Hiking the Yorkshire Moors

by Sean McLachlan on


England is a wonderful place to hike. When the weather is fine the countryside is as beautiful as you’ll find anywhere, and it seems that every step is steeped in history. There’s variety too, from idyllic hikes along the Thames to challenging treks along the length of Hadrian’s Wall.

One of the more unique places for hiking in England is the Yorkshire Moors. Moorland is found in uplands that have acidic soils. There aren’t many trees and most of the vegetation is grass or heather. When a river cuts through it, like in the photo above, you’ll find trees and a richer variety of plant life. The moors in Yorkshire are some of the biggest in England and in the summertime are purple with blooming heather. Sheep graze on the slopes and a wide variety of birds can be seen. Parts of it reminded me of the Scottish Highlands but with gentler terrain and no lochs.

The Brontë sisters were inspired by this brooding yet subtly beautiful landscape and many of their stories are set on the moors. Local historian and hiking guide Steven Wood led me and my group out onto the moors to visit some of the Brontë’s favorite spots. In fine English tradition it started pouring as soon as we left the hotel. Waterproof gear is essential on any English hike. Even if it’s beautifully sunny, bring it anyway just in case. You won’t be sorry because the weather can change quickly. While it can go from bad to worse, it can also go from terrible to lovely. That’s what you get for being on an island between the North Sea and the Atlantic Ocean.

Within half an hour the weather had cleared and we were walking through open fields. Yorkshire has been cultivated since Neolithic times and while there’s no shortage of civilization, it’s quite easy to walk away from it and into land that looks as it did centuries ago.

%Gallery-104950%Our first stop was Top Withens, an isolated stone farmhouse that may have been the inspiration for the location of Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë. Located on a highpoint surrounded by low, undulating hills covered in heather, it’s a spot that could certainly inspire a novel. You can see for miles in all directions, the dull browns and greens of the land matching the slate gray of the arching sky. While this abandoned farm has been a pilgrimage site for Brontë fans for a century, today we had it for ourselves. With no other people about, no animals, and the jet contrails hidden by lowering clouds, it felt like we were the only people in all of Yorkshire.

We then headed to a waterfall that the Brontë sisters liked to visit. At least it’s said to be the waterfall. Like a lot of “George Washington slept here” kind of spots, the waterfall’s reputation is based on a slim bit of fact (they mention frequent visits to a waterfall) and a lot of local lore and wishful thinking. The main thing is that it’s beautiful. A little stream, stained brown by the moor’s soil, rushes through a narrow valley thick with greenery. Another stream cascades over a nearby hill, making a sparkling little waterfall before joining it to flow on towards Haworth, where the Brontës lived. A natural stone seat has “C. Bronte” carved on it, along with the mysterious initials “DWW”. A nearby bridge has a plaque talking about how this was probably where the Brontë’s like to spend their spare time.

It’s all a bit iffy, but who cares? If it wasn’t for its reputation, I wouldn’t have whiled away an enjoyable half hour watching the water flow between the heather. People from all over the world come to see this stream, and if they want to believe this was the place the Brontës visited, that’s fine. It may even be true. The crowds of Japanese Brontë fans who come here seem to think so. The Brontës are huge in Japan, and so many Japanese travelers show up that the signs marking the routes are in Japanese as well as English!

There are many different hikes in the Yorkshire Moors. Some are easy day hikes like the one we did. Others are long-distance paths that take days and pass by the rugged coastline. The Walking and Hiking website has a good listing of routes to get you started. The Welcome to Yorkshire website has free downloadable maps of several popular routes. The Walking Englishman has an amusing description of the walk we did (including a photo of a sheep stealing his lunch) and a map of the route.

Don’t miss the rest of my series on Exploring Yorkshire: ghosts, castles, and literature in England’s north.

Coming up next: Brimham Rocks: weird natural formations in Yorkshire

This trip was sponsored by VisitEngland and Welcome to Yorkshire.

Record turnout on Spain’s Camino de Santiago pilgrimage trail

by Sean McLachlan on

For more than a thousand years, the faithful have been making an arduous journey along rugged trails in Spain’s northwestern province of Galicia to the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. Dedicated to the Apostle St. James, it’s one of Europe’s most popular pilgrimage destinations and the routes leading there are seeing record numbers of hikers.

Part of the boom is because this year St. James’ feast day lands on a Sunday, a holy event that hasn’t happened since 1993. Tough economic times have also led some people to look to religion for reassurance, and led the Galician government to promote the route in the hope of bringing in much-needed cash. At the beginning of the year the province paid for a big insert in many of Spain’s major dailies. It has even brought in major acts like Muse and the Pet Shop Boys to do concerts.

Hiking “El Camino” is popular with people of all faiths and none. Most people do one of the many routes in Galicia, although hardier hikers with faith in God and their legs start from as far away as France. Many pilgrim hostels offer very low cost accommodation, but with an estimated 200,000+ pilgrims this year, it’s best to finish your day’s hiking early if you want a place. If you want to go, several online guides offer tips, this one being one of the best.


Photo courtesy user Liesel via Wikimedia Commons.

Hiking the East Highland Way–the practicalities

by Sean McLachlan on


Hiking a brand-new trail has both advantages and challenges. The main plus to hiking the East Highland Way was that I had the trail all to myself. I never did meet that mysterious German who was a day ahead of me, and I met nobody else doing the trail. Hotel owners along the route do report a steady trickle of hikers, and that trickle will only increase. In the short term, however, you will get some peace and quiet on this hike. Another advantage is that you get to feel like a trailblazer, helping out with a work in progress.

Some challenges are apparent from the beginning. While the route already has a website and a Facebook page, there’s no guidebook. The East Highland Way guidebook is due out in a month or so and in the meantime author Kevin Langan can offer helpful advice. Check the website for contact information.

Accommodation requires some planning. If you want a roof over your head at night instead of a tent, your options are limited. Most villages only have one or two places to stay so you need to book well in advance to ensure you have a room. Do not simply walk into a tiny Scottish village in the hopes of getting a room that night. Chances are you won’t, and you might have a long walk before getting to your next chance for a bed. Luckily all of the places I stayed on the route were friendly, helpful, and good value for money. Some, like Tulloch Station, require you to reserve meals ahead of time. All are accustomed to serving hikers as a major part of their business and have useful amenities like drying rooms for soggy gear and information about local trails. Many sell hearty packed lunches, which again need to be reserved in advance.As I commented in a couple of previous posts, the trail is having a bit of a teething problem in that a few short stretches have no trail at all and one is forced to walk along rural roads with no shoulder. This situation is be potentially hazardous and will hopefully be solved in due course. I tended to walk along the grassy side of the road, an awkward way to move but at least it kept me safe from the cars.

While there are some pitfalls to this new route, I don’t hesitate to recommend it. The East Highland Way passes through some beautiful and remote countryside and isn’t crowded like some of the more popular routes like the West Highland Way.

Like with all Scottish hikes it is essential to pack clothes for all conditions. The weather can change from hot and sunny to freezing rain, and everything in between, in the course of a single day. Sturdy, waterproof boots are also a must. A couple of days I needed sunscreen! Getting sunburned and soaked in the same afternoon is a very real possibility in the Highlands. Other essentials are the Ordnance Survey maps numbers 41, 42, and 35. In addition to covering the entire route, these finely detailed maps enrich any hike by pointing out spots of historical importance. Don’t rely on them too closely, however. As I discovered on my final day, the OS maps can be a bit out of date. The guidebook will include sections of these maps with the route clearly marked. Also, a good compass and a sound knowledge of orienteering is essential for any long-distance hiker. Forget the GPS. That’s for wimps!

So if you’re looking for some solitude and scenery in the Highlands, give the East Highland Way a try. With sufficient preparation, you’ll have a great time.

Check out the rest of my series on the East Highland Way!

The East Highland Way day three: exploring Scotland’s lochs

by Sean McLachlan on


The best part of long-distance hikes is seeing the world get bigger.

We spend so much time in cars, planes, and trains that the miles go by in the blink of an eye. Subtle changes in topography and flora aren’t noticed, and little corners of beauty are passed by undiscovered. Walk, and you see the world as it really is.

It’s my third day on the East Highland Way and I’m deep in the Scottish countryside now. The town of Ft. William is far behind (although still only an hour’s drive) and the rare villages now have barely more than a dozen houses. For hours I don’t see a soul.

Heading out from Tulloch I enter a forest. This, like so many woods in Scotland, is managed for logging. Rows of slim fir trees alternate with cut areas where tiny saplings have been planted to make the next crop. It’s a slow process, and not once does the roar of a chainsaw or the crash of a falling tree disturb my peace. After a few miles I come to Loch Laggan, the first sizable loch I’ve come across at seven miles long. The glassy water, unrippled by a single boat, reflects the hills beyond. All is quiet. I sit down to have lunch and enjoy the view.

There the peace ends, courtesy of an army of midges. These little insects are as annoying as they are persistent. They’re like miniature mosquitoes with more intelligence. First one flies around my head. While I swat it away, another sucks blood from my neck. The signal goes out, and within a minute there’s a hundred all around me. I wipe off my arms, neck, and face and my hands become smeared with mashed midges. Time to move. The strange thing about midges is that if you’re moving they have a hard time keeping up, but woe betide the hiker who gets caught while sitting peacefully by a loch. I finish my lunch on the go.

%Gallery-100127%Continuing along the southern shore of Loch Laggan I spot the spires of a Disney-style castle poking above the greenery. I’ve come to Ardverikie House, a stately home built in 1870 that recently gained fame as the setting for the BBC series Monarch of the Glen. I don’t own a TV, so I’d never even heard of this hugely popular show until I came to this part of the country. Now I sometimes feel like I hear of nothing else. The estate has become a pilgrimage site for fans, and locals tell me that people even peer through the windows and knock on the door. I can understand why there are Private Property signs everywhere.

Sadly, this means I can’t see the wonder of Loch Laggan, the ruins of a castle on a tiny island. The wooded, rough shores block the view from everywhere except the estate. Luckily there will be no shortage of castles on this hike.

I have another problem. The lone accommodation in this area, a B&B in the village of Feagour, has recently shut down. It’s 17 miles from Tulloch to Feagour, and the next place to stay is in Laggan, another five miles. I can walk 22 miles, but somewhere between 17 and 22 miles it stops being fun. So I’ve arranged for the folks at The Rumblie B&B in Laggan to pick me up at Feagour. Lazy? Sort of, but I don’t have anything to prove to anybody.

They’re meeting me at a waterfall on the River Pattack near Feagour. I arrive early (having, ahem, walked 17 miles in an hour less than I thought I would) so I have plenty of time to admire the falls. The fast-flowing river has cut a narrow gorge through the rock. The water, brown from the peat upstream, rushes down it. I scramble up the rocks to get a better view and to my surprise discover a wooden platform and railing, plus a path down to a parking lot on the other side. This rugged view of nature has been made safe for those who want to appreciate nature without actually being in it. Nothing can spoil the beauty of the falls, however.

Right on time a car pulls up and I’m whisked off to Laggan, a booming metropolis with two shops, a school, a public telephone, and some houses. I arrive at The Rumblie to a hero’s welcome. A Spanish couple is staying there who don’t speak any English. Their poor 14 year-old daughter has been doing all the translation on their vacation, using her high school English to book hotels and rent cars from people with heavy Scottish accents. The owner of the B&B knows I live in Spain and told the family that help is on the way. As soon as I get there the kid heaves a sigh of relief, all English stops, and I become translator for the evening to give her a well-deserved break. You never know when a foreign language will come in handy!

Next to The Rumblie is the Laggan community center, and I hear there’s a céilidth on tonight. A céilidth (pronounced “Kay-Lee”) is a traditional gathering to perform folk dances and sing songs. I’m exhausted from a long hike and two beers, but I can’t pass this up. I find the céilidth in full swing. Locals of all ages are gathered around tables in a long hall with a stage at one end. Old photos and children’s drawings about farm safety adorn the walls. A slim young woman is dancing to the accompaniment of a fiddle. I grab a beer and sit down. Everyone seems to know everyone else and the common greeting is, “What are you performing tonight?”. Not “are you performing” but “what are you performing”. Singers perform a series of Gaelic songs before a man with an accordion gets everyone out on the dance floor. I know nothing about the history of dance, but I think I’ve discovered where square dancing comes from. Scottish dances involves the whole crowd dancing together, making lines and circles and moving with each other in complicated patterns.

Then comes the next surprise. A crowd of Spanish and German teenagers come in, volunteers from a local farm where they do manual labor in exchange for learning English. Ironically the Spanish press reported a couple of weeks ago that farmers in Spain can’t find Spaniards to help out in the fields, despite a good wage and an unemployment rate of 20 percent. Instead the farmers have to hire Africans on temporary work visas. Good deal for the Africans, because they need and deserve the money more, but it’s weird to see these Spanish kids working for free in the Highlands when they could be making 1,000 euros ($1,271) a month back home.

Hey, if they stayed home they wouldn’t be seeing this! Every one of them seems to have acquired a local boyfriend or girlfriend and soon they’re doing the dances like they were born here.

It’s getting late and my eyes are getting heavy. As an old woman mounts the stage I stumble to my bed next door. I fall asleep to the lilting sound of her clear, strong voice singing in Gaelic.

Don’t forget to read the rest of my series on the East Highland Way.

Coming up next: Prehistoric forts and empty wilderness!

The East Highland Way: hiking Scotland’s newest trail

by Sean McLachlan on


I’m in Ft. William on the west coast of Scotland, the starting point for many popular long-distance hikes, including Scotland’s newest trail–the East Highland Way. Over the next six days I’ll be walking 76 miles past lochs, mountains, historic sites, and remote countryside. The hike is so new there isn’t even a guidebook yet, but Kevin Langan, who established the route and is writing a guidebook, kindly sent me some maps. The trail is unmarked, so these maps and a compass will be vital to be making it to Aviemore in the Central Highlands.

I wake up to a beautiful view of Loch Linnhe outside my window. The view is all that’s beautiful. It’s pouring rain, my legs hurt from climbing Ben Nevis yesterday, and I have a persistent cough courtesy of my four-year-old son that makes me hack up great gobbets of phlegm every time I say “loch”. A perfect morning to start trekking across Scotland!

Because of the scarcity of accommodation in this part of Scotland, the days aren’t of even distance. My first stop, the village of Spean Bridge, is only nine miles from Ft. William. Make that eleven since I’m staying west of town, but even so it’s an easy first day. This gives me a chance to walk out my fatigue from climbing the UK’s tallest mountain and gives me time to explore historic Ft. William.

There’s always been settlement along the shores of this loch that opens into the North Atlantic, but the city owes its prominence to the fort that gives it its name. Fort William was an English base to keep the Scots in line. There’s now a movement by some nationalists in town to change the name to something more Scottish! Not much of the original fort survives, and for more information I head to the West Highland Museum. What strikes me about this museum is the focus on the rebellions against the English. While these are a major part of Scottish history and still affect today’s politics, the coverage seems almost obsessive. Weapons and paintings of Bonnie Prince Charlie are everywhere. My own clan, Clan MacLachlan, took part in the rebellions, and what I know of Scottish history is centered around the various Lost Causes my ancestors supported. Not talking about the Scottish rebellions while in the Highlands would be like not talking about the Civil War while traveling through the American South. As I continue on my hike I’ll see places where my ancestors marched and fought, and learn more about their role in Scottish history.

I dawdle in the museum talking to the curator and hoping the rain will ease up, but it only gets worse, so I stop delaying and head on out. The town is unremarkable beyond the beautiful views of the loch. The main street has been given over to tourism and the rest of the town looks a bit run down. At the edge of town is Inverlochy Castle, pictured above. This imposing castle was built in the 13th century to guard the River Lochy and the western edge of the Great Glen, the easiest transit route to the northeast. It’s built in a basic, solid manner with a moat, a square plan, and giant towers at each corner. This isn’t some elegant Renaissance chateau castle, but a practical fortification meant to take plenty of abuse. It was the base of power for the Comyn family as they asserted their influence over much of medieval Scotland. Two battles were fought at this site and almost 800 years later much of the stonework still looks solid.

%Gallery-99692%The route east from the castle is an easy but not particularly attractive one. Like the first day of the Hadrian’s Wall Path and other popular paths, much time is spent getting out of populated areas. The route follows just south of a railway and highway on a dirt trail through managed forest. Logging is big business up here and orderly rows of trees are grown to be cut down and replaced with the next generation. Not exactly primeval woodland, but it does keep the sight of cars from my eyes.

The weather clears, then clouds up and rains, then clears again. This is typical Scottish weather–“four seasons in one day” as the saying goes. Before long I’m in Spean Bridge, a village on the River Spean. I decide the weather and my legs are in good enough shape to take a popular three-mile scenic loop trail near town. It’s the prettiest land I’ve seen all day, mostly unfarmed with wild trees and a real feel of untamed nature. It leads to the mossy ruins of High Bridge, scene of the first battle of the Jacobite uprising of 1745.

Bonnie Prince Charlie had recently landed in Scotland and was gathering the Highlanders to march on England to overthrow the Hanoverian monarchy in favor of his own Stuart line. Clan MacLachlan was quick to join up. If I had been alive at that time I doubt I’d have been enthusiastic about overthrowing one monarch only to be ruled by another, but nobody went against the wishes of their clan chief. While we were still sharpening our swords up north, a dozen men from Clan MacDonald hid at one end of this bridge awaiting a force of 85 English soldiers sent to reinforce Ft. William. On August 16th (my birthday) 1745, the redcoats tried to cross. The MacDonalds shouted at the tops of their lungs, leaping from bush to bush on the steep slope of the opposite bank and firing their muskets. The redcoats thought they were outnumbered and ran.

My ancestors did get to help out in the next battle, at Prestonpans on September 21 (my son’s birthday). On that misty morning, an English army of 2,300 men was virtually wiped out by a fierce Highland charge. This was my ancestors’ sole tactic. A mass of men would charge at the enemy. Once in musket range they’d fire their muskets (if they had them), then charge again into pistol range, fire their pistols (if they had them) and throw them at the enemy. Then they charged into the enemy lines with a shield and dirk in one hand and a sword in the other. The sheer momentum of the howling, slashing, hacking Highlanders was enough to break the English lines. It was a good start to an ill-fated campaign.

The trail continues up a steep bare hill that provides me with a grand view of the rough Highland terrain I will tackle tomorrow. At the summit is a memorial to the British commandos of World War Two. They trained here, not to overthrow one king in favor of another, but to overthrow a mad dictator bent on world domination. Never in history has the line between right and wrong been so clear cut. Nearby is a sobering garden where people leave photos of loved ones who fought and died in that war and in Iraq and Afghanistan. All my achievements pale in comparison.

Tomorrow: The East Highland Way Day Two: Into the Highlands!