We spent the day on the island of Árrain Mhór, which in Gaelic just means ‘Big Island’. And it is fairly big, maintaining a permanent population of a few hundred, enough to justify a regular ferry service from the mainland, anyway. And here is the 3.30pm boat back to Ireland, coming in reasonably on schedule.
Time to cross the border into the Republic of Ireland, getting out of the UK for the first time since late November. Time to get out of the city and into the country — right into it. More of this over the next few days, I sure hope.
On 29th July 2012, ten years ago, I was obliged to leave the rustic yet comfortable surroundings of the Black Sail hut and haul myself over Great Gable, a substantial lump of rock, in what remains the grimmest weather conditions I have encountered on any of my Lakeland walks. As today’s trip was the 200th of those — a pleasing milestone to reach — it was also pleasing that the weather was a damn sight better. (See my other blog for the full details.)
Wandope wasn’t one of the two Wainwrights bagged on the day, but this long-distance shot of its summit was the picture that pleased me the most: a case of it turning out just as was intended. The slopes in the background are those of the High Stile range, over Buttermere.
My son might have chosen to live out his university years in a place (Dundee) that is about as far as he could have got from us in West Yorkshire, while staying in the UK. But, there are compensations. Over in the distance, Arthur’s Seat and Edinburgh. Closer to the camera, the Firth of Forth, all taken just before passing through Burntisland station.
Pistyll Rhaeadr may or may not be the highest waterfall across both Wales and England — the award depends whether you are troubled by the fact that it does not fall in a single drop. Either way it’s an impressive water feature, set off very well by the natural arch in the middle (seen here), through which the water threads like a curtain through a ring. Well worth seeing, despite being ripped off £5 for the car park. (For more pictures from today see my County Tops blog.)
A June walk, and another chance to experience the British weather’s propensity to change from balmy to, if not exactly wintry, then definitely cold and grey over the course of 24 hours. This is why the sheep have better insulation than we do. Stoodley Pike appears for the nth time: it might not be a very prominent peak topographically but the monument on it proves it can be seen for many miles in every direction.
Grey Friar, 2,536 feet high, is one of the Coniston fells of Lakeland; this picture is taken from its western side, in the Duddon Valley. The pose of the sheep was too good to ignore, though yes, maybe this would be better still without the foliage to bottom right. But I like the composition in any case. (For more from today see my Wainwrights blog.)
Well, I was walking back from Old Town — I don’t know where this person’s itinerary had taken them. I am reminded now and again that I do live in a pleasant part of the world. That’s not an accident.
The last day of my latest break from work provided an opportunity for Clare and I to finally finish off the Calderdale Way, which we started 15 months ago. Nine legs and 50 miles later we returned to Heptonstall church and thus completed the circumnavigation of our home valley. On the way, some very fine views, even if they were of familiar places. This is one of the rare shots that just about gets away with having a telephone wire stretched across it: it’s there, if you know where to look.
Spectacular landscape #2 of 2. The Black Isle — which is a peninsula rather than an island — has never been seen by me before but turns out to be spectacularly beautiful, a smorgasbord of photo opportunities. I did my best to pick one that summed up all this.
Being 42 