Three Lake District walks

21/22/23.1.14
Walking with; Rob

So far, this Winter, south of the border at least, has been characterised by a disappointing lack of the white stuff on the ground. January walks in the Lake District should be about blue skies and crisp ground underfoot, not grey skies and swampy conditions, none the less, three days of back to back walking was just too good an opportunity to pass up.
For the first of my three walks I wanted to try somewhere different, somewhere I was unlikely to bump into many others, somewhere off the beaten track...Lorton Fells fitted the bill admirably, even more so when it was revealed to me that the Whinlatter Pass was closed reducing access only to those determined enough to take the lengthy detour via Cockermouth. The area is heavily forested but it didn't take long to get above the treeline and make my way onto the blowy top of Lord's Seat. Although it only stands at 552m the views belie the relative lack of height. Skiddaw, head in the clouds loomed to the East, Keswick and Derwentwater sat to the South and across the Solway Firth Scotland was visible in the distance. I dropped down onto the delightfully named Barf where the views of Bassenthwaite opened out even further before contouring round below Lord's Seat and continuing along the fine ridge to Broom Fell and lunching in the stone shelter below the impressive cairn. The ridge then drops gradually to the Darling How Plantation and from there it was a short scramble to the top of Graystones where the strong winds were joined by not inconsiderable rain. A quick detour onto the top of Kirk Fell and then it was down the perilously steep slope to Scawgill Bridge and a gentle wander through the trees to Spout Force which (thanks to the incessant rain) was looking truly impressive. With the rain now thoroughly persisting it down, the logical decision was back to Keswick and the sweet, beery embrace of "The Dog and Gun".
   After a night of purgatorial wakefulness thanks to the "World's Loudest Snorer" who had holed up in the same dorm as me at the Keswick YHA, Rob picked me up and we headed off towards Catbells, another fell that punches well above it's weight in the effort to view ratio. We took the path leading up to the summit over Skelgill Bank and then carried on to Bull Crag and across Maiden Moor. Apparently the Beatrix Potter character Mrs Tiggywinkle lived in a burrow somewhere on the fells, but we saw no sign of hedgehogs, just a couple of Ravens and a Kestrel sitting in the wind. Last time I'd been on High Spy I was barely able to stand http://www.comewalkwithmeuk.co.uk/2013/04/a-wet-wild-and-windy-lakeland-trip.html , and whilst it wasn't exactly sunbathing weather, it was a little more benign this time around. Tongue Gill was in full spate as we made our knee crunching descent before following the path back past Castle Crag to our starting point.
  Unable to face another night with the king of the snorers, I'd changed hostel (Ambleside) and pub (The Unicorn) and spent a far better night. Stockghyll Force was looking as impressive as Spout Force had a few days before as I climbed out of Ambleside and up onto Wansfell Pike. The summit is well won from the West and it was a steep climb made a little easier by the views to the snowy tops of the Kentmere Fells and Red Screes. Attaining the top I followed the ridge North East and then crossed the boggy fields below Idle Hill to eventually reach "The Kirkstone Pass Inn" just as the snow started to fall. Records for this venerable building date back to 1496 and it was a welcome sight as Red Screes disappeared from view in a flurry of falling snow. After stretching out a coffee and comparing notes with another sheltering soul I decided against my original plan of scrambling the snowy gullies of Red Screes and made my way back down to Ambleside via High Grove. The abandoned building at High Grove looked like something out of a horror film with a smashed up caravan and the depressing detritus of an uncared for, semi-abandoned farm building. About a mile before the town, I was hit by a broadside of vicious sleet and hail which had me scrambling for the nearby shelter of a jerrybuilt stone wall, but by the time I made the bottom of the hill there was sunshine over the Kirkstone pass once more!

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A wet, wild and windy Lakeland trip

15/16/17.4.13
Walking with; Nobody

Illness had followed injury and I was itching to get out again and try the knee on something other than the grey, rain slick pavements of South Manchester. In my excitement I decided to dig out the tent and make it the first night under "canvas" of the year........hmmmmm, perhaps a more than cursory glance at the weather forecast might have been an idea! I reached Buttermere over the Honister Pass and after setting up camp decided a gentle perambulation round the lake followed by a couple of restorative pints in "The Fish" might be a decent way to ensure no knee niggles remained. The water was coursing down Sour Milk Gill, but the clouds remained high and I could see across to Grasmoor and, up the lake, Fleetwith Pike. The circuit is a gentle, undemanding stroll, popular with dog walkers and families, but it felt good to be out again and Spring, in the shape of lambs, catkins, budding Hawthorn and flocks of finches chattering away, was very much in evidence. "The Fish" was disappointingly unatmospheric for such an historic inn, once home to the "Maid of Buttermere", Mary Robinson, subject of a Melvyn Bragg novel and mentioned in Wordsworth's "Prelude". "The Bridge" sadly was little better so I retreated to my tent with my trangia and a bottle of Hesketh Newmarket beer.
3am, my Vango Banshee 200 finally gave in after five hours of manfully battling gusts of  upto 70mph and torrential rain, with a pop, the poles bent and I awoke to a faceful of wet tent........to the car for three hours of fitful sleep as the gales howled around me. The advantage of being fully clothed and awake at 6am is that you're pretty sure to be first out on the fells, so bleary eyed I headed towards the Scales Bridge and Crummock Water, keeping a half shut weather eye on the inky black clouds adorning the top of Fleetwith Pike. I passed Scale Force and rounded the end of Mellbreak into Mosedale and after reaching the famous Holly Tree (even marked and mentioned on the OS map), it was a steep slog straight up to follow the ridge to the accepted summit on the Southern end. The wind on the top was vicious and it was head down and across to the Northern end (putting up a Snipe on the way) for fine views across to Lorton Vale and where I was able to watch a Peregrine playing in the wind and spectacular sheets of spray coming off Crummock Water. The path down was a cross between a goat path and scree slope but I made it down to St Bartholomew's at Loweswater and enjoyed a bit of RNR in the crocus and daffodil studded graveyard, glad to be out of the wind and imagining how tough life must have been for the Yeomans buried in family plots dotted between the flowers. Standing on the shores of Crummock Water was like facing an Atlantic gale, the wind was whipping across the water and as well as the spray, waves were crashing onto the shore, I'm not sure I've ever seen bigger waves on a Lake District water. I ended my walk by following the path up Rannerdale below Whiteless Pike before dropping down into Buttermere.
A night in the YHA in Keswick was more restful than the previous one, even if my dorm mate bore a startling resemblance to Charles Manson, in not only appearance, but, more alarmingly, behaviour! The morning, however, dawned wet and windy and I decided my old nemesis Skiddaw might not be such a great idea under the circumstances. Instead I headed off to Grange and decided to take on High Spy. In spite of the sheets of rain and gale force gusts, the scramble/clamber up Nitting Haws was great fun, the slopes cloaked with Juniper, Silver Birch and Holly and by the time I reached the plateau at the top of the falls I was really enjoying myself. As I edged up towards the summit ridge the wind suddenly intensified and by the time I reached the summit cairn I could barely stand and my face was being battered by needle sharp arrows of rain being driven across the ridge. It was not a time to be hanging around and, head down, I scuttled off towards the shelter of the old quarry works at Rigghead as fast as I could. Arriving once more on the Allerdale Ramble I met my first other walkers of the day, hardy souls that they were, before route marching back to the car, dumping my wet clothes in the boot and heading off to Tebay services for sustenance as fast as my Ford Focus could carry me!

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