I’ve probably blogged this before but when we bought the house the owner threw in a piece of land that he didn’t want. Being from Kent where land meant back garden, amybe front, I’m all in favour of land, the more the merrier so we graciously accepted.
I asked him where it was and he said, up on Mount Vandalino. That was all he knew. Apparently nobody has been there for 4 or more generations.
But now with GPS technology I’ve found it again. Well, Baldrick and I found it again. And now we know why nobody has been there for so long - a few hundred yards of rocky nothing in the middle of hundreds of acres of rocky nothing. Fallen larches with their emasculating branch stubs in various stages of decay lying over and across and in amongst boulders, waist high bracken (in the summer), shoulder high raspberry bushes, brambles, slippery moss strewn rock and unmapped outcrops, ravines and bluffs all mixed in with unreliable GPS signals and slippery grass all make progress across the land very difficult. In fact I think we need a new term as none of the terms in use describe such horrible terrain and the crossing thereof.
I had high hopes of this bit of land, at least, I naively thought, it would include a parcel of flat land big enough to put a tent on. There are two streams, which is good and there really is a piece of land big enough to put a tent on but judging by the fallen boulders strewn here and there it would not be advisable to actually put one there. Due to the steepness of the terrain the view though is excellent. I feel very lucky to have my very own rock climbing wall (see photo with me at the base of it). Perhaps I could turn it into a via ferrata. Can’t wait to return though and put up a sign saying ‘Private Property, Keep out’. Just for the hell of it.
I’d hoped to find the land higher up so I could legally get access up the mountain by car but ‘twas not to be as it’s comparatively quite low down at 1490m, 500m short of useful. Probably just as well because that would mean I’d have to buy a trials bike and spend my days up there and never get any work done. The Gods obviously know what they are doing.
The plains were covered in fog today, all day as far as the eye could see and that was really far. As usual the fog stops at the entrance to the valley. Odd to think of all those people on the plains in working in jackets under the cold fog yet everyone in the valleys working in T-shirts in blazing sun. I’m very glad I live in the mountains.
I kind of liked the photo of Baldrick getting ripped to pieces struggling through the land. Such a pleasant change from walking on paths I thought.