Under Loughrigg, Lake District, Winter
A brief respite amongst all the rain.
A brief respite amongst all the rain.
Despite the weather, this week has been as busy as ever. A large part of that is simply that it’s half-term for schools. Still, we figured people would be starting to head back home, so the Lake District wouldn’t be as busy.
Nope.
Our planned circuit of Grasmere was foiled due to every car park being full. Every. One.
So, change of plan. We managed to park further towards Ambleside, right next to the cricket ground, and instead do a small circuit around the Under Loughrigg area in between Ambleside and Rydal.
Still proper bonny. And, happily, signs of spring are starting to appear.
All photos taken on my Sony α7ii using my Pentax SMC 28mm F3.5 and Pentax SMC 55mm f2.0 prime lenses, plus Vivitar “Series 1” 70–210mm f2.8–4.0 zoom lens. RAWs developed in Lightroom, edited and finalised in Photoshop.
Under Loughrigg, Lake District, Winter by Ian Cylkowski is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0
On the A591 between Ambleside and Rydal, one can enjoy formidable views towards Nab Scar (455 m/1,493 ft).
The flat pasture land in between Loughrigg Fell and the A591 allows for extensive views across to the surrounding fells. There were also plenty of signs of storm damage, with fallen trees and split trunks everywhere. In this case, it allowed for a nice composition towards a highlighted Low Pike (508 m/1,667 ft).
I cropped in tightly for this composition at 210mm to grab these Swaledale ewes milling around a beautiful crag, and subtle hints of the wall of Nab Scar in the background.
A surviving Scots Pine makes for a dramatic composition with the Kirkstone fells in dark shadow behind.
One of the Lake District’s well-known views, often causing sudden brakes by drivers on the A591. Looking towards Rydal, with the Kirkstone fells catching a sweeping lightbeam.
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Hull Pot, Yorkshire Dales, Winter
A month since my last post.
A month since my last post.
I do apologise.
The weather in January has been, well, shocking to say the least. We endured three named storms: Henk, Isha, and Jocelyn. Isha, in particular, was one of the most powerful storms the British Isles have seen since 2000.
Additionally, we’ve had periods of below freezing temperatures, resulting in widespread ice.
It’s been… interesting.
Thankfully, the weekend just gone, it was nice enough for us to finally head out. We chose the Hull Pot route from Horton-in-Ribblesdale in the Yorkshire Dales. I had an inkling that there’d still be some snow liggin’ about in the Dales, contributing to a water-saturated landscape and, hopefully, a waterfall flowing into Hull Pot.
And we finally saw it.
All photos taken on my Sony α7ii using my Pentax SMC 28mm F3.5, Pentax SMC 55mm f2.0, and Rokinon 14mm f2.8 ED AS IF UMC prime lenses. RAWs developed in Lightroom, edited and finalised in Photoshop.
Hull Pot, Yorkshire Dales, Winter by Ian Cylkowski is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0
The characteristic drystone walls of the Yorkshire Dales remained steadfast in the face of all the snow we’ve had recently, resulting in these snowdrifts piled up against them.
Our way forward. We knew on this day that there’d only be 2-3 hours of good light, and boy was it dramatic.
Looking back at where we came from. We were very much on the edge of two weather systems. Conditions over Horton-in-Ribblesdale saw blue skies and puffy clouds, but closer to Pen-y-Ghent it was blowy, dark, and stormy, giving us epic light.
A good sign: A small waterfall where there usually isn’t at Horton Scar. Above, Pen-y-Ghent fights with the dark and stormy clouds.
Further up the bridleway, the site of an extinct waterfall below Pen-y-Ghent, which is now obscured by clouds laden with snow. A burst of sun to our right picks out the details in the land.
And there she is, finally ticked off my bucket list. England’s largest natural hole, Hull Pot, with Hull Pot Beck tumbling down 60ft into the chasm. As mentioned before on this blog, Hull Pot is a large cave where the roof has collapsed, which has resulted in this massive chasm below Pen-y-Ghent. With my ultra-wide 14mm equipped, I was able to capture the entire scene.
We clambered as close to the waterfall as possible as it crashed over the edge into Hull Pot. As I had no tripod, I shot this with my ultra-wide 14mm at f/22, taking multiple exposures of the same scene. In post, I then averaged the exposures together that gave me that long exposure effect on the water.
Looking up Hull Pot Beck and its many cascades. By the normal way of things, this beck is dry as it usually disappears into the maze of caves beneath Pen-y-Ghent before it reaches Hull Pot. With all the rain and snow we’ve had, the beck was able to complete its route, crashing 60ft down into Hull Pot and re-emerging at the surface nearer Horton-in-Ribblesdale.
A different view of Hull Pot from its eastern end. Two boulders balance precariously on the lip of the pot.
At around 450 m/1,476 ft above sea level, a few snow patches have lingered around the edges of Hull Pot, allowing for some interesting compositional leading lines.
A particularly clean snow patch nearer the falls gives me an idea for a composition involving Pen-y-Ghent in the distance. Fellow hikers milling about the edge of Hull Pot give you a sense of scale of this place.
Heading back down to the village, signs were clear that the best of the day’s light were done as the storm clouds rolled in. We were thankful to get what we did, though.
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Grasmere, Lake District, Winter
The winter lurgy has struck.
The winter lurgy has struck.
Following a lovely hike around Ambleside, Lisabet came down with a rather nasty cold and I followed suit soon after.
We’re both at the tail end of this bug now, but with depleted energy levels as can be expected. A crisp, clear, and super cold Sunday greeted us, so we set off towards the impossibly bonny village of Grasmere for a wee waltz around the area.
All photos shot on my Sony α7ii using my Pentax SMC 28mm F3.5 and Pentax SMC 55mm f2.0 prime lenses. RAWs developed in Lightroom and edited in Photoshop.
Grasmere, Lake District, Winter by Ian Cylkowski is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0
The trail in the direction of Allan Bank enjoys wonderful views towards Helm Crag and Seat Sandal. Here, the latter of the two fells is stroked by golden afternoon light across its flanks.
Across the vale, the craggier yet smaller Helm Crag receives similar treatment from the emerging winter sun.
Heading down the hill towards Goody Bridge, the snowcapped Great Rigg on the right is illuminated. Love the rusty colours some of the Lake District and Scottish fells turn in the autumn and winter.
Expansive views from the Allan Bank trail lead to Seat Sandal being bathed in afternoon winter sun.
A timeless route back to the village centre. There’s no need to hurry.
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Ambleside, Lake District, Winter
Temperatures have plunged.
Temperatures have plunged.
The nigh persistent rain of November and December has given way to a sub-zero climate and clearer conditions. Much better.
With a bright Saturday forecast, Lisabet and I ventured into the heart of the Lake District and major tourist hotspot, Ambleside. We wanted to do two walks: one, a small circular of Stock Ghyll Force, the other bigger hike up to High Sweden Bridge.
Despite being in the middle of a blisteringly cold winter in the Lake District, Ambleside was as busy as ever. This town never gets any rest.
All photos taken on my Sony α7ii using my SMC Pentax-M 28mm F3.5 and SMC Pentax-M 55mm f2.0 prime lenses, plus my Vivitar “Series 1” 70–210mm f2.8–4.0 zoom. RAWs developed in Lightroom, edited in Photoshop.
Ambleside, Lake District, Winter by Ian Cylkowski is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0
A misty shot from the top of Stock Ghyll Force. Made by stacking five landscape 28mm shots, top to bottom, for a wider field of view.
The classic view of Stock Ghyll Force, currently in its more barren winter finery.
After stopping for delicious hot brews at Force Cafe, we followed the trail back down to the town. By the side of the road, this still life-esque scene revealed itself to me, and so quickly I quickly nabbed a composition.
From the town centre, it’s easy enough to find the route to the High Sweden Bridge trail. Given the direction of the low sun, we opted instead to take the trail anti-clockwise, which we’ve never done before, to get more side light.
The old packhorse bridge itself, with my Lisabet providing a nice colour contrast as she strolls across it. As I’ve mentioned on this site elsewhere, the name “High Sweden Bridge” might seem unusual, given this is located in the Lake District, England. The “sweden” aspect originally comes from the Old Norse sviðin (pronounced “swee-thin”), the past participle of svíða, meaning “to burn” or “to singe”. In this context, it refers to the clearing of land by burning.
Looking up Scandale, admiring the light beams scanning across the face of High Pike (656 m/2,152 ft).
Heading back down the higher eastern side of the Scandale valley, I equipped my 70–210mm lens for some tight and distant compositions. Fully zoomed in, I was able to pick out the mist clearing from the summits of the Langdale Pikes, on the right, and Bowfell on the left.
My 70–210mm also has a macro mode, which I used to try and capture these beautiful and tiny Cladonia pyxidata lichen.
Lake District sheep get all the best views.
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Grisedale, Lake District, Winter
Happy New Year, everyone! Here’s to a peaceful and gentler 2024.
Happy New Year, everyone! Here’s to a more peaceful and gentle 2024.
Though I’ve enjoyed time off work between Christmas and New Year, it’s not exactly been pleasant. Storm Gerrit washed across the UK, rendering most days miserably wet. There were even tornado warnings, largely unheard of in the UK.
On New Year’s Eve we learned that New Year’s Day promised much nicer conditions, and so we endeavoured to rise early and head into the Lake District for a solid yomp on the first day of 2024.
Conditions were certainly nicer, though you can never predict weather in the Lake District 100%. Hiking along the valley bottom of Grisedale towards the valley’s head, we were washed with wave after wave of fine drizzle. Thankfully, it never rained that hard, and in between the downpours we still managed to nab some glorious photos.
All photos taken on my Sony α7ii using my Pentax SMC 28mm F3.5 and Pentax SMC 55mm f2.0 prime lenses. RAWs developed in Lightroom using RNI Films’ Kodachrome film profiles, finalised in Photoshop.
Grisedale, Lake District, Winter by Ian Cylkowski is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0
A sign of things to come. St. Sunday Crag (841 m/2,759 ft), rising above a sodden landscape with stormy clouds above.
Much of the first half of hiking into the valley comprised of dodging waves of drizzle. When one cleared up for long enough, I snuck this shot of Eagle Crag and Dollywaggon Pike (858 m/2,815 ft) battling with the low clouds.
Arriving closer to the turning point, we contemplated the condition of the trail on the other side of the valley. The hike in, on the south of the valley, is thankfully paved but had still been rendered in parts as a beck due to all the rain. I knew that the northern path back down the valley wasn’t in as good nick. So, from here, we turned back the same way we came in.
Thankfully, this was also when conditions started to clear up and the Helvellyn range of fells began to reveal themselves.
Eagle Crag with Nethermostcove Beck roaring down the fellside. A project was started in 2021 to return the valley’s main river, Grisedale Beck, back to its original “wiggly” form. To quote the Friends of the Ullswater Way: “As with many rivers in the UK, Grisedale Beck has historically been straightened and reinforced so that fields can be drained to improve grazing. This work was undertaken over 200 years ago and since then we have learned a lot about how straightened and reinforced rivers can negatively affect wildlife and increase flood risk. It should be noted that, despite the historic changes made to the river at the project site, this is still not particularly good grazing land, being very rough pasture and quite boggy in areas.”
Heading back down the valley, we kept turning back at the beautiful view at the head of Grisedale. Primarily to check on any incoming rain washing over the fells, but also to gawp at them. I enjoyed this composition as the trail seemingly leads across the image towards Nethermostcove Beck on the right. Pure mood.
One of the few pines left in the valley points a vibrant branch towards the beautifully cracked glacial erratic.
As the cloud cover finally starts to lift, Falcon Crag and Tarn Crag emerge from behind Dollywaggon Pike.
Light finally breaks through the clouds as we retreat further down the valley.
The beck streaming down from Blind Cove provides a nice leading line towards the vertical face of St. Sunday Crag.
The fells become obscured again. Another wave of rain heads towards us.
As another squall washes over us, I look across to the northern side of Grisedale and spot these bright becks cascading down the fellside. I very quickly nab a photo.
Soon, we near the foot of the valley and the rains were finally done for the afternoon. Look at that mountain backdrop.
Heading back towards the car, the hulking mound of Place Fell catches the warm winter light across its crags.
We elected for the scenic route back to Kendal, heading north out of Patterdale, through Matterdale, and onto the A65. That way we could turn off to head down St. John’s in the Vale and join the A591 back to Kendal. I kept my camera out, with the 55m attached to it, and grabbed this epic scene of Blencathra from the passenger’s side.
Down St. John’s in the Vale, I kept snapping happily, praying that at least one of the shots rendered sharp. Here, the deep cleft of Beckthorns Gill cuts into various crags of Clough Head.
Further south on the A591, near Thirlmere, Fisherplace Gill cuts a deep fissure within the crags of the Helvellyn massif. The farmhouses below look miniscule in comparison.
The distinctive shape of Browncove Crags, a subsidiary top of Helvellyn, with another deep gill caused by Helvellyn Gill.
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Ulverston, Cumbria, Winter
It’s been a while since my last post.
It’s been a while since my last post.
Apologies.
I hope every one has had a nice and/or peaceful Christmas.
Following the arctic blast at the beginning of December, the UK has been wet. Two storms washed over the British Isles—Elin and Fergus—bringing with them intense winds and lots of rain.
Being in Cumbria, we got the bulk of the rain.
Finally, on Boxing Day, clear skies and cool temperatures greeted us. We immediately donned gear and head out to the Furness Peninsula of Cumbria. It was time to hike up the Hoad above Ulverston.
It felt good to finally get out and about.
All photos taken on my Sony α7ii, using my Pentax SMC 28mm F3.5 and Pentax SMC 55mm f2.0 prime lenses, plus my Vivitar “Series 1” 70–210mm f2.8–4.0 zoom lenses. RAW images edited in Lightroom using RNI Films’ Kodachrome film profiles, finalised in Photoshop.
Ulverston, Winter, Cumbria by Ian Cylkowski is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0
Locating the path from Ford Park, we followed it gently up towards the Hoad. Along the way, this group of trees presented a wonderful framing composition of the Hoad.
The trail quickly grew steeper, which also provided fantastic views. From the shoulder of Hoad Hill, the wet autumn and December are evident in the flooded fields near the coast of the Leven Estuary.
Near the top of the hill, as the trail levelled out, we could start making out the Lakeland fells above the Furness hills. The particularly rounded fell centre-right is Wetherlam (763 m/2,502 ft).
Near the monument, outcrops of Bannisdale Slate gave me a wonderful opportunity for some compositions involving the Hoad.
The Hoad goes by a few names. It’s officially known as the Sir John Barrow Monument, but is also known locally as “the Pepperpot”.
The Hoad was built in 1850 at a cost of £1,250, roughly £138,000 in today’s money. It was built to commemorate Sir John Barrow, who was a founding member of the Royal Geographical Society, and born in Ulverston. Though it looks like a lighthouse, it has never functioned as one.
The views from the Hoad are extensive and panoramic. Plenty of folk were out and about, enjoying a Boxing Day waltz and soaking in the views from the Hoad.
With my 70–210 mm equipped, I was able to pick small sections of Ulverston town. Here, looking southwest from the Hoad, the winding A590 road provides a focal point for the busy architectural landscape of Ulverston.
The view north from the Hoad couldn’t be more different. Rolling countryside, drystone walls, and sheep give way to the mighty Coniston Fells.
Northeast of Hoad Hill, another small hill provides sustenance to yet more sheep. In the distance, the Windermere fells partially obscure the Kentmere fells.
The way back to Ulverston town. You know me, I can’t resist a winding path.
A winding drystone wall catches my eye for a nice composition involving the Hoad.
Back in Ulverston, a wall mural tells the story of Sir John Barrow.