The Lakes, day 11 – High Raise

Thursday 25th July 2002

For the last walk of my first ever visit to the Lake District I went up into the fells that overlook Grasmere, circling around Easedale. Just like the whole of this second week, the weather was bad again with low cloud all day, but that didn’t stop me venturing up into the clouds and gaining in my confidence of walking in this sort of weather. I started the walk by climbing up to the top of Helm Crag, the small fell that dominates views of Grasmere, and walked along the ridge over Gibson Knott to Calf Crag under ever increasing rain. I went straight over the pass at the top of Far Easedale heading straight up the fellside towards High Raise climbing up Deep Slack to Codale Head following a line of old boundary posts while the rain became heavier and the fog thicker. I had experienced some pretty bad conditions during this second week, but this was becoming the worst yet, leaving me with no sense of where I was and with no path to follow except for a broken line of fence posts. I eventually decided I was fed up with it all when I put my foot onto what I thought was a stone only to find myself knee deep in mud. It doesn’t matter how waterproof your boots are, if you step into a puddle deeper than the top of your boots you will, like me, have a wet foot in that boot for the rest of the day.

When I eventually reached the top and found the main footpath across the summit plateau, instead of heading north to the summit of High Raise, I turned south. I was so fed up with the conditions that I couldn’t be bothered to try and find the summit cairn and trig point. During this holiday I found that it is not fun to walk around the fells when it's raining and you can't see more than a dozen metres ahead of you. I can now appreciate the challenge inherent in walking in these sorts of conditions, but I wouldn’t say that such a day is as fun as one with good weather. You should always make the most of whatever weather you’ve got, but you still need to adapt your plans to the changing weather conditions. Walking around aimlessly in thick hill fog is never fun; the goal is always to get below the clouds. I came down from the top of High Raise by the quickest route I could find, beside the Bright Beck stream to Stickle Tarn near the Langdale Pikes.

This was my first visit to the area of the Langdale Pikes and I remember being impressed by the enormous cliff of Pavey Ark that overlooks Stickle Tarn with the top of the crag disappearing into the clouds, which potentially makes the cliff-face look even bigger than it actually is. From Stickle Tarn I proceeded across the undulating hills of Blea Rigg, Castle How, Swinescar Pike, Lang How, Silver How & Dow Bank. This is a fabulous walk that I have done many times since and found that it is always best done in this direction with the gradient gradually falling as you come off the fells rather than having an annoyingly long climb to get up onto the higher fells. I commented at the time that this is “quite a way when you walk it,” but every step is a joy. Eventually I reached the road at Red Bank and the foot of Loughrigg. Ever since losing my glasses on Loughrigg on the first day of my holiday I had wanted to return to the fell to look for them, so when I eventually located the spot where I thought I'd lost my glasses I tried to find them, but to no avail. I had to accept that they were lost.

The following day was technically the last day of my holiday but I was so tired in both spirit and in leg that I decided to go straight home (the knowledge that I would have to be at work on the Saturday morning was another motivator), but part of me wishes I hadn't. I had a plastic bag full of presents that I’d just bought in Grasmere so walking would have been impractical, but the weather was glorious for the first time all week, which seems to be just my luck. It has been interesting going through my experiences of my first trip to the Lake District and reading what I wrote back then. My inexperience of hill-walking shows through in many places with a intense distaste for walking in the rain, though that would seem to be in part due to the inadequacies of my clothing. The reports from this holiday have reminded me of how much I have developed as a walker. I am no longer afraid of bad weather as I have now walked in weather that is considerably worse than that I found on Robinson, Hindscarth and High Raise during this holiday.

The Lakes, day 10 – Helvellyn

Wednesday 24th July 2002

After the poor weather of the previous couple of days, the forecast for the tenth day of my first ever visit to the Lake District was for more rain later in the day, but it never arrived. Nevertheless it was a windy, overcast day and not the most ideal conditions for my first ever climb up Helvellyn. After being thwarted in my attempts to climb Helvellyn the day before, now that the rain had stopped I was determined to make my first ascent of this most infamous and popular of Lakeland Fells. After leaving the Patterdale Youth Hostel I crossed Grisedale and walked along the path that gradually climbs out of the valley to the Hole-in-the-Wall. This literal gap in a wall is marked as such on maps as if it’s the only gap in a wall in the area, but it is famous for being the start of Striding Edge. I had heard so much about this narrow ridge that I had built up quite a fear of it, so when I got to the Hole-in-the-Wall I daren’t go through it. The weather was still quite poor at this point, with high winds and low clouds, so I cowered out of doing Striding Edge and took the path down to Red Tarn where I climbed up to the ridge at the start of Swirral Edge.

I don’t think I have vertigo, but I would say that I have a healthy fear of falling to my death! In the poor weather, with the wind howling around me, I even found Swirral Edge rather scary. I remember leaving the very top of the ridge and clinging to the steep grassy slopes above Red Tarn as I tremulously climbed up to the top of Helvellyn. I was still quite new to bad weather at the top of a mountain at this time so I was finding it quite nerve-wracking, but the more times I experienced that sort of weather the more I learnt that so long as you’re careful, particularly with navigation, there is nothing to worry about. Back then I was relieved to come away from the wind-swept summit of Helvellyn and make my way south following the wide footpath that passes close to Helvellyn’s satellites. I was beginning to get used to the wind and low clouds by now so I diverted from the highway in order to bag the tops of Nethermost Pike, High Crag & Dollywagon Pike while on my way to Grisedale Tarn.

After the steep descent to the tarn I walked up to Grisedale Hause and from there climbed up a scree slope to Fairfield. I remember at this point being rather fed up with the scree slopes that I was climbing with annoying rapidity in the Lake District. I’d never encountered them before so I wasn’t used to their shifting stones and steep slopes, or the zig-zag route that has to be taken up them, but this was all simply part of learning my way around the Lakes. The summit of Fairfield was just as windy, cold and covered in hill fog as Helvellyn. It may not have been the best of days but I was beginning to cope quite well with the conditions as I successfully found the summit cairn on the broad summit plateau before heading in the correct direction off the top. From Fairfield I walked along the long ridge south towards Rydal passing over Great Rigg, Heron Pike and Nab Scar. The weather began to improve markedly as I descended becoming sunnier and warmer below the clouds with stunning views ahead of me along the whole length of Windermere.

At Rydal Mount I was near the spot where I had started my first day in the Lakes, and where I had lost my glasses. Now more than a week later that still hung its shadow over my holiday so I wanted to return to Loughrigg and try to look for my glasses even though the chances of finding them must have been pretty remote. Leaving that for another day I finished this walk by staying on the eastern side of the river walking along the excellent Coffin Route to Grasmere past Dove Cottage. This was a walk of contrasts from the wind-swept heights and terrors of Helvellyn to an entrancing walk down the ridge from Fairfield. I have not walked along the length of this ridge since that day, and that must be the most tragic aspect of this walk.

The Lakes, days 8 and 9 – Hindscarth and Ullswater

Monday 22nd July 2002

After the excellent walk that I did the day before I now had a couple of days of poor weather that left me in despair and thinking that the good walking days were over. It had started raining with no sign of it ending before the end of the week, but I reflected that I had been fortunate with the weather over the weekend and during the previous week. My second ever week in the Lake District started with wet and windy weather on a day when I had planned on travelling half way across the national park. Rather than walking all the way from Buttermere to Patterdale, which would have been a ridiculously long walk, even if I’d attempted it now, I had planned to walk along the ridges around Dale Head to Keswick where I would catch a bus to Patterdale. As I set off the weather forecast predicted that it would improve later in the day so I climbed the path out of Borrowdale hopeful that the rain wouldn’t last long and I’d be able to complete the walk as planned.

After climbing up to High Snockrigg I crossed the exceptionally wet Buttermere Moss. I have since crossed this gently sloping plain several times and found it not to be particularly boggy, but with all the rain that had fallen recently the fell was like a quagmire that I, due to my inexperience, blundered across and succeeded in getting my feet very wet. At one point I stepped into a deep bog that went half way up my leg so I was relieved to finally reach the foot of Robinson where the terrain started to steepen and a short climb brought me up to the wind-swept summit of Robinson. The weather at the top was so bad I didn’t linger but made my way south to a fence at the top of Robinson Crag where I made my way along the ridge to Hindscarth. By now the wind was so strong and the was rain so heavy I decided I had to get off the fell as quickly as possible with conditions that were worse than I'd ever known on a walk. Up to this point I’d never really been at the top of a hill when the weather was throwing its full works of wind and rain at me; it was quite a scary experience, so it was a good idea to descend even though the rain stopped before I got to the bottom.

As I came down the excellent path at the top of High Crags I dropped below the clouds to the stunning view of the Newlands valley below, but I was already soaked. My cagoule wasn't particularly waterproof and my t-shirt underneath was soaked, which made me feel very cold. I knew even then that if I’d had a better cagoule, such as I use now, I would have been able to continue along the ridge in that weather. I have never subsequently done the walk that I planned to do that day, which involved walking from Buttermere to Keswick via Dale Head, but I’m sure it would have been possible in that weather, maybe even exciting, if I was wearing the right clothing. Once down in the valley I passed through the village of Little Town and skirted the side of Cat Bells on my way to Keswick. From Hawse End, for the first time I walked along a path that I have taken many times since, past Lingholm and through Fawe Park. On this occasion (and only on this occasion) I turned right as I approached Fawe Park and took the track around Fawe Park past Nichol End. All subsequent occasions I have gone straight on over the low wooded hill, which is a far superior route.

After passing through Portinscale and over the small suspension bridge over the River Derwent I reached Keswick where I had an hour to wait until the bus to Patterdale. I spent most of the hour just wandering around and exploring this delightful town that I have subsequently visited many times, and of all the towns in the Lake District this is my favourite. The towns around Windermere seem tourist-ridden but Keswick, despite the tourists, seems to have retained a charm all of its own. Eventually I left Keswick for another day and caught the bus to Patterdale.

Tuesday 23rd July 2002

This was another wet day so my wet weather plan was once again put into action. I walked along an excellent path beside the shore of Ullswater at the foot of Place Fell and Hallin Fell all the way to Howtown where I caught the steamer back to Glenridding. This was a nice walk, but it only took me half the day so in the afternoon I did a walk along Grisedale as far as Nethermostcove Beck and back. I had started to walk from Glenridding with an idea of going up to Helvellyn but soon abandoned the idea. I lost the path up the ridge and found myself passing Lanty’s Tarn into Grisedale so I consoled myself with the walk along Grisedale, but I wasn’t really in favour of anything else while it refused to stop raining. I was not enjoying walking in the rain while wearing a cagoule that didn't seem to have heard of the concept of "Breathability". I was missing the good walks that I’d done the previous week when the weather was better. Once again I was learning that I needed to improve my gear if I was going to do any proper walking when the weather is bad.

The Lakes, day 7 – Grasmoor and Grisedale Pike

Sunday 21st July 2002

This was a good day's walk and unexpectantly I had company for some of the day. I started off by walking up into the hills to the north of Buttermere onto the developing ridge of Whiteless Breast (I had a chuckle about the name at the time) and up to Whiteless Pike where I happened to meet Keith Smith who I'd had dinner with the day before in the youth hostel. Since we were both going in the same direction we went up the hill together but I soon nipped off to visit the broad grassy top of Wandope. The weather was fantastic for this walk and I remember the views at this point being particularly impressive as I looked from the summit across the valley of Sail Beck towards Robinson, Hindscarth and Dale Head. The deep valleys that flow into the Newlands Beck made this a stunning sight with range after range of hills stretching all the way to Helvellyn on the Horizon. From the summit cairn I rounded the edge of the hanging valley of Addacomb Hole and up to the top of Crag Hill where I met up with Keith again whose older legs had forced him to take the easier, direct route from Whiteless Pike.

Wainwright called this fell Eel Crag, which is actually the name of the rocks to the north of the summit, but the Ordnance Survey map calls it Crag Hill and that’s how I’ve always thought of it. Wainwright acknowledged that Crag Hill would be a better name for the fell but he said that walkers are conservative folk and don’t like change. He had become used to calling this old favourite Eel Crag and couldn’t change now, but for me, fortunately I have never thought of it as anything other than Crag Hill so that is what it’s called. From the top of Crag Hill Keith and I walked down the long slopes to the col before slowly climbing the long grassy ridge up to the top of Grasmoor. Once again I left Keith behind as my younger legs sprinted on ahead enabling me to reach the summit first and see the truly astounding view that can be seen from this fell on a good day that stretches across the Solway Firth all the way to Scotland and the hills of the Southern Uplands. After returning to the col Keith decided to head back to Buttermere on the path beside the Liza Beck which left me free to climb Grisedale Pike on my own.

After crossing Coledale Hause I traversed the eastern slopes of Sand Hill to the top of the ridge that leads to Grisedale Pike. I enjoyed the fabulous weather that was giving me stunning views east across the Vale of Keswick while stopped for a rest at the summit and to have something to eat. Turning around I proceeded along the ridge above Hobcarton Crag to Hopegill Head and onto the narrow ridge that leads to Whiteside. I remember this as being an exciting traverse along a narrow, high ridge with plenty of rock to negotiate. Unfortunately I have never returned to this ridge since even though all the other fells in the walk have been visited again, except for Whiteside. I had planned on a return in 2011 on the day of William & Kate’s wedding, but high winds encouraged me to change my plans. Now I am longing for a return to a ridge that I probably remember as being a lot more exciting than it actually is compared with others that I have done since, nevertheless I’d still love to return. There is nothing more exciting than walking along a narrow ridge and this was one of my first.

After passing the top of Whiteside I descended through heather and bracken to the road at Lanthwaite. Rather than follow the road back to Buttermere I decided to go around Crummock Water along the western shore of the lake. After passing through Lanthwaite Wood I reached the lake shore where I was stopped by two dogs and their owners. One dog was chasing another while both owners were trying to get a hold of their dogs. Eventually one dog got trapped beside the water’s edge which let the other dog get behind it and satisfy the urges that had been driving it. For this brief moment the dogs were not moving and the bitch's owner was able to rescue their dog while the other owner grabbed their randy canine. I was then able to continue my journey much amused by an incident that has stayed with me ever since. It has taught me to be careful if I get what I want as it might be just the opportunity someone needs to take everything away from me.

The remaining walk beside Crummock Water was pretty uneventful until after I crossed Scale Beck where I had tremendous problems trying to get to Scale Bridge. The path was not clear and I had to walk through a lot of very boggy ground. Eventually I spotted what was probably the proper path down the hillside near the lake's edge, so hurtling through the bog I dropped down the hill onto the path. Maybe my error was moving away from the lake edge, but I don’t think there was much I could have done about it. Wainwright describes this as being “One of the wettest paths in the district.” Despite the boggy end this was a fabulous walk over great mountains, in wonderful weather and with tremendous views. The Lake District was continuing to enthral me as I continued my first ever visit. My legs and ankles may have been aching afterwards from all the strenuous walking that I wasn’t used to, but I was enjoying every moment of it.

The Lakes, day 6 – Great Gable and the High Stile Ridge

Saturday 20th July 2002

This was a long and tiring day, but a very enjoyable walk. The weather forecast for this day was changeable, but despite the day starting sunny I set off from Borrowdale to Honister Hause feeling a little tired after all the walking that I’d been doing during this holiday. This was now the sixth day of my first ever holiday in the Lake District and I'd done a lot of long and tiring walks, more than I’d ever done before. I was exhausted and feeling the strain of walking all day every day for a whole week. These days this is nothing new to me and I’m used to it, but at this time I hadn’t done more than a couple of days of consecutively walking. Coming to the Lake District for the first time introduced me to a new thing: long walks day after day for over a week, and by now the last thing I felt like doing was another day trudging up into the fells, but that is what I did.

Of course once I got up into the hills I loved it and was climbing lots of fells bagging as many peaks as possible. My route up to Honister was along the tracks of an old toll road which mirrors the modern way for much of the climb to the top of the pass and gave me a trouble free ascent. From Honister I walked to the Drum House on a dismantled tramway and turned left following a clear path towards the boundary fence that surrounds the valley of Ennerdale. Turning left I followed the fence up to bag Brandreth from where I went across the broad saddle to Green Gable before tackling the biggie: Great Gable. Heavy clouds had descended as I approached Brandreth, but as I got to the top of Great Gable they parted to afford me with spectacular views of the valleys below, most notably south along Wasdale, until the cloud descended again and the heavens opened.

It may have been raining heavily as I left Great Gable, but it didn’t last very long and stopped before I got to the col at Beck Head where I back-tracked myself skirting around the north-western slopes of the gables while getting stunning views down Ennerdale thanks to the improving weather. Eventually I rejoined the Ennerdale boundary fence near Brandreth and turning away from Brandreth I followed the fence towards Haystacks. From the top of Loft Beck I tried to make my own route direct to Haystacks, but quickly found myself in trouble in very boggy ground. I have since discovered that the easiest route between Brandreth and Haystacks is to take a path, itself sometimes boggy, past Great Round How to join the Warnscale path past Blackbeck Tarn. These days I would love to explore these pathless slopes north of Loft Beck, but back then I just wished I’d gone another way. Eventually I reached Innominate Tarn and just beyond that is the top of Haystacks, the fell was beloved of Wainwright and the tarn is where his ashes were scattered.

The weather had been improving steadily since it had rained while I was coming down from Great Gable and by now it was a glorious day. When faced with the choice of whether to descend to Buttermere at this point or keep going, I decided to keep going along the ridge. A gruelling, steep climb up the shifting screes of Gamlin End failed to dampen my enthusiasm as I passed along this glorious ridge that overlooks Buttermere. The fells of High Crag, High Stile and Red Pike passed quickly underfoot as I sailed along the fantastic ridge in glorious sunny weather. I felt that I must be rather nuts but I had got into the swing of it, and I was loving every moment.  By the time I got to Red Pike it was 4.30 so I decided I needed to make a quick descent off the fell in order to get to the hostel in time to order my dinner so I took the bridlepath down beside Sourmilk Gill instead of my planned descent down the long western slopes to Scale Force. Unfortunately I have never walked down the long western slopes of Red Pike but I was able to visit the waterfall of Scale Force a couple of years ago while staying in Buttermere for the New Year.

This walk ranks alongside my traverse of Scafell Pike a couple of days earlier as being an early memorable walk of mammoth proportions. It was ironic that at the start of the walk I was beginning to feel tired of such long walks day after day only to then do a walk that dwarfed almost all of the walks that I’d previously done that week. Great Gable is an awesome mountain that dominates the landscape from wherever it is seen and the High Stile Ridge is a walk of epic proportions. Combining the two in such a long walk was never in my plans for this day, in fact I had planned on walking along the High Stile Ridge on the day after this walk so I was forced to come up with a new walk for the next day. This was a fabulous day's walk in the Lake District that consolidated my love of the fells that continues to this day.

The Lakes, day 5 – Borrowdale

Friday 19th July 2002

After this walk I didn’t consider that it had been a good day, but that was only because it had rained all day and my planned walk up Great Gable was rejected due to the weather. With the hindsight of ten years I can see that the weather doesn’t necessarily have to ruin a day in the Lake District. In fact that evening one of the guys in the youth hostel said that the conditions at the top of Great Gable hadn’t been that bad and I should have gone up. These days I would have done but at the time I’d never experienced bad weather like that at the top of a mountain and didn’t know what to expect. Quite rightly I erred on the side of caution and decided to stay on lower slopes doing a walk that I had already planned to do as a wet weather alternative. I walked around one of the greatest valleys in the Lake District, Borrowdale, and I found that my cagoule was not as waterproof as I’d thought. I got soaked.

Setting off from the youth hostel I walked beside the River Derwent towards the Jaws of Borrowdale, a square mile that Wainwright declared to be the loveliest in Lakeland. I have since passed through this area a number of times on the road on the other side of the river, but this is actually the only time I have ever walked through the Jaws of Borrowdale, which is a great tragedy. The river passes through a narrow gap between the rocky buttresses of Castle Crag and Grange Fell where even the road has to twist and turn sharply many times to get through. It is a glorious symphony of rock and tree with the river in the middle holding the whole thing together, but I have little memory of my journey on the path the other side of the river from the road. Since it was raining maybe that dampened my enthusiasm, but I don’t remember being that impressed with my walk through the Jaws; the road surely can’t be better than the path.

Eventually I reached the tiny village of Grange where I turned left along the road past the Borrowdale Gates Hotel before making my way onto a path that crosses the southern extremity of Derwent Water. The marsh lands did leave an impression on me as I walked along raised boards across the wet ground. This is also a path that I haven’t revisited in ten years, but now I wish I could. I may have been disappointed with this walk ten years ago but now I am desperate to do the walk again and explore areas of the Lake District that I am unfamiliar with. Just because I was doing a walk that didn’t climb particularly high didn’t mean it wasn’t a good one, unfortunately I didn’t realise that at the time. Eventually I crossed the fields that flood at other times of the year and reached the Lodore Falls Hotel.

Behind the hotel are a set of cascades and falls that must have been quite a sight thanks to all the rain, but I think the path beside them was quite muddy so I climbed quickly up to the Watendlath Valley. This is a valley that I have walked through several times since, most of them in wintry conditions, and even once in the dark. Most recently I walked through the valley on my way back to Keswick, but on this occasion I was walking to the popular hamlet of Watendlath. When I got there for the first time I found a deserted collection of farm houses with no sign of the tourists that usually congregate around Watendlath, the rain was successfully keeping people away. From there I took a bridlepath back over the low hill to the hostel in Borrowdale. Half-way across I saw a path that was signposted towards Dock Tarn and I considered walking off towards the fell, but I really couldn't be bothered in the rain.

The problem was my discomfort from being wet and hot inside a cagoule that was almost useless in these conditions. My t-shirt was probably soaked from my own sweat as the cagoule I was wearing was not a special breathable one but a cheap anorak from a department store. At this time I still hadn’t got the right clothing to cope with poor weather on the hills so I probably made the right decision to spend the rest of the afternoon back in the youth hostel reading a book. Although this short walk seemed like a disappointment at the time it was a further step in my learning to cope with bad weather while out walking. I got a new, better, waterproof cagoule after learning from my experiences on this walk and subsequent experiences of walking in bad weather built upon what I had learnt. Ignoring the weather, I shouldn’t have been disappointed with the walk as it seems to me now that it was a great little walk that I would be delighted to do now.

The Lakes, day 4 – Scafell Pike

Thursday 18th July 2002

On my fourth ever day in the Lake District I completed my greatest walk to date and one that wasn’t surpassed for several years walking right over the top of the greatest and highest mountains in the Lake District from one great valley to another, from Eskdale to Borrowdale. This was the big one, the one that I had been looking forward to for ages and the highlight of the holiday. I left Eskdale Youth Hostel early, before 9 a.m., in brilliant sunshine with hardly a cloud in the sky, but the good weather didn't last long as it clouded over during the morning getting rather dark over the hills, though without actually raining. I was following the Terrace Route up Scafell, a route that is fabulous in its early stages where, as Wainwright says, “a charming path winds amongst the bracken and granite outcrops,” but the middle stage of the climb was a real slog across drab grassy slopes until finally the gradient steepens for the climb up to Slight Side. The terrain improves immensely after this Wainwright top with a real mountain feel to the surroundings and great views across the gathering grounds of the River Esk to the great mountains that encircle this most delectable of places. I have since fallen in love with Upper Eskdale and the mountains that surround it and on this walk I was seeing them for the first time.

It took me three hours to get up to the top of Scafell, but once I got there I didn't stop - I didn't even realise I was there! I had my eyes on only one thing as I immediately headed for Scafell Pike, but that's not easy from where I was. The safest, easiest and the only recommended route between Scafell and Scafell Pike involves a difficult scramble down a scree slope to Foxes Tarn and then a tricky climb down a steep, wet gully before another scramble up a scree slope. The direct route between the second and highest hills in England is blocked by the cliff-face of Broad Stand that forces long diversions either side. When I first went up in 2002 there had recently been a big rock-fall in the alternative route via Lord’s Rake that made the local Mountain Rescue Team worried about further rock-falls and more particularly that the large rock that had become wedged at the top of the rake would soon fall down the rake taking with it anyone who was in the rake at the time. More than ten years later the rake is very slippery and the large rock is still wedged at the top, but I guess it will eventually fall down the rake.

In 2002 I wasn’t taking any chances so I took the Foxes Tarn route eventually managing to get up to Scafell Pike at lunchtime, but only to find it covered in low cloud. Over the years I’ve been quite unlucky with the clouds at the top of Scafell Pike; on this occasion the clouds weren't there before I got there and they disappeared soon after I left. That is just my luck. From the Pike I proceeded along the rocky ridge passing Broad Crag, Ill Crag and eventually ending at Great End. This ridge is really tricky to walk along as it is predominately large boulders that are not easy to walk upon, but are easy to hurt yourself on. Great End is a lot easier underfoot and I remember standing on the edge of the summit plateau gazing at the stunning views towards Borrowdale and Derwent Water. This is one of those great scenes in the Lake District and I was seeing it for the first time on this great walk. I needed to go in that direction, but it is impossible to climb straight down the cliff that I was standing at the top of, so I needed to turn around and head back to the top of Calf Cove returning to the Scafell Pike path to take me down to Esk Hause. Instead, I made straight for Esk Hause across an abominable boulder field, which Wainwright warns against, but I didn’t know that back then.

After reaching Esk Hause by the difficult way, I stuck to the path below the tall crags of Great End down to Sty Head where I decided to take the less popular route past Taylorgill Force. I didn’t know it at the time but I was now actually following Wainwright's advice to take the narrower path on the northern bank of the stream. This route is a lot trickier than the broad bridlepath, but that just means it’s more fun as you scramble across the rocks with a close up view of Taylorgill Force that makes it all worthwhile. At Seathwaite I once again took Wainwright's unseen advice by taking the footpath to the road at Mountain View, but while walking along that path a lace on my boots caught on the other boot, which had happened before, earlier that same day in fact, but most of the time my sense of balance was able to prevent me from falling over. But not this time. The waist strap on my rucksack happened to come apart at that time letting my rucksack swing up over my head hurling me forwards and down. Before I knew it I was on my hands and knees and my head was hitting the stone covered floor. Luckily nothing was damaged and I was not particularly hurt, but it could have been a lot worse. That was a scary experience and not something that I would want to repeat. Despite my small accident at the end, this was a great walk over a great mountain that is surrounded by stunning scenery. There is nothing in the Lake District to compare with a traverse of Scafell Pike.

The Lakes, day 3 – The Old Man of Coniston

Wednesday 17th July 2002

As is usual at this time of the year I have run out of walks to talk about so I am going to return to the series that I started in March this year. I was describing my very first visit to the Lake District ten years ago, but I only described the first two days of my holiday before actually going to the Lake District again at Easter and retracing some of my steps of those first two days. At the start of my third day in the Lake District I was staying at the Coniston Coppermines Youth Hostel (the same one I stayed at this year) and as I was leaving I almost left my shampoo in the hostel. That is something that I've done a lot of times before on other holidays and is really annoying. I feel as if I have left loads of stuff strewn across the country over the years, particularly bottles of shampoo. I now make a point of meticulously scouring the place I’ve been staying to make sure I haven’t left anything behind, and often still spend the first hour of the walk worrying that I’ve left something behind. It really is ridiculous that I seem to keep on losing things, but nothing compares with losing my glasses on my first ever day in the Lake District.

On that day I lost a pair of glasses on Loughrigg and I’d still not given up hope of finding them again. I kept thinking about going back to Loughrigg to look for them, but even then I had little hope of success until the bracken had all died off, which wouldn’t be until the winter. However I still harboured the hope that I could go back to Loughrigg on the last day of my holiday and find my glasses. Besides continuing to think about my lost glasses I walked from the Coniston Fells over the Old Man of Coniston all the way to Eskdale. This is a walk that I’ve done several times since in both directions always varying my route, but my first time I kept things simple. From the hostel I descended the valley road slightly to the Miner’s Bridge over Church Beck before joining the popular route up Coniston Old Man that, according to Wainwright, “is the way the crowds go: the day trippers, the courting couples, troops of earnest Boy Scouts, babies and grandmothers, the lot”, and on this occasion: me as well. I commented in my diary at the time that this was a bit of a slog and that these climbs were really taking it out of me. I guess some things never change.

I seem to remember the weather as being bad with low cloud over the fells (unless I’m confusing it with another day!) and I had poor views as I walked past the remains of the copper mines and past Low Water until finally I reached the summit of the Old Man of Coniston. After resting up at the top I walked along the broad grassy ridge to Brim Fell and then having bagged the flat top I descended steeply to Goats Hawse. After crossing over the pass I climbed onto what I described in my diary as the other peaks. These are the tops on the undulating ridge that includes Dow Crag, Buck Pike & Brown Pike before dropping down to the Walna Scar Pass where I turned right onto the track that took me down into the Duddon Valley past a digger working on the track and, despite finding muddy ground underfoot, I crossed the stepping stones over the River Duddon and over the hill into Eskdale. For some reason I ignored the striking Harter Fell just to my right and stayed on the bridlepath passing all the way over into Eskdale. By taking an unwavering course to Eskdale I'd gotten there a little early so after reaching the Doctor Bridge, beside the River Esk, I turned left instead of right and had a walk along the river.

I had in mind to look for Stanley Force, but I didn't really have a clue what I was doing, or where I was going. When I reached St Catherine’s Church, a plain structure built of the local granite, I sat there on a seat looking across the river. I remember the weather being good at this point with the sun shining overhead and the small trains of the Ravenglass & Eskdale Railway could be clearly heard in the distance. The waterfall that I had been looking for was actually not far away from me, just across the river, but it would be another nine years before I finally located it. This walk was full of contrasts. It started in the rugged mountains of the Coniston Fells amidst the remains of 19th Century mines, but ended in the sylvan beauty of Eskdale on a gorgeous afternoon. Amidst all the rush to bag fells it is important to stop and enjoy your surroundings, with the valley bottoms being just as delightful as the fell tops and there are few valley bottoms more delightful than Eskdale.

Pendle Hill

Thursday 30th August 2012

After spending the morning walking around the Ribble Valley I drove over to the Nick of Pendle for a walk over Pendle Hill. Pendle Hill is in the designated Forest of Bowland ‘Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty’ but is actually a separate hill away from the upland moors that are the heart of the area, nevertheless Pendle Hill manages to be not only one of the highest points in the Forest of Bowland but also one of the most popular. I started at the top of the pass of the Nick of Pendle, on the road between the towns of Clitheroe and Burnley, and immediately dropped downhill taking a roundabout route through the fields to the south of the hill before taking the tourist route up to the top. This plan gave me a rather tedious first couple of hours with few highlights, but with a fabulous end to the walk over the back of the hill. As I’d found over my previous couple of days' walking in Lancashire, the signposting is poor on footpaths (compared with the excellent, highly visible signposts in Leicestershire), so my biggest challenge at first was simply finding the route.

The walk started, after the initial, steep beside the road, along a track through moorland at the foot of Pendle Hill that led me to Churn Clough Reservoir. A footpath beyond the reservoir left me flummoxed and standing in the middle of a field unable to work out where the footpath was, where I was, or where I was supposed to be. Eventually I found my way to Ratten Clough where I was able to continue on my course with the sleeping giant of Pendle Hill to my left. This was a more pleasant walk than that I’d taken on the previous Tuesday when I’d walked for a much further distance below the Bowland moors; this time I had bright sunshine to enjoy and firmer ground underfoot. The highlight and surprise of the walk was at Sabden Fold, which is a wooded ravine where the Sabden Fold Field Archery Club meets. Luckily the archers weren’t firing when I was passing so I was able to enjoy the natural wonders of a steep-sided ravine that felt like a bit of old-world England when the wild-wood reigned throughout the country and where bears, wolves and wild boar still roamed the land.

Not far from there I came down onto a road and followed it through the village of Newchurch-in-Pendle and steeply down into the witch-crazed village of Barley. The victims of the most famous witch trial in Britain came from this area and in recent times the village has made the most of its ghoulish associations. I was not interested in the tourist nonsense so I made my way through the village and onto the popular path that makes its way up to the top of Pendle Hill. Part of my reason for taking this route was because it’s actually the steepest and hardest way up. The highest point on Pendle Hill is at its eastern end, or Big End, as it is known, and the steepest terrain is immediately below that. The only reason I can think that it’s become the tourist route is because it’s the shortest route to the summit. The route starts from the village of Barley and climbs on excellent paths (thanks to its popularity) beside the small Pendle Beck past several houses that must all enjoy stunning views. Eventually I reached Pendle House on the edge of the moorland and the start of the steepest part of the climb where a long series of steps unrelentingly climbs the steep hillside all the way up to the top.

Due to my late start, by the time I got to the top it was 5.30pm and I had the summit all to myself with clear views all around the hill. It was a tremendous sight in the good weather with the whole area laid out before me, but the most enticing sight of all was of the moorland that makes up the bulk of the hill. With much delight I made my way west across the broad heather-covered plateau to a flag-stoned path that provided me with an easy route through the ridiculously boggy moorland. I was really disappointed to find that there wasn’t much heather at the top of the hill and what there was wasn’t in flower; the distinctive purple flowers of heather is one of my reasons for walking in this sort of landscape at this time of the year. Maybe the poor summer was to blame. The path took me down into Ogden Clough where a great path follows the infant valley before striking out across the moorland over Black Hill. The ground underfoot was surprisingly dry and nowhere near as muddy as I’d found in the Ribble Valley earlier in the day, which contributed to making my onward progress an absolute pleasure. It was great to walk over such a good hill in such good weather, which seemed to have gotten better as the day progressed with almost clear skies while I was atop Pendle Hill and the sun beginning to descend as I made my way slowly down the spine of the hill towards the Nick of Pendle. I may have been in Lancashire for only three days but I’d really enjoyed myself in the variable terrain despite some really muddy ground. I must revisit the Forest of Bowland’s high moor again, returning after a prolonged period of drought.

In the footsteps of J R R Tolkien

Thursday 30th August 2012

While looking for walks in the area I found a leaflet on the Forest of Bowland website that describes a walk called The Tolkien Trail. The walk visits countryside that the writer of 'The Lord of the Rings', J R R Tolkien, was supposed to have been very familiar with, around the Catholic seminary at Stonyhurst College. The Warden at Slaidburn Youth Hostel, where I had been staying, even claimed that we were in the area that inspired Middle-Earth, however I can find no confirmation of this in direct sources such as Tolkien’s own writings or Biography. Nevertheless Tolkien did visit the area at the same time as writing The Lord of the Rings so it could be true to say that I was walking in the footsteps of J R R Tolkien. After staying overnight in the picturesque village of Slaidburn I drove via the town of Clitheroe to the village of Hurst Green in the Ribble Valley. With a copy of the Tolkien Trail leaflet in my hand I set off through the village and was immediately struck by the name of a pub: The Eagle and Child. This was the name of a pub in Oxford that was much frequented by Tolkien and friends (nicknamed by them the bird and baby!). The Tolkien associations had begun early.

Crossing saturated fields at the back of the village I followed the directions on the leaflet that led me to Stonyhurst College, a Catholic school in the Jesuit tradition. I passed by Fox Fall Wood on the way, but the wood was within an enclosure and left me outside on waterlogged fields, so I was still not enjoying the walk. At the college I skirted the grounds keeping well away from the impressive buildings that are the centre-piece of the College. Despite not getting a close look I was still astonished at the enormity of the cathedral-like buildings, but ultimately I wasn’t that interested in the college as it was the views ahead of me towards Pendle Hill that more successfully attracted my eye. I crossed a road at Woodfields where, according to my leaflet, Tolkien had stayed while visiting his son who was in the seminary. It was claimed that the view from Tom Bombadil’s house may have been based on that from New Lodge (despite the fact that Tolkien wrote the Bombadil chapters long before he ever came to Stonyhurst). A rough lane took me to Over Hacking Wood where I eventually crossed a stile into the dark depths that at last felt like I was in the pages of The Lord of the Rings.

A steep, slimy path led me steeply down to a simply divine little dell with a tiny stream snaking through a narrow ravine below a dense canopy of trees. I somehow managed to get my camera to take pictures that made the place look a lot brighter and greener than it actually looked to me. Despite the gloomy atmosphere this was gorgeous woodland scenery, made even more delectable by the murk and shadow created by the densely overhanging trees. This felt like how the Old Forest is described in The Lord of the Rings. The stream led me a short distance away to a tall bridge beyond which lay the broad River Hodder (the same river that passes through Stocks Reservoir that I’d walked around the day before). The river had been swollen by the rains of the previous days and was now chocolaty brown and fast moving. Turning right I followed the river out of the wood and round a great sweeping turn to the south. For this holiday I had feared that I would get nothing but wall-to-wall rain, but I have had little to worry about as once again I was enjoying dry weather and at this point I even had some sunshine as I walked along a wide track beside the river.

Eventually I reached a road where after crossing the river I found an old bridge that my leaflet calls Cromwell’s Bridge. This bridge seems to be a partial ruin but still technically spans the river. It is possible to get to the bridge but only a very foolhardy person would attempt to cross the river by the old bridge, especially with the river in spate. My route took me along the road for a short time following the route of the Ribble Way (even though I had still not reached the River Ribble) and after a short climb beside the road brought me to a path that led me across abominably muddy fields to Winckley Hall. A track led me through the busy Winckley Hall Farm back to the River Hodder which soon joined the even wider River Ribble. The River Ribble is one of the great rivers of the Yorkshire Dales, but here it had left its birthplace far behind and entered Lancashire swelling in size until by now it was a vast river and about to be swelled even more by the River Hodder. Both rivers were full and became a vast area of water at their meeting point that threatened to break their banks.

The muddy brown river rushed past the banks as I continued to walk beside the river accompanied by heavily scented flowers that a quick search of the internet has revealed to be the invasive Himalayan Balsam. It certainly seems to be a pervasive plant as it dominated long stretches of the river bank, but provided me with a welcome accompaniment during my long walk beside the River Ribble all the way from Winckley Hall Farm to Lambing Clough Wood. There I had my lunch under the trees before finally leaving the Ribble Way and climbing ridiculously muddy fields all the way up to the village of Hurst Green. This was not a great walk, but the highlight was definitely that dell on Over Hacking Beck, which was simply a delight. The wood was not far from the guest house that Tolkien probably stayed in so he must surely have also delighted in the scenery as I did. The riverside walk was also an enjoyable part of the walk, but as for this being the inspiration for Middle-Earth I think that is unlikely. It is my understanding that the real inspiration for Middle-Earth lies in the countryside where Tolkien grew up in the West Midlands, now obliterated by the urban sprawl of Birmingham. Countryside like that of the Ribble Valley is merely a reminder of the sort of countryside, quickly disappearing, that inspired a classic.

Around Stocks Reservoir

Wednesday 29th August 2012

After my walk of the previous day along the southern valleys of the Forest of Bowland I moved to the nearby village of Slaidburn where I stayed in the wonderful youth hostel in the village. Slaidburn is a quaint old-fashioned village where the 20th Century doesn’t seem to have intruded, let along the 21st Century: a mobile phone signal in Slaidburn is unheard-of. I was spending a couple of nights in Slaidburn so I thought it would be a good idea to do a walk starting from the hostel and, since the upland moors now held little interest for me after the quagmire I’d encountered the day before, an obvious target was Stocks Reservoir and Gisburn Forest. Unfortunately the rains that had kept me away on Monday had now returned so I had a wet start to my walk. Rain at the start of a walk really puts a dampener on your enthusiasm and makes it a real struggle to even start the walk, but the rain didn’t last very long and left a mostly miserable, grey and overcast day. So setting off in the rain I walked across dreary fields past a farmer collecting in his lambs (and losing one of them), until I reached Stocks Reservoir and the nearby Gisburn Forest.

Gisburn Forest (an actual wood) is to the north-west of the reservoir in a major part of its catchment area on the banks of Bottoms Beck. Up till this point the walk had been dreary and uninteresting: I never enjoy walking through fields as I prefer to walk through wilder country that hasn’t been so obviously moulded by man. When I’m walking through farmland I feel as if I’m intruding on someone’s workplace, so I never enjoy it. I had had enough of it at the end of the previous day's walk and now I was starting with it again. Eventually I reached Dalehead Chapel, which was moved from its original site near the village of Stocks-in-Bowland when the reservoir was built and flooded the village. At this point I joined the Stocks Reservoir Circular Walk which I was immediately impressed with as there were excellent paths through the woodland. A delightful walk through mixed deciduous woodland on a path near the road took me to a causeway over the mouth of Bottoms Beck where great views could be seen across the reservoir and the woodland surrounding it.

At a car park I found information about trails in the wood that proved too enticing for me to ignore. Taking a leaflet with me I followed red markers into the wood for an enjoyable walk through Gisburn Forest on a varied trail along wide forest roads and narrow, steep muddy tracks through bright, open, deciduous woodland and under dark, lifeless conifers. I really enjoyed this walk as I dropped down to  Bottoms Beck and climbed over Birch Hill back onto the circular walk. Continuing around the reservoir, I climbed away from Gisburn Forest and up to New House Farm (now a ruin) where I had my lunch while gazing across the valley of the River Hodder. After lunch I descended the steep hill and crossed the River Hodder, which is the main river that feeds the reservoir and continues on the other side of the dam towards Slaidburn. I climbed the hillside opposite past a lovely secluded ravine, Copped Hill Clough, which is so steep it has escaped all signs of human interference leaving a delightful stream sheltered by trees.

The circular walk continued along what the leaflet that I had picked up claimed was the route of an old railway track, probably temporarily built to aid in the construction of the dam. This wide track provided me with an easy walk around the side of Eak Hill with views all the way round the reservoir that only now could I see in its entirety. This track took me almost all the way to the dam, but on the way I heard something rumbling which, at first, I thought was a stream. When I heard it again, more clearly, even though I wasn’t near a stream, I realised it was thunder. As heavy rain began to fall I called to mind the procedure to follow when caught out in the open during a thunder storm. Fortunately the lightning never came close to me so I didn’t have to find a hollow away from trees. Soon the rain stopped again and the clouds that had completely covered the sky all day suddenly started to break so that by the time I reached the dam the sun had come out leaving me with a warm and sunny rest of the afternoon.

It hadn’t been my intention to continue along the circular walk after the dam but since the weather was so good and it was still early I decided to continue along the path beside the reservoir back towards Gisburn Forest. The path took me through a small wood before reaching a delightful wildflower meadow that despite being past its prime still had a wonderful display of wild flowers that spilt over onto the nearby roadside. I had now reached Dalehead Chapel again which left me with that dreary walk through fields back down into Slaidburn, but the bright sunshine had now transformed the walk so that I had a leisurely, relaxing stroll all the way back into the village. This was a mixed walk, but I enjoyed walking through Gisburn Forest and along the old railway track overlooking the reservoir (even when it was raining). The walks through farmland were very depressing, but the gorgeous sunshine at the end of the walk was a surprise bonus that I didn’t feel I or the walk deserved. Overall, though, I think you’ve got to say I enjoyed this walk.

The Forest of Bowland

Tuesday 28th August 2012

This time of the year I like to do some walking in moorland to take advantage of the heather that blooms at this time of the year and makes the moor look at its best. The area of moorland that I had selected this year no one had seemingly ever heard of, but actually the Forest of Bowland is an area of high moor in Lancashire, and not of trees as the name may suggest. In Britain, historically the name forest referred to a Royal hunting ground and has nothing to do with trees. Some existing Royal Forests do have trees (like the Forest of Dean and the New Forest), but others like the Forest of Bowland do not. Until recently access to the high moors was severely restricted to a couple of footpaths that cross the moor, but with the introduction of Right-to-Roam legislation you can now walk wherever you like across the vast moor, assuming anyone would want to. The lack of established footpaths across the moors mean that as soon as you venture off the few good paths you are into a thick, muddy mess of bogs and heather. The tops are broad and flat and soak without releasing any of the rain that falls onto them and this summer has seen an awful lot of rainfall in Britain. It is advisable to wait until after a period of drought before walking in the Forest of Bowland, which has not happened this year.

After a particularly wet Bank Holiday weekend I drove up the M6 and reached the tiny village of Dunsop Bridge first thing in the morning. I had good weather for this walk with glorious sunshine all day, but the ground was still saturated with water. My hours and hours spent studying the OS map of the Forest of Bowland had determined that the best area to walk in was the steep sided valleys to the south of the high moors, and north of Dunsop Bridge. I therefore started the walk by setting off up the Dunsop Valley but was soon disappointed with what I found. The track marked on the map is a tarmacked road that runs all the way up the valley and so ruins the unspoilt feel.  This was not what I had come to see and became a tedious trudge up a conifer-lined valley that has been set aside for water-catchment to serve the industrial towns of Lancashire. Eventually I reached Brennand Farm where I turned off the tarmacked road and up the steep grassy slopes of the valley climbing Ouster Rake on a brilliant path that slowly climbs past the Brennand Stones and steep ground to reach the moorland top at Whin Fell.

Once on the moor I was hit by strong winds, bogs and vast, bleak vistas, but this was only a taste of what was to come. The path soon dropped back down into the valley on the other side with stunning views up towards the Trough of Bowland, a steep sided scar in the hillside that would have been a fabulous route to walk up if there hadn’t been a road at the bottom of it. On reaching the road, I turned away from the Trough and descended past Sykes Farm towards an avenue of trees that leads into the stunning Langden Brook valley. I had a great walk through this valley along a wide stony track with heather-clad slopes of a gorgeous shade of purple under blue skies. This relaxing walk took me to Langden Castle (which appeared to be nothing more than an old barn!) where I had lunch before continuing along the path as the Langden Brook valley fractured into many narrow cloughs while the path I was on turned off the Langden Brook into a clough beside the Fiendsdale Water. I was walking along an excellent path through the narrowing Fiendsdale and climbing up onto the moorland with steep drops down to the tiny stream at the bottom and heather in-bloom at my feet.

Eventually I reached the top of the moor as I followed a good, established footpath across the moors to Fiendsdale Head and then I turned south off the flag-stoned path onto the deep morass to climb Fair Snape Fell. I was now following a very boggy path beside the fence and struggled to find anything solid under my feet as I tried to make my way up to the cairn at the top of the fell. This was such a frustrating climb in such boggy conditions that it put me off continuing to walk along the top of the moors. After visiting the trig point at the edge of Fair Snape Fell I crossed the moor above Wolf Fell and joined a clear track that took me down Saddle Fell and off the moors. My plan had been to walk along the ridge eastwards gradually descending past the trig point at Totridge and slowly head back to Dunsop Bridge. Instead I dropped down to Burnslack where I took a succession of tracks and paths through the farmland below the moors all the way to Mellor Knoll near Totridge. With hindsight it might have been easier to have stayed on the moors. I didn’t enjoy walking through the fields any more than I would have done on top of the moors.

The signposting was sketchy at best (it was pathetic compared with the clear signposts used in Leicestershire) and the ground was at times as muddy as it had been on the moor. On the low hill of Mellor Knoll I found perhaps worse conditions than had been on the moors with the ground churned up by cows, but this was not far from the road beside Langden Brook and a short walk along the road took me back to Dunsop Bridge. This was a very tiring walk especially when battling the deep bogs on the moor and in the fields. Conditions like this put you off walking in the Forest of Bowland, but the highlight of the walk was the Langden Brook valley, which was a pleasure to walk along from start to finish and showed me just what I had been missing all these years by not going to the Forest of Bowland.

The Snowdon Horseshoe, part 2

Saturday 11th August 2012

To conclude the account of my walk over Snowdon in August that I started last week, I had reached the packed summit of Snowdon having tried to get to the top as early as possible to avoid the crowds, but it hadn’t worked, everyone else had had the same thought. Quickly I left the summit and crossed Bwlch Glas to Garnedd Ugain, Snowdon’s twin peak. Despite the early hour I had my lunch behind a crag before starting my crossing of Crib Goch. This was the fourth time I had crossed Crib Goch and the second in this direction, the other two times being in the usual east to west direction. In the direction I went this time the ridge seems to get harder and harder with the trickiest and narrowest part of the ridge (the actual edge of Crib Goch) coming at the end. I think the usual direction is the better direction as the terrifying exposure along the knife-edge of Crib Goch is quickly over which leaves you to enjoy the following succession of exciting scrambles along the ridge.

Crib Goch is an awesome ridge but I find it positively terrifying every time I go over it. I am not great with heights; I probably didn’t look down throughout the entire crossing, just keeping my eyes fixed on the rocks in front of me. Unlike in 2006, I was trying to make the crossing as easy as possible with no diversions to more challenging climbs as it’s difficult enough without making it more difficult. The technically hardest part of the ridge is over the pinnacles of Crib Goch and these have been particularly challenging for me in the past, especially the last time I went across in 2007. This time I followed the route that I took on my first crossing: a steep, exposed descent followed by an even steeper, exposed ascent around the pinnacles. My first time across Crib Goch was the scariest thing I’ve ever done and despite now having been across four times I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed it. It is a terrifying ridge; I don’t believe that there is any other word for it. It is very thrilling, but also nerve-wracking. However, I hadn’t made it easy for myself as I seemed to be only person going in an easterly direction. Crib Goch is so narrow there are no passing places so I had to wait perched precariously on the edge of a sheer drop three thousand feet high while seemingly hundreds of people passed by before I was able to go on. I don’t think I’m going to be in a hurry to return to Crib Goch.

When I finally reached the eastern peak I descended the steep south-eastern ridge that is normally a good scramble, but I found that in descent you don’t need your hands as much as you do in ascent. You can just calmly walk down the rocky ridge while others are carefully scrambling up the ridge. It was fun in a scary sort of way. When I got down to the Pyg Track, instead of turning left towards Pen-y-Pass, I turned right towards Snowdon, but soon left the path dropping down the grassy slopes. There is a path near Snowdon marked on OS maps that I had never been on before, or even seen. It links the Pyg Track with the Miners’ Track and passes to the south of the Horns. I wanted to find this path and did find a faint path that could have been mistaken for a sheep trod so I followed it, but half way along I saw another, clearer path further down the hillside. Thinking this must be the illusive path I dropped down and followed that around the hillside above Llyn Llydaw. With hindsight I think I should have stayed on the higher path as the lower path just went to a disused sheepfold that is marked on maps.

When I reached the sheepfold I had a pedantic idea that in order to complete the horseshoe one must return to the point where you started it, but that is not Pen-y-Pass even though that is usually treated as the start of the Snowdon Horseshoe. Geographically the starting point of the horseshoe is the outlet of Llyn Llydaw Reservoir. I first climbed the ridge from that point, so I must come down at that point. A short walk along a low, grassy ridge, which I’m sure few people walk along despite the thousands who walk beside it, led me down to the Miners’ Track and the shore of Llyn Llydaw. This was a slightly boggy but fun diversion to end a thrilling day on Snowdon and finally a stroll along the Miners’ Track and the new path led me back to the Pen-y-Gwryd Hotel. This was a thrilling and at times terrifying walk. It was so great to get my hands on rock again and do a truly great mountain walk up a truly great mountain. I must have been walking on rock for the majority of the walk. I love walking in rugged terrain and Snowdon has that in abundance, it’s just a shame that mountains like Snowdon are so rare. That’s why everyone loves Snowdon.

The Snowdon Horseshoe, part 1

Saturday 11th August 2012

Over the last couple of years I have been doing one-off walks in the middle of the summer. Last year I walked along the Walna Scar ridge in the Lake District, the year before I walked up Snowdon, and in 2009 I did a mammoth walk around the Kirkstone Pass in the Lake District. Without deliberately realising it I had started alternating my high summer walk between the Lake District and Snowdon, possibly two of the greatest mountain areas in England and Wales. I probably picked those areas because I had been trying to maximise my opportunity for one great day up a mountain in the middle of the summer. The actual reason I chose to walk up Snowdon this year was because I have always walking up Snowdon at least once a year, and I hadn’t been up this great mountain yet this year. When I realised this I was briefly a little disappointed with myself that I felt compelled to follow form instead of anywhere else I may have been thinking of walking, but when I thought about the prospect of walking up Snowdon again I became excited at the thought of climbing that great mountain again.

I got up in the middle of the night and drove all the way from Leicester to North Wales parking near the Pen-y-Gwryd Hotel at the same spot I’d parked the year before when I had led a group of guys from my Church up Snowdon. Soon after 7am, with the sun just beginning to appear over the tops of the hills, I set off from my car along the new path that was laid in the spring of last year. It didn’t take me long to climb up to the Pen-y-Pass car park, but even at this early hour the car park seemed to be full, which I found astonishing and, to be frank, rather stupid. The Pen-y-Pass car park charges £10 a day whereas where I had parked it was only £4, and a lot of people were prepared to pay that amount and get there at the crack of dawn for the privilege! My reason for starting so early was so that I could get the mountain to myself, but that was obviously not going to happen. Most people were heading off along the Pyg Track so I set off along the Miners’ Track around the small lake of Llyn Teryn and just before reaching the second lake I branched off the path past the inlet for the pipeline to the Cwm Deli Hydroelectric Power Station.

I had decided that I was going to climb Snowdon by the ultimate route: the Snowdon Horseshoe on top of the sharp ridges that lie to the east of the mountain. The horseshoe is usually (probably almost always) done in an anti-clockwise direction starting along the northern ridge of Crib Goch. Since that was the direction that I had taken six years ago when I climbed Snowdon on the horseshoe, and since everyone else was going that way, I followed the narrow path that climbs to the top of the southern ridge, Y Lliwedd. This is a great way round Snowdon, especially at this time of the morning as I literally didn’t see anyone during my climb over the top of Y Lliwedd, unfortunately I didn’t see much else either as it was very hazy with the humidity ruining my view despite blue skies overhead. This was a great disappointment as I had come to Snowdon expecting excellent views but it was just too humid, which is typical of this time of the year. Nevertheless it was great to feel solid rock below my feet again and to have the energy to make the most of it thanks to a determined effort to improve my fitness since returning from Scotland.

After visiting the East and West Peaks of Y Lliwedd I climbed down tricky, steep, rocky terrain to the col of Bwlch Ciliau and joined the Watkin Path where I saw my first people since leaving the Miners’ Track. It was still very early and yet here were people climbing the Watkin Path who must have started as early as me; it seemed like everyone had started early to climb Snowdon. I immediately left the crowds behind, coming straight off the Watkin Path to follow the top of the ridge and I had great fun weaving my way along the top of the crags. At one point I walked along a narrow edge that could have challenged Crib Goch, if it had three thousand feet sheer sides. When the gradient sharply increased I spurned the Watkin Path in favour of a direct ascent of the steep hillside climbing straight up to the top of Snowdon. I had taken this route in 2007 so I knew that it is a very tricky ascent and requires a careful picking of your route. You’ve got to stay away from the scree on the southern slopes as it’s difficult to get a grip on loose stones and these could fall down onto anyone on the Watkin Path, but you’ve also got to stay away from sheer cliffs on the unclimbable eastern slopes. A course has to be found between the treacherous loose stones and the dangerous cliffs up rocks that are both slippery and requires some scrambling. It’s no surprise this route is not recommended, but because of the difficulty I found it an exciting route up and there was no one around to interrupt my fun.

Eventually I reached the top of Snowdon and was disappointed to find the summit packed with people despite it being only 10.30 in the morning. Any other mountain in Britain would have been empty at that time of the morning, but not Snowdon on a Saturday in the summer in good weather. Snowdon seems to be getting more popular every year and that is beginning to put me off climbing it, which is a great pity as it has got to be the greatest mountain in Britain, but it’s a victim of its own greatness. I climb Snowdon every year because it is a great mountain, but if I am unable to climb the mountain without being surrounded by hundreds of other people I may stop doing so. One of my reasons for climbing mountains is to get away from the sort of crowds you’d find in a typical shopping centre, but the top of Snowdon is just like High Cross in Leicester, only higher. I found out on this walk that even if you get up ridiculously early in the morning you’ll still not get the mountain to yourself. Snowdon is just too good.

Inverie Woods and the Mallaig Circular Walk

Friday 8th June 2012

After four days in Knoydart it was sadly time for me to leave this fantastically wild and remote area. Before catching the ferry back to Mallaig I did a quick walk around the woods above Inverie where there is a good selection of paths above the small community and provided me with an entertaining walk while I waited. These paths took me up the steep hillside, climbing as high as I could get, until I reached a viewpoint near the top fence where I had views across the bay and out to sea, and then I dropped quickly down the hillside along a bike track having just as much fun running down as I would have done if I’d cycled down. On the pier I caught the ferry and nostalgically looked at the view of Knoydart behind me as the boat pulled away from Inverie. The Corbett and the three Munros that I had climbed during my time in Knoydart came into view as the boat pulled away from the shore: Ladhar Bheinn on the left, Sgurr Coire Choinnichean in the middle, standing guard over Inverie, and Luinne Bheinn and Meall Buidhe to the right. They could all be clearly seen as a reminder of my time in the area.

In Mallaig, due to the sparsity of trains on the West Highland Line, I had a five hour wait for the next train. Fortunately while waiting for the ferry to Knoydart on Monday I had seen a notice board that mentioned circular walks around Mallaig. The Mallaig Circular Walk climbs from the East Bay car park up a clear, well surfaced path to a viewpoint that overlooks the port. The circular walk then continues along this pleasant path down to Malaig Bheag and returns to the start along the road. This is listed as a two mile walk, which wasn’t going to last the five hours that I needed to fill, so at the top of the hill I turned right following a marker that pointed towards “Loch an Nostarie and Loch Eireagoraidh”. However, I think I must have immediately gone the wrong way as the faint path that I was following lead to a tall deer fence with no way over it. Turning left beside the fence I dropped down into a grassy gully where I found the correct path and a gate through the fence, which led me to another fence from where views could be seen across the seemingly unspoilt Loch an Nostarie.

Since I had plenty of time until my train was due I decided to start following some of the paths that are marked on my map that I could just about make out on the ground and headed east. The path I was walking along was very faint and difficult to follow, which made me feel like I was walking in some really wild and isolated location, but the illusion of unspoilt terrain was ruined when I realised that I was following a pipeline that goes from Loch Eireagoraidh past Loch an Nostarie to the coast near Mallaig (supplying water for the village). Two paths go either side of the small hill of Beinn nan Caorach to a narrow gully between the rocky peaks of Carn a’ Ghobhair and Carn Mhic a Ghille-chairn before eventually reaching Loch Eireagoraidh. I took the northern path past Beinn nan Caorach but I turned back along the southern path before reaching the gully. I suppose it might have been fun if I had gone through the gap and seen the loch, and maybe even climbed the rocky peaks to their summits. With hindsight I wish I had, but at the time I was just thinking about getting back to Mallaig for something to eat.

The path I was following led me briefly beside the An Leth-allt stream before descending to the shore of Loch an Nostarie. A pleasant walk along the shore led me all the way to Glasnacardoch on the main road near the coast, and a walk along the old road past a swimming pool and the secondary school brought me back into Mallaig where I had my lunch. The rest of my day in Mallaig was whittled away doing little else. It’s a shame I wasn’t able to do a bigger walk on my last full day in Scotland as my schedule dictated that I needed to catch a train south along the West Highland Line to Crianlarich where a short overnight stop would interrupt my journey home. I quite enjoyed my walk around the hills overlooking Mallaig. The weather was as good as I had enjoyed throughout my holiday and afforded me with good views out to sea, towards the mountains of Rùm and south towards Loch Morar. I can’t believe how lucky I was with the weather during this holiday. This summer has been infamous for its bad weather and yet I found the only spot in Britain to have escaped. Not since 2006 have I known such consistently good weather during a holiday.

The negatives from this holiday are partly a result of the good weather: by the end of the holiday I was covered in insect bites from the midges that always plague the West Highlands during the summer. The hot weather had brought them out in their billions and they all seem to have made a beeline for me! Another problem I had on this holiday was my seeming inability to go uphill without quickly getting out of breath and exhausted. I put on a lot of weight over the winter and I think I was finally paying the price for it. Finally, I think a problem I had on this holiday, and indeed on other holidays in Scotland, is a lack of flexibility. I plan my holidays so rigidly that unless I have planned them perfectly, which rarely happens, I end up with things like a five hour wait for a train in Mallaig. My planning for holidays needs to be better or just a little less rigid in that plan. I had attempted with this holiday to stop my dissatisfaction with my Scottish holidays, and I can’t say this holiday was disappointing as I had a fabulous time throughout the fortnight. I climbed twelve Munros and two Corbetts while staying in some adorably isolated locations. The unspoilt isolation of places like Loch Ossian and Knoydart is the highlight of this holiday.

Meall Buidhe

Thursday 7th June 2012

Despite expecting bad weather to finally break my holiday, bright sunshine continued as I once again set off alongside the Inverie River through the wild Knoydart peninsula. There are three Munros (mountains above three thousand feet in Scotland) in the Knoydart area, and I’d walked up two of them over the previous couple of daysm which left the final Munro, Meall Buidhe, for my last day in Knoydart. This is not a big mountain (in terms of area), and in fact its name translates as ‘yellow hill’. Nearby is a mountain that translates as ‘yellow mountain’, that being Beinn Bhuidhe, which is a much more expansive mountain even though it’s only a Corbett (a mountain in Scotland between two and a half and three thousand feet). I considered including Beinn Bhuidhe in this walk, but eventually abandoned the idea, and harmed what could have been a great walk. When planning for this holiday I had thought of making Beinn Bhuidhe one of my targets for a walk and I think it would have been a great walk, but not if I’d tried to tag it onto its neighbour Meall Buidhe. Ultimately this walk was decided the day before when I didn’t walk along the ridge between Luinne Bheinn and Meall Buidhe, and that was decided by not walking between Sgurr Coire Choinichean and Ladhar Bheinn. What a convoluted mess!

This walk started just like the previous two with a walk along Gleann an Dubh-Lochain, a stunning valley that I was beginning to appreciate in many ways. Before reaching Dubh-Lochain I branched off the main track onto a path that crosses the Inverie River before making its way over the Màm Meadail pass. I soon turned off the path and crossed the Allt Gleann Meadail stream making my way straight for the western tip of Meall Buidhe. My Harvey Map indicated a path up the steep ridge, but I had difficulty following it at first, and even needed to consult my GPS at one point. Eventually, I managed to find the slender path that climbs the steep ridge of Druim Righeanaich and finally reached the top of the crags, only to see what lay ahead of me: long grassy slopes that led all the way up to the summit. This is the sort of thing I love in descent but in ascent I find it just too tedious as they seem to drag, so I was soon thinking that I should have done this walk in the other direction. The views behind me along the lush-green valley to Inverie and out to sea were stunning, but I would have appreciated them more if I was looking at them all the time rather than only when I stopped and turned around.

The clear skies were a soft blue while the sea was a lovely deep blue across the Inner Sound all the way to the mountains of Rùm on the horizon. The views were enchanting in the good weather. Very slowly I made my way along the grassy ridge all the way up to the summit. This holiday started with me having a lot of problems with fatigue while going uphill, possibly due to lack of sleep or simply because of the heat. Despite getting plenty of sleep and with cooler temperatures I was still not climbing the hills as quickly as I once did. Rejecting the possibility that I’m getting old, I assume I’m just not as fit as I once was. My legs were lacking the strength to haul myself up the hills very quickly, which is probably due to a lack of exercise, particularly of the hill-walking variety, when I’m not on holiday. My walking companion around Loch Ossian did a lot of running and despite being a little older than me was easily able to climb the mountains. Maybe age does have something to do with it – if I want to continue going up mountains in the way that I’m used to, I can no longer get away with sporadic walks up hills. I may even have to take up running …

Very, very slowly I made my way up to the summit of Meall Buidhe where I had my lunch with the typical stunning Scottish mountain panorama all around me. I couldn’t help thinking that this was the last Munro of my Scottish holiday this year; I wouldn’t be seeing the sweep of Scottish mountains as far as the eye could see again until next year. Not far from where I was sitting, just across the Carnach valley, are the Munros of Sgurr na Ciche and Garbh Chioch Mhor where I went for a long tiring walk in 2008. These are difficult to reach mountains that required a long drive beside Loch Arkaig before a long walk along Glen Dessary. I managed to get as far as Garbh Chioch Mhor in poor weather but had been forced to to turn back before reaching Sgurr na Ciche because of time and the remoteness of the location. On that occasion I never saw the illusive Munro, but now I could clearly see the sharp-peaked mountain. I wonder if I will ever finally reach the top. There are people who would not be happy until they have bagged every Munro in the area, but I’ve never been that concerned about bagging Munros. All I’m interested in is a good walk over good terrain with good views.

On leaving the summit of Meall Buidhe I crossed over to the south-east top, a Munro Top, and had a quick look along the ridge to Luinne Bheinn. I’ve heard that the ridge between Meall Buidhe and Luinne Bheinn is a navigational challenge, even in good weather. I might have had a great walk along that ridge, which I should really have done the day before, but should I have corrected that by turning left at this moment onto the steep rugged ridge? We’ll never know. I turned right down the south-eastern ridge towards Sgurr Sgeithe. After the ground levelled off the path I was following disappeared and I was left with a steep, pathless, crag-filled slope all the way down to Màm Meadail, so gingerly I made my way down the ridiculously steep grassy slope. By the time I got down to the pass I didn’t feel like prolonging the walk over Beinn Bhuidhe, where there appeared to be no path, so I just followed the good path all the way back to Inverie. I was just too tired to want to attempt the broad ridge. Beinn Bhuidhe should be climbed as the sole target of the day and not tagged onto another. It’s just a shame that I didn’t plan this walk better as the walk that I did would have been much better done in the opposite direction. My walks in Knoydart could all have been better organised, but I still managed to climb all three Munros in the area, plus a Corbett, and all in brilliant weather. I shouldn’t complain.