and merrily hent the stile-a

Shakespeare, from The Winter’s Tale

Terroir has written a lot about how humans get from A to B.  We’ve looked at the 800,000 year old footprints of five people walking down the Ancestral Thames, which were briefly revealed by the tide at Happisburgh on the Norfolk coast; we’ve walked and reported on National Trails (most recently the Ridgeway); we’ve trialled a new Green Link walk across London, and we’ve travelled on numerous trains on rails, buses on roads and boats on waterways.   

Even the most sedentary of us need to travel, if only from field to barn, or from semi-detached villa to local shop.  To do this we create ‘ways’, which can vary from grassy pathways to giant freeways. At the time of writing, Terroir South is housebound with Covid so our thoughts have turned to how we design these ways, routes, paths, tracks and trails which we currently don’t have the energy to use. 

These days, there are design and engineering standards for most of the things which we formally construct in the UK.  I suppose the earliest forms of design decisions were largely intuitive.  How much vegetation do I need to cut down to create a track wide enough for me and my pack pony to get through?  If I veer left here to avoid that massive oak, the track will be longer but, in the short tem, it’ll save time and energy on beating a path to market.  

The size of the ‘average’ cart horse probably dictated the width between the shafts which in turn was significant in deciding the width between the cart’s wheels and, as night follows day, the width of a cart track. Railway pioneer George Stephenson worked with a track gauge of 4ft 8in, based on the width of existing colliery wagon ways, (although he increased it to 4ft 8 ¼ in to ease the curves).  Brunel built at 7ft gauge (later 7ft ¼ in – what is it with these railway types?) but, as Brunel had laid fewer track miles, he lost the battle for the standardised width to the Stephenson lobby.    

Today, there is a mass of guidance on widths and surface types for most of the ‘ways’ which we currently create.  For example, new footpaths should, under normal circumstances, be at least 2m wide to allow two wheelchairs or motorised buggies to pass.  On sloping ground, regular ‘landings’ with accessible seating should be provided to allow the opportunity to rest.  Cycle ways should be – oh never mind, you get the idea. 

Navigable, legible, accessible streetscapes and areas of public realm are essential.  You may not need it today, but tomorrow you may be very grateful for it (a new baby, a newly broken hip, newly deteriorating eyesight). 

Many of our existing ‘ways’, however, do not conform to these accessibility recommendations.  Should we expect them to?  

The United Kingdom’s four national peaks are Slieve Donard at 850 m (2,790 ft), Scafell Pike at 978 m (3,209 ft), Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) at 1,085 m (3,560 ft) and Ben Nevis coming in at 1,345 m (4,413 ft).  In terms of climbing, these figures are pretty useless however, because the amount of effort you expend depends on how high you are when you start and what it’s like underfoot.  Many people start the Ben Nevis climb at just 20 m above sea level. 

It is interesting to note that all the UK’s peaks offer alternative climbing routes.  But only one has a route which can be defined as accessible; this route even has its own Access Statement.  The mountain is, of course Snowdon, and the accessible route is via the Snowdon Mountain Railway (https://snowdonrailway.co.uk). 

But before we start, we need to discuss why upland paths are never a walk in the park.  To start with, the National Trust (which owns the Scafell Pike area) reckons that 250,000 people climb the Pike every year.  That’s an average of 685 people every day or 21,000 every month.  So imagine a sunny Saturday in the school holidays? 

The pressure is enormous, not just on the car parks, not just on the Mountain Rescue Teams, not just on your legs, but on the surface of the routes up which we are all stumbling.  That number of people can erode a mountainside, wreck vegetation and frighten a lot of sheep in a very short time.  Ensuring people stay on the path and ensuring the path stays in existence is a tall order in all senses of the word – high elevations, high work load, high costs. 

So let’s review the conditions which we experienced on our expedition to the summit of Scafell Pike.

People have arrived ahead of us but there is still plenty of room in the car park.  We are National Trust Members, so parking is free.  The members’ card digital scanner works fine and spits out a neat little parking ticket.  We even remember to put it in the car windscreen.

The track to open moorland is a very attractive prospect and the views are opening up nicely. There is even one of those accessible kissing gates in case you don’t fancy merrily, or indeed fractiously, henting one of those antiquated stile contraptions.   Granny and the toddlers would love these.

Things continue well until we round a corner, and the sun goes in. Where did all those rocks/boulders/rubble come from?! Granny and the kids will have beaten a hasty retreat.

But then, my goodness, they’ve built us steps!  Not quite sure if this is over urbanisation or a glorious relief from the boulders.  Good place to stop for a breather though.

Where did these builders’ bags of stone come from? Ah, delivered by helicopter; don’t blame them but no wonder they need money. We’re run out of steps here but there’s a nice steady grade to climb. But what’s happened now? We’ve moved into boulder hell.  Surely this can’t be real?

Sadly it was real, and the final section of the walk to the top of Scafell Pike is (t)rubble all the way, particularly if your lungs are starting a battle with Covid 19.

As we tramped back through those ghastly boulders and suffered the knee-jarring experience of all those steps, we did spare a thought for the National Trust staff and volunteers who have to heft that stone and build those steps. We even wondered if there was an alternative footpath material which might lighten everybody’s load. Any suggestions? But it was also cheering to think that, on the journey down, the path from hell is also paved with good intentions.