Wednesday morning dawned sunny and still and with a forecast of settled weather I decided to try an overnight in a small tent I have owned for some time. Tent is a generous description I think, although at just under 5' 10'' tall I can sit up in it...just..., so I suppose it earns the promotion from shelter to tent..
Sun touching the trees in the wood at the end of my garden, so I left home before 10.00 hrs. and made my way across the lake and out into the more remote coastal cliff tops. A promise of a fine day.
My route took me past this Standing Stone erected by the Ancient People who lived in a Settlement, the remains of which are nearby. Called a 'Devil's Stone', no doubt by the Christian Missionaries who came here from Ireland, the flat faces of the Stone face exactly East and West.
Set back a safe distance from the cliff tops is an area of wild land covered in Bracken and Gorse. The hollows and raised areas provide wind shelter from the sea winds and the sandy soil drains well to provide good camping sites.
Just a very short distance away from the Coastal Path is a different world. Quite bleak at times and occasionally the last resting place for some.
This will do, far enough away from the remains so that anything still snacking on the bones is not frightened away by my presence.
Sometimes planning goes out the window...who put that Rabbit scrape right where I wanted to put a tent peg?
Foil windscreen protector, inflatable kip mat and a 3 season Sleeping Bag. Looking at the clear sky I suspect it will be cold tonight, so I included a sleeping bag liner in my gear for the trip.
The day is fading. Apart from the faint whisper of the sea wind in the Bracken, the occasional call of a Sea Bird and the murmur of the sea at the Cliff's foot I am alone.
Long shadows, and time to eat. One of my decanted tins of Casserole from a heat seal bag which allows me to boil in the bag.
Opened with one of Sheffield's finest, a Solstice present from my grown kids. A sign of a good upbringing that they still buy me knives at nearly 78 years......
A Light Bow in a cold sky..
And so to bed.
The Dawn brings fog. It's cold and damp so a quick stow away of my gear and head for home.
There's always one that's just got to be different...
Absolute silence crossing the lake, even the Water Birds seem subdued by the fog.
Home and time to pay the Garden Patrol, hang on, hang on, let me get my Bergan off...
Sun touching the trees in the wood at the end of my garden, so I left home before 10.00 hrs. and made my way across the lake and out into the more remote coastal cliff tops. A promise of a fine day.
My route took me past this Standing Stone erected by the Ancient People who lived in a Settlement, the remains of which are nearby. Called a 'Devil's Stone', no doubt by the Christian Missionaries who came here from Ireland, the flat faces of the Stone face exactly East and West.
Set back a safe distance from the cliff tops is an area of wild land covered in Bracken and Gorse. The hollows and raised areas provide wind shelter from the sea winds and the sandy soil drains well to provide good camping sites.
Just a very short distance away from the Coastal Path is a different world. Quite bleak at times and occasionally the last resting place for some.
This will do, far enough away from the remains so that anything still snacking on the bones is not frightened away by my presence.
Sometimes planning goes out the window...who put that Rabbit scrape right where I wanted to put a tent peg?
Foil windscreen protector, inflatable kip mat and a 3 season Sleeping Bag. Looking at the clear sky I suspect it will be cold tonight, so I included a sleeping bag liner in my gear for the trip.
The day is fading. Apart from the faint whisper of the sea wind in the Bracken, the occasional call of a Sea Bird and the murmur of the sea at the Cliff's foot I am alone.
Long shadows, and time to eat. One of my decanted tins of Casserole from a heat seal bag which allows me to boil in the bag.
Opened with one of Sheffield's finest, a Solstice present from my grown kids. A sign of a good upbringing that they still buy me knives at nearly 78 years...
...A Light Bow in a cold sky..
And so to bed.
The Dawn brings fog. It's cold and damp so a quick stow away of my gear and head for home.
There's always one that's just got to be different...
Absolute silence crossing the lake, even the Water Birds seem subdued by the fog.
Home and time to pay the Garden Patrol, hang on, hang on, let me get my Bergan off...
