free to be able to rate and comment on reports (as well as access 1:25000 mapping).
2022 was a year of unintended blog silence for me, but I did a lot of walking. Each time I completed a hill walk of interest, summited a mountain I was excited about, and perhaps most notably when I completed The Stevenson Way, I told myself I would make a point of writing it up on the blog. But it just never seemed to happen. Certainly after the latter, which entailed walking solo across Scotland for some three weeks, I struggled to return to normality, and spent a while on a post adventure downer before even being able to think about my next adventure, let alone write about it.
As we rambled into 2023, I decided it was time to address the ennui, get back to writing about my walking adventures, and I reckoned the best way to regain focus was to return to the lists. When I walked my first round of Donalds, I became obsessed. A sense of focus and an unwavering drive to climb all the hills on the list took over me, much to my surprise, and one of several upsides to an approach some may label unhealthy, was that I discovered parts of Southern Scotland I might never have otherwise experienced in this lifetime. The same went for my first round of Wainwrights. When it came to my long distance walks, though ‘bagging’ wasn’t necessarily part of the adventure there was still the sense of routine, rigour, focus, which ultimately I have come to realise I thrive on. And so 2023 is about a return to the list, and a glance at my bookshelf took me back to my Nuttall guide to England’s Mountains…
And the rather exciting realisation that when it comes to Hewitts at least, I had lost sight of the fact I only had nine to go before I could claim my first round. I got my focus back, and instead of the feeling of anxiety I sometimes get when I pore over maps and potential adventures – there are so many I want to do – I knew exactly where I was headed last weekend, and I knew exactly what I wanted to achieve.
And so I found myself on the 07:25 rail replacement coach from Newcastle to Darlington, on a crisp but bright and sunny Sunday morning. A couple of hours later I was on the 856 bus to Hawes – enjoying the £2 capped fare – and finally alighted in the market place at Hawes at 10:44 exactly. I breathed in the cool, crisp air, realised that every stress and worry I might have been carrying from the last week had quite literally evaporated, and looked forward to the next few hours, just me, my map and compass, and a reconnection with the Yorkshire Dales.
Devotees of the English hills may already be judging me for conflating my Hewitts and my Nuttalls, but given today’s hills feature on both lists, I didn’t allow myself to get too hung up on the matter, and followed Nuttall route 12.5 from Gayle – which is a village just a stone’s throw from the Wensleydale Creamery, and the starting point proper for the walk. It was a steady but fairly gentle ascent up Gaudy lane, following the Pennine Way up past farm fields and soon giving way to access land. I had the feeling I was going the wrong way – the few people I met all asked me if I was doing the Montane Spine Race, and one or two seemed to wonder if, by heading south, I was in fact lost. Once the path neared Ten End (586m), it was with some relief that I left the Pennine Way and made my own way across to the summit, then along the heathery ridge towards the first Hewitt of the day – Dodd Fell Hill. The Pennine Way runs parallel, just metres below, but I now felt like I had the hills to myself.
The climb to the 668m summit was an easy one, made all the easier because of the frozen ground (fewer boggy patches!) although there were one or two moments my feet went straight through the thin layer of snow and into the hidden bog below. The views from the trig point were far-reaching and beautiful – so typical of these often featureless and sprawling summits, and I was very grateful to the weather gods for today’s window after a period of such awful weather. I stayed at the summit as long as was comfortable in the freezing breeze, then struck off down the frosty path towards what my Nuttall guide describes as a short stretch of ‘rough walking’ through peat hags. Again, the frost was helpful here, and I weaved my way through the frozen no-man’s land in good time and without too many obstacles. It was still with a feeling of relief, however, that I reached the Roman road at SD 853 840, and enjoyed the easy stroll in the direction of my next objective.
But not before meeting the junction with the road to Kettlewell, which a lonely road sign told me was several miles ‘that way’. Never have I been more tempted to take a right to Kettlewell – and that’s something I don’t say very often. After all, I had a bothy bag with me (when travelling to and from walks using public transport, I have learned to be prepared for unexpected overnighters in bus shelters, behind stone walls, etc), way too much food, and all it would take is a phone call to cancel work – yes that’s it, I’d just disappear for a couple of days in the Yorkshire Dales. It’s dangerous, this freedom lark, so reality got a grip of me and I continued on my merry way. The Roman road becomes Cam High Road as it approaches Drumaldrace, and this easy walking meant I very quickly reached the sprawling summit (614m) and its substantial cairn. More stunning views of the Yorkshire Dales, and the light was at times otherworldly as the sun renewed its acquaintance with the horizon.
The freezing breeze on Dodd Fell had become a freezing wind on Drumaldrace, so my reverie soon gave way to thoughts of returning to Hawes, which I did by briefly rejoining the Cam High Road, before striking out across a field at SD 881 869 and gradually – at times very steeply – returning to Gayle. The prominent little hill of Yorburgh tempted me along the way, but I decided to stick to my path and save the extra summit for next time. Had it been a Hewitt, I’m sure my mind would have returned to the list and made the effort, but as it was, the Hewitt bagging was done for the day. As I dropped down to Gayle, I was struck by the shape of the landscape in Wensleydale. Yorbugh and indeed several of the lowly hills all the way to the east share a very unique shape, not unlike that of Pen-y-ghent and Wild Boar Fell. I have no idea of the geological term for these distinctive slopes, and part of me is resisting finding out. It might just lead to another list to obsess over.
That said, at the end of the day I ticked – with a great degree of satisfaction – another two Hewitts from my current list, and with just seven to go, maybe a new list of these beautiful geological lumps we have the pleasure of climbing is exactly what I need.
