Navigation, Navigation, Navigation -
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It was quite warm when I set off but I suspected that wearing shorts might be a bit
optimistic; it was dull and drizzling when I parked the car near the entrance to Harrow
Head farm. I set off back along the road in the direction of Gosforth; why do sheep
choose to stay in the road when they are surrounded by grassy hills? About half a mile
down the road is a Cattle Grid; immediately afterwards is a signpost for a Bridleway
pointing across wet ground to a wooden gate. As I went through the gate I felt as though
I had stumbled across a long-forgotten route; the way was obvious but obviously
unused.
The delightful green path led upwards towards a wooded area by the side of a rocky
stream. As often happens though the illusion of remoteness is shattered; this time by a
GPO marker post although it is a long time since the GPO were laying telephone lines.
When I got to the trees the path became a walled track; this was probably the only route
to Scalderskew at one time but now it looks ancient even though the ancients probably
didn't build walls by the side of their roads. Once you get out of the trees you are onto
open moorland; the footpath is unused and unclear at times but is waymarked until you
reach a more obvious route by the side of a wall.
After a short while you can see another walled track ahead; you cross a stream by a
wooden footbridge at the side of the wall which is either ingeniously or perilously
designed with a hole for the stream to flow through. The stream here is named Kid Beck but
a bit further downstream it is imaginatively renamed as Turdypack Gill. The walled track
is unusually straight and long; this must have been an important highway at one time
because forestry doesn't usually give concessions to anyone. About half a mile after the
footbridge you reach a junction where you turn right at ninety degrees in the direction
of Blengdale.
For a mile or so the walking is easy on the track but then it just ends in an overgrowth
of vegetation where grass meets trees. It was raining steadily by that time and wearing
shorts wouldn't be a good idea when walking through so much wet vegetation; I put my
waterproof trousers on and followed a faint path down towards River Bleng. I knew I would
have to cross the river here and I know it caused me a problem last time but I was hoping
there would be less water in it at this time of year. The place where the Bridleway
crosses the river is Sergeant Ford and a horse would have no trouble but the water is a
bit too deep and flowing too fast for me to just walk across.
There are stepping stones but the one nearest to the bank has disappeared and I don't
fancy jumping about four feet to land on a wet rock. My alternative was always to walk
downstream to see if I could find a better place to cross but the water is too deep and
fast to be jumping from wet boulder to wet boulder. I was going to have to use the water
gate again holding on to the thick steel cable from which the gate is suspended. The
cable was secure and reliable as I clung on to it whilst stepping onto partially
submerged, slippery boulders and I got across safely.
I walked back along the riverbank to where the ford is; I took a bearing and headed due
north over the featureless grassy slope towards the highest point on the horizon. There
is no exposed rock on Stockdale Moor but there are a number of piles of stones, groups of
ancient looking cairns that must have been built for a reason. The high point I was
aiming for is more of a wrinkle on the land than the head of a shallow gully but is the
only place where living rock is exposed. If you follow the line of the gully downhill a
short way, the ground becomes exceedingly wet until you reach a very large pile of
stones.
This long cairn is named Sampson's Bratfull, supposedly the stones were spilled from a
giant's apron; either by accident or design it is at the head of the only stream on this
side of Stockdale Moor. I wanted to see if I could find this place again because it was
too wet to explore the last time I was here; my curiosity is now satisfied but I don't
feel any less underwhelmed. This really is “middle of nowhere” country; all I could hear
were the harsh raised voices at Scalderskew Farm and the sound of emergency vehicle
sirens presumably coming up the valley from Gosforth. At least it had stopped raining
enough to take photographs.
I took another bearing and started the long trudge over rough grass is the direction of
Hause, one of Caw Fell's ridges. I came across another old cairn, more of a summit marker
on what seemed to be the highest point on Stockdale Moor. A short distance further along
I came across another very large pile of stones that had a hollow centre, more of an
enclosure than a cairn. That was the last excitement for a while as I made my way across
thick grass where occasionally there seemed to be signs of a faint path. Then you start
gaining height again where a couple of faint paths may help or hinder; following a
compass bearing rather than a faint path is strongly recommended in the absence of
landmarks.
Eventually I reached the broad grassy ridge that is Hause; this is a most intriguing area
where I can't tell if there are any natural outcrops of rock but there are stones
everywhere. The pattern of the stones laid out on the ground and piled up as enclosures
or cairns just doesn't feel like a natural feature. The mist was beginning to close in
and I was glad of the line of cairns on the otherwise featureless grassy plain. When I
reached the place where the ground steepens the mist thickened too; I couldn't have
picked a better place or better conditions to really test my navigation skills. It became
cold too, better put my gloves on before I become too cold to be bothered navigating
properly.
I knew that if I kept going in the same direction I would come across Red Beck as I did
in due course; there are signs of a faint path but not reliable enough without either
good visibility or a compass. Once I reached Red Beck I took a bearing and headed for the
shelter on Caw Fell; it was almost like walking in the dark, all I could see was a few
yards around me. The most difficult part of walking in these conditions it to ignore the
footpaths or sheep trods, you must keep faith with your compass whatever your instinct
tells you. As the gradient eased and I reached the summit plateau I kept going in the
same direction knowing that if I had gone wrong I would start to descend fairly
quickly.
It was with some relief when through the gloom I saw the wall that runs along the top of
Caw Fell; I made a half-hearted attempt to locate the shelter but decided I should get on
with the walk. For a while at least I wouldn't need my compass, the wall takes you
reliably to the summit of Haycock and beyond. The summit cairn of Caw Fell is easily
missed because it stands a short distance on the other side of the wall; you have to look
for it and it was just about visible in the mist. Keeping as close as you can to the wall
there is an easy descent to a shallow col before you start to climb towards Haycock.
You get to a sudden outcrop of rock and as soon as you can you should get onto the other
side of the wall. This outcrop is Little Gowder Crag and its name suggests that you have
a bit of clambering to do; in dry weather it is an enjoyable scramble straight up the
rock but in greasy conditions I prefer a slight diversion. It looks on the map as though
keeping on the original side of the wall offers an easy way past the outcrop but I didn't
want to miss it out completely. Going around the left hand side gives you options that
are easier than the direct route but there is always some rock to be handled and there is
no absolute bypass on that side.
From the top of Little Gowder Crag you have a short descent before the final climb to the
stony summit of Haycock. Then it was time for my next navigation challenge, the descent
from Haycock isn't obvious at the best of times and it had to be done in thick mist. I
knew I had to descend a steep grassy gully so I took a bearing and headed for the cairn
marked on the map to the west of Gowder Crag. There is no path but after the initial
clambering over greasy stones I got to the gully and you can keep on grass most of the
way down. I was encouraged to see a small cairn after a while but by that time I was
almost down and soon came to the more prominent cairn I was aiming for.
All I had to do now was find Seatallan, a big enough object you would have thought but
the mist was very low and I couldn't see it at all. I would have normally made a beeline
for Seatallan but in these conditions I decided to play it safe and headed south-eastwards
keeping below the steepness of Gowder Crag. I eventually came across the path I was
expecting; it isn't very obvious and is very wet in places but I know it goes in the
right direction. After a short while I began to see Seatallan through the mist; as you
start to climb again the path splits where the ground becomes swampy and you should get
on to the drier right hand path.
All you have to do now is climb; steep grass with a few trodden foot steps at first but
mainly just steep grass. At the top of the climb is a large cairn; shortly afterwards you
will come to the triangulation column and the significantly large summit cairn, big
enough for a shelter to have been excavated. Then it was time for the final navigation
test of the day; another big hill to find my way off with no clues and the mist had
turned to rain, heavy drizzle that didn't improve the visibility at all. I took a bearing
again but I really wasn't sure if I was at the right place to start, I thought there was
a faint path at first but I couldn't see any sign of it.
I decided that even if I was too far west I would be alright in descending on the side
without crags or streams. I seemed to be walking for ages with no discernible loss of
height; I was fairly sure I was off the proper route but I couldn't tell by how much. I
resisted the temptation to climb up to the higher ground I saw because it would make my
bearing inaccurate; I wouldn't know where I was if I couldn't find the ridge I should
have been on. Once again I trusted my compass and ignored my instinct that said I was
going the wrong way; I felt as though I should be losing some height but didn't seem to
be.
Eventually I saw farm fields and worked out where I was; I had walked parallel to the
ridge and ended up at the sheepfolds of Windsor Farm – Buckbarrow will have to wait for
another day. It was still raining when I got back to the car, it had turned into one of
the wettest days for a long time. As for my navigation tests, I passed two out of three
and I got down safely so I wasn't too unhappy although there is room for improvement.
Andy Wallace 24th June 2006