We recently ran a competition over at Webtogs with walking-books.com to give away some of their walking packs. Whilst we were running the competition, I got chatting to Mike who runs the business about his Making Tracks series. The series are walking packs designed for children to take the lead with straightforward instructions and child-friendly maps. When he found out that I had 2 kids he promised me he would send me one of the packs to take with us next time we were up in the Peak District. They duly arrived at the beginning of the year, but we forgot to take them with us until we went back up the other week.
Each of the packs has 10 walks which have been designed for kids to read and lead. They are small and nicely illustrated, pointing out all the kinds of natural, historical and grim facts about places as you head along. We had Ifor (4 1/2 for those of you who need to know) leading and reading for the walk. Ifor picked a short walk starting from Winster which we had never walked from before, so we set off to the village with his brother Ellis (2 years old), Ma, Pa, Grandma and Grandad.
Ifor only started reading this year, but the walks were simple and he found it easy to follow the instructions. Each point on the walk was clearly described and songs were soon being sung of the “two arches with the postbox nearby”. Ducking in between houses we soon left Winster behind, heading across fields. The maps are not to scale, but they stayed true to the navigation principle of checking off features as you walk. Stiles, walls, overhead cables, rocky outcrops were all spotted and ticked off by Ifor as he led us on.
Each of the packs comes with a booklet giving an overview on the walks, what sort of gear you might need to take and the countryside code. Perhaps it’s because I have walked for so long and the rules are part of my life, but I had totally forgotten about the code and how important it is to pass it on. Ifor was duly briefed and he made sure we shut every single gate behind us.
I expected Ifor to love the pictures and the horrible history aspects of the packs which he did. I also expected some good reading practice, but what I was surprised by was how much he grew in stature during the walk. Taking responsibility for our party and it’s direction gave him a new confidence. For me it was by far and away the biggest plus of the afternoon. It also had the bonus of driving him on. Usually walks are a heady mix of cajoling and bribery using food and drink, on this day though we fair galloped around!
The walks are all short (up to 4 miles) and so after a couple of hours we came to the end of a very pleasurable walk. If there was anything I would like to improve it would be to include a backup OS map for the adults. We failed to find the start, parking at the wrong car park before realising which one we had to go to! I had also brought one of the plastic walk holders from another of the walking packs, these are missing from the Making Tracks series and I think it would be nice to include one.
Overall though these were a fantastic addition to our walking experience with Ifor much more involved, learning skills and chomping at the bit.
Maps are great fun and beautifully drawn, instructions are clear and simple.
Pacing and length are right.
Reading & Navigation skills get practiced.
The kids want to walk and leading is a great confidence booster.
The history bits are ace.
Be good to have an OS map section to cross reference with.
Add the card holders from the other packs, would help make the kids feel like real live leaders 🙂
DISCLOSURE – Mike from walking books.com ran a competition with us over at Webtogs & sent me the pack for free to review. The review is my own thoughts on the Making Tracks series.
I’m back after a week in Bakewell in the Peak District having had a rather lovely break. There were several stand out trips from the week and rather than blog about them all, you get three for the price of one today AND they’re not even past their best before date…..
First up was a small walk from around Winster early in the week with the whole family, three generations together. Our eldest son Ifor (4 years old) led the walk using the Making tracks series of walking packs. I expected it to be great practice for reading, but the stand out aspect of the walk was seeing his confidence increase and his skills develop from leading. There was some strong emotion on seeing him check off navigation features and get a bee in his bonnet about striding on at the front. It was a joyous thing to see his outdoor life and independence start – I’ll be posting a review of the Making tracks series shortly.
One of the other family trips was just a short stroll up to Robin hood’s stride to have a bit of scrambling fun. It’s a set of rocks in the white peak near where Cath’s folks live. Ellis bounced about like a leprauchaun and I’m not sure he has actually developed his fear reflexes yet on the strength of his behaviour that day. Ifor was much more cautious, but again it was awesome to see their decision making skills coming on in leaps & bounds. If you have a spare couple of hours and fancy some easy non-scary fun scrambling, it’s well worth a look.
The final trip was a swift wild camp with Andy (AKA @mixedupmessedup). We took a Backpacking Bongos trip from a week or two earlier as inspiration and changed it around to make it slightly longer. The initial evening walk to our camp was uneventful as we headed up from Howden resevoir, but the weather looks more beautiful than I remember according to these photos. I’ll let them do the talking.
The second day was dreich as they say North of the border. I awoke to the sound of rain on the tent and it didn’t stop until the following day. We had planned to meet Martin Banfield of Postcard from Timperley fame on the second day to stroll with us. After packing away the tents, we strolled up from Grinnah stones towards Bleaklow stones where we were due to meet Martin. He had already spied our camp spot via the power of Social Hiking so we got a text to let us know he was at Bleaklow Head. Mobile signal was intermittent to say the least and whilst we were at Bleaklow Stones we began to worry as on the OS explorer maps, it is shown away from the most recongnisable rocks such as the anvil stone. To cut a long story short, we then had a joyous 3/4 hour of intermittent texts, with hill fog reducing visibility to 50 metres and the rain stepping up a couple of notches whilst we tried to find each other in amongst the Pinnacles of Peat. Eventually we found each other and it was a timely reminder of just how difficult navigation can be in crappy weather, especially in the Dark Peak.
Finally strolling on, the conversation flowed as easily as the rain did. The weather was totally crud but there are few areas in the Peak District that lend themselves as well as Bleaklow do to getting away from it all. We followed a straightforward route back to the Penine way, cutting down to Grains in the Water then up on to Allport moor for the obligatory trig photo. We then strolled towards Alport Castles before heading left down the hill back to the car. Dollops of wilderness and a sense of scale and height you don’t get elsewhere in the Peaks made for a wonderful day despite the dampness. Add in some decent company in the form of Andy and Martin and the day was over far too quickly for my liking.
Andy had been feeling pretty duff after a stinking cold so we finished up early, just in time for a swift drink in the Ladybower Inn. Whilst there, we overheard a group of farmers have a local land management presentation. It focussed on what they were doing to look after the moorland, particularly when they should burn heather. It was the most interesting 10 minutes I have ever heard on moors, of which the stand out facts for me were that Midges pollinate heather and heather only stands a 5% chance of germinating if it hasn’t been near smoke. All of a sudden the midges didn’t seem so much of an irritation. It never ceases to amaze me the balance and purpose there is in everything in Nature.
If you want to look at more pretty picture they’re here. Martin’s elegant report is here, James’ blog that delivers inspiration by the bucketful is here and our tracks in the rain can be followed below.
A couple of weekends ago whilst nattering on the phone, my mate Chris and I suddenly realised we had a free weekend – at the same time. After the initial shock, we quickly hatched a plan for a swift weekends hike from Corfe Castle. It would have been nicer to go wilder, but as Chris was driving down to me he didn’t want to drive too far on the Saturday and rightly had the call as to where we went. Taking in the Purbeck hills before hitting the South West Coastal path through Swanage, we planned to come out the other side and follow it round the headland towards Dancing Ledge. We contemplated wild camping, but as we were unsure where we could get some water from (our last SW Coastal path stroll had been pretty dry), we decided we would check out the general loveliness reported at Tom’s Field. We then planned a sumptuous second day along the coast to Kimmerdige Bay before heading up to the downs and a stroll back to the castle.
Chris duly turned up fresh from worlds biggest Tractor racing track, otherwise known as the A303. We then spent far too much time gassing and drinking beer before realising we needed to get packed. End result was a bit of a late bedtime, not a good start from the hiking point of view but 10 out of 10 for fun. The Saturday dawned with a perfect mix of cloud and sunshine and we drove down in what was the beginning of the recent heatwave. Corfe Castle has to win the prize for most impressive silhouette. Nestled in a gap in the Purbeck Hills, it’s delightfully broken outline really takes your breath away when first sighted. We managed to find some free parking on East Hill which prompted my now customary “get-one-over-the-council” dance and off we trotted.
We started by following the path upwards towards Nine Barrow Down from East Hill. The gorse was in full effect, the intermittent sunshine bringing out the yellow beautifully. We soon had fabulous views over Studland towards Poole and Brownsea Island through the late spring haze. Mountains are still my favourite walking by far, but the sights, smell and vista that walking by the sea offers still uplifts me every time. A short sharp climb to the Obelisk on Ballard Down felt easy and I began to appreciate choosing trail running shoes rather than lightweight boots for the weekend.
The path flattened out pn top of the downs as we headed towards Old Harrys rocks before dropping down on to the SW Coastal Path and in to Swanage. We followed the beach in to town, along the front with intentions of marching straight through, when the smell of frying fish wafted under our nose. It’s not often hiking you get to stroll through a town at around lunchtime, so despite the guilty cry of the Peanut butter bagels from our sacks, it was time for some fish and chips, with sides of bread & tea. Champion.
After the lunch of justice we waddled towards Durlston Country Park and immediately things began to get quieter and brighter. Every time I have followed the SWC path the sun comes out and today was no different. Wandering past Durlston Head Castle, we passed the entrance to Tilly Whim Caves, sealed up since the 1970’s. I’m not sure what it is about long abandoned places, but they really give me an itch to explore. I resisted the urge to climb barbed wire however and followed around to Anvil Point Lighthouse. The final part of the days path was the most beautiful and remote, passing just one person on the trail. Chris was beginning to find it hard work as we approached the 15 mile point so we stopped short of Dancing ledge to recoup energy, whilst I tried in vain to find water that we could hear trickling underneath our feet.
I find it sometimes just nice to “be” when on a walk and the combination of sun, company that needed no conversation, a springy bit of turf and views out to sea gave me that in spades. After a break, we wandered on past Dancing Ledge. Chris had warned me before he came down that he had a stinker of a cold and it began to make itself felt as we headed uphill. It was a good time to be getting to the end of the first day but I was also glad as the lighthouse had competition for brightest light source on the SW Coastal Path – my face. Although I had hatted up earlier in the day and slapped suncream on, it was of the three year old factor 30 variety. Altogether it had proved about as much use as a surfboard with handlebars. My face was burning up and I swear I could feel the heat when I raised my hands to my brow.
We stumbled in to Tom’s field and the first thing that greeted us was bunnies – a whole field of them in fact. It was a good omen for a special campsite and we weren’t disappointed. A friendly welcome to a delightfully quirky shop complete with moisturiser for my battered face soon had me sighing in relief. As we strolled up the well kept site, we got nattering to one of the staff. He must have taken pity on my face as he lifted up a barrier stating “no entrance” to lead us up a slope to a totally sheltered & secluded space. It was our very own wild camp spot in a campsite where we couldn’t see a soul – bliss! Chris brewed, I pitched and it was soon time to go hunting for local pubs.
Chris was still worried about his fitness and how he was feeling, so I assured him we could cut the route short the following day if he wasn’t feeling right. I had already planned an alternate shortened route and I sketched an even shorter one straight back to the car over a pint of Badger. During the night, Chris’s coughing had me contemplating whether I should bring a pack in between us to save me being infected and turned in to a zombie. Being enclosed in a small tent with a bloke sounding like the starter motor of an Austin Allegro was no fun, but I guess it was even less fun for him.
The following day dawned cloudy and my ever so red skin celebrated in total joy. Chris still wasn’t well so we decided to head across country back to Corfe Castle. I’ve been in that situation myself so I know how it feels to have to bail, but it was the right call. Chris’ fitness and health meant 15 miles of up and down on the coast would not have been a great deal of fun. As it was, we had a gentle couple of hours or so across country watching the Steam train head back and forth to Swanage. I also got a half afternoon with the boys too which was a pleasant surprise for Cath, them and me.
All in all it was a legendary weekend. There were a couple of things I tried differently. Firstly, when it comes to trail shoes I’m now a convert. The feeling of water running in to your feet on a hot day is bliss compared to Goretex sweaty hotness. Provided I have poles, I think I’ll switch to them during spring and summer months. My only caveat is that when the mercury heads south, I will still stay with boots or waterproof shoes as my feet feel the cold. I have mild concerns about longevity as they do not last as long as boots do, so there is a financial consideration in switching. In terms of comfort & weight off your feet though, they are now my first choice. Secondly, replace your sunscreen each year folks! Well don’t leave it three years anyway, that’s a fact….
Rain, more rain and a side order of rain with extra rain has been the overwhelming memory of this April. With rivers in Gillingham getting friendly with the tops of bridges and fields resembling swamps, it’s not been a great month for getting out and about. Come the weekend though, it seemed to get worse. After some of our guttering blew down all hell appeared to be released outside, rain liberally sprinkling the windows so hard it sounded like stones. So what did Ifor want to do? Go for a walk.
Ellis wisely had hit the sack and Cath decided to stay in to finish a bit of crafty chinwagging so we got suited, booted and pootled on up to Mackintosh Davidson woods. Woods are strange things. Sunny outside, it will look a lot darker under the tree canopy. Today was the reverse however, a grey and cloudy day was replaced by a green luminescence as we moved in to the woods, Ifor acquainting himself with every puddle that crossed our path of which there were many. I’ve written about Mackintosh Davidson woods before, they are my favourite escape close to the house and Sunday was no exception. The bluebells were in full effect, sheltered from the wind and the rain, the moisture giving the woods a sheen that reflected what little light came in beautifully. Ifor was in his element, dancing in and out of puddles and giving excited hiccups at the streams gushing through the bottom of the woods where trickles had been weeks before.
We kicked mud from bridges in to the rivers below and played extreme poo sticks (that’s with a river in full spate for those of you who don’t know). We threw mud at each other and let the rain wash it off our jackets, we wondered at the banks of branches broken off the trees. Several times I stopped and savoured the feeling of being with my son, enjoying the moment. His total joy at being outside and my joy at seeing him explore and enjoy the woods left me with a feeling of a perfect time and a perfect moment.
When it comes to backpacking trips they always entail some serious imagination. Dreaming and planning a trip for me whets the appetite, and raises the sense of anticipation of the solitude, peace and hard work to come. Approaching the beginning of February however I suddenly realised I had holiday left to take which hadn’t been taken. Sadly the family needed to stay at home for School and social stuff, but on the plus side I had a green light for some hill time. A lack of time to plan for my trip then ensued with life at Webtogs being rather busy, so I ended up thinking aloud on the Twitterverse as to where to go, flitting between the moors of Dartmoor or the hills in Brecon. In the end I decided to head to the Brecons after being tweeted a photo of a potential campsite from @Nigep that looked like a little spot of paradise.
My plan was to head up to Llanthony and park up by the priory there. The first day would be up and over Offas Dyke, before heading back down in to the Vale of Ewyas to camp. The Second day would be to head back over the Black Mountains grabbing a few peaks on the way. I was tentatively keeping my eyes on the weather, come Monday evening I packed swiftly as Tuesday & Wednesday looked the best bet with the chance of rain, clouds and sunshine in equal measure. Those of us who wander in the hills want to escape the hurly burly of ordinary life and the Brecons do seem to get passed over more often than not, whether that is because people feel they are too busy or too easy I’m not sure. I’ve done the Brecons many a time but surprisingly hadn’t been to the Black Mountains previously and after the disappointment that was my Christmas walking. I was fairly stoked about heading out in to the hills.
I left after 9 to avoid the worst of the Traffic and a fairly damp miserable drive commenced. Heading across the Severn bridge is a journey I have done so many times since a child that it always gives me a lift. It was even more poignant this time with the knowledge that my Aunt is moving down to Bexhill to be closer to my cousin, leaving one family member left in Wales. I resisted the familial urge to carry down the M4 however and turned right after the Magor services, heading up to Abergavenny and Llanthony.
The road in to Llanthony is a single track road and the mountains soon grew steeply on either side. The weather also started to brighten up, and the green luminescence on either side grew stronger. I parked at Llanthony priory and experienced that rarity in the outdoors world these days – free parking. Doing a small yet subtle dance of joy in the car park, I still managed to draw stares from the other people there. It’s the small victories that make life pleasant however, so I refused to blush.
Llanthony Priory was a beautiful sight but I had one mission on my mind – hills. I set off at a brisk pace around the outside and made tracks for the Beacon Way, climbing steeply through fields, woods and then more fields before hitting moorland. I find the start of a trip before you settle in to a rhythm curiously unsatisfying, but as the cloud drifted and dispersed across the hill, the sunlight soon became more of a welcome companion and the pleasant stress of my body working hard to ascend soon settled me down.
Click on me to make me bigger.
Reaching the top of Offas Dyke I found myself in shirt sleeves and wondered whether I really was walking in February. Wandering the top, I came across pools stacked with frog spawn, mum or dad lazily glooping down to the bottom of the pools before returning to look at me with distrust. I allowed myself the luxury of a day dream as I followed the clear path onwards and felt my shoulders dropping slowly as I relaxed more and more.
All too soon however the path down in to the valley appeared and as I moved lower, the cloud re-appeared and descended with me, cloaking the valley in mist and clag. The sharpness of the red mud from the hillside laid out the path below me clearly and I rejoined the agricultural lands below. By now I was impatient for a brew and pushed on quickly to days end, a camp on the banks of Nant Bwch which turned out to be as perfect a spot as I had dared to hope for. Water, shelter, peace and quiet were in abundance and I settled down to watch the fuzzy colour changes of the evening from the seat shaped stone outside my front porch.
Rivers do have their blessings for the wild camper, but they also encourage a fair amount of ablutions in the night. As I found myself asleep early though, I forgave the occasional interruption and celebrated the ability to get a decent nights kip without getting woken up by two blond haired bundles of energy in the morning. Sleeping soundly I awoke to the light slowly creeping in to the tent as a misty, claggy day gathered pace outside. I found myself slow to get going and enjoyed a lazy get up of porridge and bananas, letting the sounds of the river mark the start of the day with it’s light chuckle.
Packing in no real hurry, I soon make my way towards Lord Herefords Knob. This slowly drew a steady chirp of tweets from those following me on Social Hiking – keen to point out a multitude of things to with that point on the map! Visibility was pretty dire and although practicing my navigation was useful, after finding myself slightly off course I turned my GPS on to increase my speed and pleasure from the day. Slowly the mist lifted, revealing the terrain around me as I bog hopped across Waun Fach and on to Gadair Fawr, making me very grateful I had gone for my Meindl Burmas rather than lighterweight alternatives. Reaching Gadiar Fawr, a haze was all that was left as the hills around me rested easily in the sun. All too soon the time came to drop down off the hills. A little bit of interesting navigation ensued through the Mynydd Du Forest before I dropped back in to the valley below with the Priory beckoning, tired, but full of memories.