Dollywagon Pike by The Tongue

Saturday 15th April 2006

After a night’s sleep and a large breakfast I was ready to return to the fells that had so exhausted me the day before. Setting off from the hostel I walked along the road to Mill Bridge and up the footpath beside Tongue Gill to Grisedale Hause. The previous time I came this way I had followed the bridlepath up Little Tongue, but this time I took the route recommended by Wainwright and it is much better. At Grisedale Tarn, instead of going up the zigzags on the far side of the lake to Dollywagon Pike, I went down the rugged path into Grisedale. I had never been on this path before and found it to be very rocky and quite fun. When I reached the Ruthwaite Lodge I stopped and turned around to face the fearsome crags fronting Dollywagon Pike. That was to be my way up, almost straight up to the top.

Initially I headed into Ruthwaite Cove following a small tributary of Grisedale and once in the cove I turned south climbing onto a short ridge that projects north from the Tongue. Now things got really tough as I struggled to get onto this ridge and from there climbing steeply onto the Tongue itself, but I was enjoying every moment. There was hardly any trace of a path so most of the time I was picking my own route up, and most importantly, there was no one else anywhere around me. On a day when, not far away, Helvellyn was packed, I was totally alone. Eventually I managed to get onto the Tongue and was totally awestruck by the view. It was incredible with towering cliffs all around me while standing in an exposed position right in the middle of it. I couldn't help but think,

Oh Lord, my God,
When I in awesome wonder,
Consider all the works thy hand hath made …
Then sings my soul, how great thou art!

As I slowly ascended the Tongue the gradient became more agreeable and finally I arrived at the summit of Dollywagon Pike. After relishing the view once more I headed north hugging the top of the cliff as I made my way towards Helvellyn. Passing over High Crag I came onto the wide plateau of Nethermost Pike, but instead of going to the summit I headed to a much more interesting place. Passing through the snow that skirted the edge I descended the eastern ridge as far as I could go savouring the view. My goal during the week was to visit vantage points such as these, even when I've already been to the summit as it was surprising for me to discover that the mountains still have so much more to give. Nethermost Pike is a boring hill except for its eastern side which features stunning crags. I simply had to venture down this ridge to get a close look at them.

Resuming my northward stroll above the crags, I passed over the summit of Nethermost Pike and climbed up to the top of Helvellyn, where I was not alone. The summit was teeming with people, and loads more were passing along Striding Edge where they were queuing to get over the scrambly sections. I would have hated to be on there at that time. Instead I passed over the summit and arrived at the top of Swirral Edge. My main objective for the day had been to go up the Tongue; I now had the rest of the day free to go along the Helvellyn edges, just for something to do. The first 5-10 metres of Swirral Edge was covered in snow and as soon as I stepped foot on it I slipped over onto my bum. Not wanting to be shown up I turned this to my advantage as I started sliding down the snow on my bum. This was tremendous fun especially upon hearing the surprises of the people around. Carefully keeping my speed under control with my feet and hands I turned a corner and hurtled down the slope to the end of the snow run.

Soon I resumed a more orthodox method of descent and discovered that I had cut my hand during or soon after my descent. Before long I started to feel a little light-headed so even though the cut wasn't really hurting or even bleeding I stopped to administer emergency first aid on myself, half way down Swirral Edge. Perching myself on top of a rock I cleaned and plastered the wound while people passed by me on both sides. No one said anything to me while I was there; maybe they could see I had everything under control or maybe they just didn't want to get involved. If they had asked I would have said I was all right, so maybe they were right not to say anything, this time.

Resuming my descent I dropped down to the col and continued on to the top of the ridge at Catstye Cam where I had my lunch and considered where to go next. My plan had been to descend the north ridge into Glenridding where I would begin an ascent of the eastern ridge of Birkhouse Moor. Realising that I was overestimating my abilities again I descended by the south ridge before heading back up to Red Tarn, and from there to the Hole-in-the-Wall. Crossing the open moor I gained the summit of Birkhouse Moor by the much more conventional means. Upon reaching the eastern end of the ridge with its views across Ullswater I returned to the Hole-in-the-Wall and after passing through I began my own traverse of Striding Edge. It was now four o'clock and all the crowds that had been on the edge at lunchtime were long since gone giving me the opportunity to enjoy the edge on my own. Staying at the very top of the ridge I passed over with considerable ease. The great height and exposure were not a problem for me in the slightest; I would like to think that over the years I have trained myself to be able to cope with this sort of situation, but I do still occasionally have a problem with heights.

Returning to Helvellyn I was amused to discover it was almost deserted. What a difference a couple of hours makes! It was now five o'clock and I had to be back at the hostel before seven o'clock for the dinner that I had already paid for and ordered. So taking the expressway south from Helvellyn I bypassed the summits of Nethermost Pike and Dollywagon Pike and instead of going down the zigzags I followed some boundary posts heading straight for Seat Sandal. Sliding down the scree I was soon at the bottom but then I started climbing Seat Sandal directly opposite. Eventually after a lot of effort I managed to get my tired legs onto the top, and another Wainwright bagged. My route of descent was the south ridge, which although steep is grassy all the way. I did the whole descent at almost a jog, zooming down the fell. Near the bottom of the ridge are a few fields that in the past have always been considered private property, but no more. According to my new map these fields were now Open Access so despite locked gates I went through these fields all the way down the remainder of the ridge. If these fields do indeed now have open access then someone should provide stiles to prevent having to climb over the gates.

Rejoining the bridlepath from my ascent I returned to the road and proceeded to the hostel with absolutely no time to spare until dinner. Perfect timing. This was another long walk but thankfully I didn't get to the hostel in the dark this time. I was in the middle of stunning scenery all on my own for much of the day, though not far from where masses of people were crowding together on a narrow edge of rock.