High Street by Long Stile

Saturday 10th December 2005 

After three months away from mountains in 2005 I couldn't keep myself away any longer, so, using an old pair of boots despite the poor weather forecast, I set off first thing in the morning and I was at the Mardale Head car park at the end of Haweswater Reservoir by ten o'clock. My aim for the day was to walk up the narrow eastern ridge of High Street because I'd never been up High Street that way before and I thought it might be a good route. Unfortunately the weather really wasn't very good and treated me to low cloud and drizzle, sometimes heavy, almost all day, however, this failed to dampen my enthusiasm as I was just happy to be out on the hills again. I started off walking around the shore of Haweswater towards the Rigg, the wooded terminus of the Long Stile ridge that butts out into Haweswater, before striking off up the steep hillside onto the top of the ridge. The picture above was taken from the start of the ridge. At this point it looked like the weather might improve; while looking out across Haweswater there appeared to be breaks in the clouds where one could glimpse blue sky, but this hope was soon shattered as I soon plunged into the clouds that I was never to emerge from again (or at least not until the end of the walk!). Slowly, I climbed the ridge over rocky crags, continually climbing all the way, until I arrived at the top of Rough Crag with its small cairn and 628m spot height. The wind at this point was so strong you could hardly stand, and yet I wasn't alone. 

The Lake District always amazes me; it doesn't matter how bad the weather is there are always loads of people out walking over the hills. This walk was no different as there were three other groups of people walking up the ridge at the same time as me. Instead of having the hills to myself I was continually saying "How do?" to people as I or they passed by. The advantage of having all these people around is that when (or if) you run into problems there will soon be someone along to help, plus the large numbers of people have beaten clear paths all over the Lake District that make navigation relatively easy. The problem is not finding the path but following the right one! I don't begrudge all these people as they are a part of what makes the Lake District what it is: a relatively safe area to walk. There are far more dangerous areas in the country. 

After a short descent from the top of Rough Crag I began the much steeper, and more fun, ascent up Long Stile, climbing up the slippery rocks with the occasionally hands on rock needed for support in the wet conditions. Eventually I reached the top of the ridge at the marker cairn and followed a path across the summit plateau to the partially collapsed stone wall that passes over the top of High Street. I turned left to follow this wall until I reached the Trig point and the two cairns that mark the summit where I sheltered behind the wall while having my lunch and pondered on where everyone else was as I had the summit all to myself. After I had eaten I set off again heading south beside the wall for a short time before I reached a cairn and a path that veered off to the left. I followed this path across the exposed hilltop towards Mardale Ill Bell, and after passing over this hillock I dropped down to Nan Beld Pass.

After a short rest in the solidly constructed shelter in the pass I climbed up the rocky face of Harter Fell to the summit cairn with its debris of leftovers from an old boundary fence while the new one was visible behind. After taking some pictures I turned left and followed the fence along the top of Harter Fell, passing more cairns with their own fence cast-offs before plunging down over Little Harter Fell to the Gatescarth Pass. Descending the byway from the pass I returned to Mardale Head where the clouds seemed lower than ever. This was a very enjoyable, if brief, walk. I'm used to walks taking all day but in December anything more than six hours will be ending in the dark. My old boots performed surprisingly well after almost a year of disuse, with my wet feet failing to dampen my enjoyment of being back in the hills.