It’s a stock local shot, from a stock local walk, but all the same, there are worse things to do on the last Sunday of the summer than to trundle out in the direction of Stoodley Pike. Not that I actually climbed up to the monument itself today, but it doesn’t photograph any better there than it does from below.
Begging the pardons of Kinder Scout and Broad Law, which both might feel they qualify, but it was time I went up a proper mountain, and Yr Wyddfa (a.k.a. Snowdon), the highest peak in Wales at 3,560 feet, is a big pointy beast and definitely counts. I will additionally note that Wales can offer alcoholic beverages at its highest point thanks to the summit cafe, though I stuck to tea. No summit views today though, thanks to cloud up high, so let’s choose this shot featuring the day’s walking companion — my sister Vicki making a second appearance in a fortnight, seen here on the way down.
Climbing to the summit of Hillesøya, the sibling island to Sommarøy, made for some needed exercise in the morning, for me, Clare and the two hikers you see here, as well as a bunch of others who hauled themselves up its rocky and awkward slopes. Still, it’s undoubtedly an easier walk than Håja, in the background. This pointy little island apparently inspired the shape of the ‘Arctic Cathedral’ in Tromsø, which can be seen on the left-hand side of the first picture I took of the city back in March 2017.
One full day to go here, and you’ll probably be seeing another landscape tomorrow — but there are reasons for that.
The Uffington White Horse is 360 feet long (110m if you insist) and may be over 3,000 years old. Most of the hill figures carved into the chalk downlands of southern and eastern England are modern imitations but this is the real aboriginal deal. Like most art, it’s designed to be seen straight on, not at some oblique angle from just above its top right-hand corner. But it’s still mighty impressive. Whomever it was first dreamt this up and then managed to organise its production — I say, good for them.
For more pictures from today’s walk see my other blog.
After dull weather for what seems like the whole year, at least in Yorkshire, the forecast relented and a Saturday walk in the sunshine duly transpired. I am pleased with this shot; the positioning seems just right and she does make quite a nice shape. The walk was quite good too (but more details are still to be posted on the County Tops blog — bear with me).
These impressive crags would grace any mountain in the Lake District or Scotland, but instead can be found, perhaps unexpectedly, in Leicestershire — specifically on Bardon Hill, the County Top of that territory. However, as is probably obvious, they are not natural formations. Instead this is the gigantic artificial hole of the Bardon Hill Quarry, source of, apparently, some 15% of the UK’s entire output of crushed stone (for roads etc). From the summit of the hill there is an immediate, and fortunately fenced-off, drop of at least 400 feet straight down to the quarry floor, as seen here. Is it ugly? I honestly don’t know. Interesting, anyway. (For more pictures from today see the latest County Tops blog post.)
As part of the contract that is Being Married to Drew, Clare occasionally gets dragged up remote moorlands, like Meikle Says Law in the Lammermuir Hills — the top of this (a County Top) being somewhere in the vague brown moorland to top right. This was the final stage back to the car. I call it the ‘last climb for now’ because I assume she might be motivated to do another one or two in the future before one of us dies…. though who knows for sure?
This is the last of the shots from the current road trip in Scotland, a passage of time which has seen it overtake Australia as the second-most depicted country on here after England.
The lump to top right is Ben More. Its Gaelic name literally means “Big Hill”, and it can join the ranks of places that have clearly been named for their physical characteristics. On the left of this shot, the start of the path up it, and it’s representative of the whole — a 3,000-foot climb, all like this. Imagine climbing one of the staircases up the Eiffel Tower, three times in succession. Do I do these things for fun? Yes, I suppose I do. (See also the other blog.)
At 3,156 feet/962m, Yr Elen — it may just mean Helen or Eleanor, or it might mean “The Leech”; you decide, that’s Welsh for you — is apparently the ninth-highest mountain in Wales. The last of five biggish lumps of rock that I negotiated today. More details on the other blog, as ever.
When I realised the weather forecast was going to stay much the same — that is, warm and sunny — throughout our visit to Scotland, a walk became by far the best choice for a Saturday activity. It wasn’t too hard to rearrange things accordingly, and I did not regret doing so. Below, the River Clyde, winding its way from Glasgow, over in the distance, to the sea, and crossed here by the Erskine Bridge. More photos and details of the day are on my County Tops blog.
