Tag Archives: long distance foot path

Final Thoughts on the ACT

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I find I’m at an age where I no longer get quite so angry at other people’s carelessness and thoughtlessness. The Arctic Circle Trail is a walk through a pristine landscape one that most people will never see or appreciate. There are rumblings in the jungle both on the official website and Facebook pages of the amount of rubbish and excrement left by thoughtless trekkers.

Before I go into those rumblings, I think it wise to maybe put over a point of view that I know will offend the purist, that is, those that want to keep the trail selfishly to the chosen few, the hardy multi day backpackers that maybe are just a little elitist in their thoughts. Greenland, like many other up and coming tourist destinations are advertising themselves as a unique place to travel to. It is in many ways similar to Spitsbergen, with its wildlife and culture. Both Spitsbergen and Greenland have European Overlords and from talking to the locals, Greenland would very much like to slowly release their reliance on Denmark.

This piece, however, is specifically about the Arctic Circle Trail. In recent years a track has been built called the ATV track that runs from Kangerlussauq to Sisimiut, following the same line as the ACT track for some distance and like for example the road that now connects many parts of the Annapurna Circuit, has caused uproar amongst many in the trekking community. In answer to this apparent ‘intrusion’ there is now a suggested Southern Route that bypasses where these two collide, which ultimately gives walkers a choice. Is the path set in stone? Not in my mind, a trail is what the individual want’s to make of it. We chose to do the northern route and found that the ATV was in no way an eye saw most of the time, even where running parallel it was hardly noticeable. Another couple we ran into along the trail did the southern route and they too, loved the experience as did we. Who’s right… it’s a choice!

Who am I to object when the local people want to improve their infrastructure, and in doing so improving their way of life. Who are we, just visitors to the country, to tell them otherwise.

Most of the discussion, though, on the Facebook pages are about rubbish and the state of some of the huts along the trail. I 100% agree some are disgusting, sometimes with rubbish thrown away without a care and worse toilet paper and excrement that is so obvious around some of the huts. The Official Arctic Circle website has been extremely successful in advertising this unique trail, which creates a double edged sword. If you attract more people the trail looses its lofty statues as an elite walk, for only those that are prepared to stick to the code of ‘leave no trace’. It is, unfortunately, human nature, I’m not condoning it, it’s what happens.

With the success that the website has had in attracting more visitors then maybe the responsibility needs to shift slightly from the individual to the Greenland tourist board. I can hear my ears burning now, disgusted at the thought. People should take responsibility for their own actions and I absolutely agree, but time and time again it’s proved that they either aren’t willing to or just don’t understand the concept of ‘leave no trace’. If you provide bins people will use them, if you provide compost toilets again people will use them and probably abuse them. I’m going to mention an extreme example of where a trail has become so popular that limits are placed on the number of people that are allowed in any one season to walk it. Both the ‘O’ Trek and ‘W’ Trek in Torres del Paine have limits and those limits are set by the number of camping places and Refugio beds that are available at any one time. Those of you that have walked either of these treks will know how far in advance you need to book. A fee is paid to the National Park Service, which is basically a permit and you have to stay at the designated Refugio and camping areas. As I said an extreme example, but one that works as does the permit system in the USA and many other country’s that have long distance trails in them.

Yes, I’m suggesting a permit system and coming from the UK, that whole concept of a permit is alien to me. However, the money raised could be used to help clear up the debris, provide bins that are regularly emptied and compost toilet facilities that are useable. As I said at the beginning I know that this solution will not be popular with those walkers that truly want to wild camp and are diligent in the way they go about it. But ultimately Greenland wants to attract more visitors and quite rightly so, but in doing so has to take on some of the responsibility in keeping the trail in a pristine condition and those that walk the trail need to pay for that privilege.

After saying all of that, the walk from Point 660 to Sisimiut is up there as one of my favourites. I don’t think it’ll be long before the Arctic Circle Trail starts officially at Point 660 keeping to the ridges that run parallel with the dirt track, bypassing Kangerlussuaq and running all the way to the coast. What ever route the individual decides to take it is their decision and theirs alone and no one should be judged for what ever route they decide to take.

We didn’t meet many people along the trail as we did it in late September and we were also blessed with wonderful weather. Uncle Les, one of my mentors, would have loved this trail as that, in the whole of the 11 days of walking we encountered only five other people actually on the trail and a number of hunters at the end of their season. It was a pleasure to talk to them and get first hand knowledge of the area and its wildlife. I know at the height of the season it can be a problem finding any room in the small huts… isn’t that why we all carry tents? However, we were lucky enough to share a hut only twice.

The Finalé

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A Change in the Weather!

Day 9: Modern technology meant that we were prepared for the day of constant rain that lay ahead. The Garmin InReach gave us a fairly accurate forecast every day and today’s was to be the complete opposite of the last eight days! Rain from beginning to end. Forecasts have been known to be very wrong and we hoped this was, but no, it was as accurate as the other days had been. Rain it did, all day.

A Black & White Day

The guide book said that, although this was the last day the scenery was worth taking your time over as most people rush through this last day eager to finish after nine days on the trail… well there was very little scenery to be seen as the cloud blanketed all the mountains above 500m. So like most people I put my head down and covered the 20km in just over five hours, without any breaks! I’m not going to complain, as we’ve had exceptional weather, for this time of year. Hopefully we’ll get to see some of the scenery looking back from Sisimuit during our stay.

A Service Area Along the AVT Track – A Toilet with a View
Service Area

The hotel is excellent, good beer and food… it is nice to eat fresh food again. The rehydrated food we have been eating was very good, in fact, far better than it ever used to be, but Reindeer Stew from a vacuum packed bag bares no comparison to the rare Reindeer steak that I ate in the hotel restaurant!

First View of Civilisation!
The Hotel!

A successful walk, where next???

Down the Valley All the Way!

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Warmth Melting the Cold Ice!

Day 7: Started as all the others. The blue hour’s cold hues tried to penetrate my sleeping bag, it tryed hard to find an opening as I snuggled deeper into its warm interior, knowing that I would have to unzip it sooner or later and drag on as many warm clothes as quickly as possible. The blue hour is only temporary, normally only about 15 minutes and is always followed by the golden hour, when the sky lights up in orange, red and purple hues and suddenly the day has begun. It’s the same with your clothes, firstly they feel cold, often damp and uncomfortable, but like the sunrise the warm slowly filters through. For every day to start with a visible sunrise, is worth putting up with that 15 minutes of cold and I have to say, so far we’ve been blessed!

Stephen and I leave the hunter in his temporary home and make our way up to a distant cairn on the top of a pass. From there the day was a gentle downhill wander to our hut for the night. It was an easy day. A day we could look up from our feet and admire the high snow capped hills on our left and the rugged cliffs of the lower mountains on our right. A day to daydream, which is something I’m very good at.

The Snow Topped Mountains become more Rugged

The penultimate hut was probably worse than the first. The first was a rambling, tumbled down disjointed hut that needed some TLC, however Nerumaq hut was probably the worst kept of all the huts we stayed in. It was surrounded by litter and toilet paper, with rubbish bags that had been scavenged by the local wildlife. Why this hut was worse than any other, neither of us could fathom, but it definitely required some attention.

The Gentle Walk to the Penultimate Hut

Tomorrow is our penultimate day and our rucksacks are getting ever lighter!

Day 8: Started like all the other mornings, a perfect start. We were staying in a hut that was surrounded by high mountains in a deep cut valley. The sun is past its Autumn Equinox and the days have got noticeably shorter whilst we’ve been here and the sun is lower in the sky. I’m not trying to give anyone a geography lesson, I’m just giving the reasons that in this deep East/West cut valley the sun struggled to rise above the Southern mountains and it wasn’t until midday and a lowering of the mountain barrier did the sun finally give me her warmth. Stephen was probably about an hour behind me so the power of the sun came even later to him.

Only a couple of things worth mentioning and they were two river crossings. Let’s just say I had to take my boots off twice to wring out my socks and realised that this old man’s balance isn’t as good as it should be! The rest of the walk was similar to yesterday with the path wandering slowly down the valley, through the familiar birch and willow scrub and the never ending peaty bogs.

The Last Nights Hut

The hut for the night, like many of the others is situated in a prime location giving uninterrupted 360 degree views.

Tomorrow is our last day and with that always comes mixed emotions… looking forward to a beer or two and a meal that I don’t have to rehydrate and of course a comfy bed. On the other side of the coin, walking in such a pristine environment and seeing the mountains and the flora and fauna will be very hard to give up.

I’ve mentioned many times the one man that taught me how to appreciate the mountains. And that even now I know he walks with me and constantly reminds me to always look back, as the view behind can often be more spectacular than the one in front. He’s always there in the back of my mind and he always will be, but more especially on these trips as he loved the mountains so much. One other person who always gets my special thanks and love, who tolerates my continual need to walk all over the world. Although the mountains bring me peace she brings me complete happiness… Carolynn.

The View from the Hut

The Infamous River Crossing!

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Spectacular Morning

I slept on a bench that had a window that was at eye level when I laid down. And as with every night so far the moon rose flooding the night sky with cold white light at around 21:00 and made its way in a high ark taking the same path as the sun. Chasing each other like Tom & Jerry, night after night! At around 01:00 I woke up and my eyes were drawn towards the window and there dancing green and pale purple were the Northern Lights. We both jumped out of bed and went to stare, mesmerised by the ever changing light show. Obviously I took photographs and as with all cameras the colours and intensity are far more intense than the you can see with your naked eye. Eventually the cold got to us both as we were only dressed in our long-Johns and down jackets…

The Northern Lights

Day 5: The morning started like all the others, nearly cloudless with the sun rising over the mountains. We packed and left separately as we often do and the terrain was similar to yesterday afternoon’s. The river crossing that we’ve both read so much about loomed at the far side of a wide reed and birch scrub covered valley. I got there about an hour before Stephen. The crossing didn’t look too bad, just over knee height, it has been known to be chest height at times of flood, but it was still running at a fairly brisk pace. The shallow rapids ended with a broad deep pool, before the river continued down towards the fjord.

The Broad Valley of the River Crossing

After much consideration neither of us got our feet wet crossing this stretch of water as we decided that the offer of a lift to the far bank in a boat by a family of local hunters was by far the more sensible way to cross!!!

Tying up the Reindeer’s Pelt – One of the Hunters Children

The hunters were a local family, three children, the youngest, a boy, who appeared to be the most industrious, was about seven years old. A young girl, who spoke perfect English and on the odd occasion corrected her Fathers grammar, who was about 12 and an older boy who was about 15. As well as their Father, their Uncle and Grandmother were there. Apparently the 75 year old Grandmother never misses a hunting trip! They were hunting Reindeer and had a license to shoot 20, but after eight days had only managed to bag 14. So they were moving downstream to try their luck. It was fascinating spending an hour talking to the Father and children. The Father was a helicopter engineer in Nuuk and spent his holidays hunting as his ancestors did and he was hoping to pass on the tradition to his children, although he did admit his daughter preferred to spend her time indoors, apparently she was not so keen on the outdoor life!!! I’d certainly like to give a big thank you to them for the lift across the river.

The afternoon consisted of a boggy walk on burch and willow scrub and cotton grass as a gentle rise took us away from the valley and fjord to tonight’s hut. Slightly larger than last nights, nestled in a valley over looking the Maligiaq Fjord, again a bedroom with a view. It’s not a view ‘to die for’, no vista is worth that, but definitely a view to savour whilst taking in the last heat of the afternoon Arctic sun.

You can just make out the Hut

An early finish has meant there’s been time to dry out wet socks and hopefully boots as well and, of course, 40 winks for two old men!

Lakes & Mountains

Day 6: Stephen and I walked separately all day. He’s like Jeremy he can talk to strangers and they seem to like to talk to him. I spent too many years walking with Uncle Les. He would divert off a path to avoid anyone that was walking towards him, although as I’ve said in my blog about the Wales Coast Path, I am getting better, Jeremy is working hard to improve my sociability. During the walk Stephen and I keep in touch using our Garmin InReach so we’re reasonably aware of each other’s positions. I know that today Stephen spent quite sometime talking to a local hunter, that he met on the trail, so his eta was going to be a couple of hours after my arrival.

Our Hut for the Night

Today’s walk was gentle in many respects after an initial 350m ascent the route stayed high for a few kilometres then descended into a valley which we followed until the hut was reached. The valley path was wet and boggy, fortunately still partially frozen making what would be an extremely wet route, just a wet route. As with every other day my boots and socks are wet through! So it was good to reach the hut. There’s a hunter staying here for the week and is very house proud… the place is spotless, the only downside is that he never stops talking, but to make it worse he doesn’t stop talking when an answer is required… he just talks over you! But after saying that, I’m learning how to butcher a Reindeer and cook it ready for storing. So it’s quite interesting if not a little gory!

The scenery is changing slightly as the surrounding mountains are getting higher and have snow covering most of the summits and the small ice sheet of Aqquititsoq is glimpsed tantalisingly in the distance.

Ice Crystals

Stephen had the same issue I did with the digital route map… it basically took you the wrong way! It happened at exactly the same place. I was a little concerned where the gpx route was taking me and checked the guide book and realised the digital routing was either corrupted or wrong and I altered my course accordingly… Stephen, however, didn’t realise and crossed a fairly major river and went up onto a hill, the opposite side of the riverbank to where he actually wanted to be. Now as compensation he did get some great photographs! The down side was that he had to wade back through the river and make his way to the correct path. These few short sentences of mine have not really told the gravity and the possible consequences of such a miscalculation in this environment. I walked into camp at 15:30 and Stephen walked in at 19:15. He should have walked in at about 17:00… two hours is a long time to be off route, especially when you are tired and hungry. I was getting very concerned about how long it was taking him even though we were in contact through our Garmin InReach.

Sunset

Stephen and I generally walk at different paces and we therefore rarely walk together unless safety dictates otherwise. We are both experienced at solo walking, but sometimes relying on a purely digital method of navigation can cause serious problems and we are both very capable of reading and interpreting the paper maps we each have with us as a backup. I know there will be people out there who say that you should always stick together, but we both love our ‘me’ time, and we are both fully aware of the possible consequences.

Again the Northern Lights Came Out to Play

The Trek that Includes a Canoe!

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A Perfectly Still Day for the Canoe Section

My last words on the previous blog were very premature. At 11pm two people entered the hut, head torches blazing and a herd of Elephants would probably have been quieter! They were two local Greenlanders walking the trail for the 8th time. If I said that this hut was about 3.5 metres sq. and slept six people in theory and is made up of only the one room, you’ll understand our dismay when they started cooking their dinner, then proceeded to chat until after midnight. I’m not innocent myself when it comes to snoring, but let’s just say that one of them had rhythmical snoring that made the last part of Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture seem very quite by comparison and to top it all the snorer got up every hour for a pee!!! Anyway some fitful sleep was had!

The Second Hut

Day 3: This morning we were far more considerate than our room mates were the previous evening, we, quietly as possible took all our belongings outside to pack as well as making our breakfast drinks there as well… butane/propane camping stoves sound a little like an express trains when lit. What good fellows we were. We expect to meet them again at the next hut, as Stephen would say… Jaysus!

So before sunrise we were in the canoe starting our, well I am going to say, our voyage into the unknown, as you could write what we both knew about canoeing on the back of a postage stamp, although postage stamps appear to have got a great deal larger these days. The sun rose over the mountains giving the near perfect reflection of the cliffs and vegetation at the side of the lake, a wonderful brown/red hue as our paddling caused the only ripples that slowly spread and vanished into the near perfect reflections.

Near Perfect Reflection

Stephen is younger and definitely stronger than me so keeping a straight course was not easy, but the 20km was covered in 4 hours 45 minutes including a 30 minute break on a sandy beach for lunch. It made for a short day, so in the afternoon we dried boots, socks and aired sleeping bags in the glorious Arctic sunshine… an afternoon spent blissfully unaware of this mad, mad, mad, mad world.

Beached!!!

It’s now early evening and what little wind there was has now gone. The lake is again at perfect peace with the surrounding mountains, unable to tell where the reflection stops and the mountains begin. The late evening Arctic sun still has a little warmth in it, but that will disappear fast as the sun gets lower in the sky… absolute silence, absolute tranquility.

The Canoes
Sunset Over the Canoe Centre

Our friends from the last hut did turn up at about 20:45, one of them totally exhausted. They are sleeping in a separate room… May everyone’s god be praised. The good news is that they are spending two days at the Canoe Centre hut!

The Canoe Centre

Day 4: Today started as yesterday, a near cloudless sky, with the waning moon still dominant in the sky as the sun was still waiting to creep over the horizon. The first half of the day was a gentle walk down a wide valley to lake Kangerluatsiarsuaq. As we stopped for launch it was difficult to judge where reflection and reality merged.

Reflections

I’m sat just North of the Arctic Circle next to a crystal clear tarn, it’s only the slight breeze that indicates that there is water there at all. The surprisingly warm breeze is blowing the white cotton grass seeds through the air, sticking to the rusty red of the beach and willow scrub, which is in the last throws of its Autumn transformation. In the distance are snow capped mountains separated by deep turquoise lakes, the mirror like reflections exaggerating the size of these white topped peaks. I wish I could describe the scene better, they say a picture paints a thousand words, but no picture could do this justice.

A Typical View

After lunch the trail took us into the mountains, crossing boiler plates with erratics dotted all over. The hut, most people might call it a shed, was perched at the head of a small valley. The late evening sun was still warm enough to be able to sit outside in a polo shirt… I was expecting temperatures of -5 to -8 at night and in the low single figures during the day, but today has felt like a beautiful Spring day in the UK at about 10 to 12 degrees.

It was a late finish . It’s the longest day on the Arctic Circle Trail itself. The book says 22km, but my GPS made it 25.5km. Which ever is correct it was still a hard long days walk. The scenery, though, never disappointed.

From the Hut
The Northern Lights

Tomorrow hopefully only 11km… but through a ford that could be waist deep!

The Reason We Went To Greenland

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The Road Walk out of Kangerlussuaq

Day 1: Started with a hearty breakfast, fresh orange, scrambled eggs, bacon, hash brown and sausage… I think I forgot to mention we were still at the hotel! The day had finally arrived the actual start of the Arctic Circle Trail. It’s not an overly interesting start as the first 12km is along a road to the harbour that feeds Kangerlussuaaq. Then another 4km ascent up a dirt road, but unlike the harbour road this section took us into the mountains. The scenery changed with every step of the ascent, there were mountains and lakes, rather than a never ending road cutting, starting to dominate the views. At the apex of the hill, a look back, was rewarded with a final glimpse of the Ice Sheet, 60km away and the vista in front unfolded the land that would be our home for the next nine days.

Stephen took the obvious route, me, well, I took the wetter route! We eventually both ended up at the Hundesó hut… how do I describe this hut, well, even Steptoe and Son might have been too ashamed to call it home!

Our Home for the Night

Its positioning was, though, exceptional. The hut stands on a peninsula with an uninterrupted view of the lake and mountains beyond, it’d be a perfect spot to build a log cabin for those long Winter nights. As it is, it’s the perfect spot to get away tomorrow morning as early as sunrise will allow!

Early Morning View

Day 2: Started perfectly, a three quarter moon high in the Western sky as the Sun slowly rose in the East, not a cloud to be seen or a ripple of wind on the lake. We started out at about 8:45, you have to remember that the sun doesn’t rise until 8ish, so it’s never going to be an early start.

The difference between yesterday and today couldn’t be more stark. No more dirt road walking. In fact the path is very reminiscent of the Dark Peak paths over Bleaklow and just as hard to follow. Fortunately the weather must have been fairly dry over the last few weeks as the marshes that the path had a fondness to go through, were fairly dry and helped to be firm under foot by the nights frost. The trail, at this stage anyway, is not too hard, although it did take us two hours longer to do 20km today than yesterday… but it was far more enjoyable.

Morning Has Broken

One incident worth noting that the guide book neglected to mention. We wandered over the brow of a hill and looked across to the brow of another small hill, in between was a small valley. The path going down was obvious as was the path going up the other side. In between the two small hills where the path should have been was instead,the merging of two lakes! I don’t mean that there was a little stream between the two, I mean they had merged. What I think was just boggy ground there was now one metre deep water… so off came the trousers, boots and socks, and we waded in to near waist height. I have to say it was cold and there were some very strange sensations in between my toes. No mishaps to report!

The Small Stream between the Two Lakes!
Getting Ready for the Crossing!

There can’t be anything more satisfying than turning a corner and seeing below you a hut peacefully nestled by the side of a lake. It is positioned such that it has stunning 360 degree views, but most importantly I would recommend this one to the royal family and definitely not Steptoe & Son!

The hut is called Katiffik Hut, the first official hut on the Arctic Circle Trail. Again we are the only occupants.

Arctic Circle Trail – Greenland

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The Arctic Circle Trail

It’s been six months since I last posted a blog. Laziness really, I have done a couple of trips walking the Wales Coast Path with Jeremy, but I haven’t got around to writing them up…

The title gives the trail and destination away, really. Stephen and I will be Polar Bear dodging in the West of Greenland, roughly following the 66 degree longitude line, where daylight and darkness fight for dominance. We’re there during the stalemate, where neither daylight nor darkness has the upper hand. Even so, the daylight hours will diminish by more than three hours in the two weeks that we’re walking.

Don’t ask me to pronounce our start and end points, as it would be an insult to the local Inuit population. Although we will be adding 35km to the already 160km long trail by taking the trip to Point 660 at the edge of the largest ice sheet outside of the Antarctic. An ice sheet that is up to 3km thick and one that holds 8% of the worlds fresh water, and walk back to Kangerlussuaq the official start of the Arctic Circle Trail. I think most of you that read any of my blogs will know that I have a fascination with the colder climates of this world and although I’ve been to Greenland before I’ve never walked on the ice sheet itself. So, Stephen and I will wander back to Kangerlussusq, camping under the 60m wall of ice that is the Russell Glacier before starting the trail proper.

From the trails start, at Kangerlussuaq to it’s end at Sisimiut there are no resupply opportunities so your existence relies on being able to carry 10 days worth of sustenance and all the other essentials required to survive in the wilderness! What one man calls essential another calls useless, such as my luxury blowup down filled pillow and my Salted Caramel Costa Latte! Whatever our vices are they have to be carried… I’m sure some of these vices will soon be dropped by the wayside!

Our journey begins on Sunday, traveling to Copenhagen before flying out to Greenland on Monday.

I will put the Polar Bear question to bed, sightings are very rare in this part of Greenland and not one person has been attacked whilst on the trail…

Black: fight back

Brown: lie down

White: goodnight

So it’s au revoir and not goodnight.

This blog won’t be updated as often as I’d like as for most of the trail there is no phone signal… absolute bliss.

Popping of a Cherry!

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Aberaeron – Sunset

Jeremy’s Cherry, not something I’d usually discuss on a public forum. But six months ago Jeremy, an old school friend, indicated that he’d like to be included if I did more of the Wales Coast Path. As many people have learned to their cost, if you suggest something to me that I want to do, then consider it booked!

So it all began on a cold damp Wednesday morning in January, probably not the best time of year to wild camp for the first time in your life, especially at 61. We started at Cardigan Bay a small town in South West Wales on a morning of mizzle (misty, drizzle), full of confidence of a 25km first day. A reasonable distance especially when you consider that Jeremy was carrying a 12 – 15kg pack, heavy for a novice.

Great Company

The views were limited and the colours muted, a Wales I recognise from my many trips to Snowdonia, a Wales pictured in black & white. Artistic in its light and multiple shades of grey. To me beautiful as the different shades change continually as you walk from crest to crest. Jeremy also, appeared to take in the scenery with as much enthusiasm as me, which made a cynical, unsociable old git, like myself, enthuse even more.

Steep Descents and Mist Rolling Inland

Coastal paths, they’re flat, aren’t they? Sea level is sea level, it’s at the same height wherever you are? If I said that the SouthWest Coast path is equivalent to climbing Everest three times, you’ll get my drift that the path is by no means flat. So the first day was a baptism of fire with 898 metres of ascent. The accents and subsequent descents were not long but were numerous and steep! At no time did Jeremy complain, I knew he’d had enough near the end of our day as the light was fading from both his eyes and the sky and a wild camp site was not obvious. Me, I’m not a purest and as we walked into the village of Llangrannog the wild camp was the B&B at Pentre Inn! Perfect.

Wild Camping!

Day two was different again, clear blue sky’s with that wonderful crisp winter light. Our heavy packs were left behind at the Inn, to be picked up later, and just a light day pack carried. Jeremy’s feet were bloodied and painful with blisters, but he rose above the pain and had eyes that saw only the beauty that is the British Coast line. Today we met ‘people’, I don’t do ‘people’, but Jeremy found out the life story of every one we passed. We met the parents of the lad that worked behind the bar at the Pentre Inn, where we stayed the previous night. A woman who had come over from Australia and got stuck here during the Covid lockdown and married a local! I was enthralled to witness, an expert socialite at work and even I chipped in the conversation every now and again.

One of the Many Ascents!

Today was shorter in distance but the ascents were greater and more frequent, so the day took longer and made longer still by the many sociable stops. We eventually wandered into Aberaeron the end of our walk, as the sun was setting and Jeremy’s ‘Walking Cherry’ was popped!

Jeremy’s Load!

I hope to continue the path we’ve started together, it’s a long meandering walk past some of the most scenic coast line and mountains that Wales and Britain has to offer.

‘Wild Campers are Scum’

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Me Wild Camping along the Pembrokeshire Coast Path

As you might have guessed, it’s not my quote. So let me take you back to five minutes before those words were spoken. I was on the Pembrokeshire Coast Path and towards me came a thirty-something woman. She stops and smiles and asks me if I was walking the whole path, my reply;

‘No just doing a couple of days’.

Her next question was how far was I going that day, my reply;

‘I don’t know, it would depend on whether I could find a suitable camping spot’.

The question that followed was the pivotal point of our conversation, the answer, in hindsight, dictated the tone of the rest of our intercourse. The question was are you in a b&b or staying on a campsite, my reply;

‘Neither, I’m wild camping’.

The smile disappeared and she went into lecture mode. She explained that she was an ‘adventure leader’ and that wild camping was frowned upon on the Pembrokeshire Coast Path (I will say, in her defense, that wild camping is not a legal right in England and Wales as it is in Scotland, but is generally tolerated if done sympathetically) as:

Firstly – It damages the environment, the only example she gave for this was the leaving of buried excrement, however, I’m sure there are many other examples where wild campers have damaged the environment in a far more damaging way, but she stopped at that one example.

Secondly – It’s difficult to find a good place to camp as the path is generally very narrow, hemmed in on one side by the fences put up by the landowners and steep or precipitous edge leading to the sea. This, again, is a very valid point on this particular section of the path.

And Finally – That it disturbs nesting birds, therefore I should not be wild camping, which was said with some vigor. Again a valid point and something to be aware of when finding a place to pitch your tent.

Remember… ‘Wild Campers Are Scum’

As I’ve indicated her argument had some validity. I personally don’t know the woman or why she, quite obviously had such strong views. I don’t know exactly what an ‘adventure leader’ is, but from her tone and veracity, I assumed she dealt mainly with young adults, but my assumption could be very wrong. She had no idea who I was, what experience and knowledge I have of the countryside, mountains, camping, trekking, wildlife, etc. The fact that I’ve ‘wild camped’ in some of the most hostile environments in the world and left no trace or disturbed any local wildlife or that in the Antarctic I had to carry out all my solid excrement and other people’s as well, was knowledge she hadn’t got access to. Yet she still presumed to lecture me as if I was a novice in all outdoor situations. The only sentence I managed to get out during this lecture was:

‘I don’t agree with you’

Maybe that wasn’t the answer she was looking for and immediately after she walked off saying;

‘Wild Campers Are Scum’.

I’m a pathetic arguer and always have been. I have, over the years, because of my inability to put over a good argument, annoy many people by listening to their argument then, either agreeing and doing whatever it was how I wanted to anyway or saying ‘we’ll have to agree to disagree’ and finishing the discussion. However, by this time the thirty-something lady had walked off leaving me a little perplexed, which turned into annoyance. You know how sometimes something gets under your skin and clever one-liners, come to mind… but always too late, this is what happened here. The thirty-something or should I say Millennial had disappeared round the corner and so had the moment. As you can probably gather her statement annoyed me for some considerable time and even now, after a couple of days it winds me up just thinking about her comment. A comment that was a gross generalisation, but aimed, at the time, particularly at me, on assumptions based on four words ‘Neither, I’m wild camping’.

I, of course, am not going to make any assumptions about her.

Let me make it very clear, I am fully aware that wild camping is not legal in England and Wales, and in doing it I am trespassing, which although is not illegal in itself. Trespass does become a criminal offense if I refuse to move when asked to do so by the landowner. And there are many people out there that would say that I’m being irresponsible and not respecting other people’s property, therefore ultimately I have no defense and won’t pretend that I have. But the legality of wild camping didn’t in any way form part of her argument. Her argument seemed to assume that I had no idea of the implications that wild camping might have on the surrounding environment, which is definitely not the case. Rant over!

The Early Stages – GR20

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Going up The Valley on Day Three

Day three and the GR20 shows it’s true colours. It was only just over six and a half kilometres long and had only one ascent and one descent, how difficult can that be…extremely, as it happens. Six and a half kilometres took us nearly six hours. I’ve walked slower, but let’s face it a two year old could walk faster! The walk up, though, was exhilarating as the path wound its way up the valley, contouring high under rock pinnacles before zig zagging up a gully onto Bocca Muvrella at 1,920m. The path then criss crosses the summit ridge and then the tortuous descent begins, one that is repeated many times in the following days.

Pietra and Coke at the End of the Day

Stephen, though, is on fine form he managed to book two of the ski chalets for us, instead of camping. I have to say a brilliant manoeuvre and one that I was very grateful for. And on reaching our goal, as became the habit, a can of Coke and a large Pietra Ambre was rapidly consumed before anything else was done. A night in a bed, wonderful. For those that shout ‘cheat’, I don’t care, it was worth any amount of abuse that the ‘purest’ camper could throw at us.

The Cirque de Solitude

Day four, started with a call from Stephen, saying that after sitting on the loo, pondering the guide book, certain words jumped out at him. Stephen, has a fear of exposure and heights and the guide book clearly stated that anyone with either of those fears should think twice about doing the next section. He decided to take the guide books advice and bypassed day four. We met for breakfast and he had a plan to rejoin me at the end of day five at the Hotel Castile de Vergio. All was good

So I started day 4 walking through the forest, on my own, a gentle start, lulling me into a false sense of security. I emerged from the forest to be confronted with a fortress of, what looked like impenetrable pinnacles and sheer rock, that is the valley head and the now closed Cirque de Solitude and the main route now takes the old variant over Pointe des Éboulis. Somehow the initiators of the GR20 had found a route up through the cliffs to the Pointe des Éboulis at 2,607m the highest point of the GR20. I met a Belgian on the way up, we passed each other many times during the day. It appears that his wife bought him this holiday for his 50th birthday,…he thought he probably had grounds for divorce!!! On reaching the Bocca (Col) there is a choice, to divert and summit Monte Cinto, the highest mountain in Corsica. For the first time on the walk the cloud was building and the rain coming in, Corsican thunderstorm. So I decided against the diversion and started my descent to the Refuge.

Watching the Thunder Clouds Come In

It’s a long descent over some steeply exposed slabs that Stephen would probably have done his silly walk on, brought on by vertigo! So I think he made the right choice to bypass this day. The descent finished at Refuge de Tighjettu and a welcome smile from Quintin and Blanche. I’ve never set my tent up on a pallet before, but the ground was rocky, uneven and not over suitable for finding a stone free level pitch, so the pallet was very welcome! It had been another long day time wise, but short in distance, with an average speed of 1.4kmph! It was strange not walking with Stephen, I know we walk at different paces, but knowing we wouldn’t meet up for lunch etc. was a little disconcerting.

Tent on a Pallet!

Quentin asked me if I wanted to walk with them today, which I readily agreed to. As we walked down, within 30 minutes, we passed the Beregeries de Ballone, although very basic looked it was a far better place to camp than the Refuge higher up. Day five of the GR20 was a bit of a stroll in the park compared to the previous days. It was a fairly steep walk up to the Bocca di Foggiale, but easy enough, then a further slight climb up to the Refuge de Ciottulu dib I Mori a very basic and exposed Refuge. The three of us stopped for lunch but were glad that we were moving on to the Hotel Castel Di Vergio.

The View from Refuge de Ciottulu dib I Mori

The descent was one watching and hearing the little waterfalls that plunge into deep turquoise pools. We stopped often and Quentin and Blanche basked on the rocks whilst I took some photographs of the beautiful waterfalls. Blanche was feeling a little under the weather and I think the last couple of kilometres, she would have liked to have wished away.

The Turquoise Pools and Small Waterfalls

We arrived at the Hotel Castel Di Vergio looking forward to that Beer and Coke. Quentin and Blanche had also booked a room, to give Blanche a good nights sleep and time to recover from the dodgy water she had drunk a couple of days ago. Blanche is strong, both physically and mentally and like most women didn’t moan, which I’m sure I would have done, I think! The best thing though was that Stephen walked in to the hotel just fifteen minutes after us.

Stephen on the Start of Day Six

Day six was a joy, the landscape changed to a more walker friendly terrain, the steep unrelenting rocks had gone and the mountains became friendlier, welcoming the walker and not fighting them every inch of the way! Again we walked a foursome for much of the day. Listening to the younger couple’s aspirations and to Stephens stories, which are always a joy to listen to.

Grass, where did that come from?

Lunch was a leisurely affair in fact nearly two hours of basking in the sunshine, boots off and eyes closed.

Lunch, A Time to Relax

We separated from Quentin and Blanche after lunch as they were going a little further as Stephen was leaving the GR20 main path in the morning to bypass day seven. The Refuge that Quentin and Blanche were staying at was only 45 minutes further but Stephens exit route was easier to get to from a Bergeries de Vaccaghja, that was situated just before the main Refuge. We got to the Bergeries only to find that the Guardian (the Manager) was the most miserable old git ever to have walked this earth, christened Chucky by Stephen…So we walked that extra 45 minutes to the Refuge de Manganu.

Sunset at Refuge de Manganu

The Definite End of an End

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Day 80 – Lulworth Cove to Purpeck

Carolynn and I arrived home from Ireland at 02:30 on Saturday morning. Later in the afternoon Carolynn took me to meet Andrew as we were going onto an evening airshow at Shuttleworth, whilst Carolynn carried on to Andrew and Caroline’s abode, where we were going to be staying before we set off to do that pesky last 11.5km of the South West Coast Path. Me, I still had my tail between my legs for not checking that the MOD were live firing, not only during the week but on only one of six weekends, when we were there to finish off the last three days of the path. So, by the end on Monday evening we were both a tad sick of sitting in the car, eight hours on Friday/Saturday driving back from Ireland, four hours on Saturday afternoon to the airshow and back then another five on Sunday and again on Monday to Dorset and back. More importantly though, we were going to complete our 4 1/2 year walk around the South West Coast Path!

Lulworth Cove the Start of our Last Day

It was strange going to walk a section that was two days from the end. But that section of the path would complete not just a walk, but precious time spent that I’d spent with Carolynn and two exceptionally good friends. I won’t go all soppy, but Andrew and Caroline have not only been friends for over 40 years, and in Andrew’s case nearly 50, but also they have made my life richer in many ways and Carolynn, well she’s just a star. I remember saying many years ago that she might not understand my need to climb and walk in far-flung places but her love never falters.

Lulworth Cove

The walk… well it wasn’t the easiest day to leave until last day. Nepali Flat springs to mind (Nepali Flat is how a guide I use in the Himalaya describes the day’s terrain if anyone asks how much ascent there is in that day’s walk). The walk around the cove was typical of an English beach. It was cloudy, windy and a little chilly, but it was very busy, with cruisers of all shapes and sizes anchored offshore and sun seekers lazing on the uncomfortable pebble beach. The scenery, though, was unique. From here the walk reverted to type: steep ascent and descent, three times!

Evidence of the MOD’s Live Firing!

The path rollercoastered along the Jurassic Coast. The MOD range is evident all along this section with targets, burned out tanks and the ruins of old villages and buildings. The escarpment that runs along the coast dips vertically into the sea and falls steeply away on the land wood side, giving spectacular views in all directions. We walked over Flower’s Barrow an old Iron Age Fort. From there we descended into Pondfield Cove and eventually Kimmeridge Bay and the horizontal limestone beds that make up the beach in the cove.

The End of our Days Walk and the End of the SWCP

We walked through the MOD gates, the gates that were locked three weeks previously, past the nodding donkey and to the end of the South West Coast Path.

Stair Hole

We finished at our only hotel stay over the whole walk, with a great meal, big smiles and a clanking of glasses.

Day Trip to Cornwall

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Wind & Waves

Poetic licence: a day trip is not strictly true, actually not true at all. We are, however, only walking for one day. A short 14km section between Port Isaac and New Polzeath: the one day that we all missed due to differing circumstances nearly two years ago.

Carolynn and I are sitting in Treyarnon Youth Hostel waiting for Andrew and Caroline to arrive. It’s the middle of August, the height of the tourist season and a single room that sleeps five is all I could find. I’m not overly popular with the other three members of the crew, but hey ho, when am I!

Day 54 – New Polzeath to Port Isaac

An unprecedented low pressure is moving in from the south-west. The eye passed over yesterday and the full force of the wind is now on us! I don’t mind the rain, snow, extreme cold or sunshine as long as they are not accompanied by high winds! -33°C to +33°C are both bearable and can even feel comfortable, unless they are accompanied by gale force winds… the wind mercilessly sucks you dry of all energy and all hope. The adage goes, ‘There’s no such thing as the wrong weather, just the wrong clothes.’ I assume this was thought of by clothing manufacturers and not outdoor enthusiasts! The element that makes that saying useless is ‘the wind’. You can find shelter from it, only for it to slowly test to see where you are hiding. Its long tendrils search you out, no matter the shelter, and when it finds you it gusts and blows away any sense of security and warmth to then tease you until you move… for it then to start all over again. Seriously though, the wind is the unsuspecting killer, as it absorbs any warmth you have, to then, slowly and unwittingly, literally chill you to the bone.

Hair Raising Wind

Now, I’m not saying that was the case as we walked from New Polzeath to Port Isaac, but it certainly made an already hard day more challenging. The observant among you may have noticed that we travelled with the sea on our left, rather than the usual right. This was to make what little we could of those, as the Met Office called them, ‘strong winds’, giving us a helping hand from behind rather than walking head on into them. The South West Path Guide describes this day as ‘strenuous’, but with some of the most stunning views on the path. As advertised in the guide, we started the day walking steeply up wooden and uneven mud steps that became so familiar as the day wore on!

After saying all of that, the North Cornish Coast is one of the most spectacular, made even more so by the constant changing light: the grey patchy clouds interspersed with dark blue, raced across the sea giving a forever changing magnificent turquoise dappled pattern on the wild Atlantic Ocean. The rain showers that came with those grey patchy clouds were short lived and refreshing.

Port Quin

The walking, however, grew harder as the day progressed as those uneven muddy wooden steps grew more numerous and steeper. Lunch, though, was at a coffee van at Port Quin, sheltered from the wind as it nestled between two steep valley walls… the sun shone and life was good. The last four or five kilometres were steep and as spectacular as the Cornish coast can be and I have to say a pleasure to walk as the wind died down, just a little, and the sun burned away much of the cloud.

The Beautiful Dappled Light of a Stormy Windy Day off the Cornish Coast

For a Saturday in the middle of the summer we were surprised at the lack of ‘the hordes’ that normally swarm around this area, but it seems that the weather reduced the hordes to a bearable number that even I could be pleasant to! Actually ‘the hordes’ were in the pubs and coffee shops in Port Isaac, where we joined them!!! Cheers!

The Long & Winding…