Just what is it that provides people with that moment of absolute awe and inspiration?

I believe that Inspiration can be found everywhere, it just depends on how you see things and by the way you listen, whether it be to music or the sounds around you. Inspiration is a powerful thing that can evoke many different emotions: it can feel euphoric, or move you to tears.

Whether it be formed from the beauty of nature, art, music, dance, people, there are so many things that can inspire us. 

For me inspiration can be found everywhere though Nature is my biggest inspirer, and has provided many inspiration moments of awe and fascination. From watching the sun set from the top of a mountain, walking across islands whilst Golden eagles soar above me, opening my tent to the view of mountainous landscapes and the glorious meteor displays and overwhelming features of the night sky, I have been privileged to witness many of the awe-inspiring aspects of our natural world.

Recently I had a weekend full on intense inspiration provided by nature, but also from the minds of others. I listened to Sir Chris Bonington relive his time of ‘60yrs in the Mountains’ where he spoke of adventures he had experienced in his life.

I also headed to Kendal Mountain Film Festival to witness some amazing adventure films covering a wide range of areas including Alistair Lee’s ‘Autana’, ‘Honnold 3.0.’( featuring Alex Honnold where he attempts a free climb of the ‘Yosemite Triple’ – Mt. Watkin, El Cap & Half Dome – one of which at night!)  to name a couple. KMF always have  always showcased some of the best adventure films out there and I always leave feeling inspired to follow those dreams of adventure and exploration, and also enlightened to the beauty of the world.

What is it about such films that stir emotions and inspire?

(For my review of Autana click here)

Once the films were viewed it was only right to head to the hills for a walk up Red Screes in the eastern fells of the Lake District, whose peak was coated by the first snow of the winter. The views across to the other snowy peaks were a beautiful contrast to the Autumnal Rich colours in the valley below, and it was great to stand there and take the surrounding landscape in.
As if I wasn't brimming enough with such inspirational experiences, I didn't realise that the best was to come as I left the Lake District and headed to Manchester Airport for an experience of a lifetime.


For as long as I can remember there has been a natural phenomenon that has fascinated me and I have longed to witness it. The Aurora Borealis  also known as the Northern Lights, was the aim of this trip to the Airport as I was about to embark on the most amazing experience.

Arriving at a Hotel near the Airport, I was introduced to a few astronomers, one of which was Pete Lawrence from the TV programme ‘The Sky at Night’ who presented us with a talk about Space, the Cosmos, galaxies and how and why the Aurora happens. The presentation was very informative and extremely interesting, albeit a tad mind boggling! After the talk I made my way to the Terminal where I embarked on a plane that then flew north, passing the Shetland Islands and into the airspace in between the UK and Iceland, to see if we could see the northern lights.

To enable our eyes to see better all the lights in the cabin were switched off and you were left sat in the pitch black which was a surreal feeling all by itself! Was our eyes had become accustomed to the dark it was then we looked out of the plane windows to be welcomed by the most outstanding display of the stars, constellations and planets of the night sky. It was simply stunning to see the Milky Way and a magnificent amount of starts with shooting stars flashing by. 

As if that wasn’t enough, we were soon advised to look out again and direct our sight to the green clouded arc below – the Aurora!! As I looked out and saw the cloud I was overwhelmed by its beauty and the fact that I was there, witnessing it. Before long I noticed there were patches of green that were beginning to intensify which led to the ‘needling’ and ‘curtaining’ effect.

Here I was, witnessing one of the wonders of the Natural World, a scene that I have wanted to experience for all my life! Words just cannot describe my feelings as I sat there watching the Aurora whilst the plane flew about for another hour or so. I was so overcome with an intense feeling of happiness and wonderment as once again I was inspired by the beauty of nature. Add to this the experiences over the weekend that had led to this, I can honestly say I was blown away, and I hope others are able to experience such things, perhaps in their own way.

 However it happens, the Power of Inspiration is astonishing and life would be an empty place without it.

It had been a while since I hit the high peaks so I decided to head to Snowdonia to explore a peak that I have often passed on my way through the village of Beddgelert.  At 782m (2,566 ft), Moel Hebog  falls short of the Snowdonian ’ 3000+ footers’ but this does not mean that it isn't an equally impressive peak. Dominating the skyline to the west, its prominent peak looks different depending on from what side it is viewed, featuring a more rounded summit from the south and a jagged, pointy looking summit if viewed from the east. 

As I approached  Beddgelert on the A498 passing the Snowdon massif to my right and alongside Llyn Gwynant, Moel Hebog came clearly into view  standing at the end of the valley along. Also on view were the neighbouring peaks that make up the Nantll Ridge, a 9km ridge that connects a series of mountains in the area. Having had more time I would have incorporated these summits in the route, but with the shorter autumn days I didn’t want to be out on the hills in the dark.

After parking up on the carpark in the village I headed up the road to join the access track to the left, crossing over the river. The autumnal colours were on fierce display with the trees boasting a rich variety of burnt oranges, deep reds and golden yellows, creating the most beautiful scene as they clustered along  the banks as the river rushed by.

From here I followed the track, crossing the Welsh Highland Railway line, whose steam trains can often be heard tooting away throughout the valley. After entering the rich wooded area, once again passing over the railway line as it looped back, I left the woods to be welcomed by the first clear view of Mount Hebog. The mountain’s name translates as ‘Bare Hill of the Hawk’, why this may be is unknown but I feel it could be in relation to the terrain; a mixture of marshland, high crags and wooded features making it ideal habitat and hunting ground for birds of prey. Or, perhaps it is the bird’s eye view that you experience from the top of the peak looking down to the valley below and across to the magnificent mountains of Snowdonia and beyond!


Once out of the woods I took the path over the marshland, following it as it ascended up the hill. The heavy downpour of the day before had ensured the ground underfoot was wet, causing the path to be really muddy and slippy, calling for a bit more focus on where to put each foot.

At this point it  was quiet on the hill with only a couple walking further ahead, and the only sounds were the ravens calling above and the choo of the steam train as it passed along the Welsh Highland Railway just below. As with most peaks the great thing about the climb up Moel Hebog is that the further you go the more the surrounding landscape opens up, allowing for the most amazing view across to Yr Aran and Snowdon just behind, the Cnicht to the right and Moel Siabod standing in its prominence in the distant. Today, however, the higher peaks had their summits covered by a low blanket of cloud, with only the occasion glimpse as they blew by.

The further the path goes up, the more of a climb it becomes with a bit of scrambling which makes for a nice change of pace in the walk. I love scrambling and the challenge it brings as you have to put your mind into action to ensure you get up and over the rocks safely. Though this was by no means a hard scramble, the fact that the rocks were so slippy provided for some heart stopping near slips and scuffles. After the scramble I took a look around and could now see the other peaks of the Nantll Ridge to the north including the bizarrely shaped ridge that connects  Mynydd Drws-y-coed and Mynydd  Tal-y-mignedd.


In this photo you can see the coastline in the distance in between the peaks.

I continued upwards where the path became a much steeper ascent and was made from scree, a mixture of loose stone and small boulders. Now, I ‘m not a huge fan of scree as it creates a one step up , two steps down as you slip back making for a rather tiresome attempt. This scree wasn’t too bad but every now and then I would hit a loose stone, sending it rolling down the path, with the fear that it would pick up momentum, collect other stones along the way and cause an ‘avalanche of stones’ swiftly wiping out the village of Beddgelert below. An over exaggeration I know, but you have to be careful on scree.

The other thing about this type of terrain is that a mouse wearing slippers could be walking up, but it would still sound like an approaching herd of elephants!

At this point of the climb it is a mixture of scree walking and scramble over some pretty wet rocks and some weird rock formation which I later found out were volcanic rock and pillow lava, and that this area is a popular stop for geology students.

Now for those of you who aren’t a fan of false summits, this mountain will have you sweating and perhaps swearing, as this hill has two! Once I was up and over the rocky ascent I came to a flat area which led up to another prominent rocky peak.  Another climb up and over and again I was on a flat area, but still no sign of the trig point. I followed the line of cairns keeping  them and the Snowdon massif to my left, before I finally reached the Trig point which was a rather chunky structure as far as trig points go.

Here the views were immense, allowing for so much of the surrounding area of North Wales to be seen. With the coast to the west, the ocean beyond and the mountainous area blanketed in gorgeous autumnal colours on the hillsides and the forests below.

I had the summit to myself as there was no one else to be seen, and within 5mins of being at the top a huge cloud rolled in from the north enveloping me. There I was on top of a mountain surrounded in cloud, both an eerie and mystical experience as I’m sure you will agree, but before long the cloud rolled away opening up the view again.

Looking to the north it was clear that the weather was going to turn slightly so i set of down the way i came taking care not to slip on the stones and grass on the ascent. Careful as I was,  I still fell on my derriere a few times which on the lower slope producing a rather wet bottom as I slipped on the grass! I stopped just below where the ridge opens up into a lesser steep descent and took in the view of the surrounding peaks ridge. It was here that I heard the familiar ‘choo choo’ of the steam train from further up the railway track, creating the most incredible sound as it echoed throughout the valley. So much so that it sounded like it was two trains calling to each other from opposite sides of Snowdonia. Another magical experience in Snowdonia.

As I cut through the woodland and crossed over the railway again, the sun had begun to set in the west creating a halo of golden light around the peak of Moel Hebog. As I walked down the road into Beddgelert there was a slight chill in the air and the smell of chimney smoke from the log fires warming the pubs and houses creating the perfect autumn’s evening.  As the day became night I looked up toward the darkened  peak of Moel Hebog as it stood there, casting a  protective presence over the village below.

NB: 
The Memorial at Beddgelert. As this day was Armistice Day my thoughts were with those who, as someone beautifully put it , 'gave up their tomorrows so we could have a today', and those today who are ensuring we have a safe future. I spent a lot of time on the hills thinking bout their sacrifice. We Will Remember Them.

As November approached and the rich colours of Autumn were in full vibrancy I decided to take this opportunity to experience autumn before it faded into winter, and headed across Cheshire for a low hill, woodland walk.

This took me to a circular walk up and over the hills that run on the Sandstone trail, a popular long distance walk that runs 34 miles/55 kilometres over Cheshire’s countryside. I chose this area as it features dramatic sandstone ridges and outstanding panoramas, which at this time of the year provides a beautiful scene of contrasting colours. It is also an area steeped in history with hill forts and settlements featured along the ridge dating back to the Iron Age.

Having parked at the Sandstone Pub, formally known as the Copper Mine, I crossed the A534 and headed through a gate and into the field alongside Fullersmoor Farm. At this point the skies were blue, holding a hazy, low-hung sun, whilst the air was crisp and filled with  the smell of chimney smoke, creating the perfect autumnal atmosphere. I made my way up to Park Wood which provided a great view across the north of Cheshire, where I could make out certain features, such as the River Dee and Stanlow Refinery, amongst the rich autumnal colours.

From here I continued on the path passing the enclosed woodland to the right and walked down into the small village of Harthill, passing the church and a house with an intriguing and abundant display of different ornaments in the front garden. After the Harthill Cookery School I continued down the narrow path, gradually increasing in gradient as I paralled the fields that contain ‘Hales Superbole’ track – a rugged trail with obstacles and such for a mountain style skateboard to be ridden on.

After stopping for a while to watch I then continued uphill to Bodnik Wood, an area where the true force of autumn was in full bloom as I crunched across the leaf scattered woodland. Here I stumbled across a bouquet of pheasants in all their squawking glory! Now, for those who are familiar to the sound of a pheasants call, I’m sure you will agree that for such a beautiful and graceful looking bird, its call is anything but. It is more like a broken fog horn, and can be a bit unnerving if you didn't know what was making the noise! 

For the next hour or so, this was the noise that dominated the sandstone ridge, which was actually quite nice once you had got used to the sound. Having come out of the woods and down the hill into a field next to a cosy looking house with its chimney going, I crossed the narrow track and continued on the path through a small beech wood which brings you to a quiet lane. Here I took a left and walked up the lane to a point where the path to Raw Head was signposted to the right. Here I walked through the woodland and stopped when I noticed a woodpecker flying to and fro, easily identified by its unique flight style. I watched for a while to identify it as a lesser spotted woodpecker, and then began to notice the abundance of small birds flying about the trees. From Nuthatch, Tree Creeper, to Robin and various others, it was a hive of activity and quite splendid to watch as the sun shone through the wood sending beams of light amongst the trees.

The path eventually leaves the woodland and brings you up to an exposed hillside where I could look down to the valley and see where I had walked from. Turning right, I followed the path along the sandstone ridge passing a meadow to my left which feature a grand view across the south of Cheshire behind it. After a short while I reached the summit of Raw Head (227m Highest point in Cheshire, west of the Pennines) where a trig point sat and there was a great view across the Cheshire Plain and beyond, thought a couple of trees slightly obscured what used to be an open view.

Though the view was incredible, what really intrigued me with this part of the walk was in fact a cave that is situated a few metres away from the summit. This cave is said to be ‘Mad Allen’s Hole where apparently, in the 18th Century, a hermit used to live having chosen to live this way after being spurned by a girl he had asked to marry him. Having got the hump, he sold his possessions and went to spend the rest of his years living in caves, firstly this one before up scaling to another cave on Bickerton Hill. The cave itself is pretty impressive, not huge, but features some tunnels and goes back fairly deep so makes for a decent enough shelter.
 
I’m sure with a little ‘je ne sais quoi’ it would have made a nice home!

Having explored the cave and spooked myself enough (there was no one else about but I could have sworn someone called out), I continued on the path that leads from the summit and down through the wooded hillside to the road to Chiflik Farm. Here I crossed the A543 and headed down the road to Bickerton Village, passing the church and taking the path on the right into the woodlands that lead up to Bickerton Hill, where again, the full colours of Autumn were on display. This was a busy area with many people about with families or dog walkers even though it was fairly late in the afternoon, with the sun promising to set within the next hour or so.

Having followed the well trodden track I came to near the summit of the hill, where again you were welcomed with a splendid view of the surrounding area and I was able to trace where I had walked so far, starting from the Sandstone Pub. Talking of caves, I decided it was time to look for Mad Allen’s next dwelling which I had been told lay beneath the sandy outcrop on which I was stood. There was no path leading to the cave as such, so it was a bit of a renegade approach to getting there. Not that I actually knew where I was going. 

Eventually, having done some jungle style trail-blazing, that I would not recommend, I came across a tall sandstone wall which I figured was the outcrop I had been standing on. Sure enough there was deep cut outs in the wall and a rather cosy, albeit small, cave. I took a look inside and wondered just how mad Mad Allen had become in his later years as this cave was pants compared to the other at Raw Head. Well. The ghost of Mad Allen did not seem too happy with insult to his abode and before I knew it I looked up only to see some scary looking face in the sandstone! I made my excuses and left before questioning my own insanity and continued to nosey around the sandstone wall, only to become face to face with a cave fit for a king (kind of). 

The first cave was just the out-building it seems, as the next cave across was much bigger with all sorts of features one would require in their abode. There were a number of ‘rooms’ of all different size that were linked to each other and lead to the main area that seemed to have its own shelves in the sandstone walls. This was probably down to erosion more than a mad man’s DIY attempts, but still added a nice touch to the cave. It even featured a mezzanine floor and has an incredible view from the front!

Now we were talking. This is ‘cave life’ at its best and it's no wonder that Mad Allen stayed here until he died aged 70yrs!

I struggled back up the hill and onto the path which lead to the Kitty Memorial, a really beautiful memorial stone for a lady called Kitty who was from the area. It was laid by her husband and features some of the most beautiful poetry written by him in memory of her. It tells of her love for the hills and their times spent walking here,  as well as their times spent on the islands off the west coast of Scotland which resonates deeply with me. How amazing it would be to have someone love you that much that they create this as a testament of their love and also of your love for the hills.

The sun was soon to begin to set so I left the memorial and continued on; stopping only when something to the left of me caught my eye. There in amongst the bracken, complete with twigs and leaves in its hair, was a wild pony. What on earth is a wild pony doing on top of a hill on the Sandstone Trail? Before long, I was seeing a fair few of them dotted about and still could not understand why they were here looking like those that I had encountered many times in the wilderness of Scotland.

Confused, and again questioning my sanity, I picked up the pace a bit and arrived at Maidens Castle on Larkton Hill, the remains of an Iron Age fort dating back to first century BC. This fort was part of a group of hill forts which lined the central ridge of Cheshire and the history surrounding those who built it and lived there is really interesting and is worth further investigation.

Leaving the hill I walked on until I came to a cross road in the woods. Here I turned right and followed the path which eventually ends at a wooden gate where there is an information board, which I decided to read and actually answered my questions as to why there were what seemed to be wild ponies on the hill. Apparently they were brought there as part of the Forestry Commission’s project to deal with the overwhelming amount of bracken that is taking over and causing other plant life to suffer.

Happy that I had not imagined them and that I had not gone Mad like Allen, I continued down the path until it came to a T-junction where I took a right and followed the road down into the village of Brown Knowl. Here I walked on until I came to the Sandstone Pub where I had started just as the sun had begun to set.

This was a great walk which provided a real sense of Autumn as the warm, rich hues of both the leaves and sandstone ridges created a vibrant display of colour. It also allowed for a great ridge walk and some great views across Cheshire and beyond. Add in the crazed sound of pheasants, crazed eyes of wild ponies and mad men living in caves, and you have an endearing walk filled with wonderment and intrigue.