A Wasdale Wild camp

1/2/3.4.14
Walking with; Al

Choosing my favourite Lakeland valley is a little bit like being asked to name the best player in the Welsh rugby team of the 70s or the best pub in Manchester, there are many, many viable options in the frame. However, just as the names of JPR and "The Briton's Protection" end up coming to the fore more times than any other contender can manage, Wasdale is their Lake District equivalent. Ennerdale, Eskdale and Borrowdale all have their qualities and charms but in Wasdale you feel you are properly in real mountain country. It has the deepest lake and highest peak in England, it has "The Wasdale Head Inn" beloved of generations of climbers, the view of the lake from Scafell Pike was voted Britain's favourite and it is home to Joss Naylor, the greatest ever fell runner, it is a land worthy of the superlatives!
  Al and I parked up on the shores of Wastwater and after shouldering overnight packs (a bit of a shock to the system) headed off up Greendale Gill in distinctly un-Lakeland like sunshine. Greendale Tarn is beautifully situated between Seatallan and Middle Fell and after a quick lunch stop it was onwards in the direction of Haycock. The cloud level was low, but there was little breeze and the views down Nether Beck were sublime. The summit of Haycock was attained after a short, rocky scramble and it was on to Scoat Fell masked in cloud. Luckily, the cloud lifted and there stood the magnificent ridge of Steeple jutting out toward the re-wilding Ennerdale, another runner in the race for best valley. Wainwright said of Steeple, “Seen on a map, it commands the eye and quickens the pulse, seen in reality it does the same“ and he is right! It's a short scramble along the ridgeline to reach the summit and it's expansive views over Ennerdale are well worth the detour. From Steeple it was on to Pillar, the eighth highest peak in the Lakes, and a huge, broad summit topped with a wind shelter and number of cairns. The descent from Pillar is hard on the knees and by the time we reached the Black Sail Pass the packs were feeling heavy and our bellies growling, so we decided to set up camp for the night just above the second of the two small tarns in a perfectly sheltered spot. There was barely a breath of wind and the clouds were rolling over the hills into Ennerdale as we sat and cooked up our tea. It was a clear night and under a starry sky I did a little night nav whilst Al enjoyed the utter peace and solitude of this fantastic camp spot.
  A cuppa and porridge pot watching the sunrise....not a bad way to start the day, and then we were away to Kirk Fell. The scramble up Kirkfell Crags is a decent challenge with full pack but it wasn't long before we were crossing the expansive plateau towards the summit with views of the Scafell massif and Wastwater far below. Great Gable came next, a genuine contender for the best mountain in the Lakes and squeaking in at a disappointingly specific 899m! The climb up was not as gruelling as I remembered and it wasn't too long before we were stood before the Fell and Rock Climbing Club memorial plaque, there were still plenty of poppies and crosses remembering the fallen. Last time I'd been up there I'd ended up descending the screes in a state of exhilarated terror but this time we took the steep, but less terrifying route down to Styhead. Styhead is the Spaghetti Junction of this part of the world and as we approached we saw our first other walkers of the day, coming from all directions, we were amongst those carrying on to "The Corridor Route". Having only ascended Scafell Pike from Wasdale before this was a pleasantly walker free route with Wasdale Head sitting far below and the awesome slash of Piers Gill cutting through the rock beneath Lingmell. Ravens circled overhead as we hit Lingmell Coll and slogged up the last ascent to temporarily be the highest people in the whole of England. Scafell Pike often disappoints in terms of views due to cloud and rain but the views today were some of the best I've seen from this particular summit. As the highest peak in the country it is rarely quiet on the summit and it's less than pretty top is also rarely litter free. It's perplexing that anyone willing to expend the energy to climb to the top is unwilling to expend the additional energy to carry their crap off the top with them. It's hardly an original rant, but no less heartfelt for all that. We dropped down to Mickledore and from there descended the scree slope down to Hollow Stones before following the well trodden path down Brown Tongue to the lake and then on alongside the forboding body of water to our cars and a welcome rest.
   Al had to head home but I fancied a wee bit more navigation practice so headed over to the excellent Grasmere YHA for a well earned kip. I left the hostel the next morning and made my way up towards the lumpy, bumpy land between Brigstone and Blindtarn Mosses! It's a great area for navigation and I wrestled with my 1:50,000, which I still find a tougher scale to work with, but eventually had some success finding my way around the area and enjoyed the views from Lang How down towards Langdale. The path that skirts the summit took me round to Silver How and after a final view down towards Grasmere and Rydal it was back to the hostel and home after a cracking couple of days of Lakeland exploration.

Honister, Great Langdale and points in between

6-8/8/13
Walking with; Nobody/Nathan 

Not being in possession of either children or gainful employment I'd kind of forgotten how the Summer holidays affect the Lake District. There are hills best avoided under these conditions and yet I'd already planned a roughish selection of wanderings to occupy me over three days and I was loathe to stray too far from my prescribed ideas. Whilst it was considerably busier than usual I was fortunate that a little judicious route selection and some reasonably timed starts minimised the amount of contact I was required to have with the many hundreds thronging the fells!
Day one started at the prohibitively priced NT car park in Seatoller. I'd been a member once and when they tried to strong arm us into renewing the subscription they wanted £92 for a couple, the exorbitant fees are clearly the latest example of strong arming people into membership...Heading off up Thorneythwaite Fell (try saying that after a pint or three of Snecklifter) I was soon being treated to views of Derwentwater and the crags above Comb Gill. I was heading for Glaramara, a previous attempt had had to be aborted due to the depth of snow http://www.comewalkwithmeuk.co.uk/2012/12/borrowdaleand-snow.html, so I was keen to get it under my belt. The final gentle scramble onto the summit proved very rewarding, two hours in to my Lakeland August odyssey and still not a soul to be seen! I was experimenting with a 1:50000 scale OS in order to sharpen my identification of contours but my brain hadn't quite computed the full repercussions so the wander over to Allen Crags took me twice as long as I had convinced myself it would. Arriving at the Crags and with Great End and Esk Hause in clear view I discovered where all the Summer visitors had been, it was akin to Oxford Street in December, people (and dogs) here, there and everywhere! The path most being trodden appeared to be the one towards Scafell Pike but I dropped off it and headed over to Great End for magnificent views and some close inspection by a rescue chopper which circled the summit for some time. Leaving the tops I followed Ruddy Gill down to Seathwaite and then tramped along The Allerdale Ramble back to Seatoller from where I headed up to the YHA at Honister. Whilst it may be that the hostel could do with a lick of paint and a wee bit of TLC, the staff were friendly, the beer cold and the views spectacular all for the price of a good bottle of wine!
The next morning started with the steep haul up Grey Knotts where I snapped a sure fire winner for the "Trail magazine-Face of Fatigue". The top was reached and the vistas opened out in all directions, Borrowdale, Buttermere, Ennerdale, the heart of the Lakes. The walking over Brandreth and upto Green Gable was gentle and I slipped and slid my way down the Aaron Slack for a bite to eat at Styhead Tarn. Last time I'd been here the snow was knee deep and I'd had the place pretty much to myself, but by lunchtime on a Thursday in August there were already two tents pitched and a plethora of walkers milling about. I headed on up and before too long was escaping the bulk of the crowds once more and slowly ascending Esk Pike for more views back towards England's highest peak. I had one more peak in mind for the day, Bowfell, which I duly meandered up before the descent to the Three Tarns and then down the knee crunching The Band to arrive in Great Langdale with the sun shining and the lure of a good pint foremost in my mind. Tent pitched and chilli cooked it was time to head off to "The Old Dungeon Ghyll" and then "The Stickleback" to refresh myself with a couple of pints of Esthwaite Ale and Loweswater Gold!
Nathan had come across to join me for the Thursday. We headed off into Mickleden and began the brutal climb up Rossett Pike, this was made slightly less arduous for us by the sight of eight gents hefting their mountain bikes up and over the summit, respect due. We carried on to Angle Tarn and gradually ascended to Esk Hause where perched upon one of the shelter walls I found the Guinness cap that I had inadvertently left there the afternoon before! Honest bunch walkers? Or perhaps the sweat stained soiled and grubby cap hadn't proved enough of a prize for anyone to covet, who knows? We'd decided to do a traverse around Great Gable and stopped opposite Lingmell for a bit of rope work practice, still one of my bete noirs! The traverse was spectacular, crossing the screes with stunning views down Wasdale and we eventually ended up at Beck Head from where we made our way back towards Honister with some truly awesome views back down Ennerdale and towards Buttermere and Crummock Water.
Even in the height of Summer there are still plenty of spots where it's possible to find a little Lakeland solitude and the sunshine and the views made this three of my favourite days out so far this year! All that being said, roll on September and the hills to myself once more!

Wasdale in the Wet

13/14.9.12
Walking with; Nobody
                 


I am developing another worrying addiction. Since quitting cigarettes, I have had a number of these ranging from Pork scratchings to Charlie Sheen's version of "Two and a Half Men", however, my latest, Wasdale, is healthier than any that have gone before it. I love this valley containing the deepest lake in England surrounded by forboding, scree slopes and peaks with the intimidating look of proper hills. It has become my Lake District go to this year, in spite of (or perhaps because of) the difficulty in reaching it by road, and even in horrendous conditions it hasn't let me down. I left Manchester in sunshine and arrived in Wasdale with cloud blanketing the tops and rain coming down, undeterred I donned every item of waterproof clothing I possessed and set off up Yewbarrow. At 628m it is not one of the higher peaks in the area but it sits above the lake and has a satisfyingly mountainous profile. It is reckoned to be named for the Yew trees that once thrived in the area and it's shape which resembles (with a little imagination) the bottom, or barrow, of an upturned boat. I took the route up through the Great Door, an entertaining little scramble traversing plenty of water and involving an amount of effort that made achieving the cloudbound summit very satisfying in spite of the lack of view! It was cold on the top so I hurried on along to Stirrup Crag from where I dropped down towards Over Beck where I squelched my way back along the valley following the path above Bowderdale with nobody but a few bedraggled sheep for company.
The drying room, pint of Snecklifter and library of the Wastwater YHA provided welcome respite from the weather and a warm and comfortable bed for the night.The hostel is a half-timbered house dating from 1829 and owned by the National Trust and the grounds at the front run right down onto the lake with great views of the forbidding scree slopes of Illgill Head.
I set off early next morning in sunshine, but by the time I'd driven the three miles to Wasdale Head it was raining and the wind was so strong that the car was rocking in the carpark, undeterred I headed off past the Inn (famed as one of the birthplaces of contemporary British climbing) and into the beautiful Mosedale. One of the benefits of inclement weather is that it greatly reduces the number of other people you meet in the hills and I had this fantastic dale to myself. Gatherstone Beck was in full spate so I spared myself the crossing and followed it's Eastern bank up to Black Sail Pass where the views down to Ennerdale and lonely Black Sail were impressive and where the wind funnelled through with such force it was all I could do to stay upright. Wet weather and scree do not make for the most comfortable scrambling companions and the ascent of Kirk Fell was (probably) just the wrong side of scary........it certainly got the adrenalin pumping and made the reward of popping up onto the top at the same time as a rainbow appeared behind me doubly satisfying. Kirk Fell is, however, not the most secnic of tops and with nothing to subdue the force of the wind was not a place to stop and I soon found myself nestling down behind some stones at Beck Head Tarn and watching another adventurerer trying not to be blown off the ascent of Great Gable.

 

 

 The power of a good cheese roll to inspire is not to be underestimated and I had Great Gable under my belt in less than an hour. Standing at 899m it is a truly impressive peak and worth the buffeting and battering the wind had given me on the way up. The lure of the Wadale Head Inn was growing ever stronger and I decided on the direct path down via Little Hell Gate and Gavel Neese, sure the contours were closely grouped on the map and the name sounded a little intimidating, but it was the "crow flies" route.......An hour of scree surfing, slipping, sliding and taking lots of deep breaths my feet hit solid ground once more with my thighs screaming and knees protesting and the odd hole or two in the bottom of my waterproof trousers. It is not a route I'll be taking again.....Lingmell Beck led me back to a pint in the pub and a wander round England's smallest church, St Olaf's. The gravestones bear testament to the dangers of the surrounding hills and also house members of famous fell runner and Wadale resident, Joss Naylor's, family. It's a peaceful little spot to contemplate both an ever growing addiction the splendour that surrounds even when you're soaking wet through!

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