Eskdale and Glaramara

Monday 26th May 2008

Even though I visited the highest point in England during this walk it wasn’t the highlight as that for me was the tremendous valley below: Eskdale, a fabulous wilderness where few people go despite the hundreds who walk along the ridges around it. Despite the good weather and on a Bank Holiday Monday I didn’t see a single person until I was near the top of Scafell Pike. To start the walk I left the Eskdale Youth Hostel and walked up the valley past Taw House into the uninhabited and uncultivated Upper Eskdale. I recently had to name my favourite place in Britain and I said Upper Eskdale and here I was walking into it! It is such a fabulous place, even as I approached Lingcove Bridge, with Bow Fell dominating the view in the background. I have walked into Eskdale this way twice before, last year on exactly the same day (once again enjoying a satisfying escape from the crowds on a Bank Holiday Monday) on my way to Three Tarns alongside Lingcove Beck and Easter 06 when I first ventured into the valley. But on all those occasions I never walked through the Eskdale ravine, so once I had crossed the bridge I climbed steeply up the grass bank high above the young river battling against the strong wind that rushed through the ravine.

The path was great but I couldn’t help wishing that I was on the other bank where a thin path clung perilously half way up the cliff face. The map indicates an intermittent path on that bank and it looked really exciting and challenging, so is definitely a target for another trip to the Lake District. Rising above the ravine I negotiated an eerily quiet area below Scar Lathing where the river turns 90˚ left before emerging into the open expanse of the Great Moss. One would imagine that this area is unbelievably boggy but it was nothing of the sort as a clear dry path led me straight across the middle of the plain. There mustn’t have been much rain in the Lake District recently as the rivers and streams were very low. There didn’t even appear to be any water coming down Cam Spout as the waterfall was dry, and a lot of the other small streams in the area were also dry. Even the River Esk itself didn’t have much water in it, which made the necessary crossing a simple affair. On the other side of the Great Moss, past Cam Spout, I started my ascent of Scafell Pike, right underneath it, less than a mile from the summit but with over 2000 feet of climbing ahead of me.

Ascending very steeply into a shallow cove I followed the dry bed of a stream high up the hill on a climb that from the bottom looked nigh on impossible and often felt it as I stopped frequently to rest and admire the stunning views behind me. After 1000 feet the gradient mercifully and finally eased and I was able to climb the grassy slope up to the rocky peak of Pen overlooking Eskdale. Sitting at the top I was able to survey the tremendous scenery ahead of me with the Crinkle Crags and Bow Fell on the far side of the valley, the Great Moss directly below and the rocky south ridge of Esk Pike between. All this with no one in view but I’m sure there were many hundreds on the summits. Leaving the top behind I crossed into Little Narrowcove and climbed the steep scree to the col where I discovered where everybody was, a never-ending stream of people was on this popular route to the Pike. Joining the crowds I climbed up the last little bit to the summit of Scafell Pike, a mountain I must have climbed many times before since my first time during my first visit to the Lake District back in 2002. The weather on this visit was brilliant with clear views all around me, which has got to be a first for me as previously I always seem to get some cloud at the top, but not this day. I didn’t stay at the summit but made my way across to the quiet south top where I had my lunch in its shelter away from the crowds at the summit while gazing across to Sca Fell and the scenery over Eskdale.

After lunch I crossed the boulder fields of Broad Crag and Ill Crag, and bypassed Great End on my way to Esk Hause, battling against the wind all the way down. This is very familiar territory for me as I have passed through Esk Hause, or the lower pass, on many walks over the years. It was all so comforting to see Great Gable on my left and the Langdale Pikes on my right, both familiar fells that I have climbed many times before and are reassuringly the same as ever. I almost felt at home amongst these friendly giants. Crossing the Borrowdale to Wasdale path I climbed up to the top of Allen Crags, a fell that I had actually been up only once before despite the large number of times I have been in this area. It is an astonishing five years since I last went up Allen Crags and its bigger neighbour, Glaramara, in cloudy weather, which is a great shame as they are fantastic fells with a wonderfully interesting path that links the two together.

Leaving the top of Allen Crags I had an enjoyable walk between the two, but it was a little frustrating as there are many false tops to traverse before you finally reach the real summit. Every time you reach a top another one is revealed that is even higher. I was beginning to think about the bus I needed to catch in Borrowdale so every false top became a source of frustration that detracted from the interesting path. I really wish I didn’t have to think about the time while walking on a mountain as it really detracts from my enjoyment of it when my mind should be solely up in the mountains and the stunning scenery and not stuck in the valley with timetables. After passing over the final false top I reached the true summit of Glaramara where I could look out over the stunning scenery across Borrowdale.

Carefully I scrambled down the north face of the summit crag and made my way across to Combe Head where I braced myself against the wind while I having a look at the stunning views into Borrowdale. When I went up Glaramara five years ago I took the usual way down via Thornythwaite Fell, this time however I wanted to go over Rosthwaite Fell and bag another Wainwright in the progress. There followed a thoroughly enjoyable time as I made my way across the complex terrain finding my own route all the way as there was virtually no trace of a path. The terrain seemed to go on forever so just when I thought I was nearing the end I would climb up another top and discover that I still had a lot more to go and any thoughts of catching an early bus slowly disappeared. Eventually I reached Rosthwaite Cam, a high top in the middle of Rosthwaite Fell, but this was not Wainwright’s top, in fact, all through the walk I had no clear idea what was Wainwright’s top so I found myself having to go up every top around to ensure that at some point I would do the Wainwright. Passing Tarn at Leaves I climbed up to the top of Bessyboot which I had a suspicion may be the Wainwright (it is), but I continued on till I ran out of tops, ending on High Knott.

Now I had the difficulty of trying to get down. I had a vague memory of Wainwright’s route up from Stonethwaite so I tried to get down in that direction but without knowing the exact route I was confronted by impervious cliffs. Despite this I really did try and make a descent from Broad Haystack down the tree-clad, perilously steep slopes until common sense prevailed and I climbed back out of the life-threatening situation onto the fell-top. Cursing myself for not ensuring I knew Wainwright’s route, I decided a possible route down would be on the north ridge and thence heading towards Combe Gill. A short gully helped in my descent and provided me with a route down the cliffs towards Low Buck How and brought me on to the steep bracken covered slopes of the Combe. The crossing of a couple of fences was then necessary to ultimately bring me down to a footpath which led me across the stream and along a farmer's track to the road. This proved to be a great walk, though it was really long and tiring and the ending was more than a little nerve-wracking. I really must make sure I know exactly how to get down if I’m going to take an unorthodox route, but once again I have shown how to avoid the crowds in the Lake District on a Bank Holiday Monday.