A desperate attempt to keep my feet dry in the Peak District.

It was 7th April, 2012. Following a 5 mile walk around the Chatsworth Estate the day before, my walking boots were rubbing my ankle badly. For Saturday's walk in the Peak District I decided to wear my only other pair of shoes – my beloved Nike trainers.

It had snowed the day before in the mountains, but that was no problem 'cos I had just sprayed my trainers with a good waterproof spray and covered my socks with plastic bags. I was going to have lovely dry feet during our Peak District walk.

The walk - led by Duncan - was to be 10 miles long, via Snake Inn, Seal Stones, Seal Edge, Fairbrook Naze, Black Ashop Edge, Ashop Head and back via Snake Path to Snake Inn. We met everyone in the Birchin Clough Car Park on the A57, just past Snake Inn.

Crossing the road from the car park, we walked into the woods. I ran enthusiastically down my first hill, but the hill was steeper than I thought and my feet left the ground. I practised my superwoman dive - which must have looked impressive from behind - and landed face down on the grass at the bottom of the hill. From behind I heard smothered giggles, and a courteous, “Are you all right Gill?” My feet were still dry.

A few minutes later, we reached a raging river. Duncan walked straight across as if he was Jesus parting the waves, and beckoned for us to follow. Jill and I looked at each other, took off our shoes and socks, threw them across the river to the other side, and waded in barefooted. However carefully I placed my feet on the rocks I still slipped, but reached the safe arm of Duncan. With a sigh of relief, I wiped my feet, put my socks and trainers back on, and continued up the mountain. My feet were still dry.

The Group on the PeakWorryingly, the soles of my trainers gave me little grip in the snow and mud, and I knew that I would have a 10 mile struggle. Carefully trying to avoid the rocks and sludge, I soldiered on up my first mountain. The fact that I had the wrong shoes on plus no experience of mountain walking was the least of my worries. My feet were still dry.

I reached the summit at 2000ft and felt quite pleased with myself. Okay - I was last the one to reach the top - but my feet were still dry.

The recent snow had partly melted and was deceiving. Suddenly, I trod on a layer of snow, my right leg disappeared into the sludge and I was stuck standing on one leg. The mud sucked my shoe and sock downwards and when I pulled my foot out of the mud there was no trainer and no sock attached to it. To stop myself from falling I put my left foot into the next bit of snow. Standing there like a stork on one foot, I forgot which hole my trainer had disappeared into. Lynne came to my rescue: using a grass stick, she dug deep into several snow and mud holes and after several attempts she found my trainer. Walking ten miles on one leg was not my idea of a good time.

But the worse of it was that my right foot was now soaking wet; only my left foot was still dry.

On the way down the ridge we encountered streaming water. In my desperate attempt to keep my left foot dry, I balanced on my right foot and supported myself by placing my left hand on the nearest rock. My hand landed on something very nasty! From the sheer shock of it, I lost balance and fell with both feet into a huge puddle of water!

MY ATTEMPT TO KEEP MY FEET DRY UNTIL THE END WAS A FAILURE!

Gill Light, April 2012

Mam Tor Saturday

Having reviewed Duncan's projected Saturday walk in the Peak District, I considered that the distance, terrain – and indeed the weather conditions (there had been considerable snow-fall days earlier) – added up to the likelihood of a walk that I might be able to manage – but with difficulty!

I opted instead to go on a 5-or-so mile walk that Ann had looked up, taking in Mam Tor. On setting out from Losehill Hall Youth Hostel, the weather was perfectly fine for walking – not quite summer but surely up to a Peak District Spring? It was an easy stroll through Castleton – pausing for some to pick up provisions – for the five of us that set out, and through a narrow lytchett onto fields and across stiles through sheep-farming country, wending gradually upwards towards the highest peak in the immediate district – Mam Tor.

Mam Tor is known as the Shivering Mountain, and we were to find out why a little later. Suffice it to say, it is really nothing to do with the cold. The name Mam Tor can be re-interpreted as Mother(s) Hill: mam as in mammary or breast-shaped. This is common moniker for certain shaped hills throughout the world. The Paps of Jura are good examples! One wonders if the Bronze Age settlement that crowns the summit was placed there for some reason associated with this – or perhaps it was just a nice place to live with a good view? Certainly any Bronze Age dwellers would have had quite a trek down from their penthouse to catch the bus to work each day.

We left the footpaths through a lovely little wooded area, complete, of course, with a busy stream supplemented by melt-water. Here was Odin's Mine – thought to be the oldest mine in Britain, and adjacent to it was the road up from Castleton. The walk-sheet suggested we stick to the road, which we did, although vehicles were prohibited from going any further. After five minutes or so of realising just how much difficulty a car would have negotiating a very uneven road-surface, we reached a gated fence across the road. The surface appeared rougher still beyond, although from where we were standing we could see a steady stream of people already ascending and descending the edge of the mountain to the summit. The apparent steepness of the ascent seemed to throw the rest of our small party, and a decision was made to turn back! I was a bit dismayed, for although steep, there was no indication that it was difficult!

View from Mam TorI elected to go on myself – albeit feeling a bit let down – and started through the gate. Almost immediately the real effects of the land-slip that had closed this once busy pass became apparent, The road surface was corrugated and buckled and in some places had dropped many feet, or slipped off the edge altogether. Easy enough, however, to walk and even possibly to bike - but not to motor! The road regained its integrity in just a few hundred yards, and cars were parked alongside it enabling visits to the Blue John Mine or onto Mam Tor.

The way up was steep, but in places was even paved and stepped, so apart from sludging through a bit of snow was easy enough. From the top there is a 360 degree view and the conditions were clear enough to enjoy it. A paved track continued eastwards from the summit towards Hollins Cross, with the continuing stream of dogs and their walkers - many carrying huge rucksacks full of children - coming and going. At Hollins Cross a great network of paths converge, for this was a pass for people travelling to work in Edale from Castleton and the Hope Valley – daily! Those people must've had sure-grip feet, for I was very trepidatious making my way down a mix of paved, bouldered, streamed, muddied and gullied hill-side towards Castleton.

Eventually exiting onto a tarmacked farm track, the way to the hostel was relatively short. In fact because a convenient track led to the rear of the hostel, it should have saved the normal access to Losehill Hall which from the main road consists of a third-of-a-mile drive. I could see people in the hostel's car park, hear them chattering and could have shaken hands with them if I'd been inclined – but there was no way in! So – a long walk down the track to the side of the hostel grounds, a few yards along the road, then up the drive to the hostel! It added to the mileage, though - which overall was about 5.5 miles.

I certainly got back before the main group, and was fascinated by their stories of mini-disaster, loss of leader, loss of boots and flights of fancy. I noted that some did not opt to do a walk the following day, and considered that although I ended up walking alone, I had made a sensible choice.

Some thoughts on the weekend's walks

Perhaps we ought to consider people's abilities a bit more when proposing or starting out on a walk. From the feedback that I heard on the main group's experiences, it seemed to me that a number of people had taken on a task that was a bit beyond their capabilities. Either they'd not known what to expect, or perhaps they were a bit out of practice. We'd passed snow drifts whilst driving up to Castleton, and it was quite clear that there was still some accumulation of snow on the higher hills. The fact that the walk started from the Snake Pass - one of the more notorious bad-weather passes in the country - consisted of considerable stretches of high ground (say, 1500ft) and that the snow was melting thus obviously making the going in places wetter, perhaps should have sounded a warning. It is the responsibility of individuals to assess their own capabilities, and of walk-leaders to try to make it clear what the undertaking might be. This may not be so important on low-level walks in the summer, but mountain walks even in Spring are a different matter.

Even the walk the following day was a bit indeterminate. I'd been asked to co-lead it, and from my previous day's experience had a good idea what to expect. However, the walk was presented as "a mystery walk", which on reflection is perhaps a bit too trivial under the circumstances. As it turned out, the 5.5 mile walk on Sunday (from Castleton via Hollins Cross, Back Tor and Lose Hill to Hope village) was undertaken by fairly competent walkers, and was quite easy (even for me!)

Paul Ferris, 10^th April 2012

Benfleet, Leigh-on-Sea and Southend - 17th March 2012

In the middle of March, where are you most likely to find the Efoggers out walking?  At the seaside!  We had been to the Essex coast with Ken the week before and decided we liked it so much we would go again, this time on a linear jaunt from Benfleet along the downs via Hadleigh Castle to the historic old fishing town of Leigh on Sea, and then along the coast to Southend.  Unfortunately the weather wasn't quite as kind to Dolores, our leader for the day, as it was to Ken the previous week, but the rain held off, and what's a chilly wind to an Outdoor Group?!

The group at Hadleigh CastleAfter massing at Benfleet station we set off briskly up the hill, turning right into the fields above the estuary to follow the path along the Benfllet and Hadleigh Downs.  Misty views of Canvey Island and the shipping allowed us to indulge in a game of 'which house would you like to live in', between clambering over stiles and waiting in lines to do so, as the path seemed popular with more than our group on the day.  The ruins of Hadleigh Castle made an excellent view point (and was not on the top ten list of houses we would like to have) as the clouds lifted slightly on the way into Old Leigh.

The fact that Leigh-on-Sea is still famous for its locally caught seafood was not wasted on some members of the party.  The cockle sheds and Osborne's famous emporium proved a distraction, enough that lunch was strung out along the main cobbled street.  An obliging chip shop allowed us to use their outside benches for lunch in spite of minimal purchases of chips, and maximum purchases of hot tea!  After lunch, some of the group walked on through Westcliff to Southend itself, while those with other plans for the evening were able to break away early at the various stations en route.

The fun fair in Southend provided some last minute amusement - watching the riders screaming rather than joining in though - we Efoggers prefer to keep our feet on the ground! We did contemplate walking the pier, but decided we'd leave that for another time.

The total length of the walk for those that completed it from Benfleet Station to Southend Central Station was 7.5 miles

Sue U. March 2012

To the Gower and the Black Mountain – Friday 23rd to Sunday 25^th March (plus two days)

The EFOG weekend at the Gower in South Wales appealed to me as I have links with the area in the form of long-time friends, and a one-time possibility of living there. That is apart from the fact that the Gower peninsula itself is a beautiful area! In order to use the opportunity to visit my friend, I extended the trip organised by Ken to include a day before the Group arrived, and to stay a day afterwards. This was also what Pam intended to do, so it made sense to travel with her by car, leaving early Thursday morning and returning the following Monday.

I'd told my friend that we'd arrive somewhere around mid-day, and we arrived in the small town of Brynamman on the slopes of the Black Mountain at 12 noon, so that wasn't too bad. We were met by Maria and her neighbour Lynne, and immediately treated to a warm Welsh welcome, in the form of a much appreciated meal – complete with a following of Welsh cakes. Pam went off to her B&B at a mysterious nearby place that none of us had heard of called Talarbongam. I had images of a stay in a house something like that in the film “The Lorelei" (Terry Johnson, 1990); if that doesn't mean anything, then I suggest you look it up; it's eerie. In fact Pam reported that it wasn't eerie at all – just Welsh. Whilst Pam “did her own thing” - which involved as suggested a trip to the top of the Black Mountain (my friend's house is on Heol Mynedd - Mountain Road), Maria and I caught up after a good few years of not seeing each other. Pam ended up in Carmarthen, and texted us that there was a free Cabaret Celtaidh on in the town that evening. I was keen, but Maria less so; she'd been to one of these before and found it a bit alien. She is English, and this was Welsh Wales.
 

Craig-y-Nos CastleOn Friday whilst Pam did the Black Mountain again in the morning (she was taken with the mountain), and Dylan Thomas's village of Laugharne in the afternoon, Maria and I drove NE towards Brecon to visit Craig-y-nos Country Park – 40-acres of what were the historic grounds of the Victorian Craig-y-nos Castle. The country park area is beautiful, on the banks of the Tawe river complete with Dippers, and wonderful trees. There is the usual tea-shoppe, and visitors were supping on the patio in the sunshine. Maria and I had another idea, however, and walked boldly into the castle – which doesn't appear open to visitors. We asked where we could get coffee and were shown to a grand room with comfortable armchairs and sofas, supplied with our coffees and relaxed in sumptuous surroundings – feeling very grand! This is a bit of a local secret – but well worth exploiting.

On Saturday morning – early – Pam arrived for the drive to meet the rest of the Group for Ken's first walk, from Rhossilli to Port Eynon. This involved trying to get to Scurlage village, a few miles from Rhossilli, before the bus from Swansea with the Group on-board, so as to park the car for the return journey. Things had changed however, and a phone call from Val reported that they weren't going on the bus at all, but would be arriving earlier than expected having hired a taxi! This meant that the only way Pam and I could catch up with the Group was if they waited for us, which they duly did – in a nice tea-shop overlooking the great bay at Rhossilli.

The Gower coastlineThe walk started by walking down towards that bay on a beautiful blue-sky-and-warm morning. Ken's plan was to get to the beach and walk back around the headland to pick up the path to Port Eynon. I can confidently say I was dubious about the possibility of this – mainly because the headland in question is impassable unless the tide is out, the rocks extending out to the Worm's Head. We weren't sure that the tide was out sufficiently, and so turned back before descending any further. It was more of a hike back up to the cliff top than it had been going down. The correct route quickly afforded us magnificent views of the Worms Head from the cliff top, and views like this were constant companions on the whole walk to Port Eynon. There were a good few descents and ascents to take into account because of the path's route around the corrugated limestone coast, and we arrived in Port Eynon after an exhilarating 6-plus miles to welcome tea, coffee, ice cream or alcohol.

Pam and I were to stay that night with the rest of the Group at the Premier Inn in North Swansea, so we made our way there to join them. It was quite a complex booking that Ken had administered, with two additional people sharing (as appropriate) with people already there. We'd been warned that changes in room occupation might entail a fee, so were slightly wary about announcing our arrival at reception. Even had climbing through windows been an option, that wouldn't have been possible due to the limited-opening bulit in to the ground floor rooms. So, we said we were part of Ken's group, and the farce began. The name's of the group hadn't been fully recorded by the receptionist the day before, we didn't know who we were sharing with, my phone had almost depleted power and Pam's couldn't get through to Ken. The receptionist was doing her best when I managed a desperate call to Val (always reliable as far as phones are concerned) saying “get down to reception quick – my phone's dying”. Ken arrived – having been sought by the marvellous receptionist, quickly followed by a bath-towel wrapped Val! Things were then sorted and we got our rooms.

Mumbles PierSunday's walk was a promenade stroll taking in the whole of Swansea Bay from the marina to the Mumbles, again in glorious warm sunshine. It may have been a promenade (and beach for some of us) but it was a 5 miles-plus promenade, so a healthy enough walk in so many ways. The majority of the Group returned by bus to Swansea, to catch their train home, whilst Pam and I visited the marina area and then returned to the Premier Inn for the extra night.

Ken, it must be said, organised slightly complex travel and accommodation arrangements and two really good walks with great efficiency and concern for people's various walking abilities. Similarly, I've never stayed at a travel-style hotel before, but was impressed with the cleanliness and facilities in the rooms – and very much with the friendliness and helpfulness of all the staff at the Premier Inn and the associated Tay Barns restaurant.

Simply another one of EFOG's great variety of activities and aways.

Paul Ferris, March 2012