Outings

Hello, furiends. I am joining in with the Nature Friday blog hop this week, for the first time in quite a while.

Dru and Stephen wanted to show me around the lower lakes area of this county of Cumbria. There was a big burst of sun during the month of May, so a few outings were called for!

One day we went to Arnside - that's where we saw the boat called Driftwood that you saw in last week's post. It's a grand sort of place. 

It has something of a seaside resort feel to it, although it is really on more of a wide estuary, where the River Kent joins Morecambe Bay. (It's the estuary with the summery shimmer that I am showing you - the luscious red sporty wheels are incidental... any day dreams of riding the lakesides with the wind in my fur are my business and mine alone....ahem....)

Another day was a ramble on Barbon Fell. This was a little bit more familiar to me. Hillsides and burns - or as they are called around here, 'becks'. Little runs of water not quite big enough to be called a river. Barbon Beck was a welcome sight for hot paws.

My new hubro, E, did take me up two local Wainwrights another day. That was definitely more of a challenge and closer to the sort of outings Gail would take me on. I really enjoyed that and, despite the dry weather, managed to get a bit of ditch-diving done. That's the only photo I have from that outing...

I like Wainwrights. It's not quite the same as Corbetts or Monroes, but it's still a good workout. I was quite ready for a nap when we got back.

Now you are wondering about the names? Well, the 214 fells documented in Alfred Wainwright's "Pictorial Guide to the Lakeland Fells" range in height from 300 meters (985 feet) for Castle Crag to 978 meters (3210 feet) for Scafell Pike. 

By comparison, Corbetts are Scottish mountains over 2,500 feet (762 metres) and under 3,000 feet (914.4 metres), with a drop of at least 500 feet (152 metres) between each listed hill and any adjacent higher one. There are 222 summits classified as Corbetts, and they are named after John Rooke Corbett, who originally listed them. 

Then there are the magnificent Monroes. A Munro is a Scottish mountain with an elevation of more than 3,000 feet (914 metres). These lofty peaks take their name from Sir Hugh Munro (1856–1919), whose groundbreaking list of the 283 highest mountains in Scotland was first published as Munro’s Tables in the Scottish Mountaineering Club’s journal in 1891.

I wonder what the highest hill/mountain is that any of you have walked/climbed?

Other than this, the daily walk near home often brings us along the Lancaster Canal, where, once again, I can have a refreshing and cleansing dip!

A question of stamina

Why would I be tired after a twelve mile* hike?

Gail seemed to think I might be, but between you and me, that probably says more about how her was sixty-four year old legs were feeling by the end of our walk on Saturday. 

I, of course, was still pretty sprightly after a glorious gallop around the hills near Ballater in stunning spring sunshine. 

We started in the woods at Milton of Tullich, where the birch trees have not quite come into leaf. 

A couple of miles on, we were out into open country.

There are just a few signs of human civilisation in this part of the world. 

Gail was awestruck by the magnificent panorama of snow-capped Aberdeenshire hills, whereas I focused on the near at paw. 

Then it was back down to the river valley and a patchwork of trees and sheep-grazed fields, with Lochnagar glimmering in the distance.

Finally, we returned to civilization, and Gail enjoyed a cup of tea and a scone on the terrace of a café in Ballater. We could have gone inside but three disputatious Lhasa Apsos had got there ahead of us and, disappointingly, Gail thought it would be "more relaxing" to stay away from the canine mayhem.

*Gail says: To be accurate, I walked twelve miles; Nobby, with his frequent side trips into the undergrowth, probably covered more than twenty. My friend Henry and I did a similar version of this walk with Bertie back in 2019, as reported here.

Gail and Nobby's hike, 15 April 2023

Developing the independent terrier spirit...

I am so happy that it was on Friday when Gail and her friend Tess took me for a Torridon hill walk.

And not on Saturday.

However, I do have one small confession to make, relating to our otherwise perfect Friday outing.

Perhaps you can see that Gail is holding tightly onto my lead here on the hill, and giving me a stern talking to...

But it's hardly my fault, is it, if a small flock of sure-footed black sheep suddenly appeared out of nowhere on the ridge of the hill (in a place where Gail has never ever seen livestock before) and just as I was having fun roaming free and sniffing around in the heather, those sheep came past, heading for the precipitously rocky side of the hill. So suddenly I heard cries of "come Nobby, come! COME!!!!" and detected a note of panic in Gail's voice. 

Was it really necessary for me to come right away, my adolescent brain wondered. The yearning for a taste of independence is common to all youngsters when they reach a certain age, right? And, this was a great place to explore, and surely Gail would calm down in a minute or two. I was well away from the sheep and was certainly not minded to do anything stupid like follow them over a cliff edge. 

But the shouts just got louder, and so, remembering that she probably still had some treats in her pocket, I trotted back up the slope to where Gail was standing with Tess, both of them looking very anxious but also relieved to see me. 

I would like to have comforted them with the thought that it is only right and proper for a pup of nearly eight months old to start to 'test the boundaries'. Surely, Gail should be more worried if I was not developing my independent terrier spirit?