-12-16T17:30:00.000-08:00

Three and a half months have elapsed since my return home, and I’ve been reflecting on all that happened during my 1200 mile summer. The walk was truly one of life’s great experiences. Only someone who has actually walked a great distance over a long period of time can appreciate the physical and mental challenges encountered with each new footstep. A tourist driving a car is comfortably insulated within the car’s familiar interior even if traveling to new places. Not so the walker, who has no retreat into the security of a familiar environment.

For the walker, every second of every day yields a new, unfiltered experience. Except for seeing a few familiar faces along the trail as walkers’ paces ebb and flow during the day, and except for special events like my reunions with Roger and Pauline or with Bob and Pam several weeks after we first met, the solo walker deals with each scene, each encounter, each challenge, anew.

Those of you who followed my blog know that for me, making new acquaintances was the highlight of every day, and I treasured every new encounter. Only three times in 1200 miles over three months did I encounter anyone who I considered potentially unsafe. I didn’t write about them, of course, and perhaps my security senses were raised unnecessarily, but one learns never to leave home without those senses.

Nor did I write about one of my most delightful encounters – but for a very different reason. On the very last day of my 1200 mile summer, I was in the Sea View Hotel in John O’Groats finalizing arrangements for my return to Heathrow, when a wind-blown lady with a backpack larger than herself walked into the hotel’s reception area, dripping wet from rain. I knew instantly that I was in the presence of greatness. Charlie Lee was at that very moment completing her incredible five-month, two thousand mile solo walk of Britain’s eight points. I had been following her humorous mis-adventures on and off since April as she related them in her delightful blog, and I was more awestruck by her presence than if I had encountered Queen Elizabeth, herself. Summoning all of my boyish courage and assuming my characteristic lost puppy look, I timidly invited her to join me for dinner, and was honored that she accepted.

Of course, I couldn’t mention any of this in that day’s posting, because Charlie was much more conscious of her own security than I was of mine. (Her own blog postings were always delayed a week or two so that potential stalkers wouldn’t know her location at any given time. I wasn’t as concerned about potential stalkers as I was about whether they would buy me a beer.) But it certainly wouldn’t do for me to have disclosed her location in that day’s posting.

Nor can I post the picture of Charlie and me in the restaurant, because she hasn’t posted her picture on her own blog – again, presumably for security reasons. Even if that weren’t a concern, I wouldn’t post the picture anyway because it shows a lovely young lady, positively glowing from her 2,000 mile achievement, standing next to a bedraggled old man weighing 25 fewer pounds than he did at Land’s End, and looking totally exhausted from 1200 miles and nearly as many beers. No, it’s not a pretty image, but I’ll always remember having had my picture taken with one of my idols.

The following day the rain let up, but strong, cold winds continued to blow. No matter, because I was finished walking. I took the bus from John O’Groats to Inverness, where I caught a train to Edinburgh. After a relaxing day with my friend Ann of the Tartan, I flew to London.

My mingling with celebrities continued in London when I had dinner with Mark Moxon and his wife, Peta. Every End to Ender knows Mark Moxon as the webmaster of the premier website for walking from Land’s End to John O’Groats. Mark is also a world renowned travel writer, and I was delighted to meet him in person.

My third personal idol is Ernest Shackleton, the polar explorer of Endurance fame. “The Boss” (as Shackleton’s crew referred to him) and I have a lot in common. Several years ago I had the good fortune to retrace his footsteps on South Georgia, the Antarctic island he crossed in 1916 to rescue his men who were marooned on Elephant Island. In 1909, Shackleton had failed in his first attempt to reach the South Pole, turning around barely 95 miles from the goal, but still he had trekked more than 1200 miles across Antarctica. I, too, did not quite reach John O’Groats on my walk, but I’m sure Shackleton would understand. Yes, we have a lot in common.

The James Caird

Shackle-ton attended Dulwich College, a boy’s school near London. Mark Moxon gave me a quick lesson on using London’s underground and train system, and on my final day in London I made my way to Dulwich College. There, the James Caird, the lifeboat in which Shackleton sailed from Elephant Island to South Georgia on his incredible journey, is on display. The James Caird is encircled by a small railing designed to protect it from curious onlookers. I’m not exactly proud of what I did next, but I actually reached over the railing and ran my hand along the James Caird’s bow. I’m sure Shackleton would have done so too.

I flew home the following day. I continue to hike in Yosemite and Utah. I’ve resumed my role as a highly trained lawyer, although in a semi-retired mode. Semi-retirement has given me the time to prepare a slide show of my End to End walk and to publish a book entitled (what else?) My 1200 Mile Summer. If I can get the required permission to include the copyrighted music which accompanies the slides, I’ll add the slide show to my blog. The book will soon be available for purchase at Blurb.com, but I can’t imagine why anybody would buy it since it merely repeats the postings and images from the blog, which can be accessed for free.

I’ve already presented the slide show to several groups; invariably, the audience asks about my next adventure. I don’t yet know, but I haven’t ruled out the possibility of walking from John O’Groats to Land’s End. After all, I did fail to walk 19 of the final 20 miles of LEJOG, and it would only be right to try again. I think Shackleton would make a second attempt. And we DO have a lot in common.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 89 – Watten to John O’Groats, 0 miles

2011-08-28T05:08:00.000-07:00

Sometimes things don’t go as planned. I had planned on not mentioning the weather again, but I’m making an exception. I had also planned on walking to JOG today, but that didn’t work out either. Yesterday’s walk to Watten was in very high winds, but it was dry. It rained and blew heavily last night, and continued this morning. Here’s today’s official weather warning:

Issued at - 27 Aug 2011, 11:28

Valid from - 28 Aug 2011, 00:00

Valid to - 28 Aug 2011, 23:59

A spell of wet and unseasonably windy weather is expected during Sunday.

Persistent rain, heavy at times, will be accompanied by strong to gale force winds with a risk of severe gales in the most exposed areas.

The public should be aware of the risk of localised flooding

What the forecast doesn’t report is the unseasonably cold temperature which accompanied the gale force wind and rain. With no refuge between Watten and JOG, I concluded that attempting to walk 20 miles in those conditions would be foolhardy. The risk of hypothermia was far too great.

I arranged for a ride from Watten to the Sea View Hotel in JOG. We drove along the same route I was to have walked. At one point, a downed tree partially blocked the road, but we were able to navigate around it. The road was heavily flooded in at least a half dozen places. Small Loch Watten had white caps and 18 inch waves.

Upon arrival at the Sea View Hotel, I left my pack and walked the ½ mile to the road end where the tourist shops and Orkney Ferry pier are located. That short walk was very difficult. The ferry was still berthed at the pier – today’s crossing had been cancelled due to the high winds and rough sea.

I browsed through the shops, took a few pictures, and had a cappuccino at the coffee bar. I then walked back to the Sea View, fighting the wind and rain all the way. I was very cold when I reached the hotel again. I could not have walked from Watten today.

Being a highly-trained mountaineer, I’ve developed a sense of when to abort a climb and abandon the summit. That sense came in handy today. I don’t want to be overly dramatic and say that my good judgment saved my life, but it certainly saved me the embarrassment of having to be rescued due to a bad decision.

Some readers may wonder whether I’m disappointed about not “completing” the walk. I’m not disappointed at all. One of the world’s top mountain guides with whom I’ve climbed commented to me that a climber never regrets aborting a summit attempt due to weather. You regret failing to abort the summit when you should do so. I have no regrets.

Flowering heather

Although the official description of this storm is “unseasonable” the storm shows that the seasons are changing. Summer is coming to a close in the Highlands of Scotland. Already there is an autumn crispness in the morning air this far north. Tree leaves are yellowing, and the mountain heather is nearing full autumn bloom

The pink blossoms that my pictures have captured since June are now reaching their apex, confirming summer’s final days.

Just as nature heralds the end of summer in Scotland, my arrival at John O’Groats tolls the end of my 1200 mile summer. For the past year and a half, I have shared my anticipation, disappointments, challenges, joys and sorrow. We have shared new friendships, and re-bonded with old ones. I have tried not to dwell on the hardships, suffering and occasional exhaustion, because we all have enough negatives in our daily lives – but they were surely present more often than I like to admit.

The sun will rise again tomorrow here in Scotland, but my blog will not. My 1200 mile summer is finished, and it’s time to move on.

Thank you for following and supporting me along the way. Good-bye for now.

Land's End

John O'Groats

The End

Day 88 – Lybster to Watten, 14 miles

2011-08-27T07:38:00.000-07:00

Although the entire route today was on tarmac road, less than ¼ mile was on the busy A9. The balance was on a minor road through Lybster, and then a minor road that runs due north from the A9 to Watten. Once on the minor roads, I didn’t see more than a dozen cars – much more relaxing than walking along the busy A9.

Heather covered hillside

The route to Watten left the sea and headed inland across the wind-swept moors. I bypassed a few forestry commission plantation forests, but most of the time I was surrounded by heather, grasses and sheep. The heather is flowering, casting the hillsides with a dull purple. The flowers will open in the sunshine and the colors will brighten considerably. But not today.

Aside from a few cars, I was passed by a group of three cyclists finishing their LEJOG. They were getting near to their finish line and chose not to stop, thus depriving themselves of everlasting immortality from appearing in this blog. Perhaps they have their own blog, but they can’t boast a readership as elite as this one.

If all goes as planned, I’ll arrive in John O’Groats tomorrow. How can I possibly be there already?

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 87 – Friday, August 26, 2011, Dunbeath to Lybster, 6 miles

2011-08-26T07:09:00.000-07:00

Today was another roadwalking day, but it was a short day I added to lessen the length of tomorrow’s walk, and to prevent me from arriving in JOG a day too early. Since the distance was short, I didn’t have time to get bored, and about the time boredom was ready to kick in, I met three End to Enders.

John and Stewart

John and Stewart are cycling, and left JOG this morning. They’ve already cycled across the U.S., and thought it time to do so in their own country. I hope they have as much fun as I’ve had.

Olishar

Like me, Olishar is walking the length of Britain. He started on the south coast some 54 days ago, whizzed past Land’s End and will reach JOG tomorrow. He’s camping, and covers about 25 miles a day. He and I walked together and chatted for a short time, but I couldn’t keep up with him. Well, hey, he’s less than half my age. When I was his age I could out-hike people twice my age. I still can.

I arrived in Lybster around noon, dropped my pack at the hotel and walked down to the harbour for a crab sandwich. I’m still not talking about the weather, but my pictures came out well, don’t you think?

Lybster harbour

Lybster lighthouse

George, Lost-a-lot, and Roy
The 3 Must-have-beers

Before dinner, I went to the hotel's pub where I met George and Roy. George used to be a commercial fisherman in Lybster. When he found out I had walked all the way from Land’s End, he insisted on buying me a drink. Roy is formerly from England, but lives in Scotland now. I enjoyed meeting both of them, and when I told them I needed a picture for my blog, George referred to us as the Three Must-have-beers. My goodness -- have I become that transparent? It's time to return home.

Day 86 – Thursday, August 25, 2011, Helmsdale to Dunbeath – 16 miles

2011-08-26T06:17:00.000-07:00

I knew today was going to be a boring day of roadwalking along the busy A9. My expectations were fully met. For some reason the traffic today was far heavier than yesterday – perhaps the heavy traffic is in the morning, and I missed it by walking on the beach yesterday. There was no beach today – the sea came right up to the vertical cliffs, so the A9 was the only option.

The scenery from the road was still pretty – when I had a chance to look at it. Most of the time I was busy watching the vehicles headed in my direction. I tried to entertain myself by playing a license plate game, but the vehicles whizzed by so fast that I couldn’t read the plates. Finally, I decided to just pay attention to the road signs – it’s amazing how helpful they can be even for walkers.

The first sign I noticed reminded me that I had drunk more than my usual coffee this morning. The A9 is a long road in a remote area, and the pee post was welcome. Another pee post appeared about a mile later. This was too soon, but OK, I gave what I had. When the third sign appeared, I was flabbergasted, until I realized that the blue color indicated convenience, not command.

Some signs weren’t very helpful, like the one telling me to give way. What else would you do when two tons of metal are hurtling towards you?

This sign was especially motivating. There’s nothing like the promise of a bottle at the end of the day to keep a walker moving. Funny, though, I would have expected another pee post afterwards, but there were none.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 85 – Golspie to Helmsdale – 17 miles

2011-08-24T10:29:00.000-07:00

Once again I was pleasantly surprised to find that the day of roadwalking I had expected turned out to be half a day on a coastal footpath and beach and only half a day on the A9 road. Further, the A9 was not as busy as I had anticipated, so all in all it turned out to be a good day.

Dunrobin Castle

The coastal path out of Golspie was a nicely trimmed grass path. I didn’t see any sheep droppings, so the trimming must have been done mechanically. I could hear some traffic and an occasional train to the west, but they were mostly shielded by trees. To my east, of course, was the sea. The path passed beneath Dunrobin Castle, the home of the Earl of Sutherland, and reputed to be the largest castle in Northern Scotland, or maybe all of Scotland. Or maybe it’s the largest occupied castle. I’m sure it’s got something to distinguish it from all the other castles in Scotland. The castle is open for tours, but with 17 miles to cover today, I didn’t have the time or energy to spare for a tour.

Amanda and Wendy

Amanda and Wendy were sitting on a rock as I went by. Never one to miss an opportunity for a geography lesson, I asked them to point out some landmarks so I could orient myself. In the near distance was Dornoch on the other side of Loch Fleet, and beyond that, barely visible during the day but whose lights are visible at night, was Tain, across the Dornoch Firth. We couldn’t see Brora to the north, because an intervening point jutted out into the sea. John O’Groats was just ahead, still obscured by the curvature of the earth. Secure in the knowledge that I was heading in the right direction, I continued on.

Andy, Cheryl, Maia and Malachi

When the footpath ended, I moved down to the beach, where the wet sand was firm enough for easy walking. The receding tide had left exposed rocks, and seals balanced themselves on the rocks as they often do. Along came a family of seal hunters, armed with a camera and two children eager to see some seals. We had a nice chat, and they headed on to stalk their game.

Beachfront garden in Brora

Beyond Brora, the footpath climbed into the grassy sand dunes and ran along the perimeter of a golf course until the beach ended at a rocky shore. Rather than try to navigate through a long rocky beach, I stepped over a fence, crossed the railroad tracks, and stepped over another fence onto the A9 road. My intention was to walk the A9 until it rejoined the sandy beach shown on my map, but there was so little traffic and I moved so fast, that I passed the obvious point to return to the beach. As the beach receded farther and farther from the road, I just stayed on the road all the way to Helmsdale.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 84 – Dornoch to Golspie – 11 miles

2011-08-23T08:58:00.000-07:00

I can’t compliment the staff of the Dornoch Castle Hotel too highly. From the time I checked in with my upgrade until the time I checked out the entire staff treated me as an honored guest, despite the fact that I carried a backpack rather than a golf bag. It was a lovely place to stay, but I still have to travel north.

Low tide at Loch Fleet

Today’s walk started out on a minor road through farm fields and pastures, and then along the shore of Loch Fleet, a tidal estuary. Scores of shore birds scoured the low-tide shallows searching for breakfast. I saw three blue herons and lots of those funny little birds with the curved beaks who were probing the sand shallows.

Eventually, though, I had to join the busy A9 road to cross the estuary. There was very little verge to walk on, so generally I walked on the road’s fog line. I was walking against the traffic of course, and every time a vehicle came my way I stepped off the road and onto what little verge there was until the vehicle passed. After a short time a policeman on a motorcycle drove by from behind me with blue lights flashing, and at least ¼ mile ahead of me stopped all the traffic coming in my direction. Wow!! This was great. King Arthur must have notified the police to escort me.

When I finally reached the line of cars which had been stopped ahead of me, I asked one of the drivers if he knew why he had been stopped. With as much humility as I could muster, I was going to explain my role if he didn’t know.

But he did know. Approaching behind me were three extra-long lorries transporting windmill blades – they were so long that they needed both sides of the road when taking curves. Although I was a little deflated that the traffic stop wasn’t in my honor, I took advantage of it and crossed almost the entire bridge before traffic started moving again.

Balblair Wood

After the bridge I would have still faced 4 miles of A9 road-walking before reaching Golspie were it not for brilliant wayfinding by Jack Frost. His route turned the dreary road walk into a lovely walk through the Balblair Wood and then along a little used golf course lane.

Upon arrival in Golspie, I stopped for a cappuccino and my eyes fell upon a headline posting at the news agent across the street.

I didn’t know they were following my blog. Maybe I need to go under cover. I better buy that bicycle and a helmet, and get one of those funny shirts with words written all over it. With a new disguise, I can get to JOG before they know it.

Puzzle of the day: Identify this car:

Day 83 – Tain to Dornoch – 10 miles

2011-08-22T08:12:00.000-07:00

Dornoch Firth Bridge in distance

Dornoch is only a stone’s throw from Tain, but on the other side of the Dornoch Firth. Getting across the firth requires a long walk west to the bridge, then a short walk north across the bridge, and finally another long walk east to Dornoch. Thus, I covered 10 miles to gain perhaps a mile north.

The walk out of Tain started along the busy A9 road, but there was a wide grass verge to walk on – at times 30 feet wide. Because the road parallels the Dornoch Firth, I had nice views. The verge disappeared at the Dornoch Firth Bridge, and I was relegated to walking on a sidewalk adjacent to high-speed traffic.

Peter

Just after crossing the bridge, I met Peter, who is cycling from John O’Groats to Land’s End. He left JOG yesterday. It will still take me a week to get there. I really need to think about exchanging my boots for pedals.

Fantasy garden on
road to Dornoch

A short way beyond the bridge, I found a gate and a footpath which allowed me to leave the busy A9 roadway and cut over to a minor road leading to Dornoch. I decided to stop in Dornoch today so I wouldn’t arrive in JOG a day too early. I’m not sure what I would do with the extra time were I to arrive at JOG a day early. Dornoch is a lovely village in a nice setting, so it seemed to make sense to stay here with my extra day. Besides, I had a little experiment I wanted to do.

The Dornoch Castle Hotel is an elite property – or at least that’s what the hotel rates would suggest. A single room in the hotel is £121 (approximately $200). But they have several “very basic” chalets outside of the main hotel building that are £51 (approximately $85). When I was in Tyndrum I reserved a chalet, and today I intended to try negotiating a complementary upgrade to a room in the hotel. After all, I had walked all the way to Dornoch from Land’s End, and if anybody deserved an upgrade, I did. I wanted to see if the people in the village where Madonna recently got married treat us commoners as well as they treat celebrities. I stayed awake most of last night practicing my upgrade request.

Upon checking into the hotel, I had no sooner begun my upgrade pitch when the desk clerk volunteered that she could give me a free upgrade to a hotel room. Somewhat taken aback by how the clerk shortcut my prepared remarks, I almost refused the upgrade. Fortunately, my background as a highly-trained lawyer kicked in, and I kept my mouth shut. Maybe I’ve regained that lost puppy look – but more likely, King Arthur put in a good word for me.

Day 82 – Alness to Tain – 13 miles

2011-08-21T08:39:00.000-07:00

It didn't even register

After a good night’s sleep and a full Scottish breakfast, I was ready to walk to Tain. I thought I started out very well, but I was disappointed when the speed sensor didn’t even register. Maybe the breakfast wasn’t as carb-loaded as I thought.

The road out of Alness climbs a small hill, and then continues on through farmlands. I had good views of the Cromarty Firth to my right, and of the colorful farmlands to my left. As I passed a driveway, I was intercepted by a local resident. Although the road on which I was walking is part of the national cycleway, he hadn’t seen many walkers, so I was an oddity he wanted to meet. That was a nice switch, because I’m usually the one initiating the dialogue.

Sean and Rosa

Sean owns a small farm and a couple of horses. He mentioned that his son is temporarily working in California, and believe it or not at the very time Sean and I were speaking, his son was preparing to hike to the top of Yosemite’s Half Dome. Climbing Half Dome is a great experience, and I hope he enjoys it.

JDB, Jack and Maurice

As I continued on, I met a cyclist from Holland who was just returning from John O’Groats. He hadn’t cycled there from Land’s End, but he’s been cycling all around England and Scotland, and was now headed south. While we were talking, two other cyclists came by heading north. They left Land’s End 13 days ago, and hope to reach JOG tomorrow. I left Land’s End 82 days ago and hope to reach JOG next Sunday. Maybe I should re-think this walking thing.

Olga

The cyclists continued on and disappeared over the respective horizons, and I was once again left to plod along, step by step, inch by inch, towards my destination in Tain. But I wasn’t alone for long. A cyclist who had swept past me earlier in the morning as she headed south came by again, heading north. This time she stopped to talk. While it took me all morning and part of the afternoon to hoof it from Alness to Tain, she rode from Tain to Alness and back – without even looking tired. I’m really going to have to re-think this walking thing. Maybe I’ll buy a bicycle tomorrow and pedal to JOG. I wonder if cyclists can trigger the speed sensors.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 81 – Dingwall to Alness – 9 miles

2011-08-20T06:50:00.000-07:00

Cromarty Firth

I had expected another day of dreary road walking, but was pleasantly surprised. The minor road out of Dingwall climbed to a ridge that paralleled the Cromarty Firth, so most of the morning I had nice views of the firth. Overhead, a buzzard serenaded me with its characteristic screech for almost 45 minutes. Both the bird and its call remind me of the golden eagles I’ve seen over Yosemite’s Illilouette Canyon. With its noble appearance and call, the bird deserves a better name than a buzzard.

Flowers in Evanton

After the village of Evanton, the view of the firth temporarily disappeared, but a footpath that paralleled the road wound through a nice wooded area for approximately two miles. Although the footpath was never more than 50 feet from the road, the road had virtually no traffic, so the sights and sounds of the woods made for a pleasant walk.

Beyond the wooded area, the road and footpath passed through farm country. Wheatfields, which had been dark green in June, have turned golden brown, and ripple in even the slightest breeze.

As I approached Alness, huge oil platforms came into view. Alness is an oil town. It used to be regarded as a “tough” town, but has revitalized itself into a very pleasant place to live. It’s not a tourist town by any means, but now has a beautiful town commercial center. The pub which once counted more fights than beers, now caters to families with children. At lunch I sat next to two elderly ladies who had come in for a bowl of soup. Alness is a real success story. I’m glad I stopped here.

Highland steer

Day 80 – Wester Kirkhill to Dingwall – 12 miles

2011-08-19T12:27:00.000-07:00

Today I had to head west a few miles to get around the Beauly Firth, but once I did that, I headed straight north. The entire day was spent along roads.

Rare Scottish Sunshine

Road walking is hard on the feet, but with a sidewalk alongside the road for most of the day, and a route that was never in doubt, it was a relaxing, mindless activity. I wouldn’t want to do it every day, of course. But, of course, I will be doing it every day until I reach John O’Groats. Maybe I’ll be lucky and find a few footpaths to follow. Jack Frost found a few, and provided the details – I’ll just need to be sure I'm not daydreaming when I get to them.

A small network of roads gave me several route choices. Naturally, the longer route (longer by 5 miles) provided better scenery. Remembering what happened to my feet the last time I had a long day of road walking, I opted for the less scenic shorter route. That took me through the villages of Beauly, Muir of Ord, and Conon Bridge.

Beauly is the smallest of the three. It has an attractive town center, bustling with people. Virtually all of the people were elderly – white haired elderly. There wasn’t a bus in sight, so I concluded that most of the people were residents rather than a tour group. The butcher shop and the bakery seemed to be the busiest stores. I didn’t notice whether the candlestick maker had many customers.

The next town north was Muir of Ord, which had a completely different feel. Several of the buildings were boarded up, suggesting a town in decline. I saw no elderly people, but rather six or eight young mothers pushing children in strollers. It was about noon, and I was passing the library, so there may have been a library function for children. There were also a number of young men about – either walking down the street or accompanying mothers pushing strollers. Were they on their day off, or are all of their days off?

River Conon

I didn’t pass a commercial center in Conon Bridge. I was walking on the main road through town, and saw very few people outside of their cars. The homes were nicely maintained, though, which suggests there is some bit of affluence there. Perhaps it’s a commuter town.

Garden near Conon Bridge

So, there you have my very unscientific observation of the demographics of three villages, done at different times during the same day, and reported from my frequently faulty memory. If you are planning to buy property in any of them, you should perform your own due diligence.

High Street, Dingwall

I liked Dingwall when I arrived. High Street is a bustling commercial center during the day. I went back in the evening for dinner, and everything was closed. High Street was deserted. The hotel I went to for dinner was also deserted, except for me. Now that I’m away from the trails, I won’t be meeting other walkers, but I would expect either other tourists or locals. Perhaps that will happen as I get farther from the city – right now, Inverness is still only a short distance away.

I’ll be interested to see what develops over the next 10 days. Believe it or not, that’s all I’ve got left.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 79 – Drumnadochit to Wester Kirkhill, 17 miles

2011-08-18T13:14:00.000-07:00

I couldn’t leave Loch Ness today without looking for Nessie. For the past few days, I’ve been searching the loch from high trails, hoping to get a glimpse of Nessie moving across the loch. All I saw were boats.

Loch Ness

One of my many talents is being a highly trained SCUBA diver. I know that sunlight disappears quickly at depth, so most aquatic life is in shallow water. Loch Ness is very deep, so it stands to reason that its aquatic life is near the shore. I went down to the shore, and with the stealth of a big game hunter, moved slowly but certainly through the grasses and reeds. searching for a sign of the monster. It was early in the morning. The water was calm. Then I heard some splashing and grunting. I carefully peeked through the trees to find a camper who had gotten up early to… well, a camper who had gotten up early. I continued on.

Nessie

Then I came upon it – the object of all the Loch Ness lore. I had expected to find a giant monster, but Nessie was no larger than a horse. I can’t imagine what all the fuss was about. Disappointed, I returned to the trail to continue my quest for excitement, and I headed north away from the loch and its famous monster.

Once again, the trail passed through a pleasant forest. Most of the forests I’ve encountered are plantation forests – where trees were planted many years ago close together in a grid pattern. The plantation forests are now dark and overgrown, with little life beneath the trees. This forest was different. It has been thinned – lower branches have been pruned, and sunlight reaches the ground. You can actually see through the forest. The trees are still growing in the characteristic grid, but bird and other animal life appear to be returning.

I finally left the GGW where it crosses a road. Had I followed the GGW to Inverness, I would have thereafter found myself walking along a busy road all the way to John O’Groats. By leaving the GGW and avoiding Inverness, I delayed the busy road walking for at least 4 days.

I’ll still be road walking, though. When I left the GGW, I also left the final footpath on which I’ll be traveling. There aren’t many footpaths in this remote part of Scotland, and in order to find accommodations at the end of every day, I need to follow the roads.

This is where I would normally end the daily report, but today requires further elaboration. Tonight’s accommodation is in Wester Kirkhill Farmhouse. I found its location on my map, and easily walked there. When I arrived where I thought I should be, there was a farmhouse, but no B&B sign or any other indication that this was the Wester Kirkhill Farmhouse where I had reserved a room. I walked into the grounds and rang the doorbell, but nobody answered. Hmmm, maybe I’m in the wrong place. My phone was in my backpack, and the phone number was in my computer, also buried deep in my backpack. I had assumed I wouldn’t need to call since I had the location pinpointed. I elected not to retrieve my electronic gear at this point because conditions were not conducive to doing so. (OK, as much as it hurts me to mention the weather, it was raining.) So I walked a mile back into Kirkhill to see if anybody could direct me to the proper place, or alternatively, to find a pub in which I could unpack my electronics without exposure to the elements.

Allan

Guess what? Kirkhill has no pub, no restaurant, no grocery store, no place to get out of the rain. I searched for a bus shelter without any luck. While I pondered my next move, Allan was parking his car at his business. I asked him if he knew where Wester Kirkhill Farmhouse was. He didn’t, but invited me into his office so we could search. While I pulled out my electronics, he searched his computer – we both concluded that I had been in the right spot. Then we called, and sure enough, it had been the right spot. Allan then drove me back to where I had been, and I checked in to the B&B. Thanks, Allan for your kind assistance. I never cease to be amazed how people in small towns so willingly come to the aid of a forlorn traveler -- even one carrying a backpack.

Barbara, the hostess, explained that her sign was being repainted. She cooked me a nice dinner, so I’m now comfortable and well-fed.

For those of you who are keeping track, I’ve logged over 1,000 miles already and should be topping 1,100 in a few more days.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 78 – Invermoriston to Drumnadrochit – 15 miles

2011-08-17T10:47:00.000-07:00

I have observed before that the British are obsessed by the weather. I’ve been here for quite some time, and I may be starting to develop the same obsession. So starting today I’m going cold turkey on the weather. From now on, weather doesn’t exist, and I’m not going to report on it. Not even if it snows. Not even if locals start hanging hammocks from palm trees. Nope, I’m going to ignore the weather and just report on the day’s activities. I think that will make the postings much more interesting.

Trail made of dirt

Today’s walk was on a trail. It was made of dirt. It also had rocks and roots. When the trail ended, it came out on a road. The road was blacktop.

Water called Loch Ness

Sometimes I could see water. It is called Loch Ness. It has a monster, but nobody ever sees it. Or if they do see it, they get eaten by it, so they can’t tell anybody. I didn’t get eaten, so I must not have seen the monster.

People riding horses

I saw some people riding horses, though.

Carol and Stewart

And I met a nice couple who were walking on the trail when it was still dirt.

I’m at my B&B now. I am going to have dinner soon.

See how much more interesting the daily posting can be when the weather is ignored?

Answers to Monday’s puzzle:

The correct answer is 14 – but I named two of them. Here are the others, though I’ll admit that hiding number 7 within the title of number 6 was a bit sneaky.

1. It’s Raining
2. Stormy Weather
3. Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head
4. Blame it on the Rain
5. Singing in the Rain
6. Listen to the Rhythm of the Falling Rain
7. Falling Rain
8. I Made it Through the Rain
9. Rainy Days and Mondays Always Get Me Down
10. Baby I Know the Rain Must Fall
11. Rain, Rain Go Away
12. It Ain’t Gonna Rain No More

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 77 – South Laggen to Invermoriston – 19 miles

2011-08-16T14:09:00.000-07:00

Multiple choice question of the day: Which of the following went away today?

a. My sore throat.
b. The rain.
c. My sniffles.
d. My spirit for adventure.
e. None of the above.

If you guessed rain, you are wrong. But as I walked back to my B&B tonight after dinner, there were large patches of blue sky above, so maybe tomorrow will be dry. Or maybe only tonight will be dry. If you guessed any of the others, well… I’ll let you know tomorrow. We’re still working on the songs from yesterday, and I want to give everybody a fair chance to participate before implementing another contest.

Loch Oich

I will say that today’s walk was far superior to yesterday’s because there were a lot of interesting things to see, despite the rain. The trail started out along a rails-to-trails route through a nicely wooded area alongside Loch Oich. It then joined the Caledonian Canal where there was some activity in the locks. Then it took me to Loch Ness, where I will commence my search for Nessie.

Where's Nessie?

Loch Lochy, Loch Oich and Loch Ness lie along a geological fracture that runs straight as an arrow. Linking the lochs with a canal enabled the Scottish fishing fleet to travel north and south in inland waters and away from the treacherous waters on Scotland’s north coast. Of course, Scotland’s fishing fleet has largely been replaced by Asian factory ships so the Caledonian Canal is now used mostly for recreational transportation.

The three lochs are of different elevations, and are separated by hills, so locks are necessary for boats to navigate the lochs. On the narrow canals in England, the boaters manually operate the locks. In Scotland, the locks are operated by lock keepers. That means that the boaters don’t have to lock up their boats when using the locks to pass between the lochs.

I chatted for some time with a lock keeper, who shall remain anonymous. I teasingly commented that it seems like a cushy job, because there is nothing to do until a boat comes along. Then the lock keeper presses some buttons, and the gates open and close as necessary. The locks operate during the 6-month season, March to November. In addition to tending to the locks, the lock keeper must maintain the grounds around the lock, because untidy grounds might discourage boaters, who are the reason for the lock keeper’s cushy job. The lock keeper did confess to being fortunate to have the job, but disagreed that it was cushy.

LEJOGers Anne and Andy

Along the way I met two LEJOG cyclists who are coming close to their finish.

Telford Bridge, Invermoriston

Diversity along the trail can make up for bad weather, but I’m beginning to wonder how much more diversity Scotland can have in store for me.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 76 – Gairlochy to South Laggen – 13 miles

2011-08-15T10:34:00.000-07:00

View across Loch Lochy

I looked outside my bedroom window this morning, and what do you know – it’s raining. Normally I don’t really mind going out in stormy weather, but yesterday I woke up with a sore throat and runny nose. I’ve tried hard to avoid getting a cold by washing my hands frequently and not touching my eyes or nose, but I guess you can’t always prevent it. So this morning I just wasn’t in the mood to have raindrops keep falling on my head.

Cia-aig Waterfalls

Normally when walking alone, various tunes work their way through my head – my favorites so far have been Waltzing Matilda and King of the Road – but not today. With the exception of a short detour suggested by Heather, the hostess at last night’s B&B, today’s walk was a bust. Blame it on the rain, or on my cold, or the fact that it was just an ugly walk on a forest track with nothing to see but trees. My throat hurt, I was sniffling, and I wasn’t in the mood for singing in the rain, or to listen to the rhythm of the falling rain or the wind in the trees.

I made it through the rain to my B&B, and I’m dry now, but I’m still in a funk. I suppose I’ll be in a better mood on Tuesday – rainy days and Mondays always get me down.

Old Barge on Loch Lochy

Baby, I know the rain must fall, but all I can think of is rain, rain, go away. I’m hoping that for the next two weeks it ain’t gonna rain no more.

Today’s puzzle: How many song titles have I included in this posting?

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 75, Sunday, August 14, 2011 – Fort William to Gairlochy, 10 miles

2011-08-14T09:19:00.000-07:00

Today is another short day, dictated by the location of available accommodations. It rained on and off all day, but the rain wasn’t a problem because for the next few days I’m following the cycleway along the Caledonian Canal.

As I left Fort William, Kenny and his four walkers drove past me on their way home to Glasgow. They stopped and mentioned that they tried to telephone me yesterday to arrange dinner together. As is typical, I hadn’t turned my phone on, so I missed their message. It was a nice thought, though, and I appreciate the gesture.

Peek-a-boo Ben

My route required walking along a busy road for a few miles until I reached the cycleway, which starts next to a series of locks known as Neptune’s Staircase. There were no views most of the day; there was one spot where Ben Nevis threatened to come out from behind the clouds, but it never really did.

Keith

Along the way, I met two cyclists from France, and Keith, from the midlands of England, who completed the WHW yesterday and is now walking the Great Glen Way. He was going farther today than I did, so we parted at Gairlochy.

The forecast for tomorrow is more rain. The local Scots are saying that they can’t remember a summer with so much rain, but I suspect they have short memories and say the same thing every year.

Rainbow

Day 74, Saturday, August 13, 2011 – Kinlochleven to Fort William, 14 miles

2011-08-14T07:18:00.000-07:00

Keith, Amanda and Jason

“Another sheety day,” thought the explorer to himself as he observed the rain falling in sheets outside the breakfast room window of his B&B. Yet with undaunted courage he packed up his gear and ventured into the storm. Surprisingly, the rain soon stopped temporarily, to be replaced by swarming midges looking for their breakfast. But the highly experienced explorer had anticipated the onslaught, and had doused himself with the Skin-so-soft Justine had given him at Byrness.

The trail ascended steeply out of Kinlochleven, and into the fog which hung over the hilltops. Occasionally, the fog on the distant hills made for interesting scenery, but more often it obscured the scenery. Further ascent brought increasing rain and wind, which chased the midges away. Fortunately, the trail was in good condition – well graveled and able to disperse most of the water flowing across it. That made for good footing and a relatively quick speed.

Hazel and Kate

About 2:30, sunlight actually poked through the clouds, and started dancing on the adjacent hills. But by then, I had nearly reached Fort William, so the photo ops had pretty much passed by, with the exception of meeting Hazel and Kate, two ladies completing the West Highland Way.

Fort William

Fort William marks the end of the West Highland Way, and the start of the Great Glen Way, which follows the Caledonian Canal and Loch Ness to Inverness. The pins on the Google map make it appear that I’m farther north than I am. In reality, I’ve covered barely 950 miles, and still have almost 250 miles to go. Two hundred fifty miles is a long way, and I expect it to take me another 16 days to walk that far. Who knows what further adventures await? I hear that if the poor weather holds, I’ll have a good chance to see the Loch Ness monster. I’ll try to get a good picture in the rain.

Ben Nevis hidden by cloud

Day 73 – Rannoch Moor (Kingshouse) to Kinlochleven, 9 miles

2011-08-12T08:44:00.000-07:00

Today was another dark, gloomy day, and the forecast afternoon rain has just started falling. Because of today's short walk, I beat the rain. This morning's views into Glen Coe and the surrounding mountains were spectacular in the low light conditions, and one can only imagine how the addition of sunshine would have enhanced the scenery.

Despite the gloomy day, everybody I met was cheerful. Today is the penultimate walking day for almost everyone. The West Highland Way terminates at Fort William, tomorrow’s destination for most of the walkers. I still have two more weeks to go, and if I keep to my schedule, I’ll arrive at John O’Groats on Sunday, August 28. There’s still a lot of distance to cover, more people to meet, and new friends to make, so I’m looking forward to the next two weeks more than I’m looking forward to arriving at JOG.

Jaquie and Davie

As I was leaving Kingshouse this morning, I encountered Davie and Jaquie again. I first met them at the Beech Tree Inn, shortly after I joined the WHW from Strathblane. We chatted again outside of Inveroran yesterday. Today I remembered to take their picture.

Mandy and Heather
above Devil's Staircase

I also remembered to take a picture of Mandy and Heather. They and I have been passing each other multiple times since I first encountered them and their young sons on the trail last Saturday as we all headed for Drymen. Their sons left the walk, as planned, a few days ago, but Mandy and Heather continued on and will finish tomorrow at Fort William.

Sue

Walkers weren’t the only ones smiling in the gloom. As I neared Kinlochleven, I met a mountain biker, Sue. Sue is a friend of Andy Robinson, the author of the guidebook I’ve been following, and she mentioned that her husband joined Andy on some legs of the walk as Andy was researching his book.

I can’t believe how this walk just keeps getting better and better, gloomy days notwithstanding.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 72 – Bridge of Orchy to Rannoch Moor (Kingshouse) – 11 miles

2011-08-11T09:42:00.000-07:00

Once again, it rained all night. The rain stopped mid-morning, and although the sky had a gloomy overcast and threatened rain, the rain never returned.

Thirty-six hours of continuous rainfall swelled the rivers to their capacity. Some campers near the Inveroran Hotel had a scare, and had to relocate their campsites at 1:00 am when the river rose four feet overnight – and that after it had already risen to near capacity during the day.

The dark sky muted the colors of the surrounding hills, creating an ominous feeling of gloom across the moor. White cascades streaked the steep hillsides, in bright contrast to their darkened surroundings. Heavily flowing rivers displayed a calm that belied their force. This was a day to be enjoyed by becoming a part of the surroundings, by listening to the wind and water, feeling the movement of the air, focusing on the subtle shadings of green and black.

I was spellbound, and did not converse with anybody, lest I break the spell. Rannoch Moor is a beautiful, eerie place.

Mark and Gretchen

Once I left the moor and reached the A82 highway, the spell was broken, so of course I immediately struck up a conversation with the first folks I met. Mark and Gretchen, from Virginia, are cycling around Scotland, having just circumnavigated Ireland, and are eventually headed to Rome. They are probably going through tires (oops… I mean tyres – I forgot where I am) faster than I’m going through boots.

Speaking of boots, I’ve kicked mine off, and am now enjoying a pint of ale. I’ll defer the scotch until after dinner.

.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 71 – Tyndrum to Bridge of Orchy, 7 miles

2011-08-10T08:04:00.000-07:00

Joyce and Kenny

I shared last night's B&B with the three dancers of Rowadennan, along Joyce who is walking the WHW with them, and Kenny, Joyce's husband. I've previously mentioned how the ebb and flow of walkers increases the enjoyment of thw WHW, because everyone seems like long-time friends over just a few days. Kenny isn't walking, but rather is serving as luggage transporter and shuttle service as Anne, Becky, Elliot and Joyce walk together. But I also keep on bumping into Kenny, and he's also become like a long-time friend -- and not just because he keeps buying me drinks. Like most of the Scots I've met, he's just a nice guy. I hope I keep bumping into him, because I owe him a few drinks.

Inclement weather

Torrential rains fell all during the night, and were still falling during breakfast. Being a highly experienced outdoorsman, I know how to deal with inclement weather. I stayed at the B&B as long as possible, and then went to a local coffee shop, where I nursed a cappuccino for 90 minutes waiting for the rain to stop. I could afford to wait out the rain, because today is a forced rest day, with only a short walk between accommodations.

Bridge of Orchy Hotel

I had tried to obtain accommodation tonight at Kings House, a hotel in the middle of Rannoch Moor and 18 miles from Tyndrum, but it was full tonight. A room is available tomorrow at Kings House, so I decided to stay tonight at the Bridge of Orchy Hotel – about halfway to Kings House, and stay there tomorrow.

Burn in spate

Wait as I might, the rain never let up, and at 11:00 a.m. I set off into the worst of it. Due to the prolonged rains, the burns were in spate. (That’s local talk for the creeks were overflowing.) No novice to stormy weather, I knew that all the wet ground made for dangerous walking. Landslides and rockfall were imminent, but like all great explorers I scoffed at the danger.

Landslide danger

I lost count of the number of swollen creeks I had to cross, but was pleasantly surprised that the Scottish authorities had courteously built a footbridge over every single one so I wouldn’t get my feet wet. I wonder how they knew I was coming. Perhaps King Arthur told them. It’s nice having friends in high places.

Day 70, Tuesday, August 9, 2011 – Inverarnan to Tyndrum, 14 miles

2011-08-09T13:33:00.000-07:00

Today’s walk left the lowlands of Loch Lomond and started the ascent into the Scottish Highlands. The highlands aren’t very high by North American standards – the highest peak in Great Britain is barely 4,000 feet above sea level. But they are very far north, and so get severe winter weather where only the hardiest can survive. As a result Scotland is much wilder than England – and I’m not just talking about the football fans. When you enter into the highlands, you get a feel of the remote wilderness, notwithstanding that you are only a few miles from civilization. Again, I’m not talking about the football fans.

Wild Scotland is also beautiful. Again, I’m not… well, you get the idea.

Frank, Frank, Phil and Martin

Today was dry, sunny and cool. Still smarting about being passed by Phil yesterday, I had to stop to remove my long sleeve shirt shortly after leaving Inverarnan. Don't you know, Phil, both Franks, and Martin passed me at that very point. Honestly, I really had to stop to remove my shirt – I’m not just using that as an excuse for being passed. I knew I would catch up with them soon, and about 2 hours later, I did – as they were packing up to leave after a morning tea break. I also used the same location for a break. I never did catch up with them again, but I suspect they were probably hiding in the bushes as I went by, not wanting to admit that I could catch them.

I passed a few other walkers, all of whom had huge packs with camping gear, so maybe that doesn’t count.

Peggy and Margaret

About two miles from Tyndrum I passed two other walkers who weren’t even carrying backpacks. We were still on an ascending trail to Tyndrum, and I was about ready to blow past them when I stopped to talk. Peggy and Margaret, mother and daughter, were out for a short walk to Tyndrum. We had a nice chat, but when I started again, I left them in my dust on the steep, rocky trail. In fact, I was so far ahead of them that I arrived at my B&B before it opened, then went to an outside cafeteria where I was enjoying a beer as Peggy and Margaret walked by. If any of you had any doubt about my superb hiking ability, that fete alone should set you straight. Oh, did I mention that Peggy is 90?

Day 69, Monday, August 8, 2011 – Rowardennan to Inverarnan – 14 miles

2011-08-09T10:20:00.000-07:00

Becky, Elliot, Anne and Neal

I’m not sure what was in our breakfast today, but upon departure, three of the guests did a farewell jig while host Neal played the bagpipes. Well, OK, Neal wasn’t exactly playing bagpipes, and he wasn’t wearing a kilt, but he certainly was playing a Scottish jig. Or maybe it was an Irish jig. In any event it was a jig, I think... well, it sounded as if it had Celtic origins. Your reporter is terribly deficient about Celtic music – a three month journey to Scotland next summer might just set me straight. All in favor, say aye!!

Loch Lomond

I’m not quite done with this summer’s three month journey, though. Today’s walk was along the east coast of Loch Lomond. Dry weather, with patches of sunlight made the scenery come alive.

One might think the walking would be easy alongside the loch, but not so. The valley in which the loch lies was carved by a glacier, and has the characteristic U-shaped terrain. The loch fills up most of the U’s wide base, leaving steep sides on which the trail was built. As a result, the trail undulates over rocky rubble left when the glacier melted. Exposed tree roots combined with slippery wet rocks (remember yesterday’s rain?) made the footing difficult and the walking slow. That’s not necessarily bad, because the enforced slow pace provided time to enjoy the scenery – as long as I didn’t try to enjoy the scenery while taking a step, because even a slight slip could plunge me into the loch. In any case, I didn’t slip, I didn’t plunge, and I did enjoy the scenery.

Stuart and Kim

As I left Rowardennan, I was hailed by Stuart and Kim, two walkers I met yesterday just before Rowardennan. We chatted for a while, but poor Stuart was carrying a tent and other camping gear that made my pack seem like it was filled with helium. With all that weight he couldn’t keep up with me, so I said good-bye and moved along at my speed. I’ll probably be seeing them again over the next few days.

Shortly before reaching Inverarnan, I was overtaken by another walker, who seemed to be about my age. It’s been a long time since somebody passed me when I wasn’t taking pictures or otherwise dawdling. So I sped up to find out how much weight he was carrying. Phil is a Scotsman, from near Glasgow, and was carrying about half the weight I was. Satisfied that I wasn’t fading, I let Phil proceed at his own pace.

Phil, Frank, Martin and Frank

I was staying at the Drovers' Inn, a hotel that has been operating since 1705. At dinner, I ordered a drink, and while looking for a table someone commented that I move as slowly carrying a beer as when carrying a pack. It was Phil, and I joined him at his table. Along with Phil were Frank, Martin and Frank no. 2, all of whom were walking the WHW. We had a nice dinner together, oddly enough at the very same table that Janet, Cathy, Keith and I ate at when we walked the WHW.

Musicians

Then the music started. The musicians were fun, and may have been the same age as the hotel guests -- all of the guests together. I heard one of the musicians say that they played at the hotel on opening night.

The Drovers’ Inn is certainly the place to be in Inverarnan. I’m not exactly sure that this counts towards my developing a knowledge of Celtic music, but we all had a good time – especially since the others kept plying me with whiskey. I hope I can walk tomorrow.

Day 68, Sunday, August 7, 2011 – Drymen to Rowardennan, 12 miles

2011-08-09T09:40:00.000-07:00

Home restored from
former mill in
Milton of Buchanan

I had dinner last night with Gary and Sharon, whom I met on the trail yesterday as we walked to Drymen. I expected to see them on the trail today, but oddly enough I saw nobody heading north. I passed a few dog walkers who were heading south, as well as a lone man and a lone woman who were obviously walking the WHW. Strangely neither of them was a “trail person” who would stop to chat.

The man was climbing uphill at a good pace when I greeted him and stepped off the trail to allow him to proceed. My experience is that people going uphill will take any excuse to stop and rest, even if it means talking to someone they don’t know. This man was an exception – he just kept chugging along and muttered something that sounded like “good morning.” OK, I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he just didn’t want to break stride.

Loch Lomond

The lady I met twenty minutes later also kept moving. “Good morning,” I said. She responded with a “Good morning.” “Have you walked far?” I queried. “Yes, but it’s a beautiful trail,” she said with an American accent as she walked right past me. Hmmm, maybe she’s traveling alone and has trained herself not to talk with strange men on the trail. I wouldn’t blame her – I must look pretty strange on my 68th day. Or maybe she’s been following my blog and didn’t want her picture taken because she’s called in sick every day for the past two weeks. Or maybe I no longer have that innocent, lost puppy look that I had when I started – it’s pretty hard to look lost on the West Highland Way.

In any event, I’ll keep on trying to report on the people I meet. Absent interesting people, I’ll keep posting pictures of interesting scenery.

Today’s scenery was remarkably good, but it rained again all day, so the colors were muted. The rain wasn’t hard, though – mostly drizzles and sprinkles – so I wasn’t wet or uncomfortable. Generally, it was a very pleasant day for walking, and I wore my Gore-Tex jacket only for protection in the event of a downpour which never occurred. The walk followed Loch Lomond, as it will tomorrow. With any luck at all, I’ll get some sunshine so tomorrow’s pictures will have brighter colors.

Don't forget to double-click on any picture you want enlarged.

© 2011 Ken Klug

DEBBY

2011-08-09T09:02:00.000-07:00

I recently received the sad news that breast cancer has claimed the life of Debby Cusak. Debby was not only my friend, but the friend of everyone who ever met her. You could not meet Debby without instantly being befriended by her.

Debby loved animals as much as her friends – she had rescued two dogs that I know of. An avid hiker and a former officer of the Outback Hiking Club of Southern Utah, Debby initiated dogs’ days out – weekly hikes for dogs, but to which two-legged critters were also welcomed.

Debby was an inspiration. The last time I saw her she shrugged off the dire prognosis from her physicians and was rebuilding the energy which had been sapped by her treatment. She was thrilled that she could walk to the end of her street with the aid of a walker, and she looked forward to getting back on the trails some day. Her attitude was contagious, and one could not help but be thrilled by her spirit. Unfortunately, even a positive mind can’t control what nature intends for the body.

My heart goes out to her husband, Stan, and the rest of Debby’s family. Debby was 58.

Rest easy, Debby. You’ve earned a smooth trail.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 67 – Saturday, August 06, 2011 – Kirkintilloch to Drymen, 17 miles

2011-08-06T09:30:00.000-07:00

Underpass near Lennoxtown

Today’s walk was a connecting route from the Forth and Clyde Canal to the West Highland Way. The route out of Kirkintilloch follows another rails-to-trails route until it reaches Strathblane. From there, a pleasant walk through the forest along a creek named Blane Water connects to the West Highland Way.

This is my third time on the West Highland Way, so the sights along the way were familiar to me. A few things have changed since the last time I was here, 9 years ago, when Janet and I walked the WHW with our Canadian friends, Keith and Cathy. First, there was an early section of a mud slog where cattle were frequently penned. The route now bypasses that on a clean, dry path.

Rory

Second, in the village of Gartness, Rory has established an “honesty shop” with soft drinks and ice cream – help yourself and leave the payment.

View from WHW

The biggest change appears to be the number of walkers on the WHW. In the past, I encountered other walkers only occasionally. Today, I encountered at least a dozen on the three hours I was on the WHW. We’ll see how many I encounter over the next 10 days. Obviously, with so many walkers, I can’t talk with and photograph everybody.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 66 – Falkirk to Kirkintilloch, 17 miles

2011-08-05T10:28:00.000-07:00

Today was a dry day, but other than that, quite similar to yesterday’s walk next to the canal. I started on the Union Canal out of Falkirk. Two miles later, the Union Canal ended, and I then followed the Forth and Clyde Canal to Kirkintilloch. The Forth and Clyde Canal was built in the 19th century to connect the River Clyde with the River Forth for the transportation of goods between the west and east coasts of Scotland. By tying that canal to the Union Canal, goods could be transported between Glasgow and Edinburgh. The canal system didn’t last very long, as it was replaced by railroads.

The Union Canal was quite a bit higher than the Forth and Clyde Canal, so a series of locks were used to connect them. After the canals were abandoned, the locks were filled in. When British Waterways reinstituted the canal system recently, it became necessary to re-connect the two canals. Rather than re-build the locks, a very expensive device known as the Falkirk Wheel was built. It is an engineering marvel for its simplicity.

Basically, it is a Ferris wheel with two buckets. The lower bucket is the “lock” that runs to the Forth and Clyde Canal.

Lock is inside the circles

The upper bucket Is the “lock” that runs to the Union Canal. Each lock is the same size and holds the same amount of water, so they weigh the same. When a boat enters the lock, it displaces water equal to its weight, so the weight in the lock remains the same. It’s a simple matter to rotate the lower lock to the upper position while the upper lock counterbalances it and rotates to the lower position. I can’t imagine how much all that simplicity cost, or how anybody justified the expense to move a few long boats. So far as I observed, nobody is using the Union Canal.

Campsie fells

Despite the distance, today’s walk was easy, with nice views of the Campsie Fells to the north. I’ll be seeing those hills more closely tomorrow as I move to the West Highland Way, which may well be the most popular national trail in all of the United Kingdom. Despite the numbers of walkers, the West Highland Way traverses some very remote areas, so internet connections will be spotty. Accordingly, I expect that my postings during the next ten days will be sporadic until I reach Fort William.

Garden along towpath

Day 65, Thursday, August 04, 2011 – Broxburn to Falkirk, 17 miles

2011-08-04T13:56:00.000-07:00

Bing on far side of canal

I said my good-byes to Ann of the Tartan, but not before she had packed a good lunch for me. Then Dr. George and Lady Ann drove me to Broxburn, and I resumed walking along the Union Canal where I had left off on Tuesday. Just outside of Broxburn, the canal is lined with “bings”, heaps of shale tailings from which oil was taken in the 19th century. Vegetation is now growing on them, and in another 300 years, you will hardly know that they differ from the surrounding countryside.

John and Paul

The Union Canal isn’t as busy as the previous canals I’ve walked along – indeed, I saw only one long boat the entire day. Perhaps that was due to the weather – it rained on and off all day, and there was very little activity along the canal. The first people I met were John and Paul, out exercising their dogs. Paul is the President of the Scotland Youth Hostel Association, and we had a nice chat as he walked along with me a short while.

The weather obscured the promised view of the Firth of Forth bridges, but the scenery was nonetheless superb. Indeed, the mist which obscured distant objects gave a nether-world appearance to old castles.

Avon Aquaduct

The Union Canal has no locks. It is a contour canal that maintains the same level its entire length. As a result, the walking was easy, the footing good, and the rain caused only a few puddles I easily stepped over. In order to keep the canal level, the engineers built a high aquaduct for the canal to pass over the River Avon. (This is not the same River Avon of England, which empties into the Severn. This one empties into the Firth of Forth.)

JOGLERs Ben and Tolga

The highlight of the day for me was meeting Ben and Tolga, the first End to Enders I’ve met during my entire walk. They started at John O’Groats and are headed south, camping whenever they can. I wish them good luck on their journey, and hope that they have as much fun as I’m having.

Just before Falkirk, the Union Canal passes through a tunnel 1900 feet long. As I approached the tunnel, a local cautioned me against entering it, “It’s dark in there.” It was dark, but there are some lights so it isn’t entirely black. I had brought my headlamp, but the tunnel wasn’t so dark that I needed it.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 64, Wednesday, August 3, 2011 – Rest Day in Edinburgh

2011-08-04T12:19:00.000-07:00

Haggis, neeps & tatties

Last night Ann of the Tartan cooked a delightful dinner, including the Scottish national dish: haggis, neeps and tatties. Tatties are mashed potatoes; neeps are parsnips; and haggis is… well, you don’t want to know. It tastes good, though, and Ann’s was especially tasty. Followed by a macaroni and cheese casserole with a heavy cream sauce, and a superb dessert of fruit, custard & cream (no, make that custard, cream and fruit; or maybe cream, custard and fruit), my taste buds were never so happy.

Today, Ann of the Tartan escorted Dr. George, Lady Ann, and me around to the best sights of Edinburgh. Edinburgh is a pleasant city with gobs of history, but it suffers from the same festival condition that afflicts other British towns and cities. The Edinburgh Fringe starts this week, as does the world famous Edinburgh Tattoo, which has nothing to do with having pictures drawn on your body. As a result, about 400 million tourists were in Edinburgh today. To make matters worse, today was sunny, to that brought out the residents, also.

We tried to visit Edinburgh Castle, but there were too many tourists. We walked down the main tourist street, but there were too many tourists. Ann of the Tartan then had a wonderful idea: we toured Edinburgh’s fancy new parliament building, from which the tourists stayed away in droves. After Dr. George and I saw how our tax dollars were being spent (hey…, even though I’m an American I’m still paying the 20% British VAT for all the goods and services I am purchasing on this walk), we needed a drink, so we dragged the two Anns to a café for lunch and ale.

Lost-a-lot, Ann of the Tartan,
and Lady Ann

Following an after-lunch walk around the city, we returned to Ann’s home for afternoon tea. Then out to a pub for dinner, after which we toured Queensferry to look at the two bridges over the Firth of Forth that I should be able to see tomorrow from Linlithgow as I walk along the Union Canal.

Oh, and then we returned to Ann’s home for a whiskey. It’s occurring to me that Scotland is a lot like England with all the eating and drinking. It’s a strange custom. I would never do that at home.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 63, Tuesday, August 2, 2011 – West Linton to Broxburn, 18 miles

2011-08-04T11:56:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow will be a rest day in Edinburgh with Dr. George, Lady Ann and their friend, Ann of the Tartan. I had arranged to call Dr. George when I arrived in Broxburn. As the day wore on, I began to wonder whether I would arrive in Broxburn.

It rained hard last night, but by the time I left West Linton, the rain lessened to a light mist. The route out of West Linton heads into the Pentland Hills by starting on quiet lane past a golf course and expensive golf course homes. As the lane rises and gets more remote it changes to a gravel track passing several farms and a reservoir. Eventually the track is reduced to a footpath known as "Thieves Road" because in the 18th and 19th centuries, robbers used to lurk there and pounce on travelers. I was assured that thievery was no longer a problem. The footpath continues to ascend to a high ridge known as Cauldstane Slap. Cauldstane Slap is a divide – the watershed to the east fills the River Tweed, while that to the west feeds the River Almond.

As I climbed higher, the mist grew progressively heavier until I was quite confident that the two rivers would not be drying up anytime soon. Nor would the river flowing down the track I was following. At the top ridge, I was no longer concerned about the rivers, but rather the bogs which were holding all the water for later release.

It’s interesting how slowly one moves while trying to avoid puddles and streams to maintain dry feet. It’s silly, of course, because eventually your feet get wet, and then your speed increases again because you are no longer trying to keep your feet dry. At that point, all you need to focus on are the bogs – you just need to be sure you don’t step in something that’s going to sink you into the muck.

Even the bogs lose their significance when you approach something more formidable. I’m in Scotland now – the home of Highland cattle. These are cute – almost cuddly – little creatures, but they are armed with big horns. Even the cows have horns. Highland cattle are reputed to be docile, but did I mention that they have big horns? An interesting thing about those horns is that they grow longer the closer they are to the trail. And the cows seem less docile when their calves are close to the trail. It’s moments like this that make the peat bogs less formidable, so you leave the trail to the cattle and make a wide circle through whatever is lurking in the heather.

Eventually, of course, you either sink into a bog never to be heard from again, or you make it down to Broxburn where you can call Dr. George to be picked up – wet, muddy feet and all.

Day 62 – Eddleston to West Linton, 8 miles

2011-08-01T08:33:00.000-07:00

View from trail

After a wonderful breakfast of croissants and French toast, I headed off to West Linton -- only 8 miles because today was a rest day. After some preliminary route finding difficulties, I finally reached the trail I had been searching for, and had clear walking the rest of the way. I moved slowly because I knew I had plenty of time, and because I needed to frequently check the map to be sure I made the proper turns on the unsigned, remote trail. No mistakes, no bogs, no rain.

Not the lost ones

I encountered only two people all day. The first was a rancher who was searching for a dozen lost cattle. When I told him my route, he gave me his phone number in case I happened upon his cattle. Unfortunately, I didn’t find them. I believe the standard reward is 10%, and it would have been really cool to have a pet steer to carry my backpack.

Lesley

The second person was a friendly lady riding her bicycle. She was quick to sense that I wasn’t a local and immediately stopped to talk. The fact that I was exiting the grounds of a large, private estate when she rode by may have been her clue. I knew I wasn’t on a public route, but, as we learned yesterday, being a foreigner is akin to having license to trespass – especially when the private route is much shorter than the public one.

I arrived at West Linton shortly after 1:00 – far too early to check into my B&B. I’m now sitting in a pub writing this posting, and lamenting about not having been able to claim a reward steer to carry my backpack tomorrow.

Solution to last week's puzzle about long-handled forest tools (you may need to enlarge the picture to read the sign):

Day 61 – Innerleithen to Eddleston, 12 miles

2011-07-31T10:36:00.000-07:00

Today was another day for meeting interesting people. Although there was no recurrence of yesterday’s foot problem, I was getting tired of walking on paved roads. So I scoured the map for an off road route that would take me in the right direction. The first opportunity came about 4 miles out of Innerleithen. The map showed a vehicle track leading away from the road, turning into a footpath, passing through a private garden estate, and back to the road for about a mile. I decided to take it.

On the ground, things don’t always look like they do on maps. In real life, the lane looked more like a driveway, and was posted with a notice that it was only for guests of the bunkhouse. I wasn’t a guest at the bunkhouse, but I’m a foreigner, so that pretty much excuses any trespasses. As I started down the driveway, I came upon a lady tending to chickens. With my best American accent, I asked her if this was the track which connected to the footpath.

Champion chicken

She replied that it was indeed the right of way, and explained that she was in the process of moving her hens. Her name is Dorinda and she and her husband run the bunkhouse. More interestingly, their hobby is raising exotic chickens. They’ve got chickens from Japan, Poland, Russia, and I can’t remember how many different countries. The chickens all look different, and about the only thing they have in common is feathers, beaks and feet. Several of the chickens are British champions, and she shows them regularly. I’m not exactly sure what’s involved in showing chickens; I doubt they are led around on leashes. Some species were bred for fighting, but since that’s no longer allowed, I’m not sure how they are judged.

Dorinda

Dorinda pointed me in the direction of the lane, and told me to climb over the first locked gate, and proceed to Kaislie Garden, about a mile down the path. After passing through the garden, she said my way would be barred by a high, locked gate, but I should turn left down a lane, pass through the gift shop, and out to the car park. Since I was walking and not visiting the gardens, I wouldn’t have to pay the admission charge.

Well, OK. I followed her instructions to the letter, and when passing through the gift shop, I told the clerk in my best American accent, “I think I’m lost.” She pointed me to the car park and I left without paying the admission. Funny thing, though, I walked through most of the garden to get there. I wonder if the same process works in movie theaters.

A little later, I was back on the road, and saw a man working in his garage. I don’t normally enter people’s garages to engage in conversation, but right there next to him was a vintage Triumph. So I walked up and introduced myself to Peter, and asked if I could take a picture of his car. Peter built the car in 1984 from a kit, so it’s not exactly a vintage Triumph, but it is 27 years old.

Peebles

The walk continued on the road to Peebles, after which I tried several times to follow footpaths to Eddleston. Generally the footpaths worked, but every time they brought me back to the major road A703 between Peebles and Eddleston. I finally gave up and walked the final mile dodging high speed traffic. I figure it was good practice for when I have to walk the busy A99 between Inverness and John O’Groats.

Day 60, Saturday, July 30, 2011 – Melrose to Innerleithen, 18 miles

2011-07-31T01:30:00.000-07:00

I surprised myself when I awoke this morning to discover that I had survived last night’s beer festival. Then the thought occurred to me that maybe I hadn’t actually survived it, but rather had gone to heaven, because the sky was totally blue, and the sunshine was stronger than I’ve seen in weeks. The stiffness in my legs confirmed I wasn’t in heaven, but rather in the same place I was when I went to bed. The warm sunshine continued throughout the day.

Cairn atop Hog Hill

The footpath from Melrose started on the Southern Upland Way, a national trail running along the River Tweed. I encountered many locals who were out enjoying the Saturday morning sunshine. After passing through a series of parks between Melrose and Galashiels, the SUW borders a forest and then climbs to a high hill, descends through cattle pastures and again crosses the River Tweed at a place called Yair Bridge. Here I was faced with a difficult choice.

Moi and her dogs Kira
and Sophie

I could follow the SUW as it ascends steeply through a forest to another high moor, and then runs along an historic drovers' road to Traquair, a distance of 18 miles from Melrose. Traquair is two more miles from Innerleithen, making for a 20 mile day. Alternatively, I could skip that portion of the SUW, and continue along a little used road (now a cycle path) following the River Tweed all the way to Innerleithen. That route would be 2 fewer miles and avoid 1,000 feet of climbing, but it involves road walking, which isn’t fun. I chose the road to save the distance.

View from cycle path

I’m not sure my feet liked the choice. About three miles from Innerleithen, my right foot started hurting unmercifully, and I couldn’t avoid limping. I desperately needed to sit down and examine my foot, but there was no place to sit. The road was tarmac, with tall grass and stinging nettles covering the verges. There wasn’t so much as a rock or a fence gate to sit on. As I limped on, I had all sorts of horrible thoughts that unless I could take care of my foot, this may be the end. I couldn’t help but think about Daryl May’s blog, and all of the benches he photographed. I may have been hallucinating about benches.

Serendipitous bench

And then, almost miraculously, 100 feet in front of me was a bench. It was the only bench I’ve seen all day, and it was right there in the middle of nowhere when I desperately needed it. I sat down, removed my boots and socks, massaged my foot, ate some cookies, and generally relaxed for 15 minutes. I then put my socks and boots back on and walked smartly the remaining two miles to Innerleithen without any foot pain or limp.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 59 – Friday, July 29, 2011; Jedburgh to Melrose, 18 miles

2011-07-29T13:53:00.000-07:00

Jedburgh is a large town, so I had a choice of eateries. I’ve eaten in enough pubs lately, so yesterday I decided on an upscale restaurant with a varied menu. The special of the day was wild deer. Just as I was ready to order, it was scratched from the specials board. I instead had a steak and ale pie – a standard pub food. Go figure.

Jedwater

Today was a beautiful walk, mostly following three rivers: Jedwater, Teviot and Tweed, along Dere Street and the St. Cuthbert’s Way. The flowers were in full bloom – perhaps due to the recent rains, or perhaps because spring arrives later in Scotland.

Dere Street/St. Cuthbert's Way
trail maker

Despite the distance, it was mostly a pleasant stroll, with only slight ascents and descents. The entire route was well-signed, so I rarely needed to check my maps. I arrived at St. Boswell shortly after 1:00, found a grocery store and bought a pasta salad and a pint of milk for lunch, which I ate at a picnic table in the city park. After the rigors of the Pennine Way, today seemed like a walk in the park.

Piper, Muriel, Joan and Cody

Out on the trail, the only people I met were two ladies walking their dogs.

With few people to talk to, good footing, and a well-signed trail, I covered the entire distance in just over 8 hours, and have no stories to tell.

Andy and John --
transplanted Geordies

There’s a beer festival tonight at the hotel I’m staying in. Twenty-five different beers, £1 for a half pint. That was too good a deal, so I’m letting the pictures do the talking. They don’t slur their words.

Footbridge over River Teviot

Jedburgh Abbey

River Tweed

Day 58, Thursday, July 28, 2011 – Byrness to Jedburgh, 19 miles

2011-07-29T13:24:00.000-07:00

Byrness from high moor

Byrness is a small village, formerly devoted solely to logging. I suspect that everyone who lives here is still employed in one capacity or another in either logging or forestry. There are no shops, pubs or restaurants, and of the two B&Bs, one was formerly a hotel and one formerly a youth hostel. I stayed in the former youth hostel – with a private room and shared bath. Dinner and breakfast were served family style.

George and Justine

I said my final good-bye to James at breakfast. He will be finishing the Pennine Way today, and I shall not be seeing him again. Also at breakfast were George and Justine, father and daughter, who will also finish the PW today, as well as two other Englishmen whose names I didn’t get. Two other dinner companions, Paul and William, left before breakfast, attempting to walk the final 29 miles in one day.

One topic of our breakfast discussion was the famous biting midges of Scotland – swarming black flies whose bite seems always to draw blood and takes days to heal. I hadn’t seen any midges yet, but I remember them from the last time I was in Scotland. Apparently, the only effective repellants are DEET or Avon Skin So Soft. DEET melts plastic, so you need to keep it away from watches and eyeglasses, and if it’s on your hands, you can’t touch plastic parts of a camera or GPS, not to mention water bottles, etc. It’s nasty stuff, so no wonder the midges don’t like it.

When I mentioned that I didn’t have any Skin So Soft, Justine gave me a small spray bottle of it. Since she is finishing the PW, she doesn’t need it. I was happy to receive it, because I knew that sometime in the next month I would need it. As things turned out, I needed it this afternoon. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Today’s route involved a steep climb out of Byrness to the top of a ridge where the moorland was more featureless grassland than heather. I initially followed the Pennine Way, and the route was never in doubt. After 5 miles, I was to leave the Pennine Way at Dere Street, a former Roman Road constructed in AD 81 by Roman governor Agricola. It originally ran from York to Edinburgh. Today, parts of it are paved and other parts are merely footpath. Like most Roman roads, it is generally straight, and seems to curve only when contouring a hillside. Dere Street runs through hills, across streams, and through woods, almost to Jedburgh. It was difficult to get lost, and with 19 miles to walk, I didn’t even try.

I thought the trail junction for Dere Street might be difficult to find on the featureless moorland, so I kept checking my maps to be sure I didn’t pass it. Actually, when I arrived at the trail junction, there were several large signs, which couldn’t have been more obvious if they were flashing lights with my name on them.

Ford for cars, footbridge
for walkers

After passing through the Dere Street gate, I arrived in Scotland. On the remote moor, I didn’t expect to be welcomed to Scotland by a kilted bagpiper, but a lass offering samples of Scotland’s national drink would have been nice. Alas, there wasn’t even a welcome sign. Maybe the Scottish tourist board got my entry date wrong.

Malcolm

I met only one other person the entire day: Malcolm, who is finishing the PW. He and I walked together on and off from the high ridge above Byrness until I finally turned off at Dere Street. But I wasn’t lonely, being accompanied along the way by thousands of sheep, cows and midges. Usually I smell like a sheep or cow at the end of the walk, but today, thanks to Justine, I emitted the perfumed scent of Avon SSS. I wonder if my host noticed when I checked into the B&B. He didn’t comment.

Today’s puzzle: What is the derivation of the name Dere Street?

a. The name of the archaeologist who identified the road as a Roman construction.
b. The manufacturer of heavy equipment used by the Romans in construction.
c. A near-sighted Roman mistook a sheep for a deer.
d. Other (explain).

Dere Street

Day 57 – Bellingham to Byrness, 15 miles

2011-07-27T13:15:00.000-07:00

View towards Bellingham

Today’s weather forecast was for overcast sky in the morning, changing to rain in the afternoon. I decided to walk as fast as I could to avoid as much of the rain as possible. Fast walking was not a choice for the first hour, as the trail climbed relentlessly onto the high moorland north of Bellingham. Eventually, the trail leveled out, so I picked up my pace for about 100 yards. Then I came to a bog field, requiring delicate footing and evasive routing.

Watery bog

There are different types of bogs, and today I encountered mostly wet, non-muddy bogs, recognizable by the chartreuse plants covering them. The plants are green sponges; when you step on them, they release their water and your foot sinks into the pool. The trick to crossing them is to find tall reeds nearby, and to step on the reeds so they fold over the bog and provide float, like snowshoes. Stepping from reeds to reeds is a slow process, so no rain-avoiding speed yet.

Then I came upon Annie and Liz, two English ladies with whom I had breakfast at the B&B this morning. They had started walking before me, but had now stopped just off the trail for a spot of tea. Of course, I stopped to talk with them, further delaying my intended rapid start to beat the rain.

Eventually, I got into a good stride and walked rapidly to a high point on the moor, where I found – miracle of miracles – a sitting rock. Rocks to sit on are virtually non-existent on the moors, and how this rock came to be at its location is beyond my comprehension. But there it was, and my watch said 12:30, so I took the opportunity to have lunch, all the time knowing that I was tempting the forecast storm to arrive.

Lester

As I finished lunch and was packing my backpack, Lester arrived from the north. He is walking the Pennine Way from north to south. He and I had a nice chat while the clock ticked inexorably towards the forecast rainy afternoon.

Annie and Liz

Lester declined the offer of my rock – perhaps he had also heard the weather forecast – but as he was getting ready to leave, Annie and Liz arrived. They were happy to sit on the rock while I moved on.

A quick descent was followed by a steep climb up the next ridge, further slowing me down. At the top, the route passed over some two miles of the wettest bog I have yet encountered. All the water on the decaying peat was a haven for flies, which swarmed around me by the hundreds as I passed over their feeding grounds. Fortunately, they weren’t biting, but their constant swarming distracted me from the task at hand – or rather, at foot – to wit, crossing the bog dry and alive.

Near Byrness

After what seemed like forever, I finally got past the bog and onto a dry gravel road. Only then did I notice that the sky was blue, with only a few cumulus clouds. The forecast rain never materialized, and warm sunshine accompanied me all the way to Byrness.

I arrived at my B&B at 5:15, and was welcomed by James, who will be finishing the Pennine Way tomorrow. I’ll also be done with the Pennine Way tomorrow, and I won’t be sad if I never see it again. There are wonderful footpaths in England, but I don’t consider the Pennine Way to be one of them.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 56 – Hadrian’s Wall to Bellingham, 12 miles

2011-07-26T13:58:00.000-07:00

George and Ann dropped me off this morning at the point along the Hadrian’s Wall footpath that I had walked to yesterday. Ann sent me off with two sandwiches and an assortment of crackers for lunch. I can’t thank Ann and George enough for all they have done for me, not only during the past week, but also during the past 18 months while I’ve been planning this walk. It would be an exaggeration to say I couldn’t do it without them, but it’s no hyperbole to say it would have been extremely difficult without them. Thanks, George and Ann.

Old and new

I decided to wear my new boots today. I may have been able to get another week or two out of the old ones, but the sole was getting so worn that a small crack was starting to appear. A cracked sole is not what you want when walking in a wet environment.

Hadrian's Wall at top of cliff (not the
drystone pasture walls)

Today’s route passed through a gap in Hadrian’s Wall, descended into some very wet bogs, through a forest plantation, through farms, and over a high moor, finally ending up in the fairly large town of Bellingham.

Hadrian’s Wall was built at the command of Roman emperor Hadrian in A.D. 122, in order to protect the empire he had established in what is now England from being invaded by Scots from the north. The wall ran for some 75 miles, was 10 feet wide and 15 feet high. My route did not run along the wall, so I really didn’t get to see it; rather, I passed through a break in the wall which was probably the result of centuries of removal of building blocks to be used in other building construction. Why quarry new rocks when the Romans did the work for you centuries earlier?

Indira and Fran

I was entirely alone most of the day, and although route finding was difficult around the bogs, I didn't get lost even once. About an hour before Bellingham, I caught up with Fran and Indira, two English ladies who are walking the Pennine Way. We had met previously outside of Thwaite when I was accompanying James and Alec on their walk to Keld. They said that they had spoken with James last week in Forest-in-Teesdale, and when he learned of their schedule he told them that they would probably see me in Bellingham. The ebb and flow of walkers continues.

Old bicycles become flower pots
(enlarge to view pedals)

Day 55 – Allendale to Hadrian’s Wall (near Housesteads), 13 miles

2011-07-25T22:29:00.000-07:00

Ann filled George and me with a good cooked breakfast and then ferried us to Allendale, where we met Tony and Sally. Ann and Sally went off to continue whatever it was they did yesterday, and George, Tony and I started our walk.

Meadow to Plankey Mill

This was the fourth day that George had put together the route, through forests, along rivers, over pastures and across meadows. We initially followed the River Allen, a fairly small stream near its head. We departed from the course of the river, to rejoin it much later at Plankey Mill where it had grown substantially in both width and force from the numerous tributaries that contributed to it.

Ruins of Staward Peel

Along the way, we passed the ruins of Staward Peel, once a large fortified home constructed in the 13th century, but which was mostly dismantled with the king’s permission in the 16th century so its building stones could be recycled to construct the then current landowner’s mansion. All that remains now are pieces of wall.

This was also the fourth day that Ann had fixed up George and me with fortified lunches. Each day’s luncheon highlight was a “morning cookie” made from a recipe Ann had received from Chef Yvonne, Utah’s maven of cuisine. Unfortunately, George and I finally depleted Ann’s supply. I’m hoping that Chef Yvonne will have a new supply waiting for me when I return to Utah.

But that won’t be anytime soon. For those of you keeping track of these things, yesterday’s walk barely ticked the odometer past 700 miles. There is still much more fun ahead, so stay tuned.

River South Tyne near Ridley Hall

Day 54 – Blanchland to Allendale – 10 miles

2011-07-24T14:35:00.000-07:00

Tony, Lost-a-lot, and George

Once again Ann ferried George and me to the trailhead (after a full cooked breakfast, of course), where we met Tony and Sally. Tony joined George and me for today’s walk, while Sally and Ann headed off for coffee, shopping, and whatever else it is that ladies do when the men folk aren’t around.

George on stile

Today was the third day of the four which George cobbled together to keep me heading north through the part of the country he and Ann call home. And what a day it was, through forests, moorlands, and pastures.

One farm we passed had dozens of dead moles strung on a fence. Apparently, the moles pose a danger to cattle, sheep and horses which can break a leg by stepping in a mole hole, so farmers want them destroyed. The reason for stringing the carcasses on a fence escapes me, and I doubt that other moles take it as a warning – they are blind as bats, you know.

There are so many moles in the area that we actually saw one run across the trail ahead of us. I had never seen a live mole before, and I thought that they were nocturnal, rarely leaving their burrows. Perhaps their burrows get overcrowded and they need to surface for fresh air. Live moles move much more quickly than dead moles, and they don’t make good subjects for photos, so all I can offer is another photo of moles on line.

Near the end of the walk, we came upon some odd looking tools, basically a rectangle of neoprene attached to a pole. Today’s puzzle is a multiple choice question: what is the purpose of these unusual tools?

1. To beat out heather fires on the moor.
2. To flush grouse for hunters.
3. To encourage LEJOGers to keep moving north.
4. To erase tracks left by moles.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 53 – Westgate to Blanchland, 12 miles

2011-07-23T13:55:00.000-07:00

On Thursday I mentioned to Lady Ann that my body can no longer function on merely cereal and toast, and that I really needed the full English breakfast in order to get up the hills that her country keeps throwing at me. When Dr. George does his marathon cycle rides in southern Utah, he has a full breakfast, and I deserve reciprocity when I come to England for a marathon walk. Being both sensible and sensitive, Lady Ann acknowledged the dilemma and cooked me a full breakfast this morning. As a result, I was able to keep up with Dr. George on today’s hike.

Today’s route crossed over the pastures of Westgate, and then along a quarry’s dismantled railway track to the village of Rookhope. From there, the route ascended steeply up an old funicular track formerly associated with a now abandoned lead mine. The route was created by Dr. George to test both the state of my fitness and the caloric capacity of Lady Ann’s cooked breakfast.

Wildflowers along the route were blooming again as a result of the recent rains. The heather on the moors was just about to break into its purple majesty. Another week or less should produce a spectacular display of color on the moors.

Mark

Along the way, we encountered Mark, who’s been walking the hills in the area for quite some time. He alerted us to some of the features of the former plant which powered the funicular that carried lead ore from the mines to the furnaces, and put sense into what we saw upon reaching the top of the incline. Afterwards, the rest of the walk was anticlimactic until we met Lady Ann at the medieval town of Blanchland and concluded the walk in the proper English method of having an ale at the local pub.

Power plant ruins

Day 52 – Rest Day

2011-07-22T14:24:00.000-07:00

Today was a rest day, which George and Ann planned to devote to showing me the sights near their home. But first, I had several business items to address.

First, I needed to replace my boots because my blazing speed has worn the tread thin, and they won’t possibly last all the way to John O’Groats. Yesterday I ordered new boots from Amazon.com.uk, and they arrived first thing in the morning. The new boots fit fine, but I decided to wear them all morning to be sure that there weren’t any hidden pressure points. They proved to be perfect.

Second, I needed to reserve accommodations for next week, when George and Ann tire of me and drop me off near some God-forsaken moor without a pub and with instructions to walk north.

Third, I desperately needed a haircut. George drove me to the barbershop, but on arrival I remembered I forgot my camera. You’ll just have to imagine my Rapunzel-length hair falling to the floor as the barber clipped his shears together. (All this time I was blaming my backpack for being too heavy, when it was really my hair.) Meanwhile, outside the barber shop, frenzied wool traders were bidding on my shorn locks as if I were a rock star. Perhaps news traveled from Much Wenlock.

George, Ann, Sally and Tony

Renewed from head to toe, I was ready to tour northeast England without embarrassing my hosts. George drove us along the beach fronts north of Newcastle, with their Victorian homes and bay windows, bearing an uncanny resemblance to the painted ladies of San Francisco. We then joined with Tony and Sally, who I met last summer in Utah, and continued driving north through quaint villages too numerous to name (or at least too numerous for me to remember their names), past more old castles than I could count, ending up at a beachfront resort and pub. After a delightful lunch in the warm sunshine, we continued the tour, ending up at – where else? – another pub for dinner. Touring and eating; touring and eating. Oh, and there was also some ale. I could get used to these rest days.

Castle

But tomorrow, George and I head back to the hills. Ann, if you’re reading this, I’ll do my best not to get George lost.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 51 – Newbiggin to Westgate – 8 miles

2011-07-21T14:21:00.000-07:00

After a rather comical effort at my trying to pack a small rucksack, Ann drove George and me to the trailhead. My effort was comical because for 50 days I’ve carried everything with me. On those few days that I didn’t need to carry everything, I merely chose from what was spread about my room. Today, I didn’t need to carry most things, but the items I needed to carry were scattered around Ann’s and George’s home to dry after yesterday’s soaking. It’s one thing to place everything you own in a pack, being confident that if you need something you have it. But today, my boots were in one room, drying near the radiator. The insoles were elsewhere. The GPS and camera were in a basket containing various loose items, and my waterproof jacket was hanging in a different room. I finally got it all together – including lunch – and had my pack in the trunk of the car all ready to go. (In Britain, the trunk is the boot, but the boots were on my feet, so I’ve used the American term. For you Canadians, I know Canada is in America, but I don’t know whether you have trunks or boots, so please cut me some slack.)

In any case, Ann was ready to drive off when I remembered that my map was in a different room – and not in my pocket. A map is always useful when walking in unfamiliar territory, so my Keystone Cops saga continued. I’m not going to explain that reference if you don’t know it. Trust me – it’s comedic.

Bridge over River Tees --
proof I closed the gap
(this is not Photoshopped)

Ann dropped George and me off in the village of Newbiggin, which is on the route to High Force, but not quite on the trail which James and I walked yesterday. To be true to the walk, I had to close the gap by walking a quarter mile from Newbiggin to a footbridge crossing the Tees to join the trail walked yesterday. Then George and I turned around, walked back to Newbiggin and made the 8 mile walk to Westgate.

George and Ann
practicing after-walk rehydration

George is well known for his cycling prowess, but he is yet to develop a reputation as a walker. He had a good start today, because he didn’t complain once on the 4 mile steady climb to the highest ridge. Well, to be honest, he didn’t complain twice. And he didn’t complain twice about the long, steep descent on the other side of the ridge. He may become a walker before I leave next week, but I’m a little concerned about his wanting to take a rest day tomorrow.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 50 – Wednesday, July 20, 2011 – Bowes to High Force, 14 miles

2011-07-20T23:45:00.000-07:00

A close look at my map showed that the Pennine Way would lead James and me through marshlands. Names like Levy Pool, Blackpool Sike, and Kelton Bottom told me I don’t want to go there after all the rain we’ve had. But the decision was sealed when I saw that Needless Bridge eventually led to Swallow Hole. I didn’t want to be even half swallowed.

View from railway path

We needed an alterative route. The route I found follows a minor road north to a dismantled railroad bed now known as the Tees Railway Path. The footing on the former railway bed was not only better, but it was a beautiful walk, mostly flat, connecting lovely villages – much more fun than sinking in a soggy moor, although probably less exciting.

The day started out mostly dry, with only slight sprinkles not even requiring rain protection. As we approached the village Cotherstone, I was impressed by the large number of mansions, or what seem to be called manors here – big, old, stately homes, with huge gardens. They even get milk delivery.

John

As we approached the affluent village of Romaldkirk, we were joined by John, from Northern Ireland, who had been following us since we joined the track, but who couldn’t catch us until I stopped to remove my long sleeve shirt in the ever-warming day. John used to be a sheep farmer, but now that he is retired he walks a lot in sunny England. He also walks a lot when it’s not sunny, but today he was limiting himself to 10 miles.

Bridge over River Tees

I had made plans with Dr. George and Lady Ann to meet me at Middleton-in-Teesdale at 5:00 pm. Because of the good footing on the Tees Railway Path, James and I arrived there at 1:30. James had to continue on, and I was faced with the choice of joining him or sitting in the now sunny beer garden of the local pub for 3½ hours. Since it had become a lovely day, and James’ route followed the River Tees, I decided to continue on. I telephoned George and asked him to meet me at the High Force Hotel, near a large waterfall known as High Force, 5 miles beyond Middleton-in-Teesdale.

Low Force

The peat-covered hills which are the source of the Tees leech tannins into the river and give it the color of…well, tea. Most of the walk was delightful, passing increasing rapids and a small waterfall known as Low Force. Then James read in the guidebook that in order to view High Force, a £2 fee must be paid. With Yosemite and Zion in my backyards, I am offended by having to pay anything to see a waterfall – certainly one that can’t possibly compare to what I have at home, except maybe for the color. In any case, we decided to walk close to High Force and then detour to the nearby hotel where we would wait until George and Ann arrived.
Twenty minutes before reaching the hotel, the heaviest rain I’ve experienced since Hartland Quay came down. Upon reaching the hotel, James and I were totally soaked, and sought refuge in the hotel. The hotel was closed. With heavy rain still falling, and no shelter available, James continued on to his B&B, and I stood waiting for George and Ann, who arrived only 10 minutes later. But I was still soaked, and they have a lovely, clean, new car.

George thought for a moment about returning to the city to rent a car, but remembered that Ann had the foresight to bring a change of clothes for me. With dry clothes on, I was welcomed into their car, and even treated to a nice tour on the drive to their home. I am now clean and dry, well-fed, and looking forward to walking with George over the next few days without carrying a heavy pack. So that’s today’s puzzle for you – which am I looking forward to more, walking with George or no heavy pack?

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 49 – Tuesday, July 19, 2011 – Keld to Bowes, 12 miles

2011-07-20T14:03:00.000-07:00

Keith

Keith, a local game keeper for the Miller Estate, offered to drive me to Keld this morning. Not only didn’t I have to repeat the three miles I had walked yesterday, but I saved over an hour of time. Keith’s offer is one more example of Brits helping me along on my walk. As a result, Alec, James and I all started together from Keld.

Kisdon Force

Today was the first day in a long time we didn’t have any rain. There were heavy clouds overhead, and we were threatened with rain several times, enough to cause us to don our rain jackets, but the rain never materialized.

Our route took us up over Stonesdale Moor in a continuous ascent until we reached Tan Hill, Britain’s highest inn. Erik had stayed there last night, and we missed him by about 20 minutes today, as the innkeeper drove him to a train station. Beyond Tan Hill, the moor is reputed to be very wet and boggy, even on dry days. Knowing that following the Pennine Way through that area today would be very unpleasant, we opted to follow the road for a short distance to a track that avoided the boggiest part and joined the Pennine Way later on.

Proceeding down the track, we came upon more than two dozen parked cars. Because we weren’t in California, we knew it wasn’t a major drug deal, but the reason for so many cars parked in the middle of nowhere was perplexing.

Naturally, we asked the first person we came upon. Again, we weren’t California, so he didn’t shoot us. In fact, all of those folks had been out training their hunting dogs. Unfortunately, we arrived too late for the show, but the object of their training is for the dogs to stealthily move through the heather, and then point to a grouse. When the hunter gives the signal, the dog is supposed to flush the grouse, whereupon the hunter tries to shoot it. Hunting season doesn’t start until August 12, so thankfully there was no shooting going on – because we would have been in the line of fire.. Still, it would have been fun watching the dogs go through their lessons.

Bowes castle

At a fork in the trail, Alec had to leave us to conduct some personal business in Kendal, and James and I continued to Bowes. Tomorrow, James and I will walk together to Middleton-in-Teesdale, where George and Ann will pick me up. I’m really looking forward to seeing them again.

A sign can't deter me

Day 48 – Monday, July 18, 2011, Hawes to Keld – 14 miles

2011-07-20T13:46:00.000-07:00

It was warm and dry when I awoke, but that was inside the hotel. Outside, the sky was overcast with low clouds. Today’s route started with a three-hour ascent of the Great Shunner Fell – into the very clouds which caused the overcast below. The recent rains had covered portions of the trail with puddles three or more inches deep. Navigating around the puddles increased the risk of sinking in a bog.

Holding Erik's note at Shunner Fell Summit

At the summit, an X-shaped wall with benches had been constructed to provide a windbreak on cold, windy, wet days like today, and James, Alec and I hunkered down there for lunch. Halfway through lunch, I discovered a note Erik had placed under a stone about an hour earlier:

“Well, guys, wasn’t that fun going uphill. The mist closing in at one moment, spooky. Thought I might see you in the tearoom in Thwaite.

Shunner Fell summit cairn
Erik”

The descent was somewhat less taxing, primarily because the boggiest areas were paved by flagstones, but also because the ridge we had crossed now shielded us from the worst of the wind and rain. The clouds dissipated, and Swaledale opened up below us.

Upon reaching Thwaite, we stopped for coffee at the tea room where Erik was still waiting. It was only 2:00, and the sun was now shining – the first time in days. I was staying in Thwaite, but James and Alec were staying in Keld – three miles farther. Erik was staying at Tan Hill – four miles beyond Keld. I had initially discussed plans with James for me to meet him and Alec at Keld tomorrow, and for all three of us to continue to Bowes – twelve miles from Keld. But today was such a beautiful afternoon, I had a better idea.

View towards Thwaite

I checked into my room, dropped my pack and joined the others for the three mile walk to Keld on the Pennine Way. Upon reaching Keld, we said our final goodbyes to Erik. Then I walked back to Thwaite, by a different, more direct, route. My additional five miles today without a pack will be rewarded tomorrow, but only if I can find somebody to drive me to Keld in the morning. There is no taxi or bus service.

Walk to Keld

Even if I have to walk those three miles again, walking the five miles in sunny weather without a pack was a real treat. Maybe I’m getting soft, but I like walking without a pack.

SOLUTION TO NAME THE CAR PUZZLE:

Thanks to those who offered answers to the name the car puzzle. I’m not going to divulge the answer, but you can find out yourself by double clicking on the picture of the car and opening it in a separate window. Then you can enlarge the picture. The answer appears above the car’s radiator. Is that what you did, Larry?

Day 47, Sunday, July 17, 2011 – Horton in Ribblesdale to Hawes – 13 miles

2011-07-17T10:55:00.000-07:00

As we did yesterday, Erik, James, Alec and I set off in the rain and wind again at 9:15. There were many other walkers departing at the same time, doing what they call “the three peaks challenge.” I’m beginning to wonder about the sanity of the British. It had rained the entire night, and was still raining in the morning, yet there were many Brits going out to walk in what they knew to be wet and muddy conditions, where rocks would be slippery and fording streams would be difficult. Unlike the four of us, most of the others didn’t really have to go out in that weather. I can’t generalize about the Dutch or Australians, but aside from a few a few folks of questionable sanity in southern Utah, no American would be out on a day like this. That’s what shopping malls and TVs were made for. But the Brits seem to be oblivious to the weather – which is odd considering that they spend more time talking about the weather and listening to daily forecasts than any other people in the world. They listen to the forecast – and then go right outdoors into the very teeth of a storm. Strange people, indeed.

Raging stream falling into pothole

But the four of us had no choice but to venture into the teeth of the storm. I spent much of the day reflecting on how much more uncomfortable the conditions would have been had I been walking alone rather than with others.

We are still in limestone country, and there are deep caverns under ground. We came across two raging streams which tumbled into limestone potholes, with no visible indication of where they might emerge again. Woe to the sheep or person unlucky enough to be swept into a pothole by the current.

The forecast is for better weather on Monday. I’ll bet most Brits will probably stay indoors. Strange people, indeed.

Alec, James, Lost-a-lot, and Erik at day's end

Day 46, Saturday, July 16, 2011 – Malham to Horton in Ribblesdale – 15 miles

2011-07-17T10:39:00.000-07:00

The rain which started last night was still falling this morning. In the true spirit of misery loves company, James suggested that he, Erik and I walk together from Malham to Horton in Ribblesdale. The three of us set off together at 9:15, and we were barely out of Malham before we were joined by Alec, an Australian. The four of us walked together almost the entire day.

The four of us not only provided companionship to each other, we also provided an extra level of safety for our walk in a remote area under difficult weather conditions. In many places the footing was bad, and the rain and high winds presented the risk of hypothermia. Shortly after leaving Malham, we arrived at Malham Cove, a limestone amphitheater from which Malham Beck (creek) flows. A short climb took us to the top of the amphitheater, where the limestone has eroded into slippery blocks, and where a slip would have easily resulted in a broken leg or arm. No strangers to danger, the four of us confidently stepped from one block to the next, until we traversed the entire field. Then suddenly from the hillside above, we heard a loud noise – a bull on the hillside had apparently slipped on the limestone, and was rolling over and over as he fell down the hill. I can’t imagine how he didn’t break a leg or his neck, but he immediately got to his feet, and stood frozen, obviously dazed from the fall. High above him stood another bull, so I can’t help but wonder whether they had been engaged in a battle which caused the fall. In any event, I was no longer so confident crossing over the wet limestone, especially since I have only two legs for stability.

In the barn
photo by Erik

The wind-driven rain continued to pelt us, and by mid-day, we were all getting uncomfortably cold. After descending off the moor, we came upon an old barn. Collectively we decided to unlatch the door and go inside for shelter, trespass laws notwithstanding. Alec had a stove, so he boiled water for hot drinks. Each of us added another layer under our waterproofs for warmth, something which would have been difficult outside in the high winds and rain. After a quick lunch, we were warm enough to venture outside again, being careful to remove our trash and restore the barn as it was. Removing evidence of our trespass might prevent the owner from securing the barn to exclude future walkers in need.

Penyghent

The path headed back up the high moor to Penyghent, one of the three high peaks in the area. We had all decided to bypass Penyghent due to the weather, but as we approached it short periods of sunshine peeked through the clouds and the mist on top of the mountain cleared. Erik and Alec decided to climb to the top. James and I decided to stay with our original decision and head straight down to town. My feet were wet, cold and numb, and I was concerned that continuing on might risk a blister. My objective is John O’Groats, not Penyghent, and it would be foolish to risk that objective by developing a blister for a non-consequential side-trip.

As James and I descended, clouds came and again covered Penyghent.

Not so drystone wall

I checked into my accommodation and took a hot shower to warm up. About an hour later, Alec and Erik appeared, pleased that they had continued on, but reporting that the weather on top continued to be as bad as it looked like from below. For James and me, though, coming off the mountain and warming up was the right decision.

The four of us will walk together tomorrow to Hawes.

View across Fountains Fell

Day 45 – Cowling to Malham – 19 miles

2011-07-15T14:59:00.000-07:00

I’ve arrived in the Yorkshire Dales, an area in middle England characterized by beautiful rolling hills and more greenery than you can imagine. Drystone walls are everywhere, and beautifully arched stone bridges cross the many wooded streams. This is a delightful area, and the walking is easy.

Pete and I walked together most of the day until he reached his destination of Gargreave, 12 miles from Cowling.
The day had started out quite warm, and got progressively warmer. The map showed that our route would take us through several villages, so I decided to reduce the weight of my pack by cutting down on the quantity of water I carried. As the day wore on and the temperature rose, I became increasingly concerned that I may not have enough water.

The first village we reached was Lothersdale. It was still too early for the pub to be open, and the village had no market. I still had sufficient water to get me to the next village, so I was OK. Ironically, Lothersdale may not have had sufficient water.

Rob

On a small hill above Lothersdale, Pete and I encountered Rob, who was repairing piping from the spring, the village’s source of water. One man, working with his hands and a shovel was restoring water service to the village. I tried to contemplate how many men, machines, work orders, and reports would be required to restore interrupted water service to my hometown.

The next town Pete and I passed through was Thornton-in-Craven. It appeared to be of reasonable size and prosperity, with expensive homes, but not one pub or market to buy a drink. The day was getting hotter, and my water supply was diminishing.

After another mile and a half, we reached the tiny village of East Marton. East Marton sits alongside the Leeds and Liverpool Canal, another route for vacationing narrowboaters. We found a small café, where I quickly downed two soft drinks. My remaining water would now get me to Gargreave, where I would definitely find a convenience store.

At Gargreave, I bought two sport drinks, and drank one immediately as Pete and I sat in a shady park to get out of the sun. I held one drink in reserve, to get me the seven more miles to Malham. Pete and I said our goodbyes, and I left for Malham. He and I will both be walking the rest of the Pennine Way over the next two weeks, but we are unlikely to see each other, as I will be about a half-day ahead of him.

On the moor

As I was leaving Gargreave to walk the additional 7 miles to Malham, I was waved down by James, who was just finishing tea in Gargreave. James, too, was walking to Malham, and he and I walked there together. Now that I was no longer concerned about water, the weather gods changed the rules. The sky clouded over and the temperature dropped as James and I left Gargreave. When we got within a mile of Malham, a heavy downpour was imminent. Once again, I was concerned about water, but for a very different reason. James and I moved along swiftly and we arrived in Malham only minutes before the rain started.

The forecast is for heavy rains tomorrow, but at least for tonight my clothes will be dry.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 44 – Thursday, July 14, 2011 – Badger Fields Farm to Cowling – 16 miles

2011-07-14T13:27:00.000-07:00

Garden flowers

The spring flowers in the pastures are just about dried up. The clover is still blooming, the fox glove is working its way to the top, and there is still an occasional daisy. Other than that, most of the flowers are gone – except in the gardens. I keep passing many beautiful gardens, evidence that England has a flower-friendly climate – not like the parching heat of southern Utah or central California. It would be hard not to grow beautiful flowers in England. Why, I’ll bet that most of the beautiful gardens I’ve seen require no more than three or four hours of daily maintenance, and maybe only a full Saturday every other week or so.

Fixer upper

What is required in England, though, is home maintenance. There are many buildings here that are no longer habitable. In America, those buildings would be torn down to make room for a publicly financed stadium. But here in England, the buildings are left to deteriorate until some wealthy celebrity acquires and restores them. Eventually that happens, and the building is once again put to productive use – notwithstanding that it was built in 1538, and the doorways are only 4½ feet high. People were shorter in 1538.

Withins ruins

Today’s walk on the Pennine Way weaved through a terrain of high moorlands and drystone fenced pastures, in an area commonly referred to as Bronte Country, because the sisters Bronte lived here and wrote about the area. The Pennine Way passes the ruins of the Withins, erroneosly thought by many to be the setting for "Wuthering Heights."

The Bronte society finally placed a plaque on the building to disspel the notion.

Peter

You will recall that I met Peter yesterday at the Stoodley Pike monument. We met on the trail again today, and we walked together the rest of the day. Peter walked the Pennine Way 50 years ago when he was 15, and is re-walking it as part of a 50 year celebration. As we chatted, we discovered a number of interesting coincidences. He lives in a village not very far from where my good friends Dr. George and Lady Ann live. He is a scuba diver, and was diving in Truk, Yap, and Palau in 1992 – at the same time Janet and I were there. He’s also dived the shipwrecks at Scapa Flow in the Orkney Islands – the very same place where Janet and I bought T-shirts that said we dived Scapa Flow. And the biggest coincidence is that he and I are staying tonight at the same B&B. Wouldn’t it be another coincidence if we ate dinner tonight at the same pub? Or even at the same table?

© 2011 Ken Klug

Wednesday, July 13, 2011 -- Day 43 – Bleak Hey Nook to Badger Fields Farm (on a high ridge NW of Hebden Bridge) – 18 miles

2011-07-14T12:55:00.000-07:00

Upon asking the proprietor of the B&B about the derivation of the name Bleak Hey Nook, he stated that bleak was historically the spelling of the word black. Over time, the meaning of bleak has evolved to mean dark or foreboding. So although the area was not bleak, as we know it, as a color the word describes the surrounding rocks and heather. Indeed, the peat, and the water flowing through it, could be black in color.

Last night’s dinner and today’s breakfast were in the company of two very nice couples, ¾ of which were retired secondary school teachers. They are avid walkers, and are in the throes of completing the Pennine Way, north to south. I am walking in the opposite direction, so we bade our good-byes after breakfast, and I headed off.

Finally on the Pennine Way

Shortly after climbing a steep hill to join the Pennine Way, I encountered James, who is also walking the PW south to north. We chatted a while, and finally set off on our own individual paces, passing each other several times during the day. Also walking in my direction were three ladies, Jan, Jenny and Elaine, who happen to be staying at the same B&B tonight as I am. I also encountered Erik, from the Netherlands, Steve and Peter, both Brits. All of us kept passing and re-passing each other all day, as our paces differed and our breaks/lunch times differed. I suspect that the ebb and flow will continue over the next few days as we are all headed in the same direction. This is a phenomenon which I had not previously experienced on either the Southwest Coast Path or Offa’s Dyke.

Today’s route generally followed a well-signed track over the high moorlands. In boggy places, flagstone has been laid both to improve the footing and reduce the erosion from the foot traffic.

Master chef Brian

At one point the path crossed the busy A640 highway where Brian has set up his cooking trailer and serves coffee and meals to truckers. In California, we would refer to the concession as a “roach wagon,” but Brian’s set-up is spotlessly clean. That his food is good is evidenced by the repeat customers who stop. I failed to ask Brian how long he has been serving food at that place, but I think he’s become a fixture. Had I not just had breakfast, his bacon sandwich looked superb.

Name this car

Does anybody recognize the make and year of the restored vehicle parked near Brian’s trailer? I know it's not a 1972 VW bus.

Steve and Eric near Stoodley Pike

At Stoodley Pike, a point which towers over the village of Hebden Bridge, a huge monument was built to commemorate the victory over Napoleon at Waterloo. While it is possible to climb the tower to the top, there is no lighting, and none of our party chose to risk a fall on the dark, circular staircase.

I was supposed to have ordered dinner at our B&B, but I neglected to do so. Fortunately for me, the three ladies who are also staying here did order dinner, so it was no problem for Miriam, the hostess, to cook one extra meal. The same thing happened yesterday at Bleak Hey Nook, where I had not ordered dinner, but my companions had. I’m glad that the Brits are looking after my nutrition, because if it were left to me, I would end up with bread and jam. Just in case Dr. George and Lady Ann are reading this, please be advised that I would like dinner. Oh, and for the full cooked breakfast, I don’t take black pudding or fried bread.

No WiFi tonight, so this won’t get posted until some future date.

Would you eat this guy?

Day 42 – Glossop to Bleak Hey Nook – 12½ miles

2011-07-12T10:58:00.000-07:00

Lonely signpost

Today was quite a varied day. I started out in Glossop, which is a suburb of greater Manchester. A long walk through town along a highly-trafficked road (but with a sidewalk) eventually took me into a residential area. Finally reaching the end of the development, I passed a farm. From there, the trail led through a series of pastures, through a nature reserve, and eventually into heather covered moors. It doesn’t matter how close you are to an urban area (Manchester was in sight to the west), moors always seem like desolate, lonely places. In fact, if I had fallen and broken my leg, a dog walker would have come along within a few hours, but as there was nobody there at the time, the moor looked bleak and wild.

Coming down off the moor, I again landed in suburbia, and I followed a moderately trafficked road past the high school and down to the River Tame, next to which was the Huddersfield Narrow Canal, which I followed all the way to its end. Actually, the canal doesn’t end, it merely goes through a five-mile tunnel – that people operating the narrowboats go through in total darkness (except for whatever lights they have on their boat) for two to three hours. The tunnel isn’t wide enough for boats to pass each other, so boats go one direction in the morning, and the other in the afternoon. When I passed by the Diggle portal in the afternoon, the gates were closed to traffic headed north.

Artistic gate

Before the boats had engines, they could not be towed by mules through the tunnel because there is no towpath inside. The boatmen had to lie on their backs on the top of the boat and walk upside down on the tunnel’s roof to propel the boat forward. A depiction of how that was done is on the gate.

Since there is no towpath in the tunnel, I was relegated to a narrow country lane to reach today’s destination – Bleak Hey Noll. I don’t know how the name was derived, because the view from my room is the usual picturesque quilt.

Roger and Brenda

I saw nobody in the pastures or the moors, and in town everybody averts their eyes or focuses on the walkway in front of them. I guess that’s to be expected, because Manchester is a big city. On the towpath, I met two cyclists, Roger and Brenda. They were stopped when I first joined the towpath, so naturally, I stopped to chat. They then passed me. Sometime later, they passed me again, having stopped for a coffee. After they reached the end of the towpath they rode over to the Diggle Hotel (I suppose for another coffee), and I met them again just as I stepped off the towpath. How can you not make immediate friends with folks you bump into time and time again? I figure that they earned a picture on my blog for their perseverance.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 41 – Whaley Bridge to Glossop – 9 miles

2011-07-11T13:03:00.000-07:00

As you may know, many of our childhood nursery rhymes came from old England. Ring around the rosey, for example, dates from the plague. During breakfast, I engaged in conversation with an English couple who are spending two weeks in Buxton for the theater festival. They related one version how Humpty Dumpty originated. During the English civil war, the king had captured Bristol and was laying siege on Gloucester. The parliamentarians in Gloucester hid behind a wall on the bank of the Severn, while the king’s forces massed on the other side of the river. Apparently the king’s plan was to build a bridge to both cross the Severn and breach the wall. Measurements were taken, and a large structure denominated Humpty Dumpty was erected. The night before the assault, the people of Gloucester got out their shovels and widened the river. When Humpty Dumpty was floated across the river it couldn’t quite reach the other side, and the current swept it away. And all the kings horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty together again. Or so, that’s how it was related to me. Maybe one of my loyal followers can research this, lest I be contributing to another urban legend.

With nursery rhymes well in hand, I caught the 10:30 train from Buxton to Whaley Bridge, and at the station met two Americans from Salt Lake City who are touring Britain for five weeks. We had a very brief chat on the train before my 17 minute ride was up, and I had to get off.

Narrow, but too long to turn

The route out of Whaley Bridge follows another canal along the Goyt River, providing more interaction with folks on the narrowboats. I previously referred to them as longboats, because most are long. But some are short, so the proper term is narrowboats.

Al and Muriel

While on the towpath, I met Al and Muriel, who live in Whaley Bridge. They invited me to their home for tea, but I had to decline.

Eddie building a wall

A little further on, I met Eddie, who is a stone mason and is building a stone wall. I commented about all the dry stone walls I have seen and Eddie said he’s spent his life building and restoring them. Unfortunately, working on dry stone walls is a vanishing art; Eddie says that the young people don’t want to do all the hard work required. The hard work has done well for Eddie. He’s now 75 and is lifting big rocks that make me ache just to look at them.

Dual-tiered viaduct

Approaching New Mills, I came upon double-decker viaducts I don’t recall seeing before. Perhaps they date from different eras, but there was no explanation along the trail.

With all the rain, the meadows are still showing flowers.

Because it was a short day, I arrived in Glossop early. Tired of pub food, I searched for an Italian restaurant. I found one, but it is closed on Mondays.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 40 – Buxton to Whaley Bridge (Backwards) – 8½ miles

2011-07-10T10:38:00.000-07:00

My bad timing

Today was a forced rest day – forced because the hotels have a two-night minimum for a Saturday stay due to the Buxton festival. My next overnight will be on Monday in Glossop, so I decided that today I should walk approximately halfway to Glossop with a light pack, leaving most of the weight here at my Buxton hotel. Logistically, it made sense to cover the route backwards, so I took a train from Buxton to Whaley Bridge, and walked back to Buxton from there. The train ride took 17 minutes; the walk, four hours.

The day started out warm, with a slight overcast. As would be expected on a pleasant Sunday, many people were outdoors. Mountain bikers were the most numerous on the dual-purpose trail, and the only walkers I encountered today were families with children. As I passed a car park, two small children were sitting on a ground cover with their parents, eating a snack. “Have you been walking?” I asked. “Yes,” replied one of the children. “And my little legs are very tired.”

Flowing from pasture to...

The route passed through cow pastures, woods, over creeks and around a reservoir. Now let’s see – the cows are in high pastures, from which the water flows downhill through the woods and into the reservoir, from where it’s piped into the city’s water mains, and through the faucets into the hotel sinks.

...reservoir

All this time I thought the brown water in the basin was from my socks.

The views from on high were typically lovely, except for the dark clouds in the distance. I encountered a few sprinkles just as I entered Buxton. As I sit here writing this report, townspeople have unfurled their umbrellas.

Tomorrow I’ll take the train back to Whaley Bridge, and then continue walking to Glossop – another easy 8 mile day. I’m beginning to think that if I extend my stay until November, every day can be an 8-mile day. But I doubt George and Ann will put up with me for two weeks.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 39 – Thorpe to Buxton – 19 miles

2011-07-09T14:25:00.000-07:00

The clientele of Peviril of the Peak get an A- for treatment of transient walkers. They could have had an A+, except that one elegantly dressed elderly lady looked as if she had seen a ghost when I walked into the dining room wearing my hiking pants and socks. The other patrons were fine with it, and several engaged me in conversation and later met me in the bar over drinks. I wasn’t the only man not wearing a tie, but those without ties had nice sweaters over their sports shirts. I would rate my experiment as a success, and the Brits passed with flying colors.

Mick and Gayle

I received an email last night from Gayle, who along with her husband Mick, wanted to walk with me today. Gayle and Mick walked from Lands End to John O’Groats in 2003, and since then have walked to all the cardinal and ordinal points in Britain. They’ve made a habit of walking with End to Enders who pass through their area, and only a few weeks ago walked with Jack Frost.

River Dove

Gayle and Mick joined me for the portion of my walk through Dovedale, a scenic river valley in the Peak District. We had good conversation along the way, until the village of Milldale, when they had to turn around and return to their car parked in Thorpe.

Heron on weir

Of course, I didn’t have a car parked anywhere, so I continued on through a series of dales until joining the Pennine Bridleway, another rails to trails project. The bridleway led me to Chelmorton, where I picked up the Midshires Way to Buxton. There were so many walkers and cyclists in the dales and on the bridleway, and I had so far to travel today, that I resisted the temptation to talk with anyone at length. That may be a first for me.

Viaduct at Buxton

Buxton is in the midst of an arts festival which bills itself as one of the largest in England. Between that and the high walking season in the Peak District, accommodations were fully booked for miles around, and I was lucky to find a place. I’ll be here for two nights. Tomorrow will be my rest day, and I’ll take a train to a nearby village and walk back, without any weight in my pack. On Monday, I’ll take the same train voyage, and continue north from there.

Footpath through Dovedale

Day 38 – Ellastone to Thorpe – 10 miles

2011-07-08T06:24:00.000-07:00

It was a dark and stormy night – oh, wait, I’ve already used that one.

It was a dark and stormy morning. Winds blew the rain in sheets across the open pastures. “Oh, sheets,” said the explorer to himself in thoughtful recognition of the character of the rain. Yet he carried on, with such simple-minded dedication to a useless cause not seen by the world since… well, since yesterday.

His is not to reason why.
He moves north, moist or dry.
Into the valley of wet strode the explorer.

Swanton church

Even in the rain the churches and homes remain picturesque. The sky started to clear in the afternoon, and the hills of the Peak District displayed their magical patterns. As I’m moving north, dry stone walls are becoming more common, replacing the hedgerows to which I’ve grown accustomed.

John

Again, the only people outside today were those who had to be. That would be me – and John, a farmer who was feeding hay to his bulls.

I had difficulty finding reservations for tonight, so I’ve ended up at Peveril of the Peak, a very upscale (i.e., very expensive) hotel in Thorpe. Right now I’m sitting in the bar because my room isn’t ready. Background music is soft jazz and pop from the 50’s and 60’s. Right now “The Girl from Ipanema” is playing. Before that it was Sinatra (not Nancy) and Tom Jones. Men wearing suits keep coming in to order drinks. I may be underdressed for dinner. There isn’t any sign saying shirts and shoes required, so I think I’ll leave my boots in my room to dry and go to dinner in my socks.

I’ll try an experiment this evening. I want to find out how the beautiful people react to having a transient in their midst. Will they react like the tourists in Tintagel, or will they merely think I’m an eccentric and humor me? Stay tuned for a full report tomorrow.

Clearing sky

Day 37 -- Abbots Bromley to Ellastone -- 12 miles

2011-07-07T10:20:00.000-07:00

It was a dark and stormy night. As dawn broke, the darkness abated, but the storm did not. Yet the intrepid explorer valiantly set off to the north, struggling through ever deeper snowdrifts while wind gusts threatened to blow him off his feet.

OK, so I exaggerated about the snowdrifts. And the wind gusts were caused by vehicles swooshing by me on the heavily trafficked B road connecting Abbots Bromley to Uttoxeter. The only access to the Staffordshire Way from Marsh Farm B&B is by walking one mile south on the busy B road to Abbots Bromley or walking two miles north on the B road to join a low-traffic C road which connects to the Staffordshire Way. I chose north.

Broken directional sign; overgrown stile

That was probably a good decision, because after I connected to the Saffordshire Way, my way was impeded by chest-high wet grass. Of all the footpaths I’ve walked in England, the Staffordshire Way is the least maintained. With a few exceptions, the parts I’ve walked on the past few days were overgrown with grass, crops, stinging nettles and other plants I can’t identify. Many stiles were in disrepair, and many were so overgrown as to prohibit access.

I’ve been told that the farmers are supposed to maintain the stiles and gates, as well as keep the rights of way clear, and in return the county pays them some sort of stipend. Perhaps the county reneged on its payments, or perhaps farmers find it too expensive to keep their part of the bargain. Whatever the reason, one would do well to avoid the Staffordshire Way. Fortunately, tomorrow I join the Limestone Way, and hope that it is properly maintained.

Shopping carts in creek

The Staffordshire Way brushes by the town of Uttoxeter, which is apparently best known for its horse racecourse. In keeping with the image the farmers have given to the Staffordshire Way, the town has contributed shopping carts to the local creek. I’m not very impressed by Staffordshire; maybe I should return to Much Wenlock.

Anthony and Bridget

Due to today’s heavy rain, including lightning and thunder, people were outside only if they had to be. I think the total would be three. That would be me, Bridget and Anthony. You all know why I had to be outside. Bridget and Anthony were moving ewes and lambs up to the local school grounds. The pupils have been raising the lambs as a school project, and parents’ day is coming when the lambs will be displayed and sent to market. Some of the lambs may even find their way into the school’s dining room. The children are learning how to be farmers; I hope their curriculum includes responsible footpath maintenance.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 36 -- Penkridge to Abbots Bromley -- 16 miles

2011-07-06T09:22:00.000-07:00

Yesterday evening Bob and Pam picked me up at my B&B and took me out for a wonderful dinner at a very upscale restaurant. I was woefully underdressed in my hiking boots, but my pants and shirt were clean. Bob also wore his hiking pants, so we looked like we belonged together. The food was good, the conversation better, and maybe I planted a seed for Bob and Pam to visit Yosemite and/or Zion. Thank you very much, Bob and Pam, for a delightful evening.

I was fortunate today with the weather. A heavy downpour started about 7:00 am. At 7:30, I mapped out a new route that would avoid muddy pastures and knee-high wet grass that characterized yesterday’s walk. By the time I left the B&B at 8:45, the rain had stopped.

The guidebook’s route leaves Penkridge along the towpath of the Shropshire and Worcestershire Canal, and then after a short while turns northeast through Cannock Chase, the huge wooded hills east of Penkridge. Rather than follow that route, which I presumed would be wet and muddy, I stayed on the towpath all the way to Great Haywood. This may have added a little extra distance, but the towpath was dry, the grass was short, and I easily stepped over the standing puddles. The flat towpath made for easy walking, and I reached Great Haywood shortly after noon.

About a dozen longboats passed by – basically RVs for canals. The engines were noisy, so the boatmen (and women) could not engage in conversation other than the usual “Good morning” pleasantries. The sun stayed out all morning.

Longboat leaving canal lock

Just as I reached Great Haywood and crossed over the canal into the village, a cloudburst started. Right at the canal crossing point is a tea room, and I ducked in for lunch. The downpour continued all during lunch, and as I finished my last swallow of milk, the clouds finished their act. I stepped outside into sunshine, while the street gutters still flowed with rainwater.

For those of you who may be following along on “Where’s the Path?” my route took me north out of Great Haywood, across the A51, and continuing on Tolldish Lane northeast and then east when it turns into Moreton Lane and heads southeast. 200 yards later, a bridleway heads northeast past Moreton Barn Farm (not Moreton Farm or Morton House) and continues all the way to Newton. The track is open, clear and dry all the way, even through the pastures. From Newton, a minor road with virtually no traffic runs north to Dapple Heath and then runs east just north of Blithfield Reservoir. It intersects with the busy Uttoxeter Road about ¾ mile north of Abbots Bromley. I’m staying at the Marsh Farm on the Uttoxeter Road a mile north of Abbots Bromley, so my route was more direct than the guidebook’s route. (Of course, I missed Abbots Bromley, but my pants and boots stayed dry, and I didn’t get any blisters which wet feet often do. For anybody using this blog to research his or her LEJOG – that’s probably you, Professor Ron – this is a good wet weather alternative.)

As I was walking along north of the Blithfield Reservoir, I was serenaded again by a buzzard. I got a close look at it when it landed in a tree. It was clearly a raptor, not a vulture. I presume I was near its nest, because it dove at me several times, and once swooped along the lane from behind me, missing me by only a few feet. It’s pretty impressive having a big bird swoosh past from behind at high speed, and then continue gliding down the lane not more than 10 feet off the ground.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 35 – Shifnal to Penkridge; 16 miles

2011-07-05T09:37:00.000-07:00

A few words about Comments:

I do read all of the comments that many of you so nicely take the time to add. I don’t respond to any of the comments, though, merely due to time constraints. If you would like a personal response, please send me an email, and I’ll reply as soon as I can.

Today's walk:

Steve and Jenny

Today’s walk was, in a word, boring. Much of the walk was along very low traffic country lanes, but neither the scenery nor route finding was interesting. The bright spot this morning came when I met Steve and Jenny, who were working in their immaculately maintained yard near Tong Norton. No sooner had I said “Good morning” than Jenny commented on the size of my backpack and invited me for a cup of coffee. I had to decline Jenny’s offer because I had left Shifnal only 45 minutes earlier, having had enough coffee for the day. Steve and Jenny didn’t mind my interrupting their chores, but they hesitated at the suggestion of a photo because, in Jenny’s words, they looked so scruffy. No scruffier than Sir Lost-a-lot typically looks, though.

Church at Lapley

A light sprinkle started about 12:30 – enough to cause me to put the rain cover on my pack, but not enough for me to wear a rain jacket. There was enough rain, though, to wet the knee-high grass through which I had to walk once off the roads. So, by the time I reached Penkridge at 3:45, my boots and socks were soaked. Right now, they are drying nicely while I’m sitting in the pub.

I’ll be having dinner tonight with Bob and Pam, the avid hikers I met on Offa’s Dyke, Day 31.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 34 – Monday, July 4, 2011 -- Much Wenlock to Shifnal 13 miles

2011-07-04T10:31:00.000-07:00

Much Wenlock is a pretty little village, and its High Street has many commercial establishments run out of buildings that are centuries old. The businesses are for locals – butcher, hardware store, pharmacy, etc., so the village doesn’t have the feel of a tourist trap. Believe it or not, Much Wenlock is where the modern Olympics were first started around 1850.

Citizens of Much Wenlock

Today’s walk took me out of town past the old priory, and almost immediately into farm pastures. While crossing a pasture, I heard a loud commotion as at least 3 dozen people were passing through the gate which I had used only moments before. I was quite sure that I had paid my B&B bill so I couldn’t imagine why a local posse would be chasing me. But they weren’t carrying clubs or flaming torches, so I quickly dismissed the thought of a gang of vigilantes.

A Royal Sendoff

As they approached closer, I noticed that they were smiling and some were carrying walking sticks. It was a group of residents of Much Wenlock who came out to walk with me a bit and give me a grand send off!! Others tried to downplay the community’s showing of friendship by telling me they were a “walk for health” group that meets every week, and today they just happened to be walking on my route. Well, I’m certainly a believer in walking for health (see my postings of June – August 2010), but there is no doubt in my mind that the citizens of Much Wenlock were showing their great friendship to an American who visited their village. Or maybe they were just making sure I was leaving. In any event, I doubt that any other End to Ender ever got such a sendoff.

After that, I literally floated along the trail, and my hat was two sizes too small for my head.

David and Glenis

A bit later, I encountered two other walkers, David and Glenis, from Yorkshire. We had a good long chat, and took pictures of each other, but I suppressed my local celebrity status, lest they be disappointed that the community didn’t turn out to welcome them.

Ironbridge's iron bridge

I arrived at Ironbridge around lunchtime, and took a quick break on a warm day. Ironbridge is a bit touristy, but in good taste – kind of like Carmel, California. Knowing I had a short day, I lingered perhaps more than I should have, because as the day wore on, the temperature continued to rise.

Sheila and Rob

As I was leaving Ironbridge, I walked through a car park, where I encountered Rob and Sheila having a tailgate lunch. My attention was quickly seized when Rob mentioned that he restores old cars and that he had driven a classic Triumph from John O’Groats to Land’s End for charity. He said they raised £150,000.

That got me to thinking: I should start a charity for temporarily homeless, semi-retired lawyers. You know, the ones who live out of backpacks, and move from city to city because they can’t maintain long-term relationships. If you think that’s a good idea, just send your contributions to this address. I’ll use the initial seed money to brainstorm in a local pub. This idea has real possibilities. Honest.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 33 -- July 3, 2011 -- Craven Arms to Much Wenlock, 18 miles

2011-07-04T10:16:00.000-07:00

Today was a warm, sunny day, but most of the walk was along well-defined paths in shady woodlands, so I stayed relatively cool all day. Surprisingly, I saw nobody all morning, because a dry Sunday should have brought out the walkers. In the afternoon, I encountered a group of 8 boy scouts who were camping last night and were walking to their pick up point. Much later, after the trail joined with a former railroad bed, I saw a half dozen cyclists who whizzed past me.

In the shady woodland, there were very few scenic views, except for the trail itself. Hearing was the only sensory perception, as the birds were singing the entire day. I’ll never understand why some walkers drown out the sounds of nature with earbuds connected to their mp3 players. (That statement will probably elicit some comments.)

The trail runs along Wenlock Edge, a high ridge of limestone uplifted many millions of years ago as what is now Great Britain emerged from the ocean. At several places along the route, the bare cliff showed the many layers of limestone deposited when the area was submerged. Close to Much Wenlock, a large limestone quarry is still in operation.

I have no WiFi tonight, so I'll have to defer working on future accommodations. I’ve got my rooms booked through Friday. There’s nothing in Chelmorton on Saturday, and I haven’t yet had a chance to look at Chapel in le Frith for Sunday or Glossop for Monday. I may end up spending all three nights in Buxton, and using taxis or buses to assist me in walking those segments.

But right now, my feet and legs are tired from today’s 18 miler. It's time to find a pub and replenish my electrolytes. The sun will rise tomorrow, and after a few preliminary chores, I’ll be off to Shifnal.

Snake on trail

Day 32 -- Knighton to Craven Arms -- 14 official miles, but 16 by my route

2011-07-02T12:53:00.000-07:00

Sheep obstrucing footbridge

A lovely Saturday should bring out the walkers, and as I left Knighton, there were quite a number. But they must have been walking on Offa’s Dyke, because I saw only one group of walkers the entire day.
About an hour out of Knighton, I called Dr. George and Lady Ann from the middle of a pasture. They just returned to England from Utah, via Toronto. I’m looking forward to seeing them when I get to northern England in another 3 weeks.

Birmingham family

Curious horses

My route departed from the national trail, and instead linked a number of local footpaths to carry me over hills, over dales, over all the dusty trails, but there wasn’t even a caisson, let alone other hikers, except for a family from Birmingham with whom I shared the trail for about 15 minutes.

Because I was not hiking on a national trail, the signage is not very good, and once again my superb route-finding abilities were called into play. You’ll be happy to know that I got lost – really lost – only once all day. Well, twice if you count the little ten-minute detour, but I’m not counting it because I was on a parallel track in a thick forest.

But the time I got really lost was on the top of a hill, also in a thick forest. I wasn’t even near the track I should have been on. So, after figuring out where I was, I fought back the tears and the urge to call 999 (the British emergency number), and sat down and said to myself, “How in the hell do you figure you’re gonna get yourself out of this fix?” Despite the predicament, I felt a sudden surge of relief when I remembered Janet wasn’t with me.

Working with the map in one hand, the GPS in another and my hiking sticks in another, I devised a route that would get me back to where I should be. It was only a 2 mile detour. I was still happy Janet wasn’t with me – she really hates it when I get us lost, and she would not have been a happy companion today, even though the weather was fine.

When I was on route -- trail passes through front yard

My legs must be getting stronger, because despite the distance and the route-finding delays, I arrived at my B&B at 5:15. I should be a McDonald’s commercial, because I’m loving it.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 31 -- July 1, 2011 -- Kington to Knighton -- 14 miles

2011-07-02T12:37:00.000-07:00

The Shadow knows

Today was a glorious day. The sun was shining, the meadows were filled with flowers, and the birds were singing all day. For almost 30 minutes this morning I was serenaded by a raptor continuously screeching its message while it circled above in the wind currents. The locals call it a buzzard, but it wasn’t circling dead carrion as vultures typically do. And since it was morning, I did not yet smell like I was dead.

Today’s route climbed to the top of seemingly every hill around, providing 360˚ views of the surrounding patchwork quilt countryside. Among the hills, the route passed through beautiful woods, and over rippling streams.

Although the scenery was incredible, I am getting a little tired of all the pastures filled with sheep or cattle. Perhaps the warm sunshine had an effect, but it seems as if the barnyard smells of manure and ammonia proliferated more than before, and the flies were more numerous. Still, those minor inconveniences could not spoil the day.

Pam and Bob

En route, I encountered Pam and Bob, perhaps the most avid walkers I’ve met in a long time. They just returned from two and a half weeks of hiking in the Pyrenees, and were already out hiking again on Offa’s Dyke.

After the usual shower and laundry, I went out to dinner. The first venue I tried was too crowded to be enjoyable. The second pub had a small group watching the Wimbledon semi-finals, so I went in for a beer. The crowd departed as soon as the Brit lost, and I moved into the restaurant for dinner. There were Pam and Bob, and we had a friendly conversation about the best places to walk. They live in the area I’ll be passing through next week, and we made tentative plans to get together again.

My B&B tonight does not have WiFi, so this posting will be a day late.

Which is the bull? Hint: the trail is 6 feet in front of his nose ring.

Day 30 -- Hay-on-Wye to Kington 15 miles

2011-06-30T14:17:00.000-07:00

River Wye from Hay

Where am I now? I thought I would be in Wales the rest of this week, but the route out of Hay-on-Wye crossed the Wye River, placing me back in England. The route passes back and forth over the border so many times, that it’s hard to keep track. I have it on good advice that tonight I’m in England. But tomorrow there will be at least three more border crossings before I end up in Knighton, which I believe is in Wales. All the border crossings make me feel like a fugitive from justice.

Hay (as the locals refer to it) must be the used bookseller capital of the world, with perhaps more used book stores than anywhere. Being somewhat of a bookaholic, I was tempted to explore the bookstores, but was deterred by the realization that I had to either carry or ship any purchases, neither of which was practical. So instead, I went to a pub.

Welsh (or English) lambs

The walk today was in pleasant weather, first along the Wye River, then moving into farm fields, pastures, woods, and onto high, grassy hills, with a small village and a church thrown in from time to time. There was nothing dramatic – only a lovely walk on a lovely day.

Charles and Chris

Charles and Chris, walking the Offa’s Dyke Path, were the first walkers I encountered on the trail today.

Richard and Alison

Later came Richard and Alison, father and daughter.

Ben

When I stopped at a pub in Gladestry for a bowl of soup, I saw Ben, with whom I had breakfast at the B&B in Hay. Ben is a professor of African studies at a university near London, and is walking ODP this week between sessions. He and I walked the final four miles to Kington together, sharing stories and generally enjoying the day. He heads back home tomorrow after walking to Knighton, so we had dinner together before wishing each other well.

Would you cross this stile?

Day 29; Longtown to Hay-on-Wye 13 miles

2011-06-29T10:29:00.000-07:00

Andy Robinson’s guide suggests going from Pandy to Hay-on-Wye in one day, because the route runs the length of the high ridge through Brecon Beacon National Park. I didn’t start in Pandy yesterday, so it would have been difficult to go all the way through to Hay-on-Wye. As a result, yesterday I descended about 1200 feet from the ridge to Longtown. Today, I had to re-ascend those 1200 feet to re-gain the ridge. It’s a good thing that the full breakfasts provide lots of energy.

Rosemary and Jonathon

Once on the ridge, the walk was generally flat, with good footing. A brisk cross-wind from the west kept things cool, and I made very good time. Eventually I saw a group of about 10 walkers far ahead of me, heading in the same direction. I gradually gained on them until I was no more than 300 or 400 yards behind, when I encountered Jonathon and Rosemary coming from the other direction. They are walking Offa’s Dyke, and left Hay-on-Wye three hours earlier. Since it was almost noon, I concluded I would reach my destination about 3:00. (I actually arrived about 2:30, because J&R’s three hours included an ascent to the ridge, and I faced only a gradual descent from the ridge.) I never did catch up to the group.

Blocked lane

I’ve previously mentioned how the footpaths often cross farmers’ fields. Sometimes the farmer is allowed to divert the footpath and re-route walkers around the public right-of-way if his crop would be damaged by walkers or if the nature of the crop would inconvenience walkers. As I approached Hay-on-Wye, I experienced another type of diversion. A lane was entirely blocked by a vehicle and trailer as gardeners were clearing out an overgrown yard. There was no way for me to go around, partly due to the high walls on either side of the vehicle, partly due to my big backpack, and partly due to the full breakfasts I've been consuming. Rather than move the vehicle, the homeowner had me detour through her garden into her house, through the living room and kitchen, and out the front door.

Homeowner Gay

Day 28; Tuesday, June 28, 2011; Llanvetherine to Longtown

2011-06-28T12:09:00.000-07:00

I awoke to the plaintive bleating of hundreds of sheep in the barnyard beneath my bedroom window. I watched as the farmers herded all the sheep through a series of pens, finally diverting the biggest lambs (35 – 40 kilos) into a holding pen, where they were herded into a trailer and taken to market. That’s a PC term meaning to the slaughterhouse, the butcher and the table. The Great Tre Rhew farm runs about 800 sheep and 40 or 50 cattle. Trevor, who together with his wife Anne, now runs the B&B, moved to the farm as a child in 1940 and has lived there ever since. His sons still continue the farming operation.

I didn't get chopped up

Like yesterday, today’s walk went through small villages, forests, pastures, and across small streams. But the route also ran along the high ridge of Brecon Beacon National Park, providing outstanding views of adjacent valleys. The ridge and valleys appear to have been sculpted by glaciers long since departed, which left the characteristic “U” shaped valleys.

Audrey and Rod

The only persons I met on the trail were Audrey and Rod, out doing a day hike from a nearby caravan park. I’m wondering what happened to the “Offa’s Dyke High Season.” Maybe it starts next week, when I’ll be somewhere else.

View from Brecon Beacon

I haven’t had any WiFi the past two days, but I’m told that there may be WiFi available at the pub. I’ll go over and find out. That’s the only reason, honest. If this gets posted tonight, you’ll know the pub has WiFi. If not, you’ll know the pub has beer.

Field of foxgloves

Day 27 -- Monday, June 27, 2011; St. Briavels to Llanvetherine

2011-06-28T11:55:00.000-07:00

Redbrook from the footpath

Today’s walk promised to be a long one – 22 miles to be exact. I got an early start, and although the walk started out through dense forest, the day was already hot and humid, with no air movement. In about an hour I had arrived at Redbrook, dripping wet. I stopped at a convenience store and bought a cold sports drink and just sat on the bench to cool down. I also took the time to telephone tonight’s lodging to advise that there was no way that I could possibly reach the destination before dark, and alerted them that they would need to pick me up. Anne said that I should just call them when necessary, but most walkers arrive about 6:00 – so I shouldn’t be worried about getting there before dark. I told her that I was old, the weather is hot and muggy, and I move at my own pace – and that I would call her to advise of the pick-up point.

Colin, Bob and Brian

From Redbrook, the trail followed the River Wye all the way to Monmouth. Upon crossing the Wye River Bridge into Monmouth, I once again entered Wales, this time to stay until Saturday. Along the way, I met Colin, Bob and Brian, three Brits who were walking Offa’s Dyke. They had stayed at tonight’s destination two nights ago, which emphasized in my mind the distance I had to cover in one day. In Monmouth I bought a pint of milk, 2 sports drinks, and a sandwich for lunch. Considering the heat and humidity, I hoped I had enough liquids to keep me vertical on the trail. As is my custom in large villages, I got lost trying to get out of Monmouth. Retracing my steps cost me a good 20 minutes.

Path through cornfield

Once back on the trail, I found the route easy to follow. Unlike some of the other footpaths I’ve followed, the Offa’s Dyke Path is well marked (once out of the city), and you really do need to try hard to lose the trail. I tried hard only once, resulting in only a 5 minute detour.

Path through apple orchard

Outside of Monmouth, the wind picked up and I was hit with a smattering of rain. More importantly, the temperature dropped dramatically. No longer walking in a sauna, I walked comfortably in the rain in my T-shirt. As a result, my pace increased, and I arrived at the B&B at 6:30. I would have been on time had I not gotten lost twice. Darn.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 26 -- Evening Update

2011-06-26T13:25:00.000-07:00

I ended the last post with the question "What more could a walker want?" Well, Jackie, the proprietress of the B&B, saw my laundry drying in the bathroom, and thought I shouldn't be walking with mud stains on my pants. (Remember my comment of a few days ago about my never being able to remove the mud stains?) So she washed and dried the whole load.

Then she drove me to the most delightful pub, the George, in St. Braivels, built in the 1500's. While having my after dinner drink -- a 12 year old Highland Park scotch -- I met Dennis and Catherine. We had a nice conversation, and they insisted that I explore the village castle which at one time was the hunting lodge of King John, but has now been restored to a youth hostel. While I was there, a young lady asked me if I wanted to have my picture taken in the stocks. Why of course. But also of course, I had forgotten my camera. No problem, she took the picture and promised to email it to me.

It turns out that Dennis and Catherine are neighbors of Jackie, and they gave me a ride back to the B&B. So I guess I should repeat the question: What more could a walker want?

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 26 -- Chepstow to St. Briavels

2011-06-26T10:36:00.000-07:00

Today is a rest day, so the distance is only 8 miles from Chepstow along the Offa’s Dyke Path. Offa’s Dyke is an earthen berm built by King Offa between year 778 and 796 to defend his landholdings from the Welsh – kind of like a Chinese wall, only it’s not a wall. And it’s not Chinese. It runs about 150 miles. Much of it has eroded away over the 1300 years since its construction, but there remain embankments which are 20 feet high. It passes through some beautiful countryside.

The day was sunny and warm, and consequently most of the people walking today were either families with small children or teenagers in love. I did not stop any of them to question why they were out here. I did encounter several groups of climbers, but climbers are only interested in talking if somebody buys them a drink at the end of the day.

Wye River from Brockweir

Today’s walk passed through forests and pastures before settling down along the tranquil Wye River. The Wye River is tidal until Monmouth. The high and low tide differ by some 30 feet – very noticeable at the river’s mouth, but increasingly less dramatic the farther upstream you go. High tide was at 4:00 pm today, so the river was full all along the walk.

With nobody to talk to, I arrived at the B&B at 4:00 pm, which is a miracle in itself given the inadequate directions provided. In many villages, people don’t use addresses – merely the name of the house and the postal code. If I put a stamp on my forehead, I would be properly delivered, but trying to work from a map is difficult without grid coordinates. After asking several people for directions, I’ve arrived at the proper location. I’m now sitting out in the home’s lovely garden typing this posting because nobody is home. I’m not exactly sure how long I should wait before looking for something else. Of course looking for something else would be a lot easier if there were cell phone reception here. If I do get this posted, you’ll know that either the innkeeper arrived, or that I gave up and found something else. It’s OK out here in the garden, but I wonder what I would be doing if it were raining.

Update: The innkeepers arrived about 4:45 and said that there was a mix-up about my scheduled arrival time. In any event, all is well, I’ve had my shower, I’ve done my laundry, and the proprietors are going to drive me to and from the pub, which is about 2 miles away. What more could a walker want out of life?

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 25 -- Rest Day in Chepstow

2011-06-25T09:32:00.000-07:00

Today was my forced rest day. Unfortunately, my two nights in Chepstow were not at the same location, so I needed to carry my backpack for a good part of the day as I toured the village. There is a fair in nearby Glastonbury and a race in nearby Cardiff. There was also a festival in Chepstow. As a result, every single room had been booked. I had been fortunate to find a room for Friday on late notice. Di Swales, at Sherpa Van, always seems to be able to magically find me a space at the last minute. I now have her working on Pennine Way accommodations, and as we are moving into the high season, I’m keeping my fingers crossed that her magic will continue.

Chepstow Castle

My day was first spent attending to business details, like topping up my mobile phone credits and mailing used maps to George. Then I toured Chepstow Castle. Initially built in 1068, right after the Norman Conquest, the castle was expanded in the mid-13th century, and had final remodeling in the 15th century. Since then it has undergone maintenance and conservation, but no new features have been added. The time scale is as meaningful to me as being told that the Grand Canyon was carved 5 million years ago. I’ve heard it told that the human mind is capable of truly comprehending a time scale of only 2 generations older and 2 generations younger than the present. Even that is pushing it for me.

After touring the castle, I sat on a bench in the village square while deciding on something else to do. At that particular moment, a parade marched by. I’m not exactly sure what was being celebrated, but it was fun to watch.

Mags (holding rooster Ivor) and Bob

I then walked the mile to tonight’s B&B, hoping that the proprietors would allow me to leave my pack so I could further explore Chepstow without that burden. Unfortunately, they weren’t home. Fortunately, their neighbors, Bob and Mags, came by at that very moment. They invited me into their home for coffee and conversation, and allowed me to store my pack with them until I had finished exploring Chepstow.

Old bridge over River Wye

Back so soon?

Surprisingly, as I crossed the River Wye outside of Chepstow, I returned from Wales to England. I’ll be in England for at least the next two days until the Offa’s Dyke Path again crosses the River Wye and I return to Wales.

Parade characters Karen and Hannah