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.

A walk around the Lakes by Hunter Davies

Despite being born in Scotland Hunter Davies is a Lakeland man through and through, he moved to Carlisle at the age of 11 and in addition to this wide ranging view of the Lake District he has also written a biography of the one and only Alfred Wainwright. He has a Summer home near Loweswater and the affection he feels for the area and it's history is clear in this enjoyably written study.
I initially confused the unusually monikered Hunter, with shouty TV comedy army sort, Windsor, (they both have impressive mustaches), and even once I had been alerted to the fact they were not one and the same the vein of humour running through the book is distinctly agreeable. Davies takes an unusual approach interspersing self deprecating tales of his own adventures through all the major Lakes locations; Windermere, Hawkshead, Coniston, Langdale, Grasmere et al with a literary history focusing predominantly on the poetry of Wordsworth, Southey and Coleridge. In addition to these poetic titans further tales are told of Beatrix Potter, John Peel, Thomas de Quincy (a frightful gossip by all accounts), John Ruskin and the redoubtable Canon Rawnsley, all of whom played a significant part in creating what is the modern Lake District.
In spite of his eccentric habits, he decides to walk only in wellington boots or Green Flash plimsols, Davies is an energetic and enthusiastic walker with a nice eye for the absurd and a storyteller's natural flair and rhythm. He gets lost not infrequently, mixes with Earls and commoners alike and has a knack for getting people to talk to him as a conversation rather than an interview.
Written in 1979 it is inevitable that much has changed since this book was first published and it is interesting to relate my experiences of Lakeland walking 25 years on with Davies's, particularly in areas like Ennerdale where the re-wilding project has had such an impact taking over from the heavy forestry so despised by Wainwright. None-the-less for a firm grounding in Lakeland literary history coupled with a profusion of walker's anecdotes this book is well worth digging out.

Skiddaw via Ullock Pike

30.5.13
Walking with; Nobody

Another one of England's big boys under my belt, but Skiddaw is doing it's level best not to enthuse me. A couple of years ago I tried the ascent from Dodd, the cloud came down, my confidence evaporated and I gave up  making a vertiginous descent down a gully off Longside Edge. A friend suggested the ascent via Ullock Pike and the ridge would make for a quieter and more pleasant route than the tourist track from Latrigg, and so it proved as I only met two other walkers on this route up to Carl Side Tarn. The wind was already blowing but the views back to Bassenthwaite were gorgeous, Skiddaw sat like a big, ugly lump of rock, but a big ugly lump of rock with a visible summit, this wasn't to last long........By the time I'd reached Ullock Pike and hunkered down on the Western side to escape the savage wind, the cloud had dropped and the path ahead lead into nothing more than thick murk, Skiddaw 2 Howellsey 0? Thankfully not, my confidence and navigation skills are much improved and the path from Carl Side is not an easy one to stray from so after much slatey slogging I reached the summit where a helpful plaque informed me of all the wonderful views I could have had from this point on another day!
After taking advantage of a stone shelter to grab a quick sandwich, I started to head down the Latrigg Trail before heading off to Skiddaw Little Man with it's quirky cairn containing what looked like the remains of a plough. Visibility was very poor, so I skirted across the scree slopes re-emerging on the path up from Carl Side. As I dropped below the cloud line, the views to Derwent Water opened up and I picked my way down the knee crunching path to the foot of Dodd which I'd decided to end the afternoon's events on. It's a fifteen minute stroll up the forestry track but the views of both Bassenthwaite and Derwent Water are remarkable for such little effort and well worth the comparative ugliness of the forestry scarred slopes. I rested on the top before making one of those fundamental mistakes that I really thought I'd managed to stop making, instead of checking the map or following my prescribed route I saw a couple of people who "looked as if they knew what they were doing" and followed them, doh! Half an hour later, scratched and bloodied and now lacking any sign of my map, I emerged from a conifer plantation so dense only my uncanny ability as a limbo dancer got me through in one piece. My sole consolation was that as I did emerge, an Osprey circled above me probably thinking "How the hell did he get down that way?" The rest of the walk was in sunshine and followed gentler paths back towards High Side and the vivid, yellow Gorse.
I spent the night at Cockermouth staying in the beautiful, traditional style YHA set in an old watermill and I would heartily recommend it as an accommodation. http://www.yha.org.uk/hostel/cockermouth. Whilst there I met three lovely Scottish ladies doing a fundraising walk for The Bhopal medical appeal and I promised I would give them a plug! www.bhopal.org The town itself has a couple of decent pubs in the 1761 and Bitter End http://www.bitterend.co.uk/ and is a pleasant place to recuperate after a further falling out with England's fourth highest peak!

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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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A Grasmere overnighter

14/15.2.13
Walking with; Nobody

Last time I stopped in Grasmere was a couple of years ago on my Coast to Coast walk and my impression of the village was of a shrine to Wordsworth that lacked a decent Lakeland pub. I'd stayed in the Thorney How Hostel which at that time was owned by the YHA but is now operating on an independent basis. I stayed on this visit at the Butharlyp Howe hostel (pronounced Butterlip) and have nothing but praise for it, a beautiful building in an excellent location with Goldcrests in the garden. I arrived later than intended after too much wine the night before and fish and chips in Ambleside, so decided on something gentle to stretch the legs and stimulate the mind with thoughts of "lonesome wandering".
Leaving Grasmere I headed out past Dove Cottage (Wordsworth's home from 1799-1808 when he sold it to Thomas de Quincy) and started ascending on the old coffin route across to Rydal and Rydal Mount where Wordsworth lived later in his life. The coffin route is so named as before Rydal and Ambleside had churches of their own, bodies used to be carried (in coffins) to St Oswald's church in Grasmere for burial. As I climbed out of the village I passed one of the coffin stones that was used to  rest coffins on in order to provide the bearers with a break. The path was very slushy underfoot, the dump of snow on Wednesday was already thawing and there was water everywhere, but the views across to Rydal Water were beautiful with the water reflecting Loughrigg Terrace. Passing Rydal Mount I continued through the village and after crossing the River Rothay meandered out onto the slopes of Loughrigg and the impressive caves caused by quarrying on the fell.  The walk along Loughrigg Terrace back towards Redbank Wood was breathtaking with views across Grasmere, Helm Crag and back to Nab Scar. Bags dropped off at the YHA I decided to try "Tweedies" bar and am very glad I did, there's not much better after an afternoon on the fells than a log fire, some locally brewed real ale and a steak and kidney pudding!
Day two, I headed off from the hostel and took the path away from the village and onto the lower slopes of Helm Crag. Whilst I couldn't really see any sign of the lion or the lamb, it's a handsome hill and from the summit there was some fantastic views back to the lakes I'd trawled round the previous day. Wainwright wrote of it, ""The virtues of Helm Crag have not been lauded enough. It gives an exhilarating little climb, a brief essay in real mountaineering, and, in a region where all is beautiful, it makes a notable contribution to the natural charms and attractions of Grasmere" and I'd be hard pressed to disagree. Leaving the summit, I followed the ridge along to Gibson Knott and continued over the Pike of Carr and Calf Crag. It was warm work even with the snow still lying thick on some parts of the path. Reaching the head of Far Easdale I began the descent into the valley stopping for a beautiful sunlit lunch at the foot of one of the many waterfalls where the sun shining through the spray created some beautiful rainbows. Following Far Easdale Gill back towards the village I took the permissive path through the grounds of the Lancrigg where I was lucky enough to come face to face with a beautiful Roe Deer standing in the woodland at the hotel entrance......a perfect end to a very good day of walking.

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First Lakeland trip of 2013

6/7.2.13
Walking with; Nobody

The Lake District in the snow is just about the best place to be in England so after a Monday snowfall I decided to head up there for an overnight trip staying at the Windermere YHA on the Troutbeck Road (http://www.yha.org.uk/hostel/windermere) . I got up there not long before lunch on the Wednesday and having parked up just outside Troutbeck set off up Robin Lane towards the snow sprinkled top of Wansfell Pike. As the path slowly climbed, the views across Windermere to the snow capped peaks beyond became ever more impressive. I turned onto Hundreds Road and then was out in open moorland and admiring the views across to Yoke and Ill Bell. The path was pretty iced up as I ascended steadily towards the South Western summit. The name Wansfell is believed to have been derived from the Old Norse for Woden's Fell and with the wind whipping across the ridge reddening the face and making the eyes water it had a distinctly Scandanavian feel to it!
I began the descent down to Ambleside, the path remaining slippery underfoot, and after meeting a few people struggling up the slope I arrived in the park around Stockghyll Force. Stock Ghyll is a tributary of the River Rothay and the falls tumble 70 feet towards the town through a pretty wooded vale. After browsing a few of the plethora of outdoor shops I settled on a pint at "The Royal Oak" and worked out my route back. Leaving Ambleside via Skelghyll Woods, the path passed the remote farm at High Skelghyll before leading back round towards Robin Lane. The sun was still shining though and I wasn't quite ready for home so added a loop via Wood Farm and Middlerigg Tarn (Goldeneyes, Pochard and Mute Swans) before heading back to the car and then the hostel via an hour of sitting in front of a crackling log fire at the fantastic "Mortal Man" pub (http://www.themortalman.co.uk/).
I was up early the next morning and parking my car in the layby next to Kentmere church just after 8am. Nowadays Kentmere is a tiny hamlet full of beautiful cottages but very remote, but it has an illustrious history and the fortified tower of Kentmere Hall is still a visible reminder of times past. The Gilpin family (who came over with William the Conquerer) owned the hall for 12 generations before all of it except the tower was destroyed by Cromwell's forces during the Civil War. The churchyard still contains the graves of the few hardy families who settled this area and there were a number of memorials to "Yeomans" (free man owning his own farm).
The Garburn Pass was slippery underfoot but as I set off I saw a herd of deer on the skyline which buoyed my spirits and by the time I was trudging through the snow towards the summit of Yoke the sun was peeking out through the clouds and a couple of other hardy walkers could be seen in the distance. The ridge walk from Yoke over Ill Bell and Froswick to Bleathwaite Crags was awesome......stunning scenery, deep snow making for challenging walking and almost complete silence. The route to Mardale Ill Bell was through even deeper snow and by the time I reached Nan Bield Pass I was both exhausted and felt I'd been genuinely challenged! I clambered up the steep slope onto Harter Fell with it's distinctive cairn spiked with metal and then continued across the exposed moorland through more deep snow to Kentmere Pike my final summit of the day. A little off piste descending scared both myself and the odd sheep before I finally made my way back to the edge of Kentmere and wound my way through the hamlet back to my car and a very welcome cup of coffee.
The Kentmere Round is a genuinely stunning walk and I would highly recommend it. It was challenging in winter conditions and it wouldn't be a place to be out if you were underequipped, but the views from Windermere to Haweswater are more than ample reward!

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Borrowdale......and snow!

4/5.12.12
Walking with; Nobody

Wainwright is allegedly described Borrowdale as "the loveliest square mile in the Lake District", it is also the wettest in terms of annual rainfall with the hamlet of Seathwaite taking the honours and receiving around 3.15 metres of rain a year! So, I couldn't really be surprised as I pulled into the carpark at Rosthwaite that the cloud was low and the rain starting to fall. I took the path across the fields towards the Youth Hostel where I was staying for the night before following the banks of the fast flowing Derwent towards the ominously named "Jaws of Borrowdale". It got wetter. By the time I started the ascent of Castle Crag,(the smallest Wainwright and the only one under 1000 feet), picking my way through the leafless skeletons of the trees the rain was bouncing off my hood, off the branches and even the Robins were looking for shelter in the Holly. Small it maybe, but Castle Crags is steep and by the time I had made my way through the slate workings and up the wiggles to the War Memorial on the summit I was breathing hard. There was still enough of a view to make the effort worthwhile. Ahead through the cloud lay the village of Grange and Derwentwater and below me Borrowdale lay bisected by the Derwent.
I descended onto a section of the Allerdale Ramble, a 54 mile route running from Seathwaite to the coast at Grune Point and followed it's gentle route until I reached the tumbling waters of Tongue Gill where I headed uphill through the ruins of Rigghead Quarry, atmospherically spooky as the light levels dropped, and onto the plateau of High Scawdell. In front of me Dale Head was blanketed in snow and looked magnificent. High Scawdell was covered in a scruffy layer of light snow which crunched underfoot as I made my way across to the partially frozen Launchy Tarn before the vertiginous descent down Scaleclose Gill back to the Allerdale Ramble which I followed down into Seatoller before retracing my steps back to Rosthwaite and The Scafell Hotel http://www.scafell.co.uk/ where a pint in front of an open fire helped to dry out my gear! Bed for the night was at the Borrowdale Youth Hostel, http://www.yha.org.uk/hostel/borrowdale where I made the most ofanother fire and another pint or two!
   It was minus three when I left the hostel full of porridge and a full English, but the sky was blue and there was not a cloud in sight. Wasdale Head always feels remote, but although Seathwaite has many nearer geographical neighbours it really feels extremely remote and must be a rough place to Winter.The path leads away from the hamlet with Base Brown and Glaramara towering on either side and both tops were well dusted with snow. Crossing Grains Gill at Stockley Bridge which afforded excellent views of Taylorgill Force, the icy path looped round Greenhow Knott before following Styhead Gill up to the eponymous tarn. The snow on Green and Great Gables looked beautiful in the sunshine but until the tarn was reached there wasn't much underfoot and with almost nobody else around and the sun warm if weak, it was a grand spot for a coffee and flapjack! Leaving Styhead I continued on through deepening snow up to Sprinkling Tarn and then onwards to the foot of Allen Crags. I'd considered heading over to Glaramara but the snow was getting ever deeper (I was passed by a couple pushing on further up complete with skis) and so after snapping a few more Scott of the Antarctic style photos of footprints in virgin snow, I dropped back down to the summit of Seathwaite Fell for lunch and to drink in the views.
Snow makes everything seem more adventurous, turns a walk into a trek, makes you feel as if you are pushing the boundaries and makes an amazing landscape, yet more amazing. It envelops the countryside in silence and yesterday there was nowhere else I'd rather have been!

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The Fairfield Horseshoe

5.10.12
Walking with; Nobody

After a night at Elterwater YHA (great staff and breakfast) I headed over to Ambleside and parked up before following the A591 along to Rydal. The path climbed out of the village and past Rydal Mount, the historic home of Lakeland poet William Wordsworth. The walk up to Nab Scar zig zagged across the hillside but as I gained height the views across to Windermere began to open out and I knew I was going to be in for a cracking day. The route essentially follows a long ridge that sits high above the valleys on either side and from Nab Scar the path took me along to Heron Pike. At this stage the sun was still shining and though Fairfield itself remained in the cloud the rest of the horseshoe opened up in glorious sunshine. The views took in Rydal Beck,Windermere, Rydal Water, Grasmere (where Wordsworth is buried) and endless miles of rolling hills, tarns and rivers, not to mention the incredible dry stone walls on the slopes of Low and High Pike on the opposite side. The last few weeks have proved to me that the Lake District is the equal of anywhere in the world, I have sat and gazed at spectacular vistas in Yosemite, the Dolomites, the Sourhern Alps and the Pyrenees but when the Lakes gets it right, it can hold a candle to any of them.
I pressed onwards onto Great Rigg and as I descended ahead of the last slog onto Fairfield's cloud hidden summit the rain hit. It was the kind of wind driven rain that stings the cheeks and the gusts blowing across the ridge made for a wearying final few hundred metres. The summit was completely enveloped in cloud and could be quite disorientating without a compass, none the less I made the top and sought a little shelter from the wind behind a pile of rocks where I met a Scottish lady doing much the same thing! Heading East off the summit and ontowards Dove Crag the clouds cleared a little. The rest of the route follows an incredible dry stone wall for at least three miles, this helps with navigation but also acts as a reminder of the long standing nature of farming in the area that has shaped the landscape we see from this spectacular route. There were equally impressive examples on the steep solpes of Red Screes as the rocky path continued downhill through various peat bogs on it's long, slow way back to Ambleside. Eventually you emerge on the campus of the University of Cumbria before popping out almost opposite the excellent "The Golden Rule" pub http://goldenrule-ambleside.co.uk/ for a well earned pint of Robinson's Double Hop.
This route truly is a lakeland classic and combines sensational views with a satisfying amount of challenge. It also includes eight Wainwrights so is a good one for peak baggers/collectors!

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A Langdale Round involving lots of Pikes and Stickles

4.10.12
Walking with; Nobody

Definition of PIKE

dialect English

: a mountain or hill having a peaked summit —used especially in place names

Origin of PIKE

Middle English, perhaps of Scandinavian origin; akin to Norwegian dialect pīk pointed mountain

First Known Use: 13th century

As I sat in Windermere Youth Hostel trying to drown out the din of a school group involved in noisily debating the merits of their quiz answers, I poured myself a glass of Jennings fine Cockerhoop beer and fell to reading, as one does in these situations, an ancient back edition of "TGO" or "Trail". A feature caught my eye on the differing names for mountains in the different parts of the UK and I read on intrigued by the world of Fells, Pikes and Tors. It hardened my resolve to visit Langdale the next morning and take in a round including both the Pikes of Blisco and Stickle!
   I parked at Blea Tarn and managed to time my setting off to perfectly coincide with a shower, but the views back to the Pike of Stickle were already spectacular. Striking off towards the Wrynose Pass the ground was sodden and water was running off the mountain but as I climbed the road I emerged out of cloud as I started to ascend the back of Blisco. The cloud inversion was spectacular, one of the best I've ever seen (up there with Alp D'Huez and the Queen Charlotte Track in NZ) and once I was through it the Pike of Blisco sat bathed in sunlight. The wind on the top was strong and chill so after a brief consultation with the map I left my fellow summmit baggers and descended to Red Tarn and then down, down and still further down in the shadow of Great Knott to the valley floor where my screaming knees were finally rested. I proceded into Mickleden and began the long, slow ascent up Stake Pass where I stopped for refuelling with a great view of Blisco across the valley. I continued on to Martcrag Moor, defined by Wainwright as demarcating the edge of the Central Fells and, today (and I suspect everyday), very heavy underfoot. As I tramped ever forward I was met with more rain and then a rainbow as I climbed up towards the Pike of Stickle. The rain had left the rock very greasy and a few would-be summiters were turning back but I slid and scrambled and as much by luck as judgement ended up alone on the top with views of my whole route so far and onto Windermere in the distance.

 

 Harrison Stickle awaited and then onwards downhill, with more creaking knees, to Stickle Tarn, sat in the magnificent shadow of Pavey Arc. The path down Stickle Ghyll showcased a pair of Raven and some beautiful, vibrant Rowan berries but was very slippery and I was glad to reach Langdale and the Dungeon Ghylls once more. Tempted as I was by a pint in either of the esteemed hotels I pressed on below Side Pike and back along the atmospheric shores of the tarn. Post walk refreshment had to wait until "The Britannia Inn" in Elterwater, but the wait was very well worth it!

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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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Ennerdale

6/7.8.12
Walking with; Nobody

The Lake District in Summer can be a pretty horrendous place, Bowness can be akin to Blackpool and on my drive up both Ambleside and Keswick were too hectic to even consider stopping. I eventually found a spot of lunch in Cockermouth and can heartily recommend "Main Street Fisheries" for an excellent portion of fish and chips. Ennerdale however remains a relatively tranquil oasis, it's remoteness means it gets considerably less visitors than many of the other lakes and apart from a trickle of Coast to Coasters I had the place to myself for the majority of the walking.
   I arrived on the Monday afternoon and parked my car outside the picturesque YHA http://www.yha.org.uk/hostel/ennerdale which is housed in an old foresters cottage a couple of miles along a dirt track and has it's own hydro-electric power supply, an excellent selection of cakes and scones and no mobile phone, reception, internet or television....all adding to the tranquility. It also has a superb view of Pillar from the breakfast room. On Day one, I contented myself with a gentle stroll along the forestry track taking in the views of Pillar, Crag Fell, Anglers Crag and Ennerdale Water. I watched a couple of Peregrines playing above the forest, snacked on billberries in the woods and listened to the distinctive "cronk" of a Raven. I found a bench to sit on and watched the shadows of the clouds flit across the hills and generally revelled in doing nothing, hearing nothing and seeing nobody........Back to the hostel for a few pints of "Snecklifter" and a good nights sleep ahead of a slightly tougher Tuesday.
  Fuelled by a cooked breakfast I set off on Tuesday morning and was soon climbing out above Ennerdale following the path of Gillflinter Beck onto the slopes of Red Pike. It was wet underfoot and there had been a number of landslides across the path so I ended up scrambling through the scree to reach White Pike before heading across the tops to Red Pike and some spectacular views over Crummock Water and a good twenty miles of visibility in all directions. The ridge stretched out ahead of me and I was soon continuing high above Bleaberry Tarn to the next peak, High Stile, where I sat and looked out over Buttermere and away in the distance to the Derwent Fells. I watched another Raven circling and chatted to a couple of girls backpacking their way over to Scafell Pike. Reluctantly leaving the view behind I struck out East along the well defined ridge to High Crag where I stopped for a sarnie with beautiful views down the valley to Ennerdale Water and watched as the clouds started to swirl around Pillar and minutes later the rain started to fall. Descending the steep flank of  High Crag I was aware, for the first time today, of multi-coloured dots ascending the slopes ahead of me, it was Haystacks, beloved by Wainwright and, if Tuesday is anything to go by, large numbers of others. Wainwright wrote of Haystacks, "for beauty, variety and interesting detail, for sheer fascination and unique individuality, the summit area of Haystacks is supreme. This is in fact the best fell-top of all..", high praise indeed and whilst I might not find myself in total agreement, it is certainly a pretty spot and accessible at only 597 metres. Having made it this far I decided to carry on to Innominate Tarn where Wainwright had his ashes scattered, a site of proper pilgrimage for fans of Lakeland walking. I skirted the tarn and then made my way down a steep sheep track on Haystack's flank to Scarth Gap sandwiched between Seat and Haystacks where I followed the path down to the valley floor and watched a group of walkers working their way up to the Black Sail Hut, sitting remote at the head of the valley. The last four miles were a military yomp along the forestry track back to the YHA. The Ennerdale re-wilding project is working http://www.wildennerdale.co.uk/ and the valley floor reminds me of wild Scotland or even the South island of New Zealand with the Liza running down the middle and the lack of farming until Gillerthwaite is reached. Ennerdale is still home to Red Squirrels and Pine Martens and is a fantastic spot to get away from the hubbub of the Southern Lakes and enjoy some real solitude.

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A Wasdale Weekender

18/19.6.12
Walking with; Greg

Working on Saturdays and Sundays mean my weekends are now Mondays and Tuesdays and with an operation looming at the tail end of next week I was determined to make the most of my last week of freedom and full health. I'd decided to try a wild camp on the Monday night and then meet Greg on Tuesday for an ascent of Scafell Pike as a prelude to his attempt on the Three Peaks in a couple of weeks time (http://www.justgiving.com/Greg-Price0).
I parked up at the Wasdale Head carpark after the fantastic drive along the shores of Wastwater, England's deepest lake. With the sun shining and barely any clouds in the sky it was easy to see why ITV viewers voted Wastwater "Britain's Favourite view". Walking away from the lake I turned in the opposite direction to the group heading towards England's highest mountain and climbed the bridleway above Wasdale Head Hall and soon hit the boggy moorland between Illgill Head and Hard Rigg. Ahead of me sat Burnmoor Tarn with the forboding (and reputedly haunted) lodge standing sentinel above it. The Lodge was built for hunting by Lord Leconfield in the latter half of the Nineteenth century and it looks pretty dilapidated and forboding nowadays! Whilst it looked like a reasonable spot for a wild camp I thought it might be a bit busy so after lunch at the foot of Hardrigg Gill, watching swallows dipping and swooping over the moor, I headed up behind the Lodge onto Boat How for some fantastic views back towards the Scafell Massif, down Miterdale and across to Eel Tarn. Deciding Eel Tarn looked like a decent camping spot I struck off across the marsh and tussock grass which made for slow progress before fording Whillan Beck and making slow, sweaty progress up to the Tarn. The name is apparently nothing to do with what might dwell in the waters but rather a bastardisation of "Evil Tarn" which apparently comes from the ancient Norse name. There were Black Headed Gulls nesting near the shore and Canada Geese and goslings on the water, not to mention Skylarks and numerous Bog Bean plants poking up above the surface. It is sandwiched between the beautifully named, Peelplace Noddle and Great Barrow which I eventually decided would be where I pitched my Vango Banshee for the night.
After brewing up and cooking tea on my trangia, I spent a very pleasant evening sitting in the sunshine reading my book (Last Orders by Graham Swift-recommended) and enjoying the views down to Eskdale and across to Harter Fell.
In spite of the beautifully sunny evening, about 4am I was woken up by the pitter patter of rain that rapidly increased in tempo and volume. I pulled my sleeping bag up over my head and hoped it would go away, but a couple of hours later I was taking down my tent in the rain with views of very little but cloud and a few disgruntled sheep! I headed down into Eskdale and followed the road which ran alongside the Eskdale-Ravenglass Railway, through the picturesque hamlet of Boot before reaching Eskdale Green where Greg was going to pick me up. A few delays here and there gave me time to peruse the village shop and the display of local history in St.Bega's church including the remarkable photos of Mary Fair. By the time Greg arrived the sky was blue and the clouds were scudding into the distance and the world felt like a good place to be! We crossed Lingmell Gill and began the climb, sweating and puffing our way up Brown Tongue and through the Hollow Stones under the stern gaze of Scafell Pike and the marginally smaller Scafell. There was a lot of traffic on the path but we eventually made the summit and were rewarded with a cooling breeze and 360 degree views taking in Buttermere, Styhead Tarn and Great Gable and away on the coast the hulking shape of Sellafield loomed large. The descent was quicker with more wonderful views of Wastwater, a buzzard circling overhead and as we got towards the bottom some welcome shade and splashes of cooling water from Lingmell Beck. Job done and "Good Luck" to all the 3 Peakers in two weeks time!
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