Competition success!

I had a pleasant surprise at camera club this evening. I'd entered three recently taken pictures in the monthly competition, and came 1st and 3rd, and the other one was shortlisted too.

The photo which won was the Eagle Owl picture I took at Muncaster last week:


Third place went to this one, which I'd taken on a sunny morning a few weeks ago:

Muncaster owls

After yesterday's exertions, any plans for another walk had long been shelved, but actually the aches and pains from last night quickly vanished by the time we'd finished breakfast. Even so, today was to be a more relaxing day with a visit to Muncaster to see the castle and the owls.

The castle is a popular place for tourists, with tours available around the castle itself, vast well-maintained gardens and plenty of special events going on throughout the year.




At this time of year the walks through the bluebell woods and past the many types of rhododendrons were exceptional, so even though the legs were still sore we enjoyed a leisurely walk around the gardens and clocked up another couple of miles.


One of the main attractions at the castle though is the owls, as the castle houses the headquarters of the World Owl Trust, a conservation group aiming to protect endangered owls from accross the globe.

Although the owls are kept in captivity, many brought here had already been domesticated elsewhere and so couldn't ever be released back to the wild, but their offspring still retain their wild instincts. The trust have an extensive breeding programme and aim to return owls to their natural habitats whenever possible, but in the meantime the owls are well cared for and are kept in large airy enclosures.

The trust holds dozens of different species of owl, from all over the world, as well as some other birds of prey such as buzzards and kestrels. The highlight of the day is the 'Meet the birds' session in the afternoon on the castle lawn. Here the keepers explain the work of the trust and bring out some of the owls to show how they fly and hunt, and although there was a sudden short shower during the display, this was certainly the highlight of the day.

You can't visit the owls without taking lots of pictures, so here's a selection of mine, all these taken through the wire cages:

Bowfell and Crinkle Crags

When writing his fourth Pictorial Guide, to the Southern Fells, Wainwright declared Bowfell "among the best half-dozen fells in the Lake District". This was the only time he allowed himself such a statement until the end of his final guidebook, which shows how much respect and awe he had for this particular mountain.

The neighbouring fell, Crinkle Crags, is also held in high regard, described as "much too good to be missed", and the ridge walk between the two mountains "entirely delightful", and such praise demands a closer look.

I'd persuaded Kevan to give these two mountains a try the last time we were in the Lakes, but the weather wasn't great and 3,000ft up overlooking sheer rock faces is not the best place to be in mist, so we amended our plans. But this week's weather was much better, so we'd had this one in our sights from the first day we arrived.

Today was the day, and with John accompanying us too, we were well set as we parked up at the Old Dungeon Ghyll at around half nine. The first mile or so is along the flat Langdale valley floor, forking left at the head of the valley up the Oxendale branch. After crossing the beck, we started our first climb up the valley side, heading toward Great Knott and skirting round Pike of Blisco. The change in gradient soon slowed us down, but with every pause for breath, the views back along the valley got steadily better.

Just before Red Tarn, the path swung round to head behind Great Knott and then onwards to the first of the five Crinkles. We'd covered more than 3 miles by this point and climbed over 800m, so as it was approaching lunch-time, we found a sheltered spot just below the summit, with fine views over the West Cumbria coast, right down to Blackpool in the distance.


It was from here that the walk became much more of a challenge - the tops of Crinkle Crags were boulder-strewn, and the climbing and then descending of each of the five Crinkle summits was tough-going. Still, the views down Langdale were amazing and our spirits were still high. The descent from the final Crinkle was even more rocky, and this set the tone for the next one and a half miles to Bowfell. Wainwright admits the progress here is slow, but believe me this was tough going.

The summit of Bowfell was even more rocky, with huge boulders littering the upper reaches. Not only this, but now the weather was closing in all around us, and it was clear there was heavy rain out towards Sellafield to the west, and Ambleside to the east. I even saw lightening, not a welcome sight when you're on one of the highest mountains in England, so on reaching the summit there was more than a concerned glance around and we didn't stay on the very top for long.

Fortunately the rain stayed away from us, and we plotted our descent carefully all the way down to Angle Tarn, a difficult route again over rocks and boulders down almost 300m. By now the legs were burning, but we were now on the main path which would take us all the way back to the start. However the car was still around 4 miles away and although the path was clearly marked on the map, the reality was quite different as we had to take an even steeper and rockier route down, eventually meeting Rossett Gill and down into Mickleden. Only now we reached a reasonable path and the gradient finally relented, but the time had passed 5pm and we still had a good couple of miles or more to go. Eventually we made it back to the car, but it was after six and we'd been walking for well over eight hours.

We'd had an exhilerating, if exhausting day, and by the time Kevan and I had dropped John off and got ourselves ready for an evening meal, we just about had the energy to haul ourselves to the nearest restaurant where we collapsed into a chair with a well deserved drink.

Finsthwaite High & Low Dams

Today's our 8th wedding anniversary! To help us celebrate, we'd arranged for my parents to join us at the little village of Finsthwaite, a couple of miles or so from Newby Bridge at the bottom of Lake Windermere.

Back in 1978, Dad was a leader in the scouts, and had helped organise their summer camp in a field just behind the village. We were back to see whether we could remember the campsite and also retrace a walk up through the woods to two nearby tarns, Low Dam and, just beyond, High Dam.

The walk uphill wasn't too difficult and the lakes at the top were worth a visit. Although Low Dam is quite small lake, High Dam is a reasonable size and the walk all the way round is about a mile and a half. The weather was a little unpredictable, with sunshine one minute then hail the next. But we made it round without getting too wet, and managed to take plenty pictures along the way.

Back at the cars near Finsthwaite church, we stopped for a packed lunch, then started part two of our walk, through some more woods for another mile or so down to the landing stage at Lakeside, where the first floor cafe looking out across the lake was too tempting to miss. After watching the ferry come in, then the steam train depart, we headed back to Finstwaite, this time taking a steep path up through the trees and back to the cars.

We found somewhere to eat on the main road from Newby Bridge to Ulverston, rounding off another excellent day.

Elterwater easy walking

Today's walk began at Skelwith Fold, a few miles from Ambleside off the road to Hawkshead. We were visiting Lynn & John, friends of Carole's parents, who have a holiday home here, so this meant we could enjoy a cup of tea and a biscuit (or two) before we set off.


After strolling through some pleasant narrow lanes, we met the main road at Skelwith Bridge, before climbing up to Loughrigg Tarn. On previous visits round here we've continued up to Loughrigg's summit, but not today - instead we were staying on the quiet roads over High Close before dropping down into the little village of Elterwater. Here we stopped off at the popular Britannia Inn for soup and a sandwich and some liquid refreshments.

The route back was along the well trodden path alongside the river and by the lake, where there are terrific views towards the familar silhouettes of the Langdale Pikes Harrison Stickle and Stickle Pike. Sadly although we stayed dry, the clouds today didn't enhance the view, but it didn't stop us taking a group photo with the mountains behind.

Once back at Skelwith Fold, Lynn treated us to some sparkling wine ahead of our anniversary tomorrow, and we finished the day by enjoying a nice meal at the nearby Outgate Inn, which we'd visited previously during our Wray Castle walk.

The lost village of Wythburn

Thirlmere reservoir was constructed in 1894 when a dam was constructed near the small natural lake of Leathes Water, near St John's in the Vale, not far from Keswick. The dam allowed the water level to rise 50 feet, creating a four mile reservoir which swallowed up a second natural lake further south, Wythburn water.

The villages of Wythburn and Armboth were also drowned by the new reservoir, constructed to supply the growing town of Manchester with fresh drinking water, and the loss of these villages was strongly opposed at the time. All that remains of Wythburn nowadays is a couple of farms and a quaint little church, which dates from 1642.

Our walk today took us to Wythburn, where we parked right behind the church in a small car park popular with those wanting to climb Helvellyn. Kevan and I did that walk a few years ago, and today's efforts started the same way - up a steep path through the trees. Soon though we reached another path which was much flatter and led away to the southern end of the reservoir.


From here we walked around to the western shore of Thirlmere, before climbing steeply up to the little Harrop Tarn. The climb was quite difficult as there was no path and the route was very overgrown in places, so we were pleased to reach the tarn and find a good spot for lunch.

The way back down, through the trees on much better paths, was just as steep though, but once we reached the road the return leg along the lakeshore was very pleasant. Eventally we made it back to the car and then on to Keswick for a bite to eat. Looking at the map and Carole's pedometer it worked out at around 5.5 miles, but the steep slopes to the tarn made it feel more than that!

Wray Castle

The start of our week's holiday in the Lakes and after a bacon butty, we headed to Wray for a familiar walk starting at the castle. Despite appearances, the 'castle' isn't medieval, it was built in the Victorian era for a wealthy Liverpool surgeon.

It is now owned by the National Trust and is currently used as a training centre, although there are currently plans to redevelop the castle and grounds as a high quality hotel.

Some of the views across the castle grounds are outstanding across Lake Windermere towards Ambleside and the fells beyond, so the new hotel promises to be something special. Our walk headed away from the castle, past the little-known Belham Tarn, to the tiny village of Outgate, where we stopped for refreshments at the Outgate Inn.

The way back took us round the other side of the tarn, then up to High Wray before making our way back via the shore of Lake Windermere

Time to vote

With the polling station less than two minute's walk away, there was no excuse for not casting our vote in the general election today, and we were out before work to exercise our democratic right.

Turnout was forecast to be relatively high in our constituency, but by 9:30pm, when this picture was taken, there were no queues and all seemed very calm. But how would the result in our marginal constituency affect the national picture?

George Junior's Christening

Proud parents Gary and Joanne with little George Junior immediately after his christening at Sacred Heart church, Bilton, Rugby.

The battle at Bosworth Field

In 1483, the Plantagenet and Yorkist King Edward IV died, and his nine year old son succeeded him as King Edward V.

A ruling council, set up to rule on the boy-King's behalf until he was old enough to rule in his own right split into two factions, both eager to seize control themselves. Edward's uncle Richard became Lord Protector, and the other key players vying for power were soon accused of treason and executed without a trial. Richard had his own motives though and Edward was soon imprisoned in the Tower of London while Richard worked on Parliament to declare the former King's marriage illegal, in order to deprive Edward of his right to be King. Richard, as brother of Edward IV, was quickly crowned King Richard III, but his schemes had made him many enemies along the way, and he was never popular amongst the people throughout his reign.

The exiled Henry Tudor, from the House of Lancaster, had a weak claim to the throne through his mother Lady Margaret Beafort's line, and as Richard's unpopularity grew, Henry began to raise an army from his base in France and prepare to challenge Richard.

The two came together at the Battle of Bosworth Field, the penultimate battle in the Wars of the Roses, on 22 August 1485.

Although Richard had more men, Henry, who was no great soldier himself, developed an advantage by ensuring he had some experienced generals in his army, and as the battle developed, their superior tactics soon trapped Richard, who was killed on the battlefield. Henry was almost immediately proclaimed King, on a hill now called Crown Hill, and he became Henry VII, the first monarch of the new Tudor dynasty.

Nowadays the location of the battle is marked by a modern visitor centre, with an exhibition, shop and cafe, and various activities such as falconry displays take place throughout the year. Lately the exact field of the battle has been disputed, and the academics now say the true site is probably a mile or so away from where the visitor centre is.

Bosworth is in Leicestershire, and we were in the area visiting relatives in nearby Bedworth, across the border in Warwickshire. Walking through the woodland paths, we came across the station at nearby Shenton, at the end of a preserved steam railway line. We arrived just in time to see the appropriately named Henry, one of Thomas the Tank Engine's friends, bringing in the last passenger train of the day, before moving round to the back of his carriages ready for the return journey.