Hare Appletree Fell

Quite late on Sunday, I thought I'd go and have a look at Jubilee Tower. I saw it, but it turned out that it wasn't the focus of my evening. I parked a little way down the road, intending only to walk up to the tower and maybe wander around the bottom of the fell a bit. I had no intention at all of undertaking any kind of strenuous walking because it was early evening.

Jubilee Tower stands at the bottom of Hare Appletree Fell, which sits between Clougha Pike and Grit Fell. It's a nice place just to be. I don't really need to tell you that, though – you can see why people come up here:

You can see for soooooo many miles. Over here we have the Fylde, and you can glimpse Blackpool Tower on any clear day. I'll show you the Lake District and the start of the Yorkshire Dales and the Trough of Bowland in a few minutes. Now, I did take about 120 photos of this whole area, so I've had to be selective because most of them looked the same, of the same views just from slightly different angles and with different cloud formations.

So anyway, I thought I'd cut across the bottom of the fell itself to get to the tower rather than just walking up the road. I'd parked opposite this gate that seems to be here for absolutely no reason at all. Still, it's as good a place as any to start a little walk.

A lot of other people obviously think the same because they've made a path. Oooh, look at that, eh? You just can't beat a fell for a bit of a stretch. It feels like the air is just better up here as well. 

I don't know what this is, but if you watch the video that I've posted at the end, this features in it. I had a little chuckle to myself today because great fun was had here during the making of that video. I don't mind telling you that the last time I was here, to film that video, I laughed so much that I did a little wee.   

So there's the tower, not very far away at all. I thought that perhaps I'd get back onto the road there and wander over into the Trough a little bit. That would do for today. I could come back another day to climb up to the top of the fell, maybe with Matthew or even all of the boys.

I was having great fun, tramping through this long grass, working some muscles, trying not overbalance, keeping alert for boggy patches, wondering how many ticks I was picking up in my baggy jeans. This was how long the grass was: 

I got a bit closer to the tower and then another path appeared. Going up. I looked at the tower, and I looked back at my car, and I looked over at the Trough. Did I really want to go back to the road and walk down into a valley? I didn't think I did. I've always preferred an elevated view. Hmmm, I thought to myself, perhaps I'll just pop up there a little bit and have a sit. 

So I popped up there a little bit and the view opened up even more because I could see down into the Trough a bit, but I could see more of the fell I was standing on as well. Hmmm, I thought, perhaps I'll just go a little bit further.

So I went a bit further and the top of the fell appeared. Except that I was pretty certain it wasn't the top of the fell. I know fells – they trick you. They say, come on, you're nearly there, this is the top ... of this bit! Ha! And you get to the top of that bit only to find there's another bit that might or might not be the top. I thought I remembered that the top wasn't much further than you can see here, but I wasn't quite sure. I'll go as far as the sheep, I thought to myself.

So I tramped up as far as the sheep. Wow, I thought, this is great! I was feeling a little bit of a lactate release in the old calves, which was nice. Sure, it hurts a bit, but at least you know it means you're putting a bit of effort in and doing some good. There were probably some of those nice chemical reactions and hormone releases going on as well because here I decided that I might as well just keep going right to the top. It was about 7.30pm, but the sun wouldn't set for a good two hours, so I'd have enough time to get up and back down. This isn't a mountain. Go on then, I said to myself, let's do it!

This is a typical example, I would say, of your rolling hill. It has dips and rises, and as you follow your path you lose sight of the lower ground, but then it comes back into view as you continue to climb. Because your perspective changes constantly, it completely holds your interest and your attention. 

The ground also obviously holds your attention because you can't walk along blindly, otherwise you risk turning an ankle or falling in a stream, like this one.  

This fell is boggy. I was on the drier side today, but on the other side of the fence you are guaranteed to get wet feet. About ten years ago, I came up here on a rare day off from the kiddies, just to have some quiet time and a few hours to myself. I'd forgotten that the north side of the fence was boggy and my jeans were soaked up to the knees by the time I got back to the bottom and I'd almost lost a shoe. Doesn't matter though, does it? Part of the fun! 

Can you see the tiny grey speck at the top here? That's the cairn called Shooters Pile. I eyed it suspiciously – are you the top, I asked it. It didn't answer, because it's a pile of stones. 

Can I make it all that way, I asked myself. I don't know, I answered. I was wheezing a little bit, and I'd stopped taking photos because they were all looking the same. Dig in, I said, it's not really that far. So I just went for it, purposely not allowing myself to stop and have a look at the bay and the Lakes, telling myself that I could admire them once I reached the top. Sometimes it's good to promise yourself a little reward for completing a small challenge.

Much quicker than I expected, the cairn loomed into very close view and I couldn't resist a quick scramble up the rocks. It was rather wonderful to find that I could still manage a little scramble quite comfortably.

Just to prove I got here and didn't steal my pictures from Google, this is my hand:

I think the cairn is on Grit Fell, but I'm not quite sure. It looks on the map as though Hare Appletree leads up to Grit Fell and that Hare Appletree itself doesn't have a summit. Anyway, whatever it is, this is what you get to see from here. Half of the Trough of Bowland and Hawthornthwaite Fell ... 

And the whole of Morecambe Bay, which always looks damn fine from any of its surrounding hills. (It hadn't actually gone dark, by the way – this is just what the camera does when I point it at the sun.) 

Based on my assumption that I'm very unfit still, I had expected that I'd need a decent rest once I got to the top. Imagine my surprise, then, when, after just a few seconds of admiring the view from this very high altitude, I was looking beyond the cairn to see if I could go a bit further. It turned out that I could because the cairn wasn't quite the highest point. There's this sort of flat bit right at the top, all rocky and lumpy, just crying out to be traversed. And there's also a bit of dry stone wall that whispers on the wind, 'come and see what's on the other side'. Of course, I obliged. You wouldn't expect me to get up here and decide, no, that's enough, I've seen all I need to see. Course not.

I admit, I was like a complete child by this point. I think it was the endorphins, but I pranced about this area as though it was a garden and I'd been allowed out to play. I giggled as well, apparently drunk on the fresh air and hormones. I'd like to say that I ran over to the dry stone wall, but you wouldn't really call it a run if you saw it, what with me falling down between clumps of heather and twisting and turning to avoid hidden rocks. It was more of a clumsy and frightening dance to some long-forgotten fell gods. But I did reach the wall with both of my ankles intact and all was well.

Well, this was where it got emotional. I don't think it needed to be emotional, but these things happen when you find yourself in a very beautiful place on your own and you turn to your walking companion to say, hey, how about that view, eh? And then you remember you're on your own. It doesn't usually bother me, and I love being on my own most of the time. But it still would've been nice to share this view with someone. But hey, I'm sharing it with you, aren't I?!

That's Clougha Pike over there. I promised I'd show it to you from a bit closer, so here it is. I'll pop over there for a walk soon, though, when I've made sure the car park is definitely open. That's a rather more strenuous walk, if I remember rightly – a longer one, although the peak isn't as high, according to the OS map. 

This was the particular view that got me in the guts and did the peculiar thing that happens when you look down on the world – you gain perspective and remember that the small things are not very important. Here you can see three counties: Lancashire, where I'm standing, Cumbria and the Lake District to the left (err, west) and Yorkshire to the centre and the right (east!). Can you see that hill just around the centre of this shot? That's Ingleborough, which is in Yorkshire. And it is actually a mountain, not a hill. I'll take you there one day, too – it's a very nice walk indeed.

Here's the Lake District properly. A whole world of walks to explore over there! We used to walk in the Lakes now and then when I was quite young and I sort of enjoyed it but didn't really, well, get it. I don't think I really knew what walking was for. I get it now. 

So I sat on the wall for a bit, just here. I think that's allowed. I didn't damage it at all. I did catch myself getting up off the wall to head back down, until I realised that I wasn't in a rush, I didn't have to be home by a certain time, and I could sit a while longer to just be still, observe, and let my brain be quiet. If I'd had a tent, I'd have been very happy to camp here all night and just gaze out on this amazingness. 

But, the sun was starting to get low and I would need to beat it down to the bottom of the hill. I reckon there was a good hour and half until it would disappear completely, but I also remembered that I had children and I should probably get back to them.

See, when I turn away from the sun, you can see how not-dark-at-all it was. I was easily going to beat the sun. I really like this rocky bit, which I imagine to be like the surface of Mars, only not red and with breathable air. And clouds. And living things. So not like Mars at all.  

Now, you can dob me in to the coppers if you like, and I know you're not supposed to nick things from Areas of Natural Beauty, but I stole these. They are cottongrass, which is not the same as cotton. I am going to use them as bookmarks so they will not be wasted. I did pick one each for the boys, but they all looked thoroughly uninterested when I presented them with these gifts, so I kept them all for myself. There's just no pleasing some people.

You have to be very careful going downhill when it's peaty and boggy because there are little hidden pools like this:

And hidden streams and extra boggy bits like these that you can't see here:

I did see them all, but there were a couple that were wider than I realised. In the end, I decided that it was pointless to try to keep my feet dry and I surrendered to the inevitable: 

Unsurprisingly, though, and a little sadly, I was back at the bottom much quicker than I'd reached the top. The acoustics are strange out here, so I could hear people chatting in the car park. I'm sure they were very nice people, but they did make me wish I'd stayed at the top for longer. It's always a shame that we have to come back to ... I was going to say reality, but of course, the top of the hill is just as real as the bottom.

Across a little bridge where the boggiest bit lies, past a couple of curious sheep, and I was back on the road. I wasn't actually as sad as I've just made it sound. No, I was smiley and a little bit proud that I'd walked up a fell and back down again without meaning to. I was also wondering to myself how long I should reasonably make myself wait before coming back again. I will definitely bring one or more of the boys next time, whether they like it or not. Lazy gits.

Ah, here is a little map of the fells for you. I say for you, but I took it for me so that I can tick off the other ones later in the year. Respect, Protect, Enjoy! Apart from the cottongrass stealing, I think I did as instructed here.

And that was the end. I beat the sun easily, my legs were not particularly wobbly, and I was grinning like a thing that grins maniacally. I'd call today's walk a big win.

Last thing. I mentioned a video. So, my brother Terry and I made a Christmas song video up here a couple of years ago. It's not Christmas, but if you haven't seen it, you might give it a look here: 

Until tomorrow, mighty fell walkers,

WQ