Too nice a day to spend it inside whether that was home, the pub or on a train somewhere. And I needed the exercise, hence my walking north from home over the moors to Oxenhope — where, OK, I might have visited a pub, but only after walking 7½ miles to get there. For a chunk of this journey I was being closely watched by various specimens of Ovis aries, both mature and young — the lambs are definitely out.
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.
Actually the pun in the title is inaccurate, as the Fiddlers’ Ferry power station, on the banks of the Mersey between Widnes and Warrington, has been decommissioned; the cooling towers are scheduled for demolition at some point in the future. This view will pass into history at that point. I doubt the horses care, though. Taken on the way to bag my 111th County Top, that of Warrington.
However you interpret the title of this post, as I get older the idea of a Day of Recovery is becoming more appealing. I needed it — and the boots certainly did, after Friday’s sogginess and then, two days stuffed into a pack. I think they’re feeling better after a day sat around doing very little. As am I.
I would have preferred more of the sunshine and less of the showers, but at least this is a combination known to produce some pleasing atmospheric effects. The mountain behind is called Stob nan Coinnich Bhacain — please don’t ask me to pronounce that — but my destination for the day was Ben Vorlich, County Top number 107. More photos are therefore on the other blog.
The first part of my day was spent up the hill in the background, Ward Hill: not an easy lump of sandstone to get up or down, thanks to its steep sides (evident in this shot), but worth the bother. The second part of my day was spent at the easier-to-reach environs of Stromness FC, members of the Orkney ‘A’ League, and their match against Dounby (here in blue). I couldn’t decide which one was worth making Pic of the Day so let’s just choose one that accommdates both these pleasures.
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.
Being 42 