I use OSMaps and found it a godsend even going up a relatively simple path like Pyg at Snowdon recently when the visibility was about 10ft in fog. There were a few times we strayed a little off the path with such low visibility and checking the OSMaps app made it easy to see we'd gone astray - makes you realise how much you usually rely on being able to see an obvious path 50-100ft in front of you when crossing bits of rock etc. that don't have an obvious pathway.
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The walking thread
- Thread starter bainbridge
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Soldato
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I think this day can be summed up with a few words: unexpectedly beautiful!
Being on the eastern most edge of the far eastern fells, I expected this route to feel a little bit tertiary and perhaps uneventful, but it confounded all those expectations. I think they partly existed because the first time I did High Street (from the Hartsop side) it had been thick cloud and I only caught fleeting glimpses, even when I went across to Kidsty Pike. But today I was very wrong, it was a stunning route from start to finish, with even minor spots proving surprisingly beautiful.
The car park was full when we arrived so we were lucky enough to find a spot further up the road, parked up, geared up and set off. It was quite a shock to see such low water levels in the Haweswater reservoir, so much so that most of the southern end had dried up almost completely, beyond even that of the small island, Wood Howe. Some of the old Mardale village structures were clearly visible in the mud, without an additional 10m or so of water coverage, leaving them completely exposed. A sign of the significant drought conditions the country has faced this year.
We rounded the southern tip, and headed towards the wooded nib that juts out into Haweswater before turning about and heading up the steep ridgeline to Rough Crag and eventually terminating at High Street, the old Roman road. It started off fairly steep, covered in ferns and bracken up to waist high, making the path a little tricky to find in parts. It weaved higher and the foliage subsided and was replaced by rocky escarpments and steep scrambling climbs. It was a lot of fun climbing this ridge and the views as you got higher were spectacular in all directions. Looking north over Riggindale Beck towards the pointy summit rocks of Kidsty Pike, southwards towards Harter Fell and the valley path along Gatescarth Pass and eastwards towards Haweswater.
As we ascended the ridge further it undulated through scrambling sections and eventually the final steep winding rock climb scramble up Long Stile to the first Wainwright summit of the day, High Street. I'd been here before so this did not push my tally higher but it was nice to see it without being surrounded by cloud and we spoke briefly to a couple whom this was their first Wainwright walk, doing the same route as us (and from the same book!). We would catch up with them at multiple points throughout the day and they really enjoyed their experience climbing that ridge. The views were really something, particularly with the water glistening off Blea Water, a small tarn just east of High Street.
I'd been struggling with a very heavy cold since the previous weekend and I was really feeling the effects of it. On the ascents I was feeling exhausted and my nose was running like a tap the whole time. I apologised to Laura for this grotesque sight, but sadly it continued all day. At times going up this ridge I had some nagging self doubts...I wasn't sure I could do this....but pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind and bloody mindedly cracked on, not letting Laura into my doubts!
After lunch number 1, we proceeded across the Roman road and descended a little to Mardale Ill Bell, a strange name of which I don't know of its derivation....and clatter! On the rocky summit Laura took a nasty tumble, landing on her knee and reeling in pain. I rushed across but there isn't much you can do to help until the initial shock of the fall subsides, and breathing a sigh of relief that it was "just a knock" and nothing more serious than that, I offered here a wet wipe from my first aid kit to clean up a graze on her hand. After a short rest, relieved, we carried on. Incidents like that are so easy to occur and can happen to anyone. I have had my fair share of tumbles too, but thankfully no serious damage done and we carried on our descent, then ascent, to Harter Fell.
Harter Fell is a big commanding old lump at the southern end of this route and there were some great views across the valley of Small Water, Blea Water and the stunning ridgeline we had ascended earlier, glimmering in various shades of green with the patchy strands of sunlight. Perhaps a little mini-achievement is that this brought up my 100th Wainwright which, although is still short of the halfway point of 107, still feels like a tremendous achievement, having only started this journey a year ago.
We stopped for lunch number 2, then descended away from the rockier points, towards the smoother grassier slopes of Gatescarth Pass and the fourth Wainwright of the day, Branstree. By this time, I was really starting to feel the effects of my lingering cold and the long grassy slog up Branstree felt interminable. But the gradient slackened off and we reached perhaps the most unimpressive peak of the day. To say that however does it a considerable disservice because the surrounding views were still very inspiring.
We then completed the short hop over to Selside Pike, which never really threatened to be impressive until we actually hit the summit and the views just opened out all across the valley that separates the Cumbrian Lake District from the Yorkshire Dales, with visibility across to Penrith. It surprised me, as often with these routes they can tend to tail off a little bit towards the end and drag on, but as I said up front, this route just kept confounding those expectations and as we turned sharply around to descend back towards Haweswater, the views of where we had gone up in the morning were laid before us, along with the ridgeline route we had taken, with stark contrast of light and shadow cast by the broken clouds and sunlight. It was a beautiful descent downwards and past various waterfalls until we reached the road and back to the car.
I think without any doubt this route ranks in my top 3 Lake District adventures. It was such a little gem which I would quite happily revisit, had I not got another 112 other Wainwrights to see to first. I was tired physically, though it hadn't been the longest or most energy sapping of days, my cold was beginning to tell and it was enough for me for one day.
In the car on the way back we were beaming from ear to ear, with discussions about the cultural significance of the Wombles, Lancaster Services and the sheep password of "baa ram ewe" from the film Babe...as you do...
17km, 900m elevation, 4 pickle pork pies, 2 hotcross buns, almost 3 litres of water consumed which surprised me a fair bit, no blisters and after a hiking summer hiatus, a much needed motivational boost to get out there again and keep on with the journey.
102/214
Being on the eastern most edge of the far eastern fells, I expected this route to feel a little bit tertiary and perhaps uneventful, but it confounded all those expectations. I think they partly existed because the first time I did High Street (from the Hartsop side) it had been thick cloud and I only caught fleeting glimpses, even when I went across to Kidsty Pike. But today I was very wrong, it was a stunning route from start to finish, with even minor spots proving surprisingly beautiful.
The car park was full when we arrived so we were lucky enough to find a spot further up the road, parked up, geared up and set off. It was quite a shock to see such low water levels in the Haweswater reservoir, so much so that most of the southern end had dried up almost completely, beyond even that of the small island, Wood Howe. Some of the old Mardale village structures were clearly visible in the mud, without an additional 10m or so of water coverage, leaving them completely exposed. A sign of the significant drought conditions the country has faced this year.
We rounded the southern tip, and headed towards the wooded nib that juts out into Haweswater before turning about and heading up the steep ridgeline to Rough Crag and eventually terminating at High Street, the old Roman road. It started off fairly steep, covered in ferns and bracken up to waist high, making the path a little tricky to find in parts. It weaved higher and the foliage subsided and was replaced by rocky escarpments and steep scrambling climbs. It was a lot of fun climbing this ridge and the views as you got higher were spectacular in all directions. Looking north over Riggindale Beck towards the pointy summit rocks of Kidsty Pike, southwards towards Harter Fell and the valley path along Gatescarth Pass and eastwards towards Haweswater.
As we ascended the ridge further it undulated through scrambling sections and eventually the final steep winding rock climb scramble up Long Stile to the first Wainwright summit of the day, High Street. I'd been here before so this did not push my tally higher but it was nice to see it without being surrounded by cloud and we spoke briefly to a couple whom this was their first Wainwright walk, doing the same route as us (and from the same book!). We would catch up with them at multiple points throughout the day and they really enjoyed their experience climbing that ridge. The views were really something, particularly with the water glistening off Blea Water, a small tarn just east of High Street.
I'd been struggling with a very heavy cold since the previous weekend and I was really feeling the effects of it. On the ascents I was feeling exhausted and my nose was running like a tap the whole time. I apologised to Laura for this grotesque sight, but sadly it continued all day. At times going up this ridge I had some nagging self doubts...I wasn't sure I could do this....but pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind and bloody mindedly cracked on, not letting Laura into my doubts!
After lunch number 1, we proceeded across the Roman road and descended a little to Mardale Ill Bell, a strange name of which I don't know of its derivation....and clatter! On the rocky summit Laura took a nasty tumble, landing on her knee and reeling in pain. I rushed across but there isn't much you can do to help until the initial shock of the fall subsides, and breathing a sigh of relief that it was "just a knock" and nothing more serious than that, I offered here a wet wipe from my first aid kit to clean up a graze on her hand. After a short rest, relieved, we carried on. Incidents like that are so easy to occur and can happen to anyone. I have had my fair share of tumbles too, but thankfully no serious damage done and we carried on our descent, then ascent, to Harter Fell.
Harter Fell is a big commanding old lump at the southern end of this route and there were some great views across the valley of Small Water, Blea Water and the stunning ridgeline we had ascended earlier, glimmering in various shades of green with the patchy strands of sunlight. Perhaps a little mini-achievement is that this brought up my 100th Wainwright which, although is still short of the halfway point of 107, still feels like a tremendous achievement, having only started this journey a year ago.
We stopped for lunch number 2, then descended away from the rockier points, towards the smoother grassier slopes of Gatescarth Pass and the fourth Wainwright of the day, Branstree. By this time, I was really starting to feel the effects of my lingering cold and the long grassy slog up Branstree felt interminable. But the gradient slackened off and we reached perhaps the most unimpressive peak of the day. To say that however does it a considerable disservice because the surrounding views were still very inspiring.
We then completed the short hop over to Selside Pike, which never really threatened to be impressive until we actually hit the summit and the views just opened out all across the valley that separates the Cumbrian Lake District from the Yorkshire Dales, with visibility across to Penrith. It surprised me, as often with these routes they can tend to tail off a little bit towards the end and drag on, but as I said up front, this route just kept confounding those expectations and as we turned sharply around to descend back towards Haweswater, the views of where we had gone up in the morning were laid before us, along with the ridgeline route we had taken, with stark contrast of light and shadow cast by the broken clouds and sunlight. It was a beautiful descent downwards and past various waterfalls until we reached the road and back to the car.
I think without any doubt this route ranks in my top 3 Lake District adventures. It was such a little gem which I would quite happily revisit, had I not got another 112 other Wainwrights to see to first. I was tired physically, though it hadn't been the longest or most energy sapping of days, my cold was beginning to tell and it was enough for me for one day.
In the car on the way back we were beaming from ear to ear, with discussions about the cultural significance of the Wombles, Lancaster Services and the sheep password of "baa ram ewe" from the film Babe...as you do...
17km, 900m elevation, 4 pickle pork pies, 2 hotcross buns, almost 3 litres of water consumed which surprised me a fair bit, no blisters and after a hiking summer hiatus, a much needed motivational boost to get out there again and keep on with the journey.
102/214
Sounds fantastic!
Haweswater reservoir was our original plan on the Friday that we went up to the Lake District last week, but decided to hike at Cathedral Cavern near Elterwater on that day instead. Ironically, Haweswater reservoir was much closer to the Airbnb cottage that we stayed at, which was in Skelton village, near Penrith, so it would've made more sense to go there.
I hope Laura is feeling OK after that fall. There were a lot of loose stones and boulders when we were attempting to hike up to Scafell Pike from Wasdale Head on Monday, so it was quite slippery in parts.
Soldato
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It was great thank you!
Want to head over to do either the Coledale Horseshoe next or the Langdale Pikes. Can't wait to go back, life has gotten in the way these past 2 months but will be back in earnest to go beyond the Wainwright half way point of 107.
Laura is all good thank you!
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Soldato
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So we set off for the Lake District last week on Friday morning and we just got back home yesterday evening. We did a mixture of hiking and non-hiking things throughout the trip, mostly due to being knackered if we hiked all 4/5 days.
We did a shorter hike late Friday afternoon once we arrived up there. Cathedral Cavern from Tilberthwaite, just north of Coniston. Not too difficult in terms of walking as it's just rough tracks and paths, but there's a little scrambling required inside the cave. Started off going through a 100m long dark and wet tunnel. We definitely couldn't do this without a torch. After the tunnel and a little scrambling over rocks, we found ourselves in an open to the sky pit, and over to the right was a window into the main cavern, the Cathedral itself. Inside had a sloping pillar, which was basically holding the roof of the cavern up. There was also a pool of water that was ice cold. A very cool walk, worth doing.
On Monday, we attempted Scafell Pike. Key word is attempted, as we ended up getting lost after not following our map properly and climbed a different peak altogether... From Wasdale Head, we traversed up the mountain. Lots and I mean lots of boulders and loose rocks throughout the route, so just something that we were aware of while climbing. After getting up to Sty Head, which had a large rock and MRT stretcher box, we walked SE from there and a bit too far SE, as we missed the turning for Scafell Pike and ended up climbing Bowfell.
All in all, it was a bit of adventure getting lost I suppose and we still very much enjoyed it! Visibility wasn't amazing with the cloud, but there were some clear bits. Very very windy up there. Some rain at the start, otherwise dry for the rest.
We'll hopefully attempt Scafell again in the future, perhaps on a better weather day too. As we climbed Bowfell instead, we ended up around 12km and about 880m of ascent. It was a fantastic walk
The way from Styhead is to head up to the left of the Great End, then you can bear to the right at the back of it to head up to Scafell. Cool kids know however that at the MRT box you head north up the Great Gable instead as its much more interesting than the ever busy Scafell. Then descend off the back of the Gable to Windy Gap and up again to the Green Gable.
Interesting! Funnily enough, another couple who were walking with us near the start did just that. We split ways at the MRT box and they headed north up the way you mentioned instead. Ironically, it was sunnier/brighter that way than the direction we headed at the time
Perhaps we can attempt that next time, appreciate the little tip there, thank you!
Sounds like a nice time for you to get back into it, as summer holidays are over now, so maybe less people around?It was great thank you!
Want to head over to do either the Coledale Horseshoe next or the Langdale Pikes. Can't wait to go back, life has gotten in the way these past 2 months but will be back in earnest to go beyond the Wainwright half way point of 107.
Laura is all good thank you!
I'd love to do more walks over the coming months and not just leave it as a spring/summer thing. I guess the only issues are weather and time, as I'll have less of it with the days getting shorter.
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Soldato
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Winter is coming…its 6am and its still dark, and although I’m up, dressed, fed and packed, its feeling harder and harder to step out of the door. I wanted to go, but I wasn’t fully feeling it if I’m being honest, but in the car and an hour and a half later I was parked up at the National Trust Stickle Ghyll car park in the heart of Great Langdale.
Not wasting any time I started off up the footpath towards Loft Crag. The sky was still pretty moody and the sun was still rising but behind the clouds and occasionally great shafts of sunlight would streak through and illuminate the land creating a green mosaic of colour across the hillsides.
The best views on the ascent were often behind me to the east, so I took many opportunities to stop and catch a breather and whip out my camera. To my south was Lingmoor fell, which was the final Wainwright of a walk earlier in the year in utterly dire conditions. I remember getting to the top and being greeted by the most oppressive wind and rain that I spent a total of 5 seconds at the summit before I descended to relative safety.
Further to the south west was Pike of Blisco, Crinkle Crags and the perfectly pointed shape of Bowell spiking up out of the ridgeline to the west. None of those sights were my destination today, just the scenic eye-candy on the way up to Loft Crag, of which I was climbing the last steep steps to the top (almost the top). There was a final sting in the tail of a short ascent to get to the top, once it opened out a little on the Langdale Pikes plateau (later discovering that its proper name is Harrison Combe). There was a short gully to climb and the wind gusts were proving unpredictable and strong, occasionally knocking me off balance.
It was here when I started hearing more of these strange noises I’d been hearing the whole way up. It was so hard to place them because of the wind gusts and I’d occasionally hear what I thought were distant cries of “Help!”. I scanned the immediate hillsides from Harrison Stickle to my next summit Pike O’ Stickle, but couldn’t see anything.
The rocky summit of Pike O’ Stickle was an interesting feature, erupting up out of the landscape abruptly and sharply. I followed the path round the side with most of the approaches looking…super scrambly and steep. But the path terminated at a sheer gully, leaving me with little choice but to pick a spot and start climbing.
It was here when the distant shouting became abundantly clear. A procession of sheep were making their way slowly down the mountainside in a neat line, herded by a few sheepdogs. The farmers were obviously taking their flock down for the autumn and it was quite a sight watching them work. The farmers standing proud on Loft Crag summit directing their energetic four legged friends around the landscape with aggressive shouts and whistles. The dogs were fearless, covering so much ground and bounding around cliff edges with no fear.
It was at this point though that I realised I’d made a bit of a mistake with my choice of scramble up to the summit of Pike O’ Stickle. It was difficult and at times found myself with my knees perched on a thin rocky ledge whilst I looked for the next hand hold to hurl myself up, at times on my belly as I scaled the rock. As soon as I summited, I saw a friendly man who instantly pointed up an ascent/descent that was a million times simpler than the choice I’d taken. Looking and feeling a bit stupid, I took my photos, which provided a panorama deep into the heart of the Lakeland great…Bowfell, The Great End, The Great Gable.
After sliding down on my bum on the downclimb to the grassy plateau, I started chatting to my new friend, a fell runner from Lowestoft who actually worked at Sizewell B powerstation, always nice to make small friendships on my travels, and as he bid farewell and set off running into the distance, I didn’t think I’d see him again…but surprisingly we crossed paths towards the end of my hike.
I was a bit relieved that likely the most of the scrambling was behind me, but I was starting to feel a bit lethargic on the trudge up to the top of Harrison Stickle. Every step upwards was laboured and although I am very much over the cold that blighted my last hike a couple of weeks ago, somehow I felt more weak. To top it off, I committed the cardinal sin of looking at my phone whilst walking on a rough track and rolled my ankle slightly. It wasn’t bad, but it clearly did some minor damage and although it didn’t slow me down, a week or so of rest might be needed to let it heal. The views now opened up towards the famous Pavey Ark and Stickle Tarn, a perfect spot for lunch number one.
Pavey Ark was quite busy when I arrived there, and I was asked by a couple where the cairn was. I suggested that there probably wasn’t one, and I was right, the summit consisted of a few rocky crags, which, I made a point of standing on, before turning northwards to least interesting Wainwright of the day, Thunacar Knott. Whilst there were views toward the western fells, it didn’t warrant too much of my time, besides, it was not raining and getting a bit cold.
The swampy trudge over to High Raise was well worth the expended energy, with some great views deep into the heart of Lakeland, with Catbells, Robinson, Dalehead, the Great Gable and a cloud enshrouded Grasmoor in the distance, as well as over to the Helvellyn range to the east. After lunch stop number two within the safety of the wind shelter near the cairn, I set off towards Sergeant Man, which also proved to offer surprisingly beautiful views over the rocky Pavey Ark and Stickle Tarn. This began the ascent down a scattered ridgeline, with the path coming and going. I’ve found myself becoming an expert at “tracking” now and predicting where the path will reappear.
It was quite busy at Stickle Tarn, with the late risers now making their way up. I stood and watched the lunatics ascending up the diagonal super scramble up Jack’s Rake, in full appreciation of “rather them than me”. Not something I will be attempting any time soon (or ever, actually). I think I’d get a third of the way up before freezing completely with fear and clutching the nearest rock with dear life until I died.
Descending down was pretty unpleasant with a mixture of wet and dry steps making every footstep important to be well placed. It went on like this, following a beautiful stream back to the New Dungeon Ghyll Hotel and back to my car.
Key stats from the day: 12 km, 880 m ascent, one slightly rolled ankle, numerous cries for “Help!” (that weren’t actually “Help!”, and 7 more Wainwrights in the bag that now propelled me over 50%.
109/214
Not wasting any time I started off up the footpath towards Loft Crag. The sky was still pretty moody and the sun was still rising but behind the clouds and occasionally great shafts of sunlight would streak through and illuminate the land creating a green mosaic of colour across the hillsides.
The best views on the ascent were often behind me to the east, so I took many opportunities to stop and catch a breather and whip out my camera. To my south was Lingmoor fell, which was the final Wainwright of a walk earlier in the year in utterly dire conditions. I remember getting to the top and being greeted by the most oppressive wind and rain that I spent a total of 5 seconds at the summit before I descended to relative safety.
Further to the south west was Pike of Blisco, Crinkle Crags and the perfectly pointed shape of Bowell spiking up out of the ridgeline to the west. None of those sights were my destination today, just the scenic eye-candy on the way up to Loft Crag, of which I was climbing the last steep steps to the top (almost the top). There was a final sting in the tail of a short ascent to get to the top, once it opened out a little on the Langdale Pikes plateau (later discovering that its proper name is Harrison Combe). There was a short gully to climb and the wind gusts were proving unpredictable and strong, occasionally knocking me off balance.
It was here when I started hearing more of these strange noises I’d been hearing the whole way up. It was so hard to place them because of the wind gusts and I’d occasionally hear what I thought were distant cries of “Help!”. I scanned the immediate hillsides from Harrison Stickle to my next summit Pike O’ Stickle, but couldn’t see anything.
The rocky summit of Pike O’ Stickle was an interesting feature, erupting up out of the landscape abruptly and sharply. I followed the path round the side with most of the approaches looking…super scrambly and steep. But the path terminated at a sheer gully, leaving me with little choice but to pick a spot and start climbing.
It was here when the distant shouting became abundantly clear. A procession of sheep were making their way slowly down the mountainside in a neat line, herded by a few sheepdogs. The farmers were obviously taking their flock down for the autumn and it was quite a sight watching them work. The farmers standing proud on Loft Crag summit directing their energetic four legged friends around the landscape with aggressive shouts and whistles. The dogs were fearless, covering so much ground and bounding around cliff edges with no fear.
It was at this point though that I realised I’d made a bit of a mistake with my choice of scramble up to the summit of Pike O’ Stickle. It was difficult and at times found myself with my knees perched on a thin rocky ledge whilst I looked for the next hand hold to hurl myself up, at times on my belly as I scaled the rock. As soon as I summited, I saw a friendly man who instantly pointed up an ascent/descent that was a million times simpler than the choice I’d taken. Looking and feeling a bit stupid, I took my photos, which provided a panorama deep into the heart of the Lakeland great…Bowfell, The Great End, The Great Gable.
After sliding down on my bum on the downclimb to the grassy plateau, I started chatting to my new friend, a fell runner from Lowestoft who actually worked at Sizewell B powerstation, always nice to make small friendships on my travels, and as he bid farewell and set off running into the distance, I didn’t think I’d see him again…but surprisingly we crossed paths towards the end of my hike.
I was a bit relieved that likely the most of the scrambling was behind me, but I was starting to feel a bit lethargic on the trudge up to the top of Harrison Stickle. Every step upwards was laboured and although I am very much over the cold that blighted my last hike a couple of weeks ago, somehow I felt more weak. To top it off, I committed the cardinal sin of looking at my phone whilst walking on a rough track and rolled my ankle slightly. It wasn’t bad, but it clearly did some minor damage and although it didn’t slow me down, a week or so of rest might be needed to let it heal. The views now opened up towards the famous Pavey Ark and Stickle Tarn, a perfect spot for lunch number one.
Pavey Ark was quite busy when I arrived there, and I was asked by a couple where the cairn was. I suggested that there probably wasn’t one, and I was right, the summit consisted of a few rocky crags, which, I made a point of standing on, before turning northwards to least interesting Wainwright of the day, Thunacar Knott. Whilst there were views toward the western fells, it didn’t warrant too much of my time, besides, it was not raining and getting a bit cold.
The swampy trudge over to High Raise was well worth the expended energy, with some great views deep into the heart of Lakeland, with Catbells, Robinson, Dalehead, the Great Gable and a cloud enshrouded Grasmoor in the distance, as well as over to the Helvellyn range to the east. After lunch stop number two within the safety of the wind shelter near the cairn, I set off towards Sergeant Man, which also proved to offer surprisingly beautiful views over the rocky Pavey Ark and Stickle Tarn. This began the ascent down a scattered ridgeline, with the path coming and going. I’ve found myself becoming an expert at “tracking” now and predicting where the path will reappear.
It was quite busy at Stickle Tarn, with the late risers now making their way up. I stood and watched the lunatics ascending up the diagonal super scramble up Jack’s Rake, in full appreciation of “rather them than me”. Not something I will be attempting any time soon (or ever, actually). I think I’d get a third of the way up before freezing completely with fear and clutching the nearest rock with dear life until I died.
Descending down was pretty unpleasant with a mixture of wet and dry steps making every footstep important to be well placed. It went on like this, following a beautiful stream back to the New Dungeon Ghyll Hotel and back to my car.
Key stats from the day: 12 km, 880 m ascent, one slightly rolled ankle, numerous cries for “Help!” (that weren’t actually “Help!”, and 7 more Wainwrights in the bag that now propelled me over 50%.
109/214
Soldato
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I could have done lots of things today, but last minute, with very little planning and some nerves about my ankle that I twisted on my hike last weekend, I parked up at the National Trust car park at Rosthwaite. I was feeling a little trepidation, as I was really banking on having at least another 7 days rest for my ankle to heal before my next hike, but given a forecast of cloud with sun later, I had to take the opportunity, particularly as Sunday’s weather forecast was looking worse.
As I closed my car door, I could not have foreseen that this was the driest I’d feel for at least another 6 hours…
That weather forecast was grimly optimistic and it started raining almost immediately on the ascent to Grange Fell. It was a bit of a windy path, snaking through some trees at low level and thinning out on top. I passed a man whom I’d seen in the car park, sheltering under a tree, who told me that he hoped this would be the last shower of the day. I smiled wryly, but I’m pretty sure he’s still there waiting for the rain to stop…I sheltered with him briefly to take off an underlayer as it was a bit too hot with my waterproof over the top and set off along the path, further and further from any prospect of shelter.
The path was wet, rocky and muddy; a triumvirate of my favourite footpath conditions. The rain came down hard now, thankfully with the wind at my back so it was never in my face, but my backpack raincover went on and I eventually reached the summit, which consisted of some scattered rocky outcrops and some pleasant views in most directions. These rocks offered no shelter from the rain so I pressed on and my walking poles were now an essential must-have autumn accessory, because whilst it wasn’t steep at any point, it was incredibly slippery almost everywhere. The footpaths were either slick with sodden mud, or covered with smooth, slippery rocks that invariably angled downwards, tempting the sole of your boot to ease its grip.
The rain came and went and I tried to keep my hood down whenever possible during breaks in the rain, just to try to dry my face out a little bit. I could only use my phone to navigate sparingly as it became increasingly difficult to keep the screen dry, which proved to be a little frustrating at times, as it wasn’t always clear as to where the path was supposed to go, as I crossed the wetlands towards Great Crag. I was slightly amused at one point to see a baby’s dummy hanging from a wooden keyring that was clipped to a fence adjacent to a gate. Mystified, I took a photo of it and took the path to the left that was now “paved” to navigate through more of the wetlands and prevent further footpath errosion. The path was submerged(!) in lots of places as it wound round to the top of Great Crag, and after a few missed turnings, a two second exposure to the sun (that immediately clouded over again), I made the summit.
On another day, it would have been a very pretty view, but the cloudbase was low and kept on rolling in from the west with frequent showers. My trousers were thoroughly soaked through after having walked through a mixture of bog and bracken, with all the moisture brushing off onto my lower legs, soaking my trousers and filling up my boots from the top. First the right foot started squelching, followed quickly by the left until both socks were soaked through. I kept trying to avoid the bogs where I could, but it stopped mattering after 3 miles and I stopped caring about it after 4 miles (under a stubborn delusion that the situation might improve).
The “path” was vague for pretty much the next 4 km or so, particularly after leaving the pretty Dock Tarn cauldron and out onto the boggy ascent to Ullscarf. I submerged my boots on multiple occasions, stopping briefly to talk to an older lady in denim shorts and some boots that looked like they were new back in the 60s. She was pleasant to talk to and she was doing the reverse of the route I was doing, having initially ascended up Eagle Crag. There were two false dawns that looked deceptively like the summit, Low Saddle, followed predictably by High Saddle, where the rain cleared momentarily to permit some translucent views across to Blea Tarn and High Tove to the north. Eventually I crossed a wire fence and trudged over towards the Ullscarf summit that was marked by a small pile of rocks (it would be too generous really to call it a cairn). As Wainwright describes in his third book covering the Central Fells, the summit of Ullscarf is “quite featureless and inexpressibly dreary” – proving my adage again that the best views aren’t always from the top.
The rain had eased, though there was a brisk wind, I decided to stop momentarily to eat a tomato, cheese and broccoli mini-quiche! In keeping with the conditions of the day, it was cold and watery, but provided a good boost to my sapping energy levels. Having only covered around 8km or so, I felt a little pressure to pick up the pace a little to try and make back some of the lost time in navigating the slow boggy sections. The descent off Ullscarf was again via a vague path that soon turned irredeemably boggy until I reached a paved section near Greenup Edge, which is a rocky escarpment at the southern end of the Greenup Gill valley.
I started now seeing a steady stream of fell-runners, each wearing an orange transponder and competition number. I crossed their path wondering whether there was an event on and cross the southern end of the valley ridge, to continue on a steady descent towards Sergeants Crag. It looked like a short rocky scramble was on the cards to attain the summit, but as I approached there was a clear path to the rocky pinnacle, having long lost any appetite to get engaged with a scramble. The Bessyboot ridges to the west were occasionally bathed in watery, patchy sunlight, and I took my photos from my buttressed heights and descended downwards to Eagle Crag. My trousers had actually dried out at Ullscarf, but the resumption of the rain from Greenup Edge eroded my spirits again, as I sloshed my way towards my final Wainwright of the day.
After erroneously crossing a ladder stile, and then immediately crossing it back again, I caught the final muddy path to the summit. It was from here that the weather dried out again and the steep rocky flanks of Ullscarf showed their beauty, in stark contrast to the view from above them. There were numerous ravines, scree falls and browning autumnal bracken that textured its well defended summit crag, with the now audible flows of Greenup Gill at its base, with a stoney path tracking its way through the valley.
The final descent of the day was a little bit off-piste, with no obvious path to descend. I took a direct approach but soon came up against some steep grassy crags that I really didn’t fancy sliding down on my bum. Instead I kept tracking back north through the thick bracken, crossing the occasional stream, until the grassy slopes slackened off and followed a boggy waterway down towards the main stream. The path was across to the other side of the stream, so after some careful scouting southwards, I managed to find a non-treacherous crossing point, and not really caring at this point whether I submerged my boots in its fast flowing current, I stepped onto the opposite path and again was greeted by a steady stream of fell-runners. I chatted briefly to one of the runners who told me that he was competing in the “7 Valleys” 50 mile ultra marathon, which starts at Ambleside and snakes its route round to eventually finish at Keswick. There was also a 115 mile version that was running concurrently, the “13 Valleys”.
I have nothing but admiration for the beleaguered entrants, but absolutely zero desire to do anything like that myself in the future. My quest for completing the Wainwrights is driven purely to better my mental health, get me out of my house on the weekends, with a healthy goal to aim for. Having started over a year ago, my confidence and experience in hiking the Lakeland fells has improved no end, and though I still struggle with my fear of heights, the satisfaction I have after each successful hike is very rewarding, with each a mini adventure. I do not want to complete the Wainwrights at all costs, nor complete them in double quick time just for the sake of having done it. I want to enjoy them; I don’t want to rush them.
I must have said about a hundred “well done and good luck for the rest” to the fell runners, most of whom were walking with a grimace at this point, but I didn’t envy them, knowing how much they had to endure just to get to the top of this section at Greenup Edge (via Lining Crag, as opposed to the way I had come). One of the runners made me chuckle as they exclaimed to their companion: “I never want to see another stone in all of my life” – I could empathise. The path down the valley was stoney, required maximum concentration and zero distractions, if I were to avoid twisting another ankle. There were also multiple stream crossings, until it eventually levelled out and deposited me back to my car in Rosthwaite.
Some key stats from the day: 18 km, 890 m ascent, two soaked hiking boots, one tomato, cheese and broccoli quiche, 56 seconds of direct sunlight and upwards of 15 million muddy puddles negotiated.
114/214
As I closed my car door, I could not have foreseen that this was the driest I’d feel for at least another 6 hours…
That weather forecast was grimly optimistic and it started raining almost immediately on the ascent to Grange Fell. It was a bit of a windy path, snaking through some trees at low level and thinning out on top. I passed a man whom I’d seen in the car park, sheltering under a tree, who told me that he hoped this would be the last shower of the day. I smiled wryly, but I’m pretty sure he’s still there waiting for the rain to stop…I sheltered with him briefly to take off an underlayer as it was a bit too hot with my waterproof over the top and set off along the path, further and further from any prospect of shelter.
The path was wet, rocky and muddy; a triumvirate of my favourite footpath conditions. The rain came down hard now, thankfully with the wind at my back so it was never in my face, but my backpack raincover went on and I eventually reached the summit, which consisted of some scattered rocky outcrops and some pleasant views in most directions. These rocks offered no shelter from the rain so I pressed on and my walking poles were now an essential must-have autumn accessory, because whilst it wasn’t steep at any point, it was incredibly slippery almost everywhere. The footpaths were either slick with sodden mud, or covered with smooth, slippery rocks that invariably angled downwards, tempting the sole of your boot to ease its grip.
The rain came and went and I tried to keep my hood down whenever possible during breaks in the rain, just to try to dry my face out a little bit. I could only use my phone to navigate sparingly as it became increasingly difficult to keep the screen dry, which proved to be a little frustrating at times, as it wasn’t always clear as to where the path was supposed to go, as I crossed the wetlands towards Great Crag. I was slightly amused at one point to see a baby’s dummy hanging from a wooden keyring that was clipped to a fence adjacent to a gate. Mystified, I took a photo of it and took the path to the left that was now “paved” to navigate through more of the wetlands and prevent further footpath errosion. The path was submerged(!) in lots of places as it wound round to the top of Great Crag, and after a few missed turnings, a two second exposure to the sun (that immediately clouded over again), I made the summit.
On another day, it would have been a very pretty view, but the cloudbase was low and kept on rolling in from the west with frequent showers. My trousers were thoroughly soaked through after having walked through a mixture of bog and bracken, with all the moisture brushing off onto my lower legs, soaking my trousers and filling up my boots from the top. First the right foot started squelching, followed quickly by the left until both socks were soaked through. I kept trying to avoid the bogs where I could, but it stopped mattering after 3 miles and I stopped caring about it after 4 miles (under a stubborn delusion that the situation might improve).
The “path” was vague for pretty much the next 4 km or so, particularly after leaving the pretty Dock Tarn cauldron and out onto the boggy ascent to Ullscarf. I submerged my boots on multiple occasions, stopping briefly to talk to an older lady in denim shorts and some boots that looked like they were new back in the 60s. She was pleasant to talk to and she was doing the reverse of the route I was doing, having initially ascended up Eagle Crag. There were two false dawns that looked deceptively like the summit, Low Saddle, followed predictably by High Saddle, where the rain cleared momentarily to permit some translucent views across to Blea Tarn and High Tove to the north. Eventually I crossed a wire fence and trudged over towards the Ullscarf summit that was marked by a small pile of rocks (it would be too generous really to call it a cairn). As Wainwright describes in his third book covering the Central Fells, the summit of Ullscarf is “quite featureless and inexpressibly dreary” – proving my adage again that the best views aren’t always from the top.
The rain had eased, though there was a brisk wind, I decided to stop momentarily to eat a tomato, cheese and broccoli mini-quiche! In keeping with the conditions of the day, it was cold and watery, but provided a good boost to my sapping energy levels. Having only covered around 8km or so, I felt a little pressure to pick up the pace a little to try and make back some of the lost time in navigating the slow boggy sections. The descent off Ullscarf was again via a vague path that soon turned irredeemably boggy until I reached a paved section near Greenup Edge, which is a rocky escarpment at the southern end of the Greenup Gill valley.
I started now seeing a steady stream of fell-runners, each wearing an orange transponder and competition number. I crossed their path wondering whether there was an event on and cross the southern end of the valley ridge, to continue on a steady descent towards Sergeants Crag. It looked like a short rocky scramble was on the cards to attain the summit, but as I approached there was a clear path to the rocky pinnacle, having long lost any appetite to get engaged with a scramble. The Bessyboot ridges to the west were occasionally bathed in watery, patchy sunlight, and I took my photos from my buttressed heights and descended downwards to Eagle Crag. My trousers had actually dried out at Ullscarf, but the resumption of the rain from Greenup Edge eroded my spirits again, as I sloshed my way towards my final Wainwright of the day.
After erroneously crossing a ladder stile, and then immediately crossing it back again, I caught the final muddy path to the summit. It was from here that the weather dried out again and the steep rocky flanks of Ullscarf showed their beauty, in stark contrast to the view from above them. There were numerous ravines, scree falls and browning autumnal bracken that textured its well defended summit crag, with the now audible flows of Greenup Gill at its base, with a stoney path tracking its way through the valley.
The final descent of the day was a little bit off-piste, with no obvious path to descend. I took a direct approach but soon came up against some steep grassy crags that I really didn’t fancy sliding down on my bum. Instead I kept tracking back north through the thick bracken, crossing the occasional stream, until the grassy slopes slackened off and followed a boggy waterway down towards the main stream. The path was across to the other side of the stream, so after some careful scouting southwards, I managed to find a non-treacherous crossing point, and not really caring at this point whether I submerged my boots in its fast flowing current, I stepped onto the opposite path and again was greeted by a steady stream of fell-runners. I chatted briefly to one of the runners who told me that he was competing in the “7 Valleys” 50 mile ultra marathon, which starts at Ambleside and snakes its route round to eventually finish at Keswick. There was also a 115 mile version that was running concurrently, the “13 Valleys”.
I have nothing but admiration for the beleaguered entrants, but absolutely zero desire to do anything like that myself in the future. My quest for completing the Wainwrights is driven purely to better my mental health, get me out of my house on the weekends, with a healthy goal to aim for. Having started over a year ago, my confidence and experience in hiking the Lakeland fells has improved no end, and though I still struggle with my fear of heights, the satisfaction I have after each successful hike is very rewarding, with each a mini adventure. I do not want to complete the Wainwrights at all costs, nor complete them in double quick time just for the sake of having done it. I want to enjoy them; I don’t want to rush them.
I must have said about a hundred “well done and good luck for the rest” to the fell runners, most of whom were walking with a grimace at this point, but I didn’t envy them, knowing how much they had to endure just to get to the top of this section at Greenup Edge (via Lining Crag, as opposed to the way I had come). One of the runners made me chuckle as they exclaimed to their companion: “I never want to see another stone in all of my life” – I could empathise. The path down the valley was stoney, required maximum concentration and zero distractions, if I were to avoid twisting another ankle. There were also multiple stream crossings, until it eventually levelled out and deposited me back to my car in Rosthwaite.
Some key stats from the day: 18 km, 890 m ascent, two soaked hiking boots, one tomato, cheese and broccoli quiche, 56 seconds of direct sunlight and upwards of 15 million muddy puddles negotiated.
114/214
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Did a short 6 mile walk with some of the bootcamp members. Seemed quite short (2h25) but it did have some decent up hills. Plenty of Surrey hills rolling vistas, St Mathas seemed lovely.
Stayed dry, warm, plenty of there people out.
Collapsed into a snooze yesterday afternoon for a couple hours - I'd done bootcamp Friday, Saturday and then the hike, not had much sleep etc, so very much needed.
Stayed dry, warm, plenty of there people out.
Collapsed into a snooze yesterday afternoon for a couple hours - I'd done bootcamp Friday, Saturday and then the hike, not had much sleep etc, so very much needed.
I'd really like to find a walking group around here that can move at a decent speed. The ones i've found are pretty leisurely and social at paces like the above. Mainly as they're older and retired and so consideration needs to be factored in for them. Whereas i'd rather be working relatively hard rather than plodding.
The social side would be nice, as i am relatively isolated, but i just don't have the available time to waste 3-4 hours a week on a slow plod when i could be actively getting fitter at a more enjoyable (for me) pace.
The social side would be nice, as i am relatively isolated, but i just don't have the available time to waste 3-4 hours a week on a slow plod when i could be actively getting fitter at a more enjoyable (for me) pace.
I don't mind walking on my own. I like listening to audio dramas off the radio (BBC Sounds) or audiobooks while I walk.
Me too.
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Just wanted to reply to say I got one of these before a 5 day trip to Keswick and 5 days of walking and it was absolutely brilliant. We got some pretty poor weather on 2 days and I was bone dry and didn't feel a bit of the wind. I'm absolutely terrified of heights. I get shudders when someone else is too close to the edge let alone myself. I was with experienced climbers and had to dig deeper than I ever have.I've had this waterproof jacket for years mate. It's never let me down.
DLX Mens Waterproof Jacket Oswalt
Stay dry in style with the Trespass DLX Mens Waterproof Jacket Oswalt. Premium quality for ultimate protection. Order now!www.trespass.com
Usually just over £250, but it's currently on sale for £120.
Excellent in the rain and wind. Breathable too. Can easily wear layers underneath it like a fleece if needed too.
In fact, I just got back home yesterday from a 5 day trip at the Lake District, which was wet for some of the days. This jacket saved me on the 2 days that it did rain up there.
Managed to do:
Ullock Pike 690m, Long Side 734m, Skiddaw 930m, Carl Side 747m on Thursday
Skelgill Bank 338m, Catbells 451m, Bull Crag, Maiden Moor 575m, Blea Crag 634m, Red Crag, Eel Crag, High Spy 653m, Miners Crag on Tuesday.
My heart rate figures for thursday are absolutely comical. I can see the fear on the graph
I'm very much looking forward to returning.Thanks again for the recommendations!
Excellent stuff mate, glad the jacket was golden!Just wanted to reply to say I got one of these before a 5 day trip to Keswick and 5 days of walking and it was absolutely brilliant. We got some pretty poor weather on 2 days and I was bone dry and didn't feel a bit of the wind. I'm absolutely terrified of heights. I get shudders when someone else is too close to the edge let alone myself. I was with experienced climbers and had to dig deeper than I ever have.
Managed to do:
Ullock Pike 690m, Long Side 734m, Skiddaw 930m, Carl Side 747m on Thursday
Skelgill Bank 338m, Catbells 451m, Bull Crag, Maiden Moor 575m, Blea Crag 634m, Red Crag, Eel Crag, High Spy 653m, Miners Crag on Tuesday.
My heart rate figures for thursday are absolutely comical. I can see the fear on the graph
Thanks again for the recommendations!
It's fantastic isn't it? Catbells was one that we planned to do when we went up there end of August/start of September, but couldn't fit it in with everything else we were doing unfortunately. We'll definitely be heading back up there at some point.
For somebody who is afraid of heights, you've climbed a heck of a lot of peaks there! You should be proud of yourself
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What's peoples favourite app of choice. I've used OS maps the last year and I really like that I can plan routes on my pc and select two points and have it snap the route for me. It ran out today and I'm considering using another. I really like what strava does with the 3D map of your route when you have finished. Kamoot apparently does the same, so I'm thinking of giving that a trial.
Kamoot is decent. I've used it for planning out routes.