I first became aware
of what a peak bagger was
many years ago when lost in fog for twenty minutes on a Lake District
mountain.
Our leader was a Scot who just disappeared. All
we could do was stand there in
sleet and dense fog, and stand we did for twenty
minutes. Eventually he
returned and we learned that there was a secondary Monro which he
hadn’t touched the top of, and
this was his one chance. Many of
us are just happy to simply get to the top of any old hill.
A considerable number of more fit walkers rise
to the challenge of collecting or “ticking off”
hills and mountains climbed, and what more natural than
to arrange them in order of heights.
Originally the idea was confined to Scottish hills and mountains
and there are lists of Scottish hills in each range.
The idea seems to have spread throughout the British Isles
with lists available for different areas.
Monros.
These are hills above 3000ft. An original list of Scottish mountains
over 3000ft. was drawn up by Sir
Hugo Munro around 1890.
The list has been revised a
number of times and the number at present is 283.
Corbetts.
There are around 220 Corbetts
in Scotland, a list compiled by J.Rook
Corbett. These are peaks over 2500ft but
less than 3000ft. requiring a final ascent of 500ft. on all sides.
Donalds. Hills in the Scottish
Lowlands of 2000ft. were
named Donalds by Percy Donald there are 89 of these.
Grahams.
A list of Scottish hills between 2000ft. and 2500ft.
in height. 224 is the latest Scotland count.
Interesting that they were initially called Elsies
derived from the fact that they were lesser
Corbetts (LC’S). Clever.
I suppose this listing could go on and
on, there are complex
definitions of various other kinds of hills, including Birkett’s
and Marilyn’s.
Are there special names for hills
between 1500ft. and 2000ft. or even between
1000ft. and 1500ft. I don’t know but I think I
will name the these ones Irvines. Now that I’m getting on,
I seem to be climbing more of
them. Find out
more from this site and there are others!!
The Way of St. James in North West Spain, has been walked by pilgrims for
a thousand years. Several walks lead through Europe, finally meeting at
Santiago de Compostela. The pilgrims visit the tomb of St James where the
relics of the first martyr are stored in a silver casket. They will have
walked through Europe following worn tracks which weave their way through
villages and farmyards. Refuges and monasteries have been built along the
way to provide shelter. Food and water are available in all sorts of
places for the pilgrims. Some walked to find themselves, some to learn
truths and others simply to follow footsteps. It is a beautiful area to
walk in and well worth doing for whatever reason one chooses.
In September I joined the Camino, the Way of St James at Leon, 140 miles
from Santiago, and hoped that I would be able to complete the journey on
foot in 11 days without too many blisters or too much pain … and I did.
And I learned something important, something which I think is worth
sharing. Let me explain.
At the carousel at Madrid airport our group of walkers claimed their
suitcases but it soon became apparent that mine was not there. On
reporting the missing luggage to Iberian Airlines Information desk, I was
given a small… very small… emergency toilet bag to tide me over until my
own bag was located and delivered to my hotel. I pointed out that I was
walking the Camino and would be moving accommodation each day. I left 4
addresses which the lady assured me would be more than enough.
On analysing the situation, I realized that the position was not critical…
I was wearing my walking boots so I could start my walk in the morning
even if my bag did not arrive for 24 hours. I had money and passport with
me, my camera , raincoat and novel were in my backpack.
The emergency bag had an interesting collection of items: a one-size fits
all white t-shirt, a pair of white cotton boxer shorts … that was my
bedtime lingerie sorted….. A pair of multi-size plastic flip-flops, paper
pants—yug! bin quickly…. brush and comb, toothbrush, deodorant, a small
tin of Nivea cream --- and a sewing kit. I had nothing to sew!
Next morning I started off with everyone else, no-one mentioned that I was
wearing yesterday’s clothes and all went well. I didn’t miss my bag too
much. On arriving at that night’s hotel in Astorgia, 10 miles along, there
was no news for me, no luggage had been delivered for me, no message from
Iberian Airlines. Everyone dispersed to change for dinner dragging heavy
suitcases up stairs and along corridors while I carried my half kilo bag.
I showered – and put on the clothes I had already worn all day. Oh No!
this will not do! I had 20 minutes to shop before dinner. I rushed out
the door and in 10 minutes I had bought a pretty t-shirt, and a very
sparkly pair of sandals. Cut-off trousers completed the outfit. I was
ready for dinner.
And this, dear readers, was
my wardrobe for a week. Everything was washed before I got into bed, wrung
out in towels and hung to dry in any airy space I could find. All was dry
in the morning. Each evening when we arrived at the next hotel, Diane, our
leader asked if Iberian had been in touch-- the answer was always ‘no’
So, again I collected my tiny bag and went to my room while others dragged
their 15kg plus loads to rooms on various floors. Never again will I pack
those 2 pretty dresses which need those 2 different pairs of sandals,
those special trousers etc etc…. that makes life too difficult.
Eventually the day came, a full week later… and my bag was waiting for me.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted it. I had got used to the freedom of travelling
light, my room was never untidy, 2 minutess packed me in the morning , and
I had no heavy weight to drag to my room on the top floor. However, I had
missed my perfume and my ear-rings, and my nail polish was beginning to
chip, but, truthfully I missed nothing else from that bag.
I had learned a truth on my
way to Santiago. We have acquired too much stuff. Dorothy Eccles
With a big birthday coming up I started to think about undertaking a
special walk to commemorate the occasion. My mind wandered – perhaps the
Alps, maybe the Pyrenees – oh so many great areas to explore – which one
would it be? The answer came unexpectedly whilst I was idly flicking
through the TV channels one evening – there was Julia Bradbury climbing
Dent Fell on the first day of her Coast to Coast walk. This was the
one for me (I mean the walk) and so, I began to suss things out. I
“googled” it – about 192 miles, from St.Bee’s on the Irish Sea
coast to Robin Hood’s Bay beside the North Sea, over a variety of
mountains, hills and plains, through three National Parks with great
scenery and lots of wildlife interest.
Let’s go! – not so quick. I decided to do the walk in 14 days
(incidentally, it has been run in under 40 hours) so where would I stay? I
made it easy on myself by using the services of Contours Walking Holidays who
booked all the B&B’s I would need on route. Also, my days for carrying a
40lb rucksack are over – a nice little light day sack will do for me
thanks. Contour Walking Holidays sorted this out for me by employing
another company called Packhorse which collected, and then moved my
heavy case from one B&B to another.
A
couple of weeks before my walk I received my information pack – maps,
guide book, B&B directions etc ..... and, an “emergency” contact number
just in case – precisely the right amount of detail. The walk was broken
up into 14 chunks of varying distances – the shortest day was about 9
miles – the longest 23 miles. Thoughtfully the shorter days were devoted
to the more strenuous sections in the higher and rugged mountain areas.
And
so, in early May I found myself performing two little ceremonies that most
coast to coasters do. I dipped the toe of my boot in the Irish Sea at St.
Bee’s and selected a pebble (not too heavy) – and then took my first step
in the footsteps of Alfred Wainwright who first walked this way in
the early 1970’s. I’ll not burden you with a detailed day to day account –
but every day was special and interesting in its own way. The coastal path
leading from St. Bee’s was fringed with wild flowers and overhead Fulmars
manoeuvred on “wooden” wings. At Black Sail Youth Hostel deep in
Ennerdale the air was full of different accents and languages as
fellow travellers took time to chat before heading up Loft Beck and
crossing the slatey wilderness of Honister Pass. In fact, this
meeting and mingling of like minded strangers is a vital part of the Coast
to Coast. The walk attracts people from all over the world – I met people
from as far apart as USA and Australia – some walking in a group with
friends, one with a dog, others like myself walking solo but joining up
with fellow walkers for a mile or two as the opportunity arose. In this
way many friendships were made.
Click thumbnails for bigger pictures
The
top end of Borrowdale valley is one of my favourite mountain areas
– a Cuckoo greeted me as I descended into it – and there was even a short,
easy via ferata above the tumbling waters of the River Derwent.
Climbing out of it I followed a scenic ridge which took me over Calf
Crag, Gibson Knott and on to “The Lion and the Lamb” – just one
of the variant opportunities along the way. My third day in the Lake
District took me through Grisedale Pass. This time I decided to
climb St. Sunday Crag with all its scrambling possibilities – other
fit walkers go for Helvellyn and descend by Striding Edge. Next day the
walk up to High Street was a delight – then a dog-leg over
Kidsty Pike (at 780m the highest point on the “standard” route) which
allowed us to look down on a herd of deer. We scanned the skies above for
Haweswater’s resident Golden Eagle – no joy, and no time to linger as a
short, fierce hail shower peppered the ground turning the higher slopes
white.
Beyond Shap very different habitats invited exploration – at first
the trail crossed the grey “bones” of karst scenery with ferns sticking
their heads up out of the grykes. There were sparkling streams with tiny
trout, tumbling waterfalls too, and later, in the Yorkshire Dales
National Park stretches of brown haggy ground thankfully not too wet
and boot sucking. Perhaps the most fascinating part meandered through the
mining wastelands above and beyond Crackpot Hall – hushes, rusting
remnants and dignified decaying buildings encouraged investigation. If you
like industrial archaeology you will love this area – however, misty
conditions would make it tricky to navigate.
Arriving at Richmond was a bit of a shock to the system after all
the hilly miles of the previous days. However, it is a beautiful town
packed with fascinating buildings lining cobbled streets. Some coast to
coasters stay an extra day here to give their weary legs a chance to
recover and to soak up some of its history. However, the Vale of
Mowbray beckoned – a lowland area lasting 23 miles crossing pastures
grazed by friendly cows, through fields glowing yellow with Oil Seed Rape
– following public rights of way which made use of a great variety of
stiles. Some walkers find this section boring – not me – butterflies
fluttered and bees buzzed above flower lined banks, scattered feathers
provided evidence of a Sparrowhawk kill and a Little Owl winked back at me
– lots to see for those that look. Even so, it was with tired legs that I
ran the gauntlet of crossing the A19 at the end of the day – oh,
for a footbridge.
Blacksail Youth Hostel
The
final few days traversed the North York Moors National Park – a
delightful area with gentle ups and downs – following ancient “trods”
through forests and along escarpments. There is a intriguing section which
follows an abandoned Victorian mineral railway line which contours the
slopes for seemingly endless miles – a place to let your mind wander and
legs stride out – where the calls of Red Grouse and Golden Plover ring in
your ears.
Throughout the walk one day seemed to melt into the next – life was simple
– a comfy bed, a good breakfast, pleasant company and a new walk for the
day ahead not knowing what was round the next corner. And, all too soon I
walked round the last corner into the charming village of Robin Hood’s
Bay and down its steep street . Here it was that I completed the
little ceremonies began all those miles ago in the west – I dipped the toe
of my boot in the North Sea and threw my pebble into its salty waters.
Would I recommend this walk – most definitely – but don’t leave it too
long.
Useful references – “A Coast to
Coast Walk” by A. Wainwright; published by Frances Lincoln
“A Coast to Coast Walk” by
M.Wainwright; published by Aurumpress
Maps – Coast to Coast West and Coast
to Coast East published by Harvey: scale 1.40000
