Price comparison - multiply by 1.81 for 2023 equivalent
Having exhausted most of the high level walks around mainland Britain, some of which I have walked twice, or even three times, as is the case with the Pennine Way, I decided it was time for something different. There are obviously many other countries with good walks available, but the additional cost and time of travelling and the greater problems of organising a walk abroad tend to put me off. The only way of finding something a little different was to devise a walk of my own, possibly taking in sections of other walks if they happened to suit my purposes.
One possibility was to start off with a walk of the Dales Way and finish off with a week or so walking in the Lake District. The problem with the Dales Way, however, which had put me off in the past, is that it is a walk that sticks mainly to the valley bottoms, following riverside paths for much of its length. Although I am quite happy to do riverside walks for a few miles, I would find it very boring to do so for several days at a stretch, as the views tend to be much more restricted than those at a higher level. This led me to think of a modified version that might give me more variety of scenery.
The Yorkshire Dales consists largely of flat-topped moorland that is often covered in peat bogs interspersed with picturesque valleys with their characteristic dry-stone walls, attractive villages, and limestone outcrops. To me, the best vantage point is from half way up a hillside, looking down on the scenery of the valleys, but with wider views over the rest of the landscape. With this in mind, I set out to devise a few modifications to the Dales Way to follow paths higher up the valley sides. However, on studying maps of the area, there were very few places where there were any such footpaths. In general, the paths either run along the valley bottoms or head for the top of an often flat-topped and boggy hill, neither of which suited my purpose.
One way around this was to keep taking paths over ridges from one dale to another, thus getting better views of both of the dales without necessarily spending too much time either on the flat moor tops or down in the valley bottoms. This seemed to have more possibilities, though, by its very nature, would deviate considerably from the route of the Dales Way.
I already had a set of three Yorkshire Dales and four Lake District Outdoor Leisure 1:25,000 scale maps, so most of my walk would be covered by these, helping considerably with the planning. For any sections that were not covered I made use of the Ordnance Survey's free Get-a-Map service online, thus avoiding the need to buy other maps just for a few miles of the route. By saving several of the small map sections, I was able to piece them together using a desktop publishing package and then print out these larger sections for use on the walk, laminating them to protect them if they got wet. All of my maps were rather old, so didn't have the Dales Way or Cumbria Way very clearly marked as the later maps have, but where I was in any doubt, the route could be confirmed from Get-a-Map.
Another problem that I encountered was the difficulty of finding reasonably priced accommodation in many places. The Yorkshire Dales, like the Lake District, is a very popular tourist destination and there has been a tendency for B&Bs in the more popular places to capitalise on the situation by charging high prices. This is bad enough for couples, but for a lone walker, it presents even more difficulties. Few places have any single rooms and most places are reluctant to let a double or twin room for single occupancy without asking for a considerable supplement, or else they want to charge the full double room price. In the Lake District, there is, at least a good network of youth hostels, but this is not the case with the Yorkshire Dales, except along the route of the Pennine Way.
A search of the Internet revealed that there are a significant number of bunk houses, which seemed to offer a few more possibilities, but on closer inspection, it turned out that a lot of these took only group bookings and were mainly designed to cover the outdoor activity market aimed at schools and colleges. There were, however, a few places that would take individual bookings, one of which I had already stayed at in Horton-in-Ribblesdale, and one or two others near the route of the Dales Way. Gradually some framework of a walk was coming into place, though I was still having problems with the first stretch of the walk from Ilkley to the youth hostel at Kettlewell, as it was rather a long way to walk in one day, especially with some of the route diversions I was planning.
It then occurred to me that there was no reason for me to start at Ilkley anyway, as I had already abandoned much of the Dales Way route, so I could start anywhere that I could easily reach by public transport. Skipton offered better possibilities, as it meant that Kettlewell would then be within one day's walking distance. The Dales route was now coming more clearly into focus provided I could find a few reasonably priced B&Bs or bunkhouses in suitable places. Once I reached the Lake District, it would be just a matter of booking a number of youth hostels within reasonable walking distance of each other, terminating somewhere along the coast, where I could catch a train back home. There is such a network of footpaths at both high and low levels throughout the Lake District that there would be no problem in finding suitable routes between hostels, and I would be able to have alternative route options to suit varying weather conditions and my own level of fitness each day.
The basis of the route from Skipton was to take the footpath along the western edge of Embsay Moor, then join the Dales Way at Grassington, where it takes one of its few higher level routes along the hillside to Kettlewell. Next day I would cross over into Littondale and make my way over Plover Hill and Pen-y-ghent to Horton-in-Ribblesdale. From there I would complete the other two of Yorkshire's Three Peaks: Ingleborough and Whernside, before dropping down to Dentdale and the Dales Way, where there was a convenient bunkhouse a couple of miles before reaching Dent. I would then head for Sedbergh, deviating from the Dales Way by going over Long Moor instead of along the valley and also taking a high level route over the Howgill Fells, before rejoining the Dales Way to find another bunkhouse not far from the M6 motorway. My next stop was planned for Staveley after taking a route over the edge of the fells by Potter Tarn, and then I could embark on the Lake District part of the walk.
All of this was fine in theory, but I left the booking of my accommodation a little late for one reason or another. By the time I got around to it in the latter part of April, it was apparent that there was a considerable number of youth hostels with no beds free when and where I wanted them. This meant that instead of planning a route around the Lake District and booking hostels along the way, I drew up a table of bed availability at all the hostels and planned a route to fit in with those. Availability seemed a bit better by starting my walk a week later than I intended, but that didn't clash with anything else, so was not a problem. My Lake District route was by no means ideal, missing out large areas that I would have liked to visit, and being more of a random zigzag between hostels rather than a properly planned walk. The last hostel would be in Coniston, where I would join the Cumbria Way down to Ulverston, staying in a B&B before catching the train home. All the Lake District sections were under 15 miles by the most direct route, but some of my high level options would include a lot of ascent and slower walking, so could leave me short of time if I were not careful, and I might risk getting too exhausted if I tried to take on an excessive amount of climbing day after day. I would, therefore leave the decision as to which route I should take to when I was there, when I would be able to tell how good the weather was, and how fit I felt at the time.
I had no particular preference as to what day of the week I should start. The only two considerations being that the rail service is very much reduced on a Sunday, so I didn't want to travel either way then, and, on many weekends in the summer, Horton-in-Ribblesdale is overrun by people attempting the Yorkshire Three Peaks Challenge, so I wanted to avoid a weekend when staying there. By travelling to the start on a Monday, both of these problems would be avoided.
As far as the Dales part of the route was concerned, I managed to keep reasonably well to my plan, booking a B&B in Skipton, the youth hostel in Kettlewell, and a bunkroom in Horton-in-Ribblesdale. The bunkhouse at Whernside Manor in Dentdale was full but I booked B&B at the Sun Inn in Dent instead. The next bunkhouse at Lowgill no longer seemed to be operating, but I was able to book a B&B near Grayrigg, leaving only one more place to find accommodation before the youth hostel at Patterdale. The accommodation in Staveley all seemed to be expensive, and a B&B at Kentmere was full along with their bunkhouse. The only reasonable option seemed to be Windermere, where I managed to find a B&B which was not too expensive, and where they would accept a one-night stay. From there it was youth hostels at Patterdale, Derwentwater, Elterwater, Wastwater, Black Sail Hut for two nights, Grasmere, Coniston and finally a B&B at Ulverston.
With all the accommodation booked, it was just a matter of booking my train tickets and then waiting for the start date to arrive. The first set of prices that come up when putting in the start and finish of a train journey are not necessarily the best if any changes are involved. Cheap advance tickets may only be available on certain legs of the route and are often not offered as part of the overall journey, so it pays to check what options are available for each stage individually and then book them accordingly. I managed to book from Rhyl to Skipton via Manchester and Leeds for £14, and from Ulverston to Rhyl via Manchester for £22, a considerable saving on the standard fares of £36.50 and £38 respectively. The journey from Ulverston to Rhyl involved a fairly long wait in Manchester, but I could use that to get some lunch there.
Preparation and Training
I generally manage to keep fairly fit throughout the year by getting out on day walks over the hills and mountains of North Wales, near to where I live, taking with me my ever willing companion Oscar, a Parson's Terrier (Jack Russell and Fox Terrier cross). Unfortunately for him, it is a bit too much of a problem with accommodation for me to take him with me on long distance walks, though I am sure he would love to go, given half a chance.
Oscar on Glyder Fawr
The weather and other commitments determine how often I get out walking over the mountains - sometimes it is every week and sometimes only once every few weeks, but it usually enough to stop me from getting too much out of condition. In any case, I tend to walk Oscar every day for two or three miles, but this is generally along the flat and not as good as hill walking for exercising leg and heart muscles. It is great to see well tuned muscles and sinews pulling together like a well oiled machine making effortless progress up a steep mountainside, but that is just the dog, as I try to ignore his contemptuous backward glances as I struggle on behind. It is as if to say 'Come on! What are you waiting for? Let's get to the top so we can open up the sandwich box.' I sometimes wonder whether his greatest joy in walking is the walk itself or the food that he gets on the way. Although he is only about one sixth of my body weight, he generally eats more than I do, and about four times as quickly. Woe betide me if we reach a summit and I don't stop for food, even if it is blowing a gale up there, and I decide to go further on for some shelter.
My equipment list was much the same as on previous walks with a few minor alterations. I recently bought a wide-angle converter for my Finepix 7000S camera to give it a focal length equivalent to 28mm on a 35mm camera. This can be very useful in high mountain areas such as the Lake District, but is quite bulky, so I decided to leave behind my binoculars to offset the weight. On many walks, I hardly use the binoculars, so I have often wondered whether their weight was justified by the use I had from them.
To flavour my drinking water, making it more refreshing and palatable, particularly in warm weather, I got some more Kool-Aid sachets. This is an American product that has been on sale over there for many decades, but there has been no equivalent product on sale over here since Apeel ceased to be sold. A product called O2GO was launched about a year ago and, in theory, is available in some major supermarkets, such as Morrison's and Sainsbury's, but I have been unable to find any in stock to date. Kool-Aid comes in a number of flavours, each small sachet making about two litres of drink. It has no added sweetener - the instructions saying 'add a cupful of sugar, more or less according to taste!' However, to avoid the weight of sugar, not that I would dream of adding that much, I use artificial sweeteners, adding about five per litre. This still leaves the drink tasting rather bitter, but I prefer it that way rather than it being too sweet.
I have also used some other powdered drink products that were kindly sent to me by a lady who walked Offa's Dyke Path with her son, and stayed with us a couple of years ago both before and after the walk, but as Kool-Aid is now relatively easy to buy and inexpensive, I decided to stay with that. There are several websites where it can be ordered from America, but also one or two sellers in the UK who import it and sell it online at about 45p a sachet plus postage. Its light weight and that of the sweeteners, means that it is possible to take enough for a couple of weeks of walking without worrying about the extra burden.
The last few pairs of walking boots I have had have all suffered from the same problem. Soft padding around the heel starts to wear away after just a couple of hundred miles, and the rough edges thus exposed cause excessive wear to the heels of walking socks, as well as being prone to causing blisters. This never used to happen, as any interior lining of boots, and particularly of leather boots, was much more durable, often being made of soft leather. It seems that, either in the quest to make boots feel more instantly comfortable the longer term considerations have been ignored, or, more cynically, that it is built-in obsolescence to make people buy new boots well before they would normally need replacing. Many walkers I meet up with only do about a hundred miles of walking per year, so by the time the problem occurs, it is too late to take the boots back. I walk several hundred miles per year; so can suffer the problem after only a few months. In fact, I took one pair of boots back after only about five weeks because the heel lining had worn through in the space of the 200-miles of a long-distance walk. With my current boots, I have put up with the wear, as it wasn't hurting my feet, but it was costing me a lot of money in prematurely worn-out socks. Thinking I might do better with some higher quality socks, I invested in some Thousand Mile socks with an inner and outer layer, the outer one supposedly sticking to the boot and the inner one sticking to the foot so that any rubbing is done between the two layers. I hoped that this might reduce the amount of wear, even if they didn't last out the thousand miles. Also, to cover the rough edges inside the boots I stuck some gaffer tape over, though I had my doubts as to how long it might stay in place.
Day 0 - Monday 16th June 2008 - Home to Skipton (B&B)
N.B. The calculation of ascent is a rather inexact science; different figures tend to come out depending what methods are used. The figures I have given are based on my own measurements and my own counting of contour lines, but should only be used as a rough guide.
The GPS mileage figure is what I recorded from accommodation to accommodation, and includes any small detours, meandering around boggy sections, and errors in route finding. In general this is about 5% to 15% greater than the mileage calculated from the map, depending upon the type of terrain.
Accommodation: B&B Skipton
The time had now arrived for me to set off on my walk. All my kit was checked out and packed, watched intently by the dog, who gets very excited at the sight of anything to do with walking such as boots, maps, rucksacks and, most of all, sandwich boxes. Somehow, though, he seemed to sense that things were not quite right. It was a larger rucksack that I was packing, it was a different colour, and I was putting in all sorts of things that I wouldn't normally take. When it came to setting off and he was told that he wasn't going with me, he seemed resigned to his fate and got back onto his bed, but then he will probably sulk for the whole of the time that I am away. My younger daughter insisted on driving me to Rhyl railway station even though a bus, that could take me there for free with my bus pass, stops just across the road. Such is her contempt of public transport and, in particular, of buses that she wouldn't see her father having to use one, even though I have no qualms about doing so.
I had to change at Manchester and Leeds on the way to Skipton, so was a little worried when the train was running 10 minutes late, as that was the amount of time I had for my connection in Manchester. However, my mind was set at ease when the ticket inspector informed someone nearby that both trains used the same platform so, unless it found some way of overtaking us, it was bound to be behind us, however long the delay.
The journey was rather uneventful, at first following the North Wales coast and the Dee estuary, which is always a pleasant sight, especially on a sunny day like today. Then followed a less picturesque part of the journey into Manchester via some of its less attractive parts. A quick change to the Leeds train saw me soon heading out of Manchester and into the attractive hills and moors of the Pennines, until a long tunnel took us through to the Yorkshire side on the way to Huddersfield and Leeds. Although this part of Yorkshire is quite industrialised in many parts, the buildings are mainly of Yorkshire stone and fit in well with the landscape, especially once the soot and grime has either been cleaned off, or has eventually weathered away.
Leeds is the place where I was born, though I lived in the village of Rawdon, seven miles to the west, on the road to Ilkley. Like most cities, Leeds has undergone many changes and there are parts that have changed beyond recognition, though much of the city centre is still the same, not that there is too much of it to see from the train. Leeds station is quite large and I had to cross from one side to the other for the Skipton train, though there was no problem as I had 15 minutes to make the connection.
As we headed out towards Skipton, passing through places I knew quite well from my earlier years, the scenery gradually changed from that of the more built-up areas of the old Yorkshire woollen mill towns to that of open countryside on the fringes of the Yorkshire Dales, all looking very beautiful in the bright summer sunshine. I arrived in Skipton, the self-proclaimed 'Gateway to the Dales', just after 16.00 and headed off to find my B&B armed with a street map that they sent me.
Skipton is an old market town with a castle that has managed to retain its roof when many others have been left to go to ruins. The Leeds Liverpool canal runs through the centre, and there is an offshoot going near to the castle where there was a limestone wharf. All this plus the buildings built mainly of Yorkshire stone make it very attractive and a popular tourist destination.
I found my B&B quite easily, a little way from the town centre, and deposited my things there before setting off to make the most of the good weather. I wandered up the road past the Holy Trinity church and the castle entrance, then took a seat in the church grounds to write up my diary. At 18.00, a man, who was probably the verger, approached me and said that he was going to lock the gates. After a short chat, he suggested I took a walk along the canal round the back of the castle towards Skipton Woods.
The view of the castle, as I had been promised, was quite spectacular, as the back of it was built on the edge of a vertical cliff, making it impregnable from that side. The path ran between the canal and the river until the canal terminated at the limestone quay, from where the locally quarried stone was shipped. Further along, the path led upwards through the woods with sunlight streaming through the trees, and there were various water engineering works associated with the canal along the way. Higher up above the river and the trees, Embsay Moor, the start of my walk, could be seen highlighted by sunshine and presenting a fine prospect for the day ahead.
Entrance to Skipton Castle
Pub by Canal at Skipton Offshoot of Leeds-Liverpool Canal, leading to Limestone Quay
I walked as far as the end of the woods and then back down into town, by which time I was ready to find somewhere to eat and drink. Like most market towns, Skipton has pubs all over the place, so I was spoiled for choice, but I eventually settled for the Royal Shepherd overlooking the canal. They served several Copper Dragon ales, brewed locally, and I settled on their 1816 ale, which was extremely good. It was still quite warm outside in the sunshine despite the rather chilly wind that had been blowing, so I drank my pint outside, overlooking the canal. At 19.15, after my first pint, I went inside to see about ordering some food, only to find that they had already stopped serving, so I wandered down the road to see if there were any other places still doing meals.
As I was walking around, I noticed a large fish and chip shop, also with a place for eating indoors. The thought then struck me that I might be able to get some of the real Yorkshire fish and chips that I knew from my youth. There were only certain parts of Yorkshire where the best fish and chips were to be had, and I was brought up in one of them. Fish and chips in most other places were generally a disappointment. This is not just nostalgia, as I lived only three miles from where Harry Ramsden opened his first fish and chip shop, which later became a restaurant. Now there is a chain of Harry Ramsden's fish and chip restaurants stretching around the globe. We seldom went there, however, as they were more expensive than other places that were equally good and nearer home. Fish was always haddock with the skin removed, the chips firm and crisp, and the batter made to a recipe that was a closely guarded secret, the whole lot being fried in beef dripping. In those days, smaller fish and chip shops, like the one we had just up the road, served just fish and chips plus a few soft drinks, but there was always a long queue during the limited hours that they opened. Occasionally, one or two other things were on offer such as fish cakes. These were not the ones made out of mashed up fish and potato, but two thin slices of potato with scraps of fish sandwiched in between before being dipped in batter and deep-fried. On other occasions they served scallops - not the shellfish variety, but just thin slices of potato, battered and fried.
The fish and chip shop in Skipton had cod as its standard fish, but also served a large haddock to special order. Unfortunately this did not quite live up to expectations, lacking some of the freshness of taste that I had hoped for, but everything else: the batter, the chips and the peas were very good so I wasn't altogether disappointed.
I returned to the Royal Shepherd for another pint of their 1816 ale, sitting outside again, but with the sun now fading, the chill wind was getting the better of me, so I drank up and left. I needed to get a few things for tomorrow's lunch, so made my way to Tesco's, which I had passed earlier on my way from the station, then returned to my B&B, where I watched television for a while. I intended to catch the news and weather, but ended up falling asleep before the weather came on, which left me none the wiser.
Day 1 - Tuesday 17th June 2008 - Skipton to Kettlewell (YHA) via Embsay Moor, Grassington and Dales Way
Distance: GPS 14.5 miles - 2,500 ft ascent
Accommodation: YHA Kettlewell
I awoke quite early but lay in bed for a while until it was nearer to breakfast time, which I had arranged for 8.00. There were a large number of items on offer, but I had crossed out a few from the list, not because I didn't like them, but because I didn't want such a big breakfast. Even so, it was still quite large with egg, bacon, two sausages, beans and mushrooms, all very nicely cooked, plus cereals, fruit juice and toast. There were a few others who came down to breakfast, all of them looking as if they were on business.
I managed to get myself off at 8.40, as I had packed most of my things before breakfast, so I only needed to change into my shorts and boots and I was ready. The forecast was for cloud today and showers tomorrow, but the sun was trying to come through as I set off down the road into town, though it didn't last for long. The only reasonable route to Embsay was along the road unless I took a rather devious route to find footpaths. I don't particularly like walking along roads, but there was a pavement for most of the way and there was not a lot of traffic. From Embsay, a minor road leads up to the reservoir and the views gradually improve as it climbs up towards the moor. The small reservoir is also the home to a sailing club, and there is parking there, which is useful for walkers.
Embsay Moor Reservoir and Embsay Crag
Sharp Haw & Rough Haw, West from Embsay Moor
As I passed by, I met a chap who was just putting on his boots. He was planning a circular walk of about eleven miles around the edge of the moors, possibly extending it to fifteen miles with a diversion if he felt like it. By the head of the reservoir, several paths lead off to the right, some making their way towards Embsay Crag to the east, but the one I wanted kept to the left heading for the western edge of Embsay Moor. The chap I had met earlier was following behind me and, when I stopped for a rest near the top of the moor, he caught up with me and advised me on the route to take for the best views. There was quite a cool breeze blowing so, even though I had got warm climbing, I put on my fleece whilst I had a rest and wrote up my diary. Setting off again, I crossed over the wall at a stile, as suggested, onto the gritstone edge with numerous rock formations sculpted by the wind and rain. On this side of the wall, there were open views across the valley to the west with gentle rolling hills and higher moors in the distance, whilst to the right was open heather moorland. The going wasn't easy along the edge, the path twisting and turning round rocks and boulders and in and out of the heather, but it didn't go on for long like this before it reached the trig point where it crossed back over the wall again.
For a while, trees at the edge of a forest obscured the view, but this didn't last for long, and two landmarks then came into view ahead. The first was the Rylstone Cross and the second the war memorial on the highest point of the moor. Further along, the deep valley of Waterfall Gill Beck cuts into the edge of the moor and the path has to drop down some way then climb steeply back up the other side. I am not sure of the history of Rylstone Cross; all I know is that it commands a fine view across the valley and that it was rebuilt out of stone in 1995 with the help of several organisations, the original cross having been made of wood. There was a stiff, cool breeze blowing by the cross itself but the wall offered some shelter.
Waterfall Gill Beck, Embsay Moor
Rylstone Cross on Embsay Moor - Rebuilt 1995
About a mile further on was the war memorial, which seemed like a good place to stop for an early lunch break at 11.50. It offered a good view across to what I think was Ingleborough, but the cool wind at the top of the moor soon made me seek the shelter of some large rocks nearby. I could see a band of rain spreading across to the north, but the weather to the south was still quite bright. Apart from a few spots of rain, the bad weather passed me by, and the sky started to look a lot brighter, though there were still a few areas of dark cloud around. A couple passed by as I was having my lunch, but apart from that, there were not many people about.
The going was easier now, with a smoother path and a slight downhill slope. This led to a track and then, by a renovated barn, was a footpath running down off the moor towards Thorpe. This is an area of old mining activity, so there were several paths around and it was sometimes hard to tell which was the one marked on the map. As I descended from the moor, I was treated to a welcome patch of sunshine to light up the landscape, but it only lasted for about ten minutes. There was no real option but to follow minor roads for a while until I picked up the footpath down towards Linton.
Thorpe Village from Embsay Moor
Waterfalls at Linton - River Wharfe is very low
Weirs at Linton on River Wharfe
Linton is a small village in a very attractive position beside waterfalls, with a footbridge running right above them to cross the River Wharfe. There are also two weirs and various other water works from an old mill nearby. The village has been expanded somewhat with more houses, but they all blend in well with those of the original village. I can remember back over forty years ago when my father first discovered Linton on driving around the Dales in his Reliant Robin three-wheeler car. I generally did most of the driving on sightseeing trips, as he was very much lacking in confidence, having taken up driving late in life, but he did manage to venture out sometimes with my mother. He was, therefore, very pleased with himself for finding this lovely place that we had not noticed before, despite having passed by on a number of occasions. From then onwards, whenever we had any visitors, he would always want to show them Linton, glowing with pride at his discovery.
After dropping down from the moors, the scenery changed from heather and gritstone to the more characteristic limestone scenery of the Dales. Today there was very little water flowing over the limestone falls, as there had been very little rainfall in Northern England and Scotland for many weeks. I crossed over the footbridge to join the Dales Way for the short walk into Grassington, which, like most of the Dales villages, has turned heavily to tourism for much of its income. It was quite busy, despite the rather dull weather, or perhaps because of the rather dull weather, so I didn't linger but pressed on through, thinking I would take a rest once I got back out into the open countryside. With all the little lanes and back streets, it wasn't easy to make out which road to take for the Dales Way, but a chap who saw my looking at my map soon pointed me in the right direction.
I was quite pleased to see a sign saying Kettlewell 5½ miles, as I thought I had further than that still to go. As I climbed steadily up towards the limestone area north of Grassington, I suddenly noticed that my fleece was missing. With all the changes of weather between cold wind in exposed places and more shelter in others, I kept wearing it then taking it off again and, rather than pack it in my rucksack every time, I just tucked it behind the two fastening straps, which were not very tight. The last time I did this was about two or three miles back and, since then, I had been through a number of very awkward squeeze stiles and kissing gates, so it must have got caught in one of those and dragged out of the straps. I couldn't afford the time to go back looking for it now, so I would just have to manage without it for the rest of the walk. I had only had it for about 18 months, so it was a pity to lose it before I had had full use out of it.
This section of upland walking is one of the few where the Dales Way deviates from following the valley bottom. It is an excellent walk over a velvet carpet of grass, with wide views of the surrounding hills and dales, as well stretches of limestone pavement and limestone escarpments on the hillsides. I stopped for a drink and a rest, but soon it started raining, so I put on my waterproof jacket and continued on my way. The rain continued on and off for about half an hour, then brightened up, so I stopped again for a while until the rain returned. There was one very heavy shower with large raindrops that looked almost like melting hailstones, but fortunately it didn't last very long. The rest of the way into Kettlewell was sprinkled with light showers, but it didn't spoil the walk too much, as there was still quite good visibility most of the time, and there were some good views on the way. For some time I had been able to see the war memorial across on Embsay Moor, and now there was a fine view of Kilnsey Crags in the valley below. I also passed a beautiful dry valley running from the path down the hillside. The thing that I dislike most about the dull, wet weather is that it is very bad for taking photographs. The views are often quite good to the naked eye, but are rather lacklustre when photographed, and when there is rain, I tend to pack away the camera to stop it from getting wet, so then miss out on some shots that I might otherwise have taken.
Wharfedale towards Kettlewell from Dales Way
Eventually Kettlewell came into view and the route dropped down to meet the road for a while, before cutting through a series of fields, then emerging at the top end of the village. Kettlewell Youth Hostel is also the Post Office. I wasn't sure whether the youth hostel had taken over the post office building or whether the post office services were now being administered from the youth hostel, but the latter appears to be the case. In many rural communities, where there is not enough business to justify the retention of a dedicated post office, the services are often administered from some other business in this way. I have even seen pubs taking on the services of the post office - this is the only way that many local services can survive these days.
I checked into the youth hostel at 17.30, ordering an evening meal and packed lunch as well as the bed and breakfast that I had already booked online. Dinner was at 19.00 and breakfast from 7.45 to 09.00. There was no reception on my mobile phone, only a message saying Emergency Calls Only, meaning that there was a signal on another network but not on mine. Most hostels have payphones, so I was able to call home using that, which was a situation I found in most places throughout the Yorkshire Dales and the Lake District. In many places there is not even the ability to make emergency calls, as there is no reception from any of the networks. The situation is often better on the tops of hills or mountains, where there may be line of sight to larger towns or other places with masts, though this can by no means be relied upon.
After a shower, which I needed more to warm me up than to get me clean, having never got to the point of sweating all day, I had a rest and then went to dinner. I had ordered a steak and ale pie followed by sticky toffee pudding and had a bottle of Black Sheep ale with which to wash it down. The ever-changing format of the YHA over recent years has seen moves from the original, basic but cheap, catering to a much more up-market format. Instead of having uniform prices throughout all hostels, every hostel is free to set its own standards and prices. This means that some of the more adventurous hostels offer a service much more like that of a bistro, whilst others stick to basic food. In either case, prices have gone up considerably since the days of a fixed price, three-course meal, even allowing for inflation. These days, as I get older, I usually find that three courses are too much, so I just opt for two, though I often find that just one course in a pub can be as filling as two courses in a hostel and may well work out cheaper. Tea and coffee used to be included in the price of an evening meal, but, from this year, it has to be paid for as an extra; just another way of trying to squeeze a little more money out of hostellers.
Most hostels now sell alcohol to consume with meals, and some are licensed to sell it at other times as well, so some hostels have a reasonably sized wine and drinks list. They always make a point of saying that their licences do not allow hostellers to consume their own alcoholic drinks on the premises, though I am never sure whether this is just a ploy to make more money, or whether it really is the case. I must admit that it is very much better to have drinks available in hostels, especially when they are in out of the way places and a long distance from any pubs, though I do find that some hostels charge rather high prices for their drinks, which are often more costly than they are in pubs.
The hostel was quite busy, with five out of the six bunks in my dormitory occupied, and there was some debate between the people in there as to what the forecast was for tomorrow's weather. One chap had heard that there could be 50mm of rain, whilst someone else had heard that it was just showers. Either way, it wasn't particularly good weather for walking, though I don't mind coping with a few showers, even if they are heavy ones, so long as there is chance to dry out in between.
One chap in the dormitory was near to completing all the Nuttalls; the mountain tops of England and Wales more than 2,000 ft above sea level with a clear dip of 50 ft all around. He had already completed all of the Welsh ones and had only a few of the English ones left to do. Tomorrow, he was planning to climb some more of these, which would leave him only one more in the north and two more on Dartmoor before he would have completed the lot. The whole thing had taken him several years to achieve, though he had only started working through the list a few years ago, having first ticked off ones that he had already done in the past. I have looked at the lists myself and ticked off the ones I have already done, which is about half of the English ones and two thirds of the Welsh ones, but I couldn't really work up the enthusiasm to venture all over the country seeking out obscure hills, sometimes little trodden, with flat, boggy tops just to say I have done them. If I am doing a walk near a Nuttall that I have not climbed, I may well try to encompass it in the walk, and I have also done a few walks, not too far from home in North Wales, with the deliberate intention of seeking out some Nuttalls, but this has been more from the point of view of finding new walks rather than just to tick them off from the list.
Having looked at John and Anne Nuttall’s website recently, I discovered that there have been recent amendments to the list, after more accurate surveying has been undertaken to check the qualifying requirements. This has resulted in some tops being dropped from the list, but also new tops being added to the list. I told the chap this, which was, perhaps not the best thing to have done when he thought that he was almost finished. It may mean that he is left with a few new tops, scattered all over the place, that he has not done because he didn't know that they qualified. Some of them he may have done whilst walking between others, but there are bound to be some that he has missed. For anyone wishing to see the Welsh Nuttalls in Google Earth, I have produced a file marking the summits as accurately as I can, often pinpointing a summit cairn or other landmark. These have been submitted to the Google Earth Community Forum, but have not yet been approved by a moderator. If they are approved then they will appear for everyone to see if they have the Google Earth Community layer ticked under Geographic Web, otherwise they are still visible to anyone who opens the Welsh Mountain Tops.kmz (28 kb) file in Google Earth.
I had intended to go down to the pub later, but I was still feeling rather full from my meal and rather weary from my day's walking, so I just stayed in the hostel. My measurement of the route from the maps showed it to be 17 miles that I had walked today, though my GPS showed it to be over 18 miles. It is quite normal for GPS mileages to be greater that map measurements, as they take into account all the meandering and zigzagging of footpaths that are difficult to measure on a map. The South West Coast Path gained over 60 miles when the route was measured by GPS! Over some terrain there can be well over 10% difference, whereas where paths are straighter the difference may only be about 5%. Either way, this was quite a long distance for the first day of a walk, before I had got used to carrying the extra weight of a large pack. It is generally preferable to aim for shorter distances in the first few days, but this doesn't always work out with accommodation.
Day 2 - Wednesday 18th June 2008 - Kettlewell to Horton-in-Ribblesdale via Littondale, Plover Hill and Pen-y-ghent
Distance: GPS 14.5 miles, 2,850 ft ascent
Accommodation: Bunk Room, Golden Lion Pub
After a good night's sleep, I awoke to find that it was wet outside but the rain was not heavy. Breakfast started at 07.45 and most people were down by then, though nobody, including myself, was in a hurry to get started in the drab weather conditions. The forecast posted in the hostel was not as bad as it could have been, promising light rain and moderate wind and temperatures. I spent a while chatting to the chap who was doing the Nuttalls and to a Norwegian woman who sat with us. She had visited nearly everywhere in the UK, spending long holidays here every year.
Eventually, I got everything packed and was ready for off at 09.15. I was surprised that nobody at the hostel seemed to be walking the Dales Way, but then Grassington tends to be the main stopping point at the end of the first day and Kettlewell is only 5½ miles further on, so not enough for a day's walk. One of the chaps from my dormitory had been outside and said it was hardly raining at all, so I set off outside without wearing my waterproofs only to be met by a fairly heavy downpour, so I did a quick U-turn to the hostel to put my waterproofs on. When I got outside again, it was only drizzling. It was obviously going to be that sort of day where it was best just to leave them on, as there was a fair chance that it would soon start raining again. There were a few bright spells when a weak sun tried to break through, but the rain was never far away, though, at the moment, not heavy.
The start of the walk was up over the fell-side, with the path running at an angle, making it just a steady climb with good views across the dale despite the drab conditions. The higher fells, however, were covered in cloud above about 1,500 to 2,000 ft. The climb became gentler near the rounded top of the ridge with views of the valley bottom now hidden by the hillside. Over the top, the views over Littondale opened up with Arncliffe down below. This is the village that was used as the setting for the soap opera Emmerdale when it first started many years ago, with the Falcon Inn becoming the Woolpack of the soap opera. After some years, the television people got fed up of the slow drive from Leeds and moved to the village of Esholt, only a few miles from where I used to live, using the Commercial, a pub I often visited, as the next Woolpack. The atmosphere at the Commercial was completely ruined by the influx of coach parties once people got to know about its location, though I am sure that the landlord was laughing all the way to the bank. Later they decided on having a permanent set built in the grounds of Harewood House to save all the trouble of closing off streets and changing signposts etc.
There was an easy path down to the wood, where a stile over the wall led to a steep limestone scar. I couldn't see a route down at first, so went back over the stile to see if there was a different way down. However, it was obvious that the route was intended to go down the scar, so I returned to find the best way. I scrambled very cautiously down the wet limestone, which can be treacherously slippery when polished smooth by the passage of many boots. After a short while I was past the steepest part, but still needed to take care down the rest of the path.
From Arncliffe, the path followed the river for a few miles, at first some distance away on the flat valley floor, but later running alongside. When I rejoined the River Skirfare, it was completely dry. This is not uncommon in limestone areas, where the water sinks through fissures in the rock into underground streams. It is only when there is a reasonable volume of water flowing that any of it runs along the surface, when there is too much water for it all to leak away. What is quite strange is that little pools of water left behind in hollows in the limestone riverbed were a pinkish red in colour. I don't know whether this is because of some chemical reaction or living organisms that caused this effect.
The valley bottom walk was not very inspiring, but was easy going for most of the way, except for the stretch by the river that was stony, with a lot of tree roots. There were a few meadows full of buttercups, daisies, clover, cowslips and many other wild flowers to make the walk better and, on a better day, there would be more to see up the fell-sides, but this was not the case today. I stopped for a rest and some food at 11.45 near Litton, but didn't stop for long as it started raining again. At Nether Hesleden, my route went up the hillside towards Plover Hill. I had intended to take a track marked on the map, but there was a sign saying 'No Public Access', so I had to take the path further south leading me a longer way round. Once I reached the minor road from Malham to Halton Gill, I was able to double back to where the track emerged onto the road. At this end it was open country, with nothing to indicate that the track was private, though access land only started at the other side of the wall from the track.
All of Plover Hill above the level of the road is access land, so I could have taken a route up there from this point, but I thought it might be rough going and my planned route skirted round to the northern side of the hill on footpaths and tracks before ascending from directly north of the summit. This was a considerably longer route, but with the low cloud, would offer at least some views for most of the way. There were one or two signs of improvement in the weather, so it was just possible that the cloud would lift before I headed for the summit. As I made my way round the end of the fell opposite Halton Gill, I was rewarded with a patch of sunshine that lit up the valley. Not just one but several patches of sunshine came by as I took another rest overlooking the lovely view across the dale, though there were still a lot of very black looking clouds hovering over the fells.
Halton Gill from north side of Plover Hill
Round the northern side of Plover Hill, the track and footpath marked on the map became less clear on the ground, and I decided just to head for the top of the ridge instead. This wasn't the easiest access, as it was over rough moorland with some steep climbing in places, but I eventually reached the ridge and the wall running towards the top of the hill. Wherever there is a wall along a ridge, there is generally a path beside it, and this was no exception, so there was no mistaking the route, which was just as well, as I soon entered the cloud and was surrounded by mist. I reached a point that appeared to be the summit, but as the hill is very flat-topped, I had to check with my GPS that I was actually in the right place.
By now it was raining steadily and getting heavier all the time, and up on the exposed hilltop, the wind was very strong and was lashing the rain into my face. To get to Pen-y-ghent, it was just a matter of turning left and following the wall all the way. It was amazing just how flat-topped much of the ridge was. It was starting to get boggy, but, because of the long dry spell of weather previously, most of the peat was still quite firm, which made things a lot easier. After quite a while, a steady climb upwards indicated that I must have reached Pen-y-ghent, and soon the summit came into view through the mist. The wind and rain were even worse here, so I made my way over and down the other side as quickly as possible. On the way down the steep, stepped path, I met a few Pennine Way walkers coming towards me, on their way to Horton-in-Ribblesdale like I was, but by a different route.
At Brackenbottom, after the steep climb down, there was much more shelter from the wind, and the rain wasn't as heavy, making life a bit less unpleasant. The rest of the way was along an easy path and then minor roads into Horton-in-Ribblesdale, bringing me out right by the church and the Golden Lion, where I was staying. It was 16.55 when I arrived and met three lads who were trying to get into the pub via the visitors' entrance, as the main entrance was closed. They had been shown the way in earlier in the day, but the door they had gone through before warned that opening it would set off the intruder alarm. Soon afterwards, a lady arrived to open up, so I was able to check in to the bunkroom.
When I stayed here last year, the bunkroom had been taken over by a group, so I was given the exclusive use of a static caravan instead, which was great, as I had all the facilities to myself. The bunkroom, however, seemed to have been designed by someone who had never had to use one. The bunks were three high, with nowhere for storing things and very little spare floor space. There was not even a single seat to sit on for taking off and putting on shoes or boots, and perching on the edge of the bunk was quite uncomfortable, with a wooden bar running along the side. The adjoining toilet and shower room was fine, except for the same lack of any seating or anywhere to put clothes whilst in the shower cubicles. I had a nice, long, hot shower to warm me up which made me feel a lot better. However, there was no drying room and nowhere else to dry out wet boots or clothes.
When I thought about it, I realised that the main use of the bunkroom is for people who are doing the Yorkshire Three Peaks Challenge. They normally arrive by car one evening, walk the next day, then, either drive back home, or stay another night and return home the next day. If all their things are wet, they are not particularly worried, as they can just bundle them in the car and get them dry at home. For other walkers, however, it is a different situation, and presents a few problems. Several other people rolled up to use the bunkroom, some of them Pennine Way walkers, and one of them persuaded the landlady to put on the heating, which made things a lot better, as there were now a couple of radiators on which to dry things.
I went into the bar for a drink. It was a complete contrast from last time I stayed during the BT Three Peaks Challenge. It was very difficult then to even get into the bar because of the great crush of bodies, but now I was the only one in there. The wood fire had just been lit, so I had a pint of Timothy Taylor's Landlord bitter and sat by the fire for a bit of warmth. The bar lady was telling me that last weekend, the time of another Three Peaks Challenge, they served 150 meals. A number of Pennine Way walkers joined me in the bar, one of whom had done the walk twelve times already and still kept coming back to do it again. He said he was just doing the same as many other people who always go back to the same place for their holidays. He knew the route so well that he didn't need to use maps, he stayed mostly in the same places that he knew well, and he knew that he enjoyed the walk, so what was the point of doing anything else. Unfortunately, I am not so easily satisfied, as I am always trying to find something different, spending a lot of time trying to think of which walk to do each year, and going through all the difficulties of working out where to stay each time.
Day 3 - Thursday 19th June 2008 -
Horton-in-Ribblesdale to Dent via Ingleborough, Simon Fell and Whernside
Distance: GPS 18.5 miles, 3,450 ft ascent
Accommodation: Sun Inn B&B Dent
At 06.00 an alarm clock went off - it was the three lads who were embarking on the Three Peaks Challenge. They got themselves dressed and then went off with some cooking pans to make their breakfast, returning some time later to get their things ready. It was 07.45 before they left still talking about sorting out their packed lunch. It might have been a bit more considerate to other people if they had done more of their preparation last night and not had to get up so early. It didn't bother me too much, as by that time I am generally half awake anyway, but there were others who didn't like being disturbed that early.
The only others in the dormitory, apart from myself, were a couple who were doing the Pennine Way and a chap on his own who was also doing the Pennine Way, but as part of a longer walk to Scotland and the West Highland Way. I hadn't realised before that it was a mixed dormitory, but wondered what was supposed to happen to people's modesty when they used the clear glass-fronted shower cubicles - just another thing that hadn't been thought through in the design of the bunkhouse. The couple had decided to pack in their walk, as the lady was having problems with her hip and, with that and the bad weather over the past couple of days, she had had enough. The chap had done the walk before, so wasn't too worried about not finishing it this time.
The weather was certainly a big improvement on yesterday's, with broken cloud and patches of sunshine, but with quite a fresh wind. There was still some cloud covering the tops of the fells, but with a bit of luck, that could clear later. Breakfast was not until 08.30 and there were about a dozen people in there, some of them from the B&B accommodation.
Most of my things were fairly dry, only my boots remaining rather damp. They had done quite well in keeping out most of the water but, after prolonged walking through wet grass and puddles, water generally starts to soak through the leather. I had developed a small blister on one of my heels, probably caused by the rubbing from the partially disintegrated boot lining. The gaffer tape that I tried to cover this up with had come adrift with the wet, so I removed it, as there was no point in leaving it there where it would probably do more harm than good. I burst the blister with a snip from a small pair of scissors, got the rest of my things ready, and was off at 09.30, calling at the Post Office to buy a few things for lunch.
As I walked along the road through the village, I passed by the campsite, where there was a large group of mainly Asian youths, presumably on some sort of field trip. Before I had even left the village, a fairly heavy shower of rain made me stop to put on my waterproof jacket. The rain soon stopped, but with the strong, cool wind and the prospect of more showers, I left my jacket on. The cloud was already clearing from Pen-y-ghent, but there was still some over Ingleborough and Whernside, where I was heading.
Pen-y-ghent from Horton-in-Ribblesdale Station
Pen-y-ghent from ascent of Ingleborough
The ascent of Ingleborough from the railway station is quite gentle for the first couple of miles, leading up above a large area of limestone pavement. There was a lot of cotton grass about, most of which was fairly well spread out, but one area below the limestone pavement was so densely packed with it that it showed up as a bright white area from a distance. As I climbed up further, patches of sunshine came and went and the wind got stronger and cooler. I was feeling a lot fresher this morning than yesterday, so even when the ascent got steeper, it didn't present any difficulty. A lone walker was ahead of me all the way, and I finally caught up with him just before the final ascent onto the summit plateau. He was just out for a day's walk over Ingleborough and Whernside, and we walked to the summit together. The final ascent onto the plateau is quite steep, so took a bit of effort, but we were soon up and heading along the stony, gently sloping ground towards the summit itself. As expected, the wind was quite ferocious up there, but the shelter gave some very welcome respite. A couple with a toddler were already there, having walked up from Ingleton, with father carrying the little girl on his back.
Soon after we got to the summit, the cloud, which had been hovering around the top, dropped a little so we were now in the mist without a view. I had a drink and ate some of my lunch, waiting a while in the vain hope that the mist would clear, but when it showed no signs of improving, we all set off on our different ways. My initial plan had been to follow the normal Three Peaks route to Whernside, though I had a mind to walk over Simon Fell on the way. There was no footpath shown on my map, but there seemed to be a reasonable one on the ground, so I decided to take that option so that I could stay high up for longer. Once off Ingleborough's summit, I was back below the cloud, which was swirling past at high speed just overhead in the strong wind.
As I made my way along the easy walk to the summit of Simon Fell, I had good views of the limestone pavements across the valley and of the Ribblehead Viaduct, until the flat top of the fell cut them off from sight. The best way to walk for the rest of the way was along the edge, overlooking Ribbledale, where the views were much better, even though there was a much more forceful wind. Whernside was still in the cloud, but this gradually lifted as I made my way along, with an ever-improving view of the viaduct, as I got nearer. The route down from Simon Fell was not very well defined, but was not too difficult, leading towards the Three Peaks route. Near the bottom, I took a lunch break, sheltering from the wind by the wall. From there I crossed through a nature reserve centred on an interesting area of limestone pavement, with deep fissures between the rocks. After scrambling down a few limestone shelves, I was back on the main route, near to where it crosses the road by the Old Hill Inn at Chapel-le-Dale.
The ascent of Whernside from this direction, which is the opposite way from that normally walked in the Three Peaks walk, is very steep, after a gentle preamble to the foot of the fell. A lot of work has been done on pathway repairs because of the large number of people walking and running the route, so there are steps up the steeper parts and a stone pathway over much of the rest, especially on the ascents and descents, which is where most of the wear and erosion occurs. As I climbed up, the wind, which had never gone away, got stronger and cooler, and when I reached the ridge it was quite ferocious, just as it had been on Ingleborough.
Limestone Pavements west of Ingleborough
Ingleborough from Limestone Pavement
Ribblehead Viaduct from ascent of Whernside
Ingleborough from near Summit of Whernside
I started meeting a number of Three-Peaks walkers coming the other way, as this was roughly the halfway point of the walk. One or two girls were hobbling along in some discomfort even at this stage, so it didn't bode well for their chances of completing the walk. I then met the three lads from the bunkhouse, who seemed quite pleased with their progress so far, even though they didn't know the names of any of the peaks. One of them asked me if I had just climbed 'that one over there', pointing to Ingleborough. He then told that they had climbed over 'that one' first, pointing to Pen-y-ghent, and then came round the back of 'this one here' (Whernside), and had to climb 'that other one there next' (Ingleborough). What did it matter, though, they were enjoying themselves and would, no doubt, get a real sense of achievement once they had completed the challenge.
I stopped for a while at the summit shelter to get some respite from the wind, but didn't stay long, as it was quite cool and I still needed to make some progress. I had not had an early start, and I had also added more distance and time by taking the route over Simon Fell. There were some lovely views from the summit ridge now that the cloud had lifted, with miles and miles of hills and mountains as far as the eye could see in all directions. I had been able to see the views to the east earlier, but now there were views into Dentdale and across to the Howgill Fells and the Lake District.
On my way to Dent I needed to join the Craven Way, an old drovers' road from Ribblehead to Dentdale. On the map it looked as if there was a path more or less linking the path that dropped down from the northeastern end of Whernside, to the Craven Way, thus avoiding two sides of a triangle and a few hundred feet of descent, which would have to be regained. I could see no sign of a path, only rough, heather moorland, which looked like hard going, so I continued downwards, managing to avoid some of the wasted effort by following the wall instead of the Ribblehead path part of the way down.
The Craven Way is a lovely grassy track for most of the way and, although I still had to gain some lost height, I was able to make good progress. The route down into Dentdale was more stony and rutted, but didn't slow me down too much. Had it not been for the very dark clouds over Dentdale, the views would have been very good. At the bottom of the fell, I joined up with the Dales Way for a pleasant riverside walk all the way to Dent, which I reached at 18.10. Just as I was coming into the village, I was caught in a heavy shower for the last five minutes of the walk. Apart from a shower at the start of the day and a shower at the end, the rain had managed to keep off for the rest of the day, though the cold wind had not let up the whole time, except where I was sheltered by the hillsides in places. All in all, it had been a very good day, with some marvellous views and fine walking even if it had been cold and windy.
My accommodation for the night was in the Sun Inn, so I was able to have a pint when I checked in, before going up to my room, having a shower, and getting changed. My mobile phone had no reception again, except for emergency calls, but I was able to use the payphone in the pub. The Sun Inn is a traditional old Dales pub built around the 15th or 16th century. As is usual with this type of building though, the floors are uneven and the floorboards creaky. My room was not en-suite, but this was reflected in the price, so it didn't bother me. In many places, rural pubs are having a very hard time, with many having to close through lack of trade, but here they had a thriving bar trade, much of it from locals. No doubt there have been times in the past when the trade has been even better, but they certainly seemed to have enough to remain viable. The atmosphere was very convivial, with everyone joining in on the various topics of conversation that were going on around - just what is expected of a village pub, but something that is often lost these days.
After my shower, and watching the weather forecast, which gave sunshine for most of the day tomorrow, particularly in the afternoon, I returned to the bar for a couple more pints and a bar meal. I had an enormous, homemade Cumberland sausage (I think it said it was a pound in weight) and some Titanic Lifeboat bitter, which was darker than normal, with a bit of the taste of a stout, and tasted very good. These days, with lots of small breweries emerging everywhere, there are a whole host of excellent beers around that are seldom heard of outside their local area. The weather had already brightened up, but it had been a rather tiring day, so I was ready for bed.
Day 4 - Friday 20th June 2008 - Dent to Grayrigg via Long Moor, and Howgill Fells (The Calf)
Distance: GPS 17.4 miles - 3,200 ft ascent
Accommodation: (B&B) Grayrigg
Breakfast was normally from 08.30, but two chaps last night had requested it at 08.00, so the landlord had telephoned the breakfast lady, asking her to come in earlier, which meant that I could have mine earlier as well. When I got down, there were three chaps there already, the two from the bar last night plus another one by himself. The two looked as if they might be walkers because of the clothes and boots that they were wearing, but it turned out that they were involved with cabling up masts for the mobile phone network, so often had to climb up hills or across fields to get to their jobs.
I was just asked if I wanted a full breakfast, rather than what items I wanted, and was then presented with a huge plateful consisting of bacon, egg, tomato, beans, mushroom, black pudding and fried potatoes. I managed to eat it all, but only with a struggle, as I don't have the same appetite as I used to have, even on a long walk. I didn't bother with a packed lunch, as I would be passing through Sedbergh by lunchtime and could pick up a few things there. I topped up to a full two litres of drink, even though I had only needed one litre yesterday in the cold wind, but I thought it might be warmer today. One benefit of cold weather is that there is far less tendency to sweat, even when climbing uphill, so walking clothes do not need washing anywhere near as often, and fluid requirements are less. My route today, rather than following the Dales Way along the river, was to take the footpath over the end of Long Moor on the way to Sedbergh, then take a high level route over the Howgill Fells, before dropping back to rejoin the Dales Way near the M6 motorway crossing. I find that riverside walks are fine for a mile or two but often leave me feeling boxed in with limited long distance views, whereas higher up I get the feeling of wide open space and far better views all around.
Sun Inn, Dent
Dent Church from north
Whernside, Dent and Crag Hill from Long Moor
I needed to take care with route finding, as my path went round farm buildings and over fields. I missed a turning at one point and had to backtrack a bit, so, from then onward, I kept a careful check using my map and GPS to ensure that I was always going in the right direction. Just climbing a little way up the valley side gave me marvellous views across to Calf Top, Crag Hill and Whernside. The path was not very well trodden in places and went through large meadows with long, wet grass, which started to wet my boots, but they would soon dry out again in the bright and breezy weather, given a chance.
Once I got to the ridge of Low Moor, the view opened up even more, with fine views of the Howgill Fells, bathed in sunshine, with Sedbergh at their southern end. I stopped for a drink and a short rest before dropping down from the moor for the last mile or two into Sedbergh. I intended to take footpaths to avoid some of the road walking, but missed the start of them so just carried on along the small country lane instead. The lane joined the main A684 road into town, crossing over the River Rawthey on the way. I didn't realise until now that Sedbergh proclaims itself to be ‘England's Book Town’, obviously competing with Hay-on-Wye in Wales. I always thought that its main claim to fame was its large private school, which seems to dominate the town. Sure enough, though, there were large numbers of bookshops throughout the town centre to back up its claims.
Sedbergh and Winder from Frostrow
Howgill Fells from Side Farm
Sedbergh from side of Winder Long Moor is middle centre with Whernside behind
One thing I wanted to do here was to offload my three Yorkshire Dales maps by posting them back home. Every little helps when trying to minimise weight: first lose a fleece, then post off some maps! After my visit to the Post Office, I called in a small supermarket to top up my supplies for lunch. Rather than stopping for a rest break in town, I thought it would be better to climb up the hillside a little way and stop there where I would have a better view. The weather, though good, was not quite the unbroken sunshine that had been promised, and there was still a very chilly wind blowing, which was fine in the sunshine, but made it feel quite cold when the sun went in. There are several routes up to Winder, but the one I decided on was the one from Lock Bank Farm, going first left obliquely up the hillside, then right towards the Summit of Winder. After my stop near the bottom, where the views were already quite good, I made my way further up with the views getting better and better, with very clear visibility. The grassy path was quite steep, so I had to keep stopping every so far for a breather, at which time I could turn around and look at the ever improving views. Although Winder, at 473 metres is not particularly high, it provides an extremely good viewpoint overlooking Garsdale, Dentdale, Sedbergh, Morecambe Bay, the Lune Valley and the whole range of Lake District mountains. At the summit, there is an orientation table showing the names and distances of all the landmarks, most of which could be seen today with the clear visibility.
Arant Haw from Summit of Winder The structure is an Orientation Table
Lakeland Fells from Summit of Winder
Pen-y-ghent Whernside and Ingleborough from Arant Haw Garsdale is down below with Dentdale behind Long Moor
The ascent of Arant Haw is not quite as steep, but is still a fair climb, and I needed a few more breathers along the way. From its greater height of 605 metres, a number of other things came into view, not least being the fact that all of the Yorkshire Three Peaks were now visible. The scenery was constantly changing as the clouds raced across the sky in the strong wind, bringing different parts of the view in and out of the sunshine. The beauty of the Howgills themselves, apart from the fact that they give views of other hills and mountains, is their lovely smooth grassy slopes with rounded tops and steep sided valleys.
My route then continued on towards Calders, and then to The Calf, which, at 676 metres, is the highest summit of the Howgills. The path changed from a smooth grassy track to one of rough gravel: not so kind on the feet, but still allowing good progress. From the Calf, the view now extended to the Northern Pennines, with Cross Fell and Great Dun Fell, with its bright white golf ball radar station, clearly visible, though the hills to the south were now largely hidden by the summits I had just walked over. There were a couple of walkers out over this part, and I had met another couple near Winder, but those were all the people I had seen. Most people pass this very fine walking area by, generally going for the Lake District instead.
Calders from Arant Haw
Middle Grain Valley from White Fell The Northern Pennines, with Cross Fell & Great Dun Fell, in distance
Towards Morecambe Bay from White Fell
I stopped by the trig point for a rest, trying to shelter from the wind, but it was still very cold and breezy, so I made my way over towards White Fell to find my way down. I tried another spot on the way for a rest, thinking it was more sheltered, but it was still cold, so I continued down into the valley along a steep grassy track. When I reached the bottom at Castley Knotts, it was still breezy, but there was far less chill in the wind and, in the now longer periods of sunshine, it was pleasantly warm and much more comfortable for a rest by the banks of Calf Beck.
Fell Head, Bush Howe and White Fell from Chapel Beck
Howgill Fells from Castley
Fell Head from River Lune at Beck Foot
From there onwards, there was a stretch of walking along a minor road with a few ups and downs before I picked up the Dales Way. There was little traffic, and the road offered good views of the surrounding hills, which were now largely bathed in sunlight. My accommodation for the night was a B&B at Moresdale Barn, which is right on the Dales Way, so it was just a matter of following the route to the crossing of the M6 motorway, then a mile further on was the B&B.
The young couple that own the place have converted it from a derelict barn into a magnificent house with spacious rooms and fabulous views across to the fells. Because they don't do evening meals, they give a lift into Kendal and back, as there is nowhere else to eat in the vicinity. They didn't plan on doing B&B at first, but found themselves with two unused bedrooms, so decided to make better use of them. It is a pity that they didn't think of this when doing the conversion, as I am sure that there would have been plenty of space available to incorporate en-suites into the guest rooms at the planning stage, whereas now it would present more difficulties. The lack of en-suite didn't worry me and I had sole use of the guest bathroom anyway, but these days more people are looking for these facilities, and it is a pity that such a fabulous place isn't able to offer them.
For the first time since Skipton, I was able to get a signal on my mobile phone enabling me to call home. This didn't surprise me, as it was only a mile from the motorway with its series of masts. My lift to Kendal involved a lot of small country lanes, many being single track, so it wasn't the easiest route and a lot of effort doing two round trips just for one guest on this occasion.
In Kendal, I looked in one pub, which had only keg beers, then went into another with the same, so I ordered a pint of Tetley's Smoothflow and a giant Yorkshire pudding filled with beef. I didn't realise that it was past the time for serving food, as there were others in there eating, but the chef, who was sitting at the bar said he didn't mind cooking it for me. Just as I finished, someone switched on the large television screen just behind me to watch the football, so I made a quick exit and thought I would look for somewhere with real ale.
I went into a pub serving Thwaite's ales and had a pint of their Original, but it wasn't very good, but then I remembered my evening in Malham last year when a group of drinkers there were full of disparaging remarks about the various Thwaite's beers. Further up into the centre of town, I tried another pub advertising cask ales, so I had a pint of Directors' bitter, which was better but not all that great. This is one of the things about many town centre pubs: whereas they have enough turnover to enable them to serve a good range of real ales, they often choose not to, and maybe offer just one as a token gesture. Some of the country pubs, which wouldn't be expected to do so, offer a good selection of well-kept ales that are all very good.
Back at the B&B, I sat watching TV in the lounge, as, for the first time on this walk, I wasn't starting to nod off after a meal and a few pints. I had hoped to see the weather forecast, but the football was running into extra time and then penalties, so I got fed up of waiting and went to bed. I didn't sleep very soundly, despite having a comfortable bed and quiet surroundings, as I think I must have already caught up with all the sleep I lacked by my early nights over the past few days.
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Day 5 - Saturday 21st June 2008 - Grayrigg to Windermere via Potter Tarn, Staveley and the Dales Way
Distance: GPS 17.4 miles - 2,600 ft ascent
Accommodation: B&B Windermere
I had a very good breakfast, this time remembering to ask for not too much, so I was just pleasantly full rather than being over-faced. The forecast was not very good, so I packed all my things carefully to try to keep out the wet. Normally, I put my trainers, wrapped in a supermarket bag, in the bottom compartment of my rucksack, along with my waterproofs, any dirty washing and other odds and ends. However, in prolonged rain, especially accompanied by wind, a lot of water tends to find its way into the rucksack and ends up in the bottom compartment. A supermarket bag is little protection when things are sloshing around in a pool of water, and I found that my trainers could end up very wet. If the designers of rucksacks had the foresight to realise that water would inevitably find its way to the bottom, they might also realise that there is no use trapping it in there, and provide a couple of little eyelets to let the water drain out. This would, at least, minimise the water build up and help to keep things moderately dry. It was difficult to decide what I could put in the bottom compartment that could remain unscathed in a pool of water, but eventually decided on my sandwich box.
It was about 9.10 by the time I set off and I had not gone very far before a chap in a car asked where I was going. I had missed the Dales Way sign taking a footpath up the hill and was entering the grounds of a large house. He pointed me back in the right direction where I continued to follow the signposted route, crossing the railway over a bridge and then on a path beside a road going downhill. This didn't tie up with the route on my Ordnance Survey map, so I had to check with my GPS to see exactly where I was. From this, I assumed that there must have been a diversion to the route, as sometimes happens, so continued to follow the signposted route rather than trying to get back onto the one shown on my map. The signposts were taking my along the minor road to Grayrigg, which explained why the lady at the B&B said I would pass by her young son's primary school on the way.
Grayrigg
When I reached Grayrigg, the signposts came to an end, with no indication at all as to where the Dales Way went from there. The only thing to do was to work out my own route from the map. In any case, I only intended to follow the Dales Way for a couple of miles before following my own route, but it was still a bit annoying to be led off like this and then be abandoned. When trying to follow routes in areas like this, going across numerous farm fields on footpaths that are often little used, it is essential to keep a constant check that the correct path, lane or road is being followed, as it is so easy to go astray. At every twist, turn or junction, I checked that my route agreed with that on the map, and that I was heading in the right direction by checking my GPS.
The air was heavy, and the sky was grey, with rain threatening all the time, though managing to hold off for the time being. Though not a great walk, it was still quite pleasant, taking me through meadows, by streams, through small hamlets and through farms across the undulating countryside, which meant that there were quite a few ups and downs on the way. Entering one farmyard, I found that the farmer had used the space between two gates to pen in a flock of sheep. This was the route of the footpath, so I had to go through the first gate which made all the sheep gather by the second one, then I had to shoo them all around so that I could reach the other gate.
Further on, I came to a field where a bull had been put amongst a herd of cows and calves. I started to make my way across, keeping a careful eye on the bull as I did so. There was a very waterlogged patch of ground along the route, so I started to make my way across, trying to avoid the water going over the tops of my boots, whilst the bull, that was not very far away, eyed me up suspiciously. The water was getting deeper and very close to wetting my feet, and I was wondering whether I could proceed any further when it started to rain with large spots. This made me retreat to one side, away from the bull and onto dry land so that I could put on my waterproofs, putting my boot in a cow pat just as I was about to put it down the leg of my over-trousers. By the time my antics were finished, the bull had lost interest and wandered to the other side of the field, so I was able to skirt around the boggy bit and make my way onwards without more ado.
By now, I had walked about five miles so, a bit further on, I stopped for a drink and a rest underneath some trees by a minor road. They gave some shelter from the rain, but were already starting to drip water through from their own leaves. I was feeling fine with the walking now, having got into the swing of it. I even kept thinking that I must have left something behind, as my rucksack didn't feel very heavy, but that was just that I was now so used to carrying its weight that I didn't notice it is like most of the time, only when I was lifting it to swing it on or off my back did I only notice the weight.
The rain kept on and on, as I made my way over to Garnet Bridge and up onto the edge of the low fells on the way to Staveley, though it was not very heavy. For a change, there was not too much wind, so I wasn't getting quite as wet as I might have been. There was still moderate visibility, however, and the scenery around and about was much more typical of the Lake District, with craggy outcrops, rather than the smooth topped moors of the Dales. None of the crags were very high, but, on a brighter day, it would make very good walking country. My route led by a couple of small moorland reservoirs, and I stopped by the first of these, Gurnal Dubs, for my lunch. I watched a heron as it waded in the water at the other side. It looked rather bedraggled, just like me, so it didn't do very much. It was still wet and miserable, so I didn't stay for very long before heading on past the second reservoir, Potter Tarn, before dropping down from the moors and making my way into Staveley.
Potter Tarn near Staveley
From the other side of Staveley, I was able to rejoin the Dales Way for most of the way to Windermere. The walking along this part of the Dales Way is not easy, as it has a lot of ups and downs over undulating ground, which is somewhat of a departure from the usual riverside paths, which are relatively flat. I came across another heron by a small stream, and it flew off on my approach. It is always an impressive sight to see a bird with such large wings lift itself into the air and fly slowly away. So that I would have a better chance of finding my B&B amidst all the backstreets of Windermere, I put its grid reference into my GPS to make it easier to find. It also gave me an indication as to how far I had to go, though that was as the crow flies and not by the more roundabout route of the footpaths.
About two miles from my destination, I passed by a country house that was open to the public. A lady was just coming out of the tearoom and asked, "Did you want the tearoom?" to which I replied, "That sounds like a very good idea." I ordered a mug of tea and sat there in my dripping clothes with my dripping rucksack. It was a stone floor, so I didn't feel too bad about walking in there with my boots on, especially as they were just wet and not muddy, and I also pulled down my over-trousers to save wetting the seat. I had quite a long chat with the lady, as there was nobody else in there and then, suitably refreshed and warmed up by the tea, made my way, leaving a large puddle of water where my rucksack had been.
The rain, which had been quite steady when I went in, was now heavy, and my glasses, which I needed to wear for reading the map, instead of being just rain-splattered, were now covered with so much rain that I couldn't see properly. Fortunately, the route finding was fairly straight forward, so I was able to manage without wearing them. As reassurance, I kept a watch on my GPS and could see that I was heading in the right direction and also watch the distance to my destination decreasing steadily. On the outskirts of Windermere, I parted company with the Dales Way, which doubled back towards its finish at Bowness-on-Windermere, whilst I took the path towards Windermere itself.
Between the footpath and my B&B was a large council estate, so I zigzagged through rows of houses via walkways and roads, following the pointer on my GPS as best I could, until I emerged from the estate and could see my B&B just along the road. The landlord took my wet boots to put in the boiler room, and I went upstairs to have a nice hot shower and to change into dry clothing. Fortunately, the careful packing of things within the plastic rucksack liner and other plastic bags had managed to keep most things reasonably dry, though the clothes I had been wearing were very wet. As the central heating was on, it was a good opportunity to rinse out everything that needed washing so that I could get it all dry on the radiator.
I fully expected my mobile phone to work in a large town like Windermere, but the signal was very poor in my B&B, so I made my way down the road to find a pub and a payphone. When I found a pub, there was just enough signal strength outside to call home, whilst trying to shelter from the rain by the front wall. The news from home was not what I wanted to hear - the weather tomorrow was going to be worse. The pub was very busy, it being a Saturday night, but I managed to find space at the end of a table where I could sit in order to eat the very tasty lamb hotpot that I ordered. The bitter from Tirril Brewery in Cumbria was also very good and helped to revive my flagging spirits.
Day 6 - Sunday 22nd June 2008 -
Windermere to Patterdale via Trout Beck Valley and Thornthwaite Crag
Distance: GPS 14.6 miles - 2,850 ft ascent
Accommodation: YHA Patterdale
Breakfast started at 08.15, so I got myself ready for then. The things I had washed last night were reasonably dry after hanging on the radiator and my boots, which had been in the boiler room, were also quite dry. Unfortunately, the forecast was for gale force winds and rain, so everything was likely to get wet again before very long. Another chap who had stayed last night was walking the Dales Way, using the Sherpa van service to book his accommodation and to transport his luggage. They had arranged for a taxi here from Burneside last night, and another to take him back again this morning to complete the last section of about ten miles back to Bowness, though with the state of the weather, he wasn't sure whether he was going to bother.
After another good breakfast, I set off at 09.15, calling at the shops, near the pub I went to last night, to get some things for lunch before making my way up a road towards Orrest Head. I passed a signpost erected by Windermere and Bowness Civic Society saying:
Footpath to Orrest Head - 784 feet above sea level - Unrivalled views of the Lake District fells, Lake Windermere, Morecambe Bay and the Pennines - 20 minutes walk to the top
My reasons for going to the top, which was slightly off my route, were firstly that it would enable to see what the state of the cloud and weather was on the higher fells, and secondly because it might be one of the only views I was likely to get today. The road became a track and then a path to the summit, which did offer a good view over Windermere, but as far as the fells were concerned, it was difficult to tell, as there was so much low cloud and mist. Also, whether the views were ‘unrivalled’, was open to question, as there are many places with spectacular views in the Lake District.
Wansfell Pike was just about clear of cloud, so the base must have been at about 1,500 ft, making it pointless taking the route that I had planned, along the ridge over Yoke, Ill Bell and Froswick, on the way to Thornthwaite Crag. With rain and very strong winds forecast, it was far more sensible to stay low down for as much of the walk as I could. There is a track running along the eastern side of Trout Beck, all the way along the valley and climbing up to Thornthwaite Crag right at the end, so this looked like the best option in the circumstances. I could have taken the Kirkstone Pass road route to avoid having to avoid the exposed heights of Thornthwaite Crag, but I didn't fancy mile after mile of road walking. Once over Thornthwaite Crag, I could drop straight down the other side to get more shelter, rather than going over Stony Cove Pike, as I had planned.
It was already quite windy with some rain, though not quite as cold as it might have been. One benefit was that the wind was behind me, so my rucksack gave me some protection and helped to prevent me from getting too cold. There were some stretches of walking through long, wet grass, so I stopped to put on my over-trousers to try to keep my socks dry, more so than to protect me from the rain, which was still quite light. As I progressed along the valley, the rain got heavier and could be seen drifting across in waves all along the fell sides. The wind was also gathering in strength, but I only really noticed it when I turned around and felt it head on.
Progress was quick and easy along the valley, the only problem being finding somewhere to have a rest. I knew there was no chance higher up, where the conditions would get worse and worse, and it was rather a long way over to the other side. The best option I could find was a farm trailer, with a small overhang on the downwind end, that could shelter me from both the wind and the rain, so I managed to have a snack and a drink, with about five miles already covered. One problem that occurred further along was that the streams coming down the sides of the fells were getting more and more swollen with the rain, so, where they crossed the path, it was sometimes difficult to cross, and I had to look upstream to find a narrower part that I could jump across. I just managed to keep my feet from getting wet, except for one place where I did get just a splash of water into one boot.
Eventually I came to the end of the valley and the ascent up the side of Park Fell, on the way to Thornthwaite Crag. This was quite steep and I had to keep stopping for breathers at regular intervals. Soon I was up into the mist, with the wind strengthening all the time, and the rain steadily pouring down. There was nothing to see to mark my progress, so I passed the time looking at the altitude reading on my GPS instead. After a long, steep climb, the gradient got less and, with the very powerful wind behind, I was given a boost to take some of the effort out of climbing. The slope levelled out even more and soon the shape of a beacon loomed out of the mist ahead, marking the summit of Thornthwaite Crag. Even though there was some shelter there, I had no intention of stopping in the atrocious weather conditions.
My objective was to descend from the summit as quickly as possible, hoping that I would then get some shelter from the wind. However, I was in for a nasty surprise. The wind, which I guessed was gusting to about 60 mph at the summit, was now being funnelled up the valley and over the steep side of the ridge at about 70 or 80 mph, making it very difficult to progress safely. It was made worse by the fact that it was now hitting me sideways on, rather than from behind, and this continued for about a quarter of a mile, though it seemed a lot further at the time. The wind was lashing rain into my face making it difficult to see clearly, and the noise, as it flapped my waterproofs violently, was quite tremendous. Once I reached the ridge between Thornthwaite Crag and Stony Cove Pike, I was able to start dropping down to the north, obtaining much more shelter in the process. My relief was enormous now that I was no longer being battered and buffeted by gusts of wind that had threatened to sweep me off my feet, making it possible to descend the steep path with relative ease.
Soon, I dropped down below the level of the cloud, and the view that opened up was of a mass of small becks and streams all the way around the valley sides, swollen into white water torrents and all merging together into Pasture Beck below. These caused a few problems in places, as I had to cross quite a number of them on the way, though I generally managed to find suitable crossing points without having to detour very far. The other problem was that, for much of the way, the path was acting as a stream itself, making it very difficult to save my boots from getting saturated, though they were doing a good job keeping out the bulk of the water, which meant that, though my feet were wet, they weren't quite squelching.
At last I reached the road and was able to have a short stop, sheltered by the wall of a building, so I was able to have the rest of my packed lunch. However, I had to do this standing up, so my feet didn't get much of a rest. I had been unable to turn my map over inside my map case in all the rain, so was now able to do so and was pleasantly surprised that I only had about two more miles to walk to Patterdale. A track runs parallel to the road, so I set off along there at a fast pace, partly to warm myself up, and partly so that I could get there quickly to the warmth and dryness of the youth hostel, which I reached at 15.45. Although reception didn't open until 17.00, I was able to get a shower, get changed and wash out all of my saturated walking clothes.
I made myself a coffee in the self-catering kitchen and had a chat with a couple who had arrived at the same time, walking the Coast-to-Coast. The drying room was very well heated, so there was every prospect of getting my things dry by the morning. Every year, things keep changing at the YHA. At Patterdale, the meals were now ordered à la carte and served at staggered times to allow the kitchen staff to cope with all the different meal options. Once reception had opened, I ordered grilled trout followed by cheesecake for 18.15. There were more people wanting meals than they expected, so the warden at reception was a little concerned about what response she would get from the kitchen when she kept taking more and more orders through. She kept saying, "They are going to kill me" as each new order came along, presumably because there were very few staff on. As usual, there was no reception on my mobile phone, but I was able to use the payphone in the hostel.
Another change that the YHA has made this year is the introduction of flexible pricing of beds according to demand. There was a whole table of differing charges for Patterdale hostel for different weeks of the year and days of the week. They ranged from £9.95 to £18.95 and I had been fortunate enough to land on an off-peak day at the lowest rate, which was less than I would have normally expected to pay. However, I am sure that, on balance, there would be an overall gain for the YHA as a result of this move. I am not sure whether this was the same for other hostels or just a few selected ones, but was told that all telephone bookings were now being routed via the central booking service to ensure that the correct prices were being quoted. I had booked online, so the appropriate rate had already been charged.
My meal was at one of the earlier times and the trout was nicely cooked and served with freshly cooked vegetables and boiled potatoes. It was not all that filling after a day's walk, but I don't particularly blame the hostel for that, as most people who order trout are looking for a lighter option. There were other, more substantial meals on offer. After dinner, I sat chatting to some of the Coast-to-Coast walkers whilst trying to decide whether to brave the elements and go to the pub. It was still wet outside, but the rain wasn't as bad as it looked at first. The pub was only a 5-minutes walk away, so I took a chance and went, having some of the Tirril Brewery bitter, which was, once again, very good. In there, I met a chap with whom I had eaten my dinner, as well as a lady who was walking the Coast-to-Coast, her friend being across the road having a long conversation on the payphone. The chap had been doing part of the Coast-to-Coast with his 14-year old son. As it was not possible to get a full two weeks off work at one time, he had split the walk into two parts, planning to return a few weeks later to do the remainder. His son had been finding the going rather tough, so stayed back at the hostel resting in bed.
We returned to the hostel together at 22.30 in the drizzly rain. I checked the drying room when we got back and found that most of my things were already dry. My boots were still damp, but they would be much better by the morning. If only other drying rooms were as good as this one!
Day 7 - Monday 23rd June 2006 -
Patterdale to YHA Derwent Water via St Sunday Crag, Dunmail Raise, Harrop Tarn and Watendlath
Distance: GPS 15.9 miles - 2,500 ft ascent
Accommodation: YHA Derwent Water - Barrow House
I had a reasonable night's sleep without much snoring despite the dormitory being full with ten people. It was wonderful to see some sunshine this morning. There were still some clouds about, but it was certainly looking much better than the past two days. The chap with his son had to get a taxi to take them to Windermere for their train back home. He had worked out that the bus would get him there in time, but then found that it only ran at weekends at this time of year, so a taxi was the only way to get there.
Breakfast started at 07.45, but I didn't get off until 09.00, as I spent quite a bit of time sorting out various items that had been drying and then finding things in my rucksack that I hadn't realised were damp. Even my boots had dried overnight, so I treated them to a good coating of wax to help protect them against any more walking through the wet.
As I set off down the road towards Patterdale, I met up with two chaps from my dormitory. They were out for the day over St Sunday Crag and then returning to the hostel. One of the options on my planned route was via St Sunday Crag and, as the weather looked promising, I headed the same way with them. We had only just started out along the path when we saw a young deer not far away amongst the trees, and it stood there for a while before running off. I didn't take much notice of my map, as the other two seemed to know the way. However, we missed the path and ended up dropping back down to a minor road. Not much was lost, though, as we were able to join the path again a little further along, where it started the steep climb up the end of the crag.
Patterdale
Ullswater from above Glamara Park
The weather was quite bright with some sunny spells and the cloud was well above the mountaintops, so it promised to be a good day for walking. The other two stopped to take off some of their clothing, as it was quite warm, being sheltered from the wind by the end of the fell, so I set off ahead of them. For the first time on the walk, I was actually sweating quite a bit, even wearing just my shorts and polo shirt. The views over the head of Ullswater from above Glamara Park are lovely, and it was just a bit of a pity that there wasn't more sunshine to bring out the best of the scene. I kept up a steady plod, stopping at regular intervals for breathers and to look across at the view, whilst I made my way up the steep path. After a while, the incline started to become gentler, once the path took an angle along the fell side. At this point, the shelter offered by the end of the fell was lost and it suddenly felt very cool in the wind.
A couple of other chaps, travelling light and wearing trainers, were coming up behind and they soon passed me, breaking into a run as the path levelled out. Before long, they were way ahead, looking like specks in the distance, whilst the other two also looked like specks way behind. All the way along, there were good views back over Ullswater and Place Fell, as well as views across to the Helvellyn range. After a stretch of gentle ascent along the ridge, came a steeper one towards the summit of St Sunday Crag, until the ridge rounded off nearer to the summit itself. By now the views of Ullswater were almost gone, but there was a fine panorama of mountains from the High Street range behind, where Angle Tarn could also be seen, to the Western Fells in the distance, past Seat Sandal, with Fairfield looming up ahead.
Ascent of St Sunday Crag with Dollywaggon Pike ahead
Dollywaggon Pike from St Sunday Crag
Fairfield from St Sunday Crag
I reached the summit at 10.55 and stayed for about half an hour. The wind was quite cool, but, with some warmth from patches of sunshine, and some shelter from the summit cairn, it was quite pleasant. A lady came by whilst I was resting, complaining about the cold wind and, as I left the shelter of the cairn; I was met with an icy blast to illustrate her point. As I left the summit, there was still no sign of the two chaps I had started off with, so they were obviously in no hurry. My route then dropped down towards Grisedale Tarn, as I thought that I would have enough climbing to do today without the additional ascent of Fairfield, and the icy gusts of wind continued until I dropped some way down, obtaining a little more shelter there.
Most of the way, there was little evidence of yesterday's heavy rain. Water is very quick to drain down the steep fell sides, so, once the rain stops, it is not very long before all the white water cascades are reduced back to a steady flow, or even a trickle in some cases. The larger watercourses further down the valleys stay swollen for a little longer, though, whilst the last of the rainfall finds its way down. Whilst walking along most of the way, it didn't look as if there had been much more than a few showers. However, Grisedale Tarn had obviously accumulated a considerable amount of extra water, as I could see some Coast-to-Coast walkers having problems crossing Grisedale Beck, where it emerged from the tarn. They eventually managed to cross, though I couldn’t quite see if they avoided getting their feet wet. Yesterday, some of the hostellers had had to wade through to get across.
Grisedale Tarn, Seat Sandal and Western Fells
Grisedale Tarn with St Sunday Crag to right
Waterfalls on Raise Beck
I made my way along a narrow path on the hillside above Grisedale Tarn to avoid having to lose height that I would have to regain further on, then picking up the path towards Dunmail Raise, which followed Raise Beck down to the A591 road. At 12.35, I stopped for a lunch break in a lovely, sheltered spot by some waterfalls just below the path, and saw a few other walkers pass by from time to time. Further down, I crossed the road to pick up a path on the other side, running more or less parallel with the road northwards towards Thirlmere. Being higher than the road, the path gave much better views over the reservoir, with the scenery enhanced by the gradually improving weather.
Helm Crag from Dunmail Raise
Thirlmere from Steel End
Harrop Tarn to west of Thirlmere
Shortly after reaching the minor road that runs round the eastern shore of Thirlmere, I took a footpath leading up the steep, rugged slopes of Birk Crag, and thence to Harrop Tarn, which is set in a small forest. I started to go the wrong way around the tarn until I checked my map, but then decided it was far better to retrace my steps for five minutes than risk having some difficulty getting round the opposite side. Fortunately, there was a newly erected footbridge over Dob Gill, where it came out of the tarn, as I might have found it rather tricky keeping my feet dry over the old crossing, with the present water level. A bridleway signposted to Watendlath then took me up above the forest and over by Blea Tarn, one of the many Lakeland tarns bearing the same name.
On the way, I stopped for a short rest and a drink, with a fine view looking back towards St Sunday Crag and the rest of the mountain range. With the ground around here not sloping as steeply as it did around the higher fells, the water was slower to drain away, and there were quite a number of boggy stretches along the path. My original plan had been to follow the rather flat-topped ridge northwards to High Seat, before dropping down towards Derwent Water, but I couldn't see much of a path leading over that way, and didn't have a lot of spare time for extra walking, having already taken the detour via St Sunday Crag, so decided to take the more direct, and probably easier, route via Watendlath.
Dollywaggon Pike, St Sunday Crag and Fairfield from west
Watendlath Tarn and Bassenthwaite Lake from Brimming Knott
Watendlath Tarn and Borrowdale Fells
On the way there were some lovely views of Watendlath Tarn with a backdrop of the mountains of Borrowdale, all bathed in sunshine. A steep path drops down to the tarn and village, where there were quite a few people, this being a very popular tourist spot. I stopped by the tarn for a five-minute rest before taking the path to the west of Watendlath Beck, with the road on the other side. There is a tendency to assume that, once down into a valley, that the going will be quick and easy, but this is often not the case. The area around here is rather rocky and craggy, and the path meanders in and out between rocks and boulders with quite a few ups and downs and uneven, rocky surfaces, so it wasn't quick at all, though preferable to walking along the road.
Eventually, the path ended and joined the road for the last mile or so. There is a viewing spot along the way, with a marvellous view overlooking Derwent Water, with Skiddaw beyond, and the weather was now perfect to enable it to be seen at its best. Further along is the much-photographed Ashness Bridge, with a view across Derwent Water to Skiddaw, though the sun was in the wrong direction to get a good photograph. I seem to remember more of the lake being visible from earlier photographs, but the trees are now far more and cut off some of the view, though Skiddaw is still very prominent. Derwentwater Youth Hostel was somewhere down below, and I thought that there might be a short cut down there but didn't see one, so I continued down to the lakeside road and doubled back to the hostel from there.
Derwent Water, Bassenthwiate Lake and Skiddaw
Flooding around head of Derwent Water
Derwentwater Youth Hostel (Barrow House)
The hostel is in a fine old mansion, Barrow House, with large grounds and access, just across the road, to Barrow Bay, which all makes it very popular for school parties, and there were two of them in tonight. However, being a large building, the warden was able to put the rest of us in dormitories at the opposite end of the building, where it would be more peaceful. The dining room was going to be heaving with children, so the warden set up a place for me, the only other one having a hostel meal, in the self-catering kitchen. I sat there by the window looking out across the lake on this lovely evening - what a contrast from the weather of yesterday.
When I had gone up to my dormitory, I had found a different arrangement of bedding than the usual sheet sleeping bag. There were brand new packs containing a white fitted bottom sheet, a dark blue duvet cover, and two light blue pillow cases along with a new duvet and two new pillows. I wasn't aware of it at the time, but this was to be the norm for all hostels from now on, which explains why the reception area at Patterdale was piled high with bags full of linen, presumably awaiting the official change over day. This was a great improvement on the old sheet sleeping bags, which I always found totally ineffective, as they only needed a couple of turns over in bed to become tangled up in a mess, leaving a hosteller effectively just sleeping between a sheet and duvet cover that had been used by many other hostellers without being washed. The new system is far more hygienic, though it did need a bit of practice in feeding the duvet into the duvet cover. The other thing that sprang to mind was that the laundry bills would be considerably higher, and this would certainly be passed on in future bed prices.
The warden told me that, up until about a week ago, the lake was at a very low level, there having been virtually no rain in northern England or Scotland for many weeks, leaving some of the Scottish islands suffering from drought. In the space of a week, the situation had been completely reversed, with the lakeside path now under a foot of water. It was, however, still possible to see patches of dried-out, dead grass on many of the fells.
After dinner, I sat out in front of the hostel on a bench for a while until the midges started to become a nuisance and the children started to make a lot of noise, playing nearby. I wandered down to the bay, where the midges had not yet invaded, and watched someone pulling a boat along, wading up to his knees where the footpath was underwater. With the loss of the path, there was nowhere else for a short walk, other than the road, and the midges had now found there way here as well, so I returned to the hostel to have another bottle of Jenning's Cumberland Ale, and to write a few postcards. The weather forecast from Sunday was still pinned up in the hostel and this had predicted winds gusting to 65 mph, with some gusts of 75 to 80 mph locally, presumably meaning around mountain tops, where the temperatures, with wind chill, would feel like -5 Celsius. I would agree that, for once, they got it right!
Day 8 - Tuesday 24th June 2008 - Derwent Water to Elter Water via High Seat, Ulscarf, High Raise and Stickle Tarn
Distance: GPS 15.4 miles - 3,450 ft ascent
Accommodation: YHA Elter Water
Breakfast started at 07.30, so I got up at 07.00 to enable me to get most things ready before eating. The weather was not so bright, with an unbroken layer of high cloud. Again, because of the school parties, the four of us who were having breakfast were served in the self-catering kitchen. The standard breakfast was bacon, scrambled egg and beans, plus a cold buffet. There was a big breakfast available for an extra pound, giving a sausage and hash browns as well, but I had booked mine over the Internet, so hadn't been given the option, though I am sure that I could have upgraded had I so wished. It was quite peaceful at the start, as the kids weren't down until 08.00, so we were able to get our breakfast before they started milling around everywhere. Two other walkers were heading for Grasmere, and so was a cyclist, whilst another chap was leaving for home.
Cat Bells from near Derwentwater Youth Hostel
Skiddaw from near Derwentwater Youth Hostel
I managed to get an early start, leaving the hostel at 08.30, not that I had a particularly long day today, but it would allow me to take my time if I so wished. I set off back up the road towards Ashness Bridge and noticed on the way that I had missed a gate into the hostel grounds, which would have given me a short cut both last night and this morning, avoiding some road walking. The path up towards High Seat from Ashness Bridge was very steep at first, leading over some crags, and I was sweating quite a bit, as there was not a breath of wind lower down. The views were not so good this morning, lacking the sunshine of yesterday, but there was still quite good visibility and the cloud level was above the fells. After many short breathers, I got past the craggy ridge, where I found that there was a very fresh easterly wind blowing, now that I had lost the shelter of the crags. I had been feeling a few twinges of backache both last night and this morning. I have sometimes suffered from backache after completing a long distance walk but not during the walk itself, so I would just have to hope that it didn't get worse.
Skiddaw from Ashness Bridge
Derwent Water, Bassenthwaite Lake and Skiddaw
The rest of the way over to High Seat was easier going apart from the last short climb to the summit itself. There was a good panorama from here, extending to Blencathra and Helvellyn to the east, with a small part of Thirlmere visible, as well as all the other fells that I had been able to see yesterday on the route past Watendlath. It was now very cool on the exposed summit, so I put on my waterproof jacket to keep out the wind, and only stayed for fifteen minutes. Along this flat-topped ridge, the views were a bit more limited, but the ground was not quite as boggy as I had expected. There was a moderately trodden path following the boundary fence, with a number of places where I had to find my way around standing water, but, in general, the walking was not too difficult. The path climbed up and down over a few minor peaks, but there was not much of a climb to any of them, and I managed to avoid getting water over the tops of my boots, even in the boggiest parts. The going was a bit slow because of all the meandering about, but it didn't matter, as I had plenty of time. However, it did prove that I made the right decision by not coming this way yesterday afternoon. The walking reminded me more of the peaty moors of the Peak District rather than the Lake District, but with only about a tenth of the amount of peat, though, of course, the views here of the distant mountains made it quite different from the point of view of the scenery.
At 11.30, I reached the point where I crossed the fence yesterday, which meant that I had taken three hours from the hostel including my stop on High Seat. It wouldn't have taken quite as long the other way, because it would have been largely downhill, but would still have taken been longer than the route I took. Although the ridge was far less exhilarating than many Lake District ridges, in a long distance walk there is a need for variety, so there was nothing wrong with it. As I walked further along, there was one very prominent mountain to the southwest, and I couldn't quite work out which one it was, but when I checked the map it was Great Gable - I just hadn't realised that it was so close, which is why I had dismissed the idea initially.
There was a faint glimmer of sunshine, but otherwise the layer of high cloud remained firmly in place. As I made my way over to Ulscarf, the path got less boggy, with the exception of a few short stretches, and, after the initial steep climb up Standing Crag, the way got easier. I stopped for a rest on Standing Crag and had some lunch with a good view back over the way I had just come, and some shelter from the wind. A sheep and her lamb came along as I was sitting there, gradually coming closer and closer. In tourist areas, where people often give them food, they can become a nuisance, getting quite aggressive in their quest for a snack, so I gave them no encouragement and just sat looking at them. Although they had stopped nibbling the grass, the ewe just kept on chewing constantly, but I put this down to the fact that she had a blade of grass stuck between her front teeth, so the chewing was just an automatic reaction. Eventually, once they realised that there was nothing on offer, they wandered off to content themselves with more grass.
As I continued my way over towards Ulscarf, I was quite surprised how many people were coming over the other way. Being rather flat-topped, I never considered this to be a particularly interesting or popular mountain, but what it lacks in steep craggy sides, it makes up for in the fine panorama of mountains all around, as it is quite central. Several of the walkers were teenagers carrying large packs, which either meant that they were doing it as part of the Duke of Edinburgh Award Scheme, or as some other outward bound course, but there were also quite a number of other walkers.
I continued on towards High Raise, passing Greenup Edge, to where I would be returning a few days later. The route was roughly marked by the old fence, whose rusty metal posts could be seen here and there. Most had either fallen down and were still visible, half-trodden into the ground, or had disappeared completely, but there were enough still upright to guide the way, not that this was a problem, as the path was quite clear anyway. The ascent of High Raise consisted of one fairly steep climb up to what looked like the top, then another more gentle ascent to what again looked like the top, and finally an almost level walk to what was definitely the summit, as it sported a trig point. Again, there were a number of people about as I stopped for the rest of my lunch at 14.00, using the summit shelter to keep off the wind. The weather was looking greyer and greyer, with a few spots of rain starting to fall and a decidedly chilly wind blowing. From here, there is a better view of the Southern and Western Fells, with Coniston Old Man, Crinkle Crags, Bow Fell, Scafell Pike and Great Gable, to name just a few.
An easy, grassy footpath led over to Sergeant Man, which offered a good view of Harrison Stickle, with Stickle Tarn down below, though there were better views of the tarn from the path further down. The path down was rather indistinct in places where people had taken different routes, but it didn't matter, as the main path by the tarn was always in view and easily accessible, even by walking down the grassy slopes. The main path comes down the very steep side of Harrison Stickle, and there were several people making their way down from there. Beside Stickle Ghyll, which drains the tarn, there are two paths down, the main one being a continuation of the one down from Harrison Stickle on the other side of the stream. The one I came to first, however, was a smaller one on my side of the stream. It suddenly started raining quite heavily, so I stopped to put on my over-trousers and to pack away my camera, which had not had much use today. The path down had been laid with stones, but instead of laying them level, or, even better, with a slightly backward slope, they had just laid them at the same angle as the slope. It would have been bad enough in the dry, but in the wet it was treacherous, and I had to take great care with every step to avoid having an accident that was just waiting to happen.
Stickle Tarn, Pike of Stickle and Harrison Stickle
Eventually, the path improved where it joined another one, and the rest of the way to the New Dungeon Ghyll Hotel was much easier and safer. The rain had already stopped when I reached the bottom, and, sheltered from the wind by the steep mountains, I suddenly started to feel hot and sticky. This called for the removal of my rainwear at last. I had been wearing my jacket for most of the day because of the cold wind, so it was a pleasure to remove it and feel the fresh air without being too cold. For the last leg of the walk to Elterwater Youth Hostel, I joined the Cumbria Way, which avoids the road for most of the way by climbing a little way up the valley side for a while, giving good views back to the Langdale Pikes. It then drops back down beside Great Langdale Beck, the banks of which have been built up considerably to prevent flooding, and it was possible to see from the flattened vegetation the level that the recent heavy rain had reached. It had come a considerable way up the embankments, but nowhere near danger level.
I arrived at the hostel at 17.10, only to find that I couldn't even get in through the door for the queue at reception. I had obviously hit a bad time, just ten minutes after opening time, whereas I am often later than that and don't have any problems. The queue gradually diminished, and I was able to check in at about 17.30, ordering my dinner of beef cobbler plus my breakfast and packed lunch. The food was very good, with freshly and lightly cooked vegetables, always the sign of a good chef. There were five people having the hostel meal, but many more self-catering. The rain became heavier again, so I didn't bother going to the pub, instead reading in the lounge for a while before retiring for an early night. I find on most walks, when I have been sweating a lot during the day, I am desperate for a few pints of beer in the evening, as it seems to be the only way to quench my thirst and replace my body fluids. On this walk, however, I have spent so little time feeling warm, that I have often been content with the odd bottle of beer to drink with my evening meal.
Day 9 - Wednesday 25th June 2008- Elter Water to Wast Water via Angle Tarn, Sty Head Tarn and Wasdale Head
Distance: GPS 18.5 miles - 2,300 ft ascent
Accommodation: YHA Wast Water
It was wet outside when I got up at 07.30, and the forecast was for poor weather in the morning but brightening up in the afternoon. Breakfast was at 08.00 and the warden was doing it on his own, so was a bit slow getting going, but nobody was in a particular hurry to get off into the drizzle outside. The few things that I had washed out last night were all dry, as were my boots, though it didn't look as if they would stay that way for very long, especially as the rain had started to get heavier. I packed away everything as well as I could to try and keep them dry, and put on my waterproofs before venturing outside at 09.10. As I was setting off, it stopped raining, but by the time I had gone fifty yards down the road it started again with a fairly heavy shower.
I needed to retrace my route of yesterday along the Cumbria Way for about three miles to the New Dungeon Ghyll Hotel, then follow it to the head of Great Langdale before it headed towards Borrowdale over the Sticks Pass, whilst I headed near Esk Hause on the way to Wasdale. I was pleased to find that my backache was almost gone today, which was one less thing to worry about. Going past the quarry I had encountered yesterday, I must have taken a wrong turning, ending up further up the hillside near to some woods. This was a route that I had wondered about taking last night, so decided to continue that way for a change of scenery.
The rain continued to come down steadily, with the cloud at about 1,500 to 2,000 ft, covering the tops of all the higher fells. Once in a while, the vague grey shape of one of the Langdale Pikes would loom out of the gloom before being swallowed up again by the cloud. I regained the Cumbria Way after a while and then continued past the Dungeon Ghyll Hotels, both new and old to follow Mickleden Beck along Great Langdale. It was surprising how many people were out walking considering the foul state of the weather, but people seem determined to get out regardless. At the head of the valley, most people forked off to the right up the Sticks Pass, whilst I decided to take a rest and a bite to eat before climbing up over Rosset Crag towards Angle Tarn (another one of the same name, not the one on the Coast-to-Coast). I suspected that the weather could be a lot worse higher up, so it was better to stop here, where there was at least some shelter by a wall, rather than take my chances on the promised weather improvement later on.
The wind, which had been quite strong, was not very strong here, sheltered by steep fells on three sides, but the rain still kept on coming and going in waves. The ascent towards Angle Tarn is quite long and steep, and the path zigzags its way up the craggy hillside. I was following a couple who were not very well dressed for the weather conditions, neither of them having waterproof trousers and the woman wearing jeans, which are very bad in the wet. As they reached the top of the ridge and stopped, I caught up with them, and they asked me where we were on the map. We had already entered the cloud, so visibility was down to about fifty yards, and it was getting colder with the wind strengthening and the rain still coming down. They were heading for Scafell Pike, which was still some way off, and were already in doubt as to their whereabouts, so I didn't think that it would be very wise for them to go ahead. I pointed out our position on the map and where they needed to turn for Scafell Pike, but also warned them that the wind was likely to be far worse on the exposed mountaintops, making it very cold, wet and unpleasant.
I went on ahead towards Angle Tarn, but when I looked back, there was no sign of the couple - they must have thought better of it and decided to turn back. The route over Scafell Pike was one of my options and, had the weather started to improve, I would probably have taken it, but there was no sign of this happening at the moment, so it was best to stay with the easier option past Sty Head Tarn, avoiding the exposed, high peaks. The wind was now starting to blow in violent gusts: it would be quite calm for a while until a sudden gust of about 50 to 60 mph would take me by surprise, nearly knocking me off balance, before it dropped again just as suddenly as it had started. Half a mile or so past Angle Tarn is a shelter in the shape of a cross, which enabled me to finish off my packed lunch. The bottom compartment had about half a pint of water sloshing around in it, so it was just as well that I only had my sandwich container in there: even that had managed to get some wet inside. It was not a place to stay for long so, after a quick drink and a bite to eat, I set off on my way again, but first of all tipped the water out of my rucksack.
I remember reading a very amusing book by Barry Pilton entitled ‘One Man and His Bog’, in which he recounted his walk of the Pennine Way. In a glossary of terms at the end, he had the following entries, if I can remember them correctly:
Reservoir: A large container for collecting rainwater. Rucksack: A small container for collecting rainwater.
This now seemed very apt, and made me wonder, as I said before, why drain holes are not a standard feature in the bottom of rucksacks.
Setting off from the shelter, I had a bit of difficulty finding the right path. The one I wanted was straight ahead, but there were only paths going off left or right. I tried each one for a short way, but neither seemed to be going in the right direction, the one heading for Scafell Pike and the other going too far north. After wandering back and forth in the mist for a while, I then found that the one going northwards had a fork to the left a little way further on, and that was the path I was looking for, but this was not shown very clearly on the map. This is just one of the problems in the mist, when it is impossible to see where paths are going some way ahead, nor to get a feeling for the lie of the land. Another problem came when I started to find swollen streams that were difficult to cross. I came to one and spent some time figuring out the best place to cross, only to find that I shouldn't have crossed it anyhow, as the path I should have taken stayed on the same side of the stream, so I had to cross back over again.
My route dropped down towards Sprinkling Tarn, which was just about clear of mist, revealing a lovely view of craggy hills behind this very attractive tarn. The next landmark was Sty Head Tarn, a little way off to the right from the path. There were several tents pitched nearby - a lovely spot to camp in fine weather, but I was not sure about now. Below Sty Head, the path was a little vague, the main path being the one leading down from Great Gable, a little further over. However, I followed a small path down the hillside and all was well until it led me to the confluence of two very swollen streams. The one to my left was far too wide and, in any case, I needed to cross the smaller one to join up with the main path to the right. Where the path was intended to cross was far too difficult, so I kept on going up the hillside examining all sorts of possibilities, none of which looked very promising.
Waterfalls below Sty Head
Towards Sty Head from head of Wasdale
Wasdale Head Inn with Black Sail Pass to right, behind
The problem was that, although there were stones and rocks in varying places looking as if they would act as stepping stones, many were covered in lichens, making them extremely slippery when wet. This would be difficult enough if they could be taken in small steps, but if they required a leap then the chances of ending up head first in the raging torrent of water were quite considerable, especially when carrying the destabilising weight of a rucksack. Further upstream, the stream split into two smaller ones, one of which was relatively easy to cross, but the other was still proving difficult, even though it was now a little narrower. Eventually, I found one place where the streambed was fairly flat and not too deep. The water would come over the tops of my boots but I could get across with a couple of steps in the water and, at least, there was much less chance of slipping, which was my major concern. This seemed the best option without going higher and higher up the hillside and possibly right back up to the top to find somewhere better.
One good thing about over-trousers is that, in situations like this, the water pressure tends to clamp the bottom of their legs around the boots, helping to create a seal. If everything is done quickly, it is possible to step into fairly deep water without very much of it entering the boots. With this accomplished, it was just a matter of following the main path down to Wasdale Head, though there was still a lot of surface water to contend with in places. The wind was a lot less strong down here and the rain had more or less stopped. Although it had been very wet and windy earlier, it was nowhere near as bad as on Sunday over Thornthwaite Crag. The other saving grace was that the wind was coming from behind for most of the time, so I didn't notice it so much. It was only on odd occasions when it changed direction for a while, or when I turned round to face into it, that I realised how bad it was.
Looking at the hillsides, there were far fewer of the white water torrents tumbling down than on Sunday and, judging by the huge amount of rock and boulder debris in and around the streambed further down, the volume of water flowing now was but a tiny fraction of what it has been sometimes in the past.
All that remained now was to walk down the length of Wast Water Lake to the youth hostel by the far end. The shortest way would have been to follow the road, but I thought it would be more interesting to take the lakeside path at the bottom of the scree slopes. The first access to this was from just past Wasdale Head, but a sign warned that the path was prone to flooding, so I thought it wiser to bypass that bit and turn off the road by the campsite at the head of the lake.
The campsite brought back memories of over forty years ago when I used to come here with some of my friends on our motorbikes. At that time, the campsite was just a piece of rough scrubland beside the stream with no facilities, though I believe that there was a toilet at the farmhouse about half a mile away that we never used. We often camped there for free, as the farmer only came around once in a while to collect money from the campers. However, sometimes he did catch up with us, asking for a bob a person a night, a bob being a shilling, or five pence in today's money. One year we got a taste of inflation, though, as he came round asking a bob a person a night and a bob for th' tent. As I mentioned, we never really knew where the toilets were and used to ride several miles to Gosforth to use the public toilets there. Some years later the land was taken over by the National Trust, who started to operate an environmental policy by charging according to the colour of the tent. Any tent that was either green or brown and, therefore, blended in with the scenery, was either free or at a reduced rate, but any other coloured tent paid full price. Later, trees were planted to screen the tents from view, but that was after my days of motorbike trips there.
At first, the path was easy, and I was able to make more rapid progress than I expected, but then came rocky stretches, which were slower and more difficult to negotiate. Further along, where it came to crossing the scree, this again seemed easier than expected, as the stones were quite small. However, each scree I came to had larger stones than the previous one, making the going more and more difficult. The weather was now more settled, with blue sky showing in the distance near the coast, so I stopped to take off my waterproofs in order to get some air to my clothes and to try to dry them out a bit in the wind. The final scree had stones that were the size of rocks and boulders, which had to be clambered over, whilst going up and down the slope trying to find the easiest route. On one of these I tripped and fell, banging my knee on a rock, but then found it quite difficult to pick myself up again because of the weight of the pack on my back. It is bad enough trying to get up from even ground when carrying a heavy pack, but over a pile of stones and boulders it is even more difficult. However, after floundering around like a beached whale for a while, I managed to get my feet and hands into reasonable positions and levered myself up. I didn't seem to be much the worse for wear, so carried on until, at last, I reached the end of the final scree, where the going got much easier again towards the foot of the lake.
Yewbarrow from foot of Wast Water
Wastwater Youth Hostel (Wasdale Hall)
I could see Wastwater Youth Hostel, a fine looking old mansion, across the lake as I went past, but I had to go a little further on to cross the river by a footbridge before doubling back through woods to the hostel, and arriving at 18.10. There was a large group staying there and they were booked to eat at 18.30, so anyone else was scheduled for 19.30. After showering, changing and phoning home, I went outside beside the lake, where the weather had improved still further, with sunshine now highlighting the scree slopes across the lake, though it was still rather cool and breezy.
The hostel dining room was run like a bistro, with candlelit tables in the splendid dining room, with its wood panelled walls and ornate ceiling. I ordered a starter of goats' cheese and honey with redcurrant jelly, followed by a beef cobbler with butter potatoes and fresh vegetables, plus a couple of bottles of Cumberland Ale. It was all very nicely cooked and presented, and would not have been out of place in a high-class restaurant. There were two Geordie walkers in there, a Belgian who had ridden all the way on his 25-year old Lambretta scooter, and a group of five women who were also walkers. We chatted quite a bit about various things, including the lakeside walk, which the group of ladies had also walked today. The Belgian had ridden all over, including the west coast of Scotland, though he seemed to be a little confused about his geography, as he still thought he was in Scotland now.
The drying room in the hostel wasn't very good, with little heat in there, just a dehumidifier, so I doubted very much whether my things would get dry. The forecast was for more rain, so they would only get wet again anyway, so it didn't matter too much whether they got dry or not. It had been a tiring day, so I went to bed to get some rest. The knee that I had banged earlier had been alright whilst I was walking, but was now hurting as I went up and down the stairs. It wasn't too bad, but I would have to see what it was like in the morning.
Day 10 - Thursday 26th June 2008 - Wast Water to Black Sail Hut (YHA), Ennerdale via Black Sail Pass
Distance: GPS 7.5 miles - 1,600 ft ascent
Accommodation:
Two chaps in my dormitory got up at 06.15, getting themselves ready to go, which always has the effect of disturbing everyone else in there. Breakfast started at 07.30, but I was in no rush to get started, my plans having changed because of the weather conditions. I had intended to go up the mountains via Seatallan, Haycock, Scoat Fell and Pillar before dropping down Black Sail Pass to the youth hostel at Black Sail Hut. With the cloud at quite a low level and the prospect of more wind and rain, this seemed pointless, and the more sensible option was just to take a direct route to Black Sail Pass, thus minimising the time spent in the bad weather.
I went for breakfast at 08.00, along with the Belgian. There was a hot buffet of bacon, beans and hash browns as well as the usual cold buffet plus hard-boiled eggs. A few others joined us, including some of the group of women walkers, and we sat chatting about different walks for a while. It was quite peaceful, as the party of youths didn't come down until 08.50, just as we were leaving.
The detailed weather forecast gave winds of 35 to 40 mph, with heavy rain in the morning, clearing in the afternoon, so I decided to set off with an open mind, playing it by ear as far as my route was concerned, depending on whether the weather changed or the cloud lifted. Fortunately, my knee felt better this morning, so that was one thing less to worry about. As expected, the drying room was useless and did very little for my wet things: even my handkerchief was still damp, never mind my thick socks. I delayed my start until 10.00, thinking that the later I started, the more chance there was of the weather starting to clear up.
As I set off along the lakeside path from the hostel, the cloud was still low at about 1,000 to 1,500 ft above sea level, but at least it wasn't raining. The path soon joined the minor road, running by the side of the lake, to Wasdale Head, giving some good views, even with the low cloud. There was very little traffic, so I didn't mind treading tarmac too much, and, at least, it was a lot easier walking than the lakeside path by the scree slopes. I kept an eye on the weather all along, as I wasn't sure whether the heavy rain had already passed over or was still to come, and I still had the option of heading up into the mountains if it looked at all worthwhile. Over by the scree, it looked reasonably bright, but elsewhere much darker clouds were looming.
West Shore of Wast Water towards Wasdale Head
Head of Wast Water
The place where I had intended to turn to head for Haycock passed by, and the next high-level option was over Yewbarrow, but I passed that with no sign of the cloud lifting, leaving me with the final high-level option of climbing Pillar from the top of Black Sail Pass. As I passed the end of the lake and reached the footpath to Wasdale Head, which ran parallel to the road, the rain started, making me stop to put on my waterproofs. The rain was not very heavy, as I made my way past Wasdale Head, and along the path by Mosedale Beck. I didn’t bother to check my map, as I could see that I was heading in the right direction for Black Sail Pass. It was some way further along before I realised that I had been too blasé about my route and had taken the path along the wrong side of the beck, so needed to be on the other side for Black Sail Pass.
There were two options to resolve the problem, the first being to return to the bridge at Wasdale Head, which, after all, was not all that far back. The second was to try to cross Mosedale Beck. The beck was quite wide, but there was a stretch where it was fairly level and separated into several parts, none of which looked either too deep or wide. I got most of the way without any trouble, but was just faced with the last bit that was too wide lo leap across and yet would come over the top of my boots if I waded across. Inspired by my quick dash across a stream yesterday, with my over-trousers preventing all but a small amount of water getting into my boots, I made a dash for it. However, whereas a couple of quick steps may work fairly well, this required a few more, and far too long an immersion to get away with unscathed. My boots were now full of water and squelching as I walked along, so I stopped to take them off and to wring out the water from my socks. I had spare socks that were dry, but there seemed no point in putting them on if they were only going to get wet again in the bad weather. I any case, my feet were now only marginally wetter than they had been when I set off, with socks that had spent 12 hours in the drying room.
As I started the ascent of Black Sail Pass, the weather down in Wasdale seemed reasonably bright, but there were thick black clouds up ahead. The wind grew stronger as I climbed upwards, the rain got heavier, and I finally lost what little view I had as I entered the cloud. It always seems to take so much longer when climbing up in these conditions. Every time I stopped for a breather, all I got from turning around was a face-full of driving rain and nothing of a view. I plodded on upwards, meeting a couple on their way down, who confirmed that the weather conditions on the mountains were not very good. At one point, a sudden, brief gap in the cloud allowed me to see the top of the pass, which was now not very far away, then, twenty seconds later the view was gone. At one point the path crossed the beck, which was a little tricky, but I was able to step across on some stones. At least, at well-used crossing places, the stones are well enough trodden to wear away most of the lichens, making them less slippery, but they still need some care.
Near to the summit of the pass, the wind grew yet stronger and the raindrops bigger, as they rattled noisily against my waterproofs. The gradient eased and then levelled towards the top and, at last, I was on my way down, where I might have a bit more shelter from the elements. The descent was a bit tricky at first, especially with all the water that was about, but I soon dropped below the cloud level and could see the welcoming sight of Black Sail Hut across the valley. There had been no opportunity to stop for lunch, so I had been planning on reaching there to have some in comfort, sheltered from the elements. Lower down, the slope lessened, with an easy grassy path to the footbridge and on to the hostel. Past the bridge, the hostel gets hidden from sight behind the drumlins, mounds of debris left there by melting glaciers from the ice age, now smooth and rounded grassy hillocks. Right at the last minute, it springs back into view.
When I arrived, the place was full of wet bodies. The hostel is left open for the use of passing walkers, and is widely used by those walking the Coast-to-Coast Walk. Tea and coffee are available, with a list of prices and an honesty box for payment by non-residents, whereas residents can use them for free. Most of the walkers were heading for Borrowdale, which is a convenient walking distance from Ennerdale. Not many choose to actually stay at Black Sail, because it is only a half-day walk from Ennerdale, unless, like I did in 2006, they want to spend more time around the local mountains. Although the hostel is open for shelter during the day, the toilets remain locked. A septic tank is used for drainage, and the large increase caused by passing walkers would put too much of a strain on the system.
The stand-in warden and a friend of his arrived in a Land Rover with supplies from Ennerdale Youth Hostel. Graham, the warden, was a tall chap, full of bonhomie, with long, blond locks of hair and a red bandana. The permanent warden was on holiday for a while, so other wardens had to cover for him. Graham was just doing this as a temporary thing, as he spends most of his time out in Asia. The only road access is via a forestry road, with locked gates, so it is not open to the general public, everyone else has to come either on foot or by bike for at least four miles. According to Graham, this is the most visited hostel in the YHA, with the exception of some of the city hostels, though most of the visitors are just passing by. It also has some of the highest occupancy rates and the highest spend per head, as there is nowhere else to go for food and drink.
Last time I was here, I discovered that it was just possible to get a weak mobile signal from outside. There is no landline to the hostel, the warden having to use a mobile phone with an external antenna to give a more reliable signal, so there is no payphone. My first attempt at a call home ended up with a very poor connection and it was impossible to hold a conversation. My wife was rather alarmed, as she thought I must have a problem if I were calling this early in the day. I climbed to the top of the nearest drumlin to see if I could get a better signal and, just then, she rang back and I was able to put her mind at rest for the few minutes that the better signal strength lasted. It is quite ironic that it is possible to get a mobile signal in one of the most remote places in the Lake District, but from places with much larger population, there is nothing at all.
At first I didn't bother to shower or change, as I was still waiting to see if the promised improvement to the weather materialised, allowing me to go out for another walk. The rain had stopped and the cloud had lifted a little way, but not enough to tempt me out on a walk, and, as the afternoon gradually passed by, it was obvious that no great improvement was likely, so I may as well just change out of my walking things, and sit around and relax for a change.
As well as a few hostellers who arrived to check in, there was a family party of seven who arrived. They had been here last night and had gone for a walk over to Buttermere today, arriving back rather wet. There was then a big queue for the shower as they all wanted to use it, and all the wet clothes were put onto a clothes rack that was raised up towards the ceiling on pulleys, and also on another rack above the stove, with wet boots on the beam running across the room. They set about getting the fire going in the wood and coal-burning stove, got out the cushions for the benches and generally made themselves at home. There was plenty of friendly chatter and then it was decided to have drinks before dinner. The hostel had a good stock of beers and wines, unlike when I was here two years ago and the temporary warden said he didn't have the key to the beer cupboard.
Dinner was at 19.00 with spicy tomato soup, chilli con carne and sticky toffee pudding, which Graham the warden described as his ‘food of the gods’. Ambrosia, as anyone with a classical education, or who does crosswords, will know is the real food of the gods, and that is creamed rice in cans! I can still taste some of that from over forty years ago when my friend and I had some whilst camping at Wasdale Head. It got badly burned at the bottom of the pan through lack of stirring, and the horrible burnt taste that permeated throughout made it taste truly disgusting. I could, therefore, agree that Graham's sticky toffee was much more aptly described as food of the gods. Unlike other hostels, Black Sail still stick to the traditional fixed-price three-course meal, but the limited catering facilities there would make it difficult to do otherwise. Hostellers are also asked to do their own washing up, as there is no dishwasher. The main course generally consists of some dish that can be prepared in a large dish or dishes so that everyone can help themselves. I still prefer this style of things, as it brings everyone together, with people helping each other to serve food, clear tables and wash up, creating a great community spirit, even if it does mean a lack of choice of food.
Outside, there was still no sign of any brighter weather, except for a small patch of clear sky right down the far end of Ennerdale, and there was low cloud still over most of the fells. There was some talk about what the YHA were planning for Black Sail, part of which was to make some sort of moveable partition to allow the warden's kitchen to be used by 'rent a hostel' people, whilst still keeping all the warden's stores locked away. (Graham referred to 'rent a hostel' as 'wreck a hostel' in this context). There was also the possibility of making the hostel self-catering only, though it is hard to see why when it is so successful in its present format, but then who can understand the ways of the YHA in everything else they do.
At about 22.00, I went to bed, as most people were drifting away to their dormitories by then.
Day 11 - Friday 27thth June 2008 - A Circular Walk over Kirk Fell, Great Gable, Green Gable and Brandreth from Black Sail Hut
Distance: GPS 7.2 miles - 3,100 ft ascent
Accommodation: YHA Black Sail Hut
A chap, who was trying to walk the Coast-to-Coast in ten days, got up at 5.45 for an early start. He was walking all the way to Patterdale, which was over twenty miles, with quite a lot of ascent on the way. Yesterday he had walked all the way from St Bees, except for the walk round St Bees Head, which he had done the night before as a circular walk. I have heard of others doing this, as, after five miles round the coast, the route comes back within one and a half miles of St Bees, thus reducing the next day's walk considerably. His reason for doing the walk in such a short time was that he had a young family and found it difficult to tell his wife that he was going to be away for a fortnight, which is hardly surprising.
The others started to get up at 07.15, and I followed a bit later. The hot breakfast cooked by the warden of bacon, sausage, beans, hash browns and scrambled egg was served at 08.00 and everything else was self-service. Outside, the cloud was still stuck at about 2,000 ft and looked as if it were set to stay that way, so I was debating whether I should take a walk over to Buttermere, as the group had done yesterday, to avoid having to spend a lot of time in the mist. Everyone else was leaving today, and I had to move dormitories from a 4-bunk one to the 8-bunk one because of the different male/female mix of people. I was not in a rush, so waited until everyone had moved out of the other dormitory before moving my bedding and other things in there.
I discovered that there were a few things in my rucksack that were still damp, so I spread these out and then emptied out most of the remaining contents, taking only my packed lunch, waterproofs, GPS, phone, map and camera to keep things as light as possible. Whilst I had been waiting for everyone else to leave, I suddenly noticed a patch of sunlight across the valley. The cloud, though still low, was lighter and breaking up a bit to reveal a few blue patches. This made me reconsider my walking plans, as it now looked possible that the cloud would lift further, making a high level walk feasible. Even if the summits stayed covered, I might still get some reasonable views for most of the way.
It was about 10.00 by the time I got going, having decided to climb Kirk Fell from Black Sail Pass, then Great Gable and possibly other mountains, weather permitting. It was much easier climbing up without a heavy pack: I was able to go much further between rests on the steeper parts, and keep going continuously on the less steep ones. As I approached the summit of Black Sail Pass, virtually the whole of the Ennerdale valley was bathed in sunlight and the cloud had lifted from all but the highest peaks across the valley. I could just see the family group making their way up the steep path by Loft Beck towards Honister on the other side of the valley, as I started to make my way up Kirk Fell. In places, the route became very steep, with a choice of two or three different paths up the steepest part. I took the one up a narrow gully of red stone, which was rather crumbly in places, so care was needed to avoid slipping. The path then levelled out, with a gradual ascent towards the summit. I now entered the cloud, but had hopes that it would lift a little more in a while to give me a view.
Black Sail Hut Youth Hostel, Ennerdale
Haystacks from ascent of Kirk Fell Top of Black Sail Pass on left, Black Sail Hut near centre
Kirkfell Tarn with lower summit behind
At the summit shelter, I stopped for some of my packed lunch, and waited for a while, as I was not in a hurry and thought that the longer I waited, the more chance there was of the cloud lifting. While I was there, a Scottish chap came along to join me. He was telling me that he had passed a lot of mountain rescue vehicles in Wasdale, as someone who was doing the three peaks (Ben Nevis, Scafell Pike and Snowdon) had gone missing, so they were out searching for him. As we were talking, a gap opened up in the cloud, giving us a fine view down Wast Water for a brief while. This was repeated another couple of times, so I was hopeful that the weather was actually picking up, and that the cloud would soon lift even more.
I decided to make my way towards Great Gable; going over the other, lower peak of Kirk Fell, which was still in the mist. Coming down from there, I got a little disorientated in the mist, which is easy to do, and had to check with my GPS to get back in the right direction. After crossing the rather flat plateau, the path descended steeply down to Beck Head, on the way to Great Gable. I was disappointed to find that, although I had now dropped down quite a way, the mist was still around me, and was even lower than when I climbed up Kirk Fell. The ascent of Great Gable was quite steep, but with my light pack, I didn't find it difficult, and it wasn't too long before the slope started to level off towards the summit. When I reached the summit, there were already several walkers there sheltering from the wind.
Mobile reception is quite good from here, as is often the case on mountain tops with line of sight to a mast, even if it is several miles away, so I phoned home to let my wife know where I was, as this was the spot where I proposed to her 36 years ago. After eating a bit more of my packed lunch, I made my way down towards Green Gable, as there was now little chance that the cloud would lift. The drizzly dampness of the mist had now given way to light rain, so there was little point in prolonging the walk much further. There is a path down from Windy Gap, between Great Gable and Green Gable, but it is rather steep, so I continued on over Green Gable and Brandreth. On the way, I met up with a couple going the same way as me. The chap asked me for confirmation that they were going the right way for Windy Gap, which I had passed some way back, so when I put him right, he had to call to his wife, who had already gone ahead and was some way further down, to tell her to come back up again. In the mist, it is very easy to completely lose a sense of direction, as there are no landmarks to go by, which is why a GPS or compass is so important.
It took me a while to find my way onto the path that would return me to Ennerdale, as the right of way shown on the map didn't exist on the ground. This is often the case, where the right of way has been drawn as a vaguely positioned line before a well-trodden footpath has been established. The actual footpath is then shown as a faint, black, dotted line, which is far less prominent than much thicker, green, dotted line of the right of way. This can be very misleading, especially when following a map in poor light with a rain-splattered map case. Once I picked up the path, it was a short, easy walk down to meet the steep, stepped path down the side of Ennerdale. It was not long then before I was back at Black Sail Hut, the rain now being quite a bit heavier.
It was about 15.00 when I arrived there to find a lady already in there. She was one of the people I had met in Wastwater Youth Hostel and I had assumed that she was with another group of lady walkers, but she was actually on her own. She was doing a circular walk round the Lake District but had had a rest day in Wasdale and then done the same as I did yesterday, coming directly over Black Sail Pass without any mountain detours. The rain started to get much heavier, and four chaps came in dripping wet. They had come from St Bees, having walked the coastal bit of the Coast-to-Coast the previous day, as had the chap who stayed yesterday. They were staying here tonight, at Grasmere tomorrow, as I would be, and then going back home.
A little later a group of five arrived, also dripping wet, but they were just passing by on the way to Stonethwaite, and wanted to dry themselves out a bit before continuing. A girl in the group discovered that the things in her rucksack were soaking wet, having not been put in a rucksack liner. It is bad enough in this sort of weather even when things are in a liner, but without one they have no chance. They had come from Ennerdale Bridge and started to go up the high level route to High Stile via Red Pike. The foul weather made them decide to turn back and return to the low level route. They set off again at 16.30 with about five or six miles still to go. The rain, did, however, ease off a little for them, but it was still not very good, and they were heading straight into the wind.
A couple of chaps from Lancashire, who were staying for a couple of nights or so, arrived. They were intending to walk the Mosedale Horseshoe tomorrow, weather permitting. One of them, who was wearing shorts, had particularly unattractive legs; pale and skinny, with varicose veins, which brought a number of comments, though it didn't bother him. His friend also warned us that he was a champion snorer, so we could be in for a sleepless night.
There then arrived a group of four ladies, who were absolutely saturated. They were staying the night, and had come from Eskdale, via Esk Hause to the north of Scafell Pike, then by Sty Head Tarn and over into Ennerdale via Windy Gap. Their map, which someone had lent them, was soaking wet, with holes in some places. One of them left a particularly large pool of water both on the bench and on the floor, prompting the comment that she should use an incontinence pad next time! She was wearing some jogging bottoms that had soaked up a vast amount of water, and this was now gradually draining down onto the floor.
We got the fire going, and the warden put on the central heating, to help people to get things dry, and to warm the dormitories a bit. A while before dinner, a group of four arrived in the usual state of saturation, hoping to find accommodation, but the hostel was fully booked, apart from one female bunk. They wondered if they could order a taxi, but there is no public access along the forestry track, so that was out of the question too. Their only option was to make their way four miles down the track to Ennerdale Youth Hostel, either for accommodation or to get a taxi, which is what they did, after a brief stay for a rest.
Two younger ladies arrived just in time for dinner, but they had only come from Ennerdale Youth Hostel, so had not got too badly wet. The beer and wine sales were going well to help make up for the bad day that everyone had endured, and the dinner of tomato soup, five bean pasta bake and fruit crumble helped to lift any dampened spirits. I sat with the two Lancastrians, and there was a lot of convivial conversation amongst everyone, with more beer and wine consumed, making a very pleasant end to the day; the bad weather outside making it feel all the more cosy inside. This is the atmosphere that is now mainly lost in other hostels, with everyone sitting in their own little groups rather than joining in with everyone else. Again, everyone happily joined in with serving food, washing up and clearing up. Graham again described his crumble as food of the gods, and I had to admit that it was extremely good. In most hostels, the warden or wardens tend to keep themselves apart from hostellers, but the more intimate conditions here means that the warden tends to join in with everyone else, both before and after he has made the evening meal.
The four ladies were a little concerned about their walk back to Eskdale tomorrow. They had intended to retrace the route of yesterday's walk, which they had got from a book. It would be a very good walk on a fine day, but was not an easy walk, especially in bad weather. They didn't fancy, in particular, the steep scramble up to Windy Gap, so I suggested that they take a much easier and more direct route by going over Black Sail Pass to Wasdale Head, then taking the old corpse road over Eskdale Moor to Boot, which is not far from Eskdale Youth Hostel. They had not really thought about another route, but soon took to the idea, as they didn't fancy another walk like they had endured today. The one who had got her jogging bottoms saturated had decided that she would walk in her pyjama bottoms tomorrow to avoid a repeat experience. People do not always think about the suitability of certain types of clothing in the wet. Some types of material soak up far more water than others, so are best avoided, especially by those who do not come prepared with waterproof over-trousers.
Most people went off to bed by about 22.00, so I did the same. During the night, I get up to go to the toilet, which is reached from outside, and found myself gazing up at a star studded sky on the way, with the silhouettes of all the surrounding fells clearly free of cloud. This had happened once before on this walk, with a clear night between wet days, making me wonder whether it would be better to walk at night instead. Although I spent some time in the night lying awake, I only heard the snorer, who was in the bunk above me, snore for a couple of minutes before he turned over and stopped. However, his friend in the next bunk along claimed that he had kept tickling his friend’s feet whenever he started, having had much experience in coping with the problem.
Day 12 - Saturday 28th June 2008 -
Ennerdale to Grasmere via Honister Pass, Greenup Edge and Helm Crag
Distance: GPS 14.6 miles - 3,550 ft ascent
Accommodation: YHA Grasmere
Despite the clear skies in the night, and the promise of better weather today, the cloud was back down again, and it was grey all around though, at least, it wasn't raining. Breakfast was, as usual, self-service for the most part, with Graham just serving the cooked food at 08.00. Before breakfast, whilst everyone was waiting for the two kettles to boil for tea and coffee, I found one of the younger ladies just about to tip out most of the contents of one of them that was nearly boiling, as she was desperate for a cup of tea and wanted it to boil faster. When I stopped her from doing so, she made some comment about how she really ought to think of the environment, though my main concern was the lack of consideration for everyone else. This was not quite the spirit that any of the older hostellers would have had, as they were all trying to think of others before themselves.
The four chaps heading for Grasmere all got off fairly promptly after breakfast, as they intended to get a bus from Grasmere to Windermere, where they could catch a train back home to be in time for a concert in the evening. They all had young families, so were trying to squeeze in a Coast-to-Coast walk in between family commitments by doing sections of a few days at a time. Nobody else was in much of a rush to get off, with everyone sorting out various bits of clothing that had been drying all over the place. The pyjama lady was not joking and was outside ready to get going in her red and white striped pyjamas, which prompted me to comment that if they needed the mountain rescue helicopter, there wouldn't be any problems in spotting her.
The two Lancastrians were still undecided about whether to do the Mosedale Horseshoe, and decided to play it by ear, setting off up the Black Sail Pass, keeping an eye on the cloud level and the general weather situation. They, the four ladies, and the two younger ones all set off together for the Black Sail Pass, whilst I was the last away at 09.40, heading for Honister, following the Coast-to-Coast route.
I learned from Graham, that Ennerdale is gradually being deforested, as part of a program to return it to its natural state. The conifers will be replaced by some broad leafed trees, but much of the valley will be left to nature to determine which way it goes. Ennerdale was chosen because it is one of the most remote valleys, with no public road access for much of its length, so is an ideal place for this experiment. I note, also, that in quite a few other places, forestry plantations are being felled and, either not being replanted, or replanted with native broad leaved trees in a more informal layout. This can only be a good thing and could help to reverse some of the damage done to the beauty of the countryside by all the densely packed trees in regimented rows.
After two easy, though wet, days, I was feeling rejuvenated; my feet were comfortably free of aches and pains, and I had renewed energy in my legs, so I found it a fairly easy climb up the steep path out of Ennerdale, even with the full weight of my pack. The ground was still quite waterlogged in places, but not enough to cause any problems. As I climbed up, I could see the tiny figures making their way up Black Sail Pass, just as I had watched people yesterday the other way around. The Lancastrians had split away from the others, and were nearly at the top of the pass, but I couldn't quite see which way they headed from there, though with the cloud still low, I suspect that they just went down the other side and on to Wasdale. The others were some way behind, and as I reached the top of my climb and made my way over easier ground, they were too far away to see any more.
Inside Black Sail Hut
Buttermere from side of Brandreth Showing Blackbeck Tarn, Buttermere and Crummock Water
Ennerdale from side of Brandreth
There were quite a few people out walking, though that was only to be expected at a weekend. I wasn't sure whether to go back up over Brandreth and to follow the ridge along over Grey Knotts, but the sight of low cloud lurking over the tops soon decided me to take the lower route of the Coast-to-Coast. From there, just below the cloud level, there were some good views over to Buttermere and down Ennerdale, despite the murky weather. When I embarked on this walk, I had expectations of wonderful mountaintop views over brightly lit lakes, valleys and fells, but, by now, I was resigned to the fact that this was going to be a very rare occurrence on this holiday, so any walking that didn't involve driving rain and mist was a bonus.
This morning, the rain was just managing to hold off, with only a few spots every now and again. The wind was also fairly gentle, so I considered myself fortunate, settling for scenery of cloud-covered mountains and grey valleys as being far better than views of less than 50 yards in any direction in the mist. After two hours of easy walking, I stopped for a rest and a bite to eat just above Seatoller, having passed all the visitors to the Slate Mines over Honister, and all the cars making their way up the pass, which ran parallel to my path. I spent some time writing up my diary and, before I realised it, I had been there for the best part of an hour. I wasn't too worried about this, as I knew that, although it is given as being 15 miles in Wainwright's guidebook, by taking a shortcut through Stonethwaite, taking the direct route down to Grasmere instead of going over the crags, and going to Thorny How Youth Hostel, which is some way before Grasmere itself, it was not much more than 12 miles.
Rather than just joining the road into Seatoller, I decided to take the path up the hillside leading into the woods above the village, but went too far up and had to double back, following the boundary wall of the woods down to the path I should have taken. This turned out not to be a good idea, as I started to enter a dense growth of bracken, which was up to shoulder height in places and even more difficult to get through where it had been partially flattened and was all tangled together. After a struggle, I eventually reached the entrance to the wood and followed the path, emerging at Longthwaite Youth Hostel.
It was then just a short walk along the road to Stonethwaite, where I walked down through the village to take a look around, before returning to the bridge over Stonethwaite Beck. When I passed the pub, I saw a dedication above one of the benches outside saying 'In memory of a sunny day in Borrowdale'. I was not sure whether it was intended in a humorous way, but it sounded like there hadn't been a sunny day for a long time, which just about summed up my feelings at the moment.
The weather was just about holding up, but there were spots of rain from time to time, just to remind me not to get complacent. I stopped for the rest of my lunch just before Eagle Crag, and eyed it up to see if there were any paths leading to the top, as I had half a mind to climb it. All I could see was a lot of bracken with no sign of a path, so, having had enough of bracken for one day, I decided to give it a miss and continued up the normal route alongside Stonethwaite Beck towards Greenup Edge. The ascent is quite steady at first, with several small waterfalls to be seen as the beck tumbles its way down the valley. Further up, the path gets much steeper as it climbs the face of Lining Crag. I was still feeling reasonably fit, so the steep sections were not too much of a struggle, and there was the added advantage that each time I stopped for a brief rest, I could turn around and look at the view, instead of a getting face full of rain and a view of mist. The view was dark and gloomy, but, at least, it was a view.
Back towards Borrowdale from Stonethwaite Beck Eagle Crag is on the left
Path beside Stonethwaite Beck to Lining Crag
Waterfalls on Stonethwaite Beck
Near the top, I met a chap who was coming down, having climbed Eagle Crag and Sergeant's Crag. He said that it wasn't difficult and that there was a bit of a path up, whereas all I could see from a distance was bracken. This would have made an interesting little diversion from the Coast-to-Coast route without adding much more either in ascent or distance.
Eagle Crag from Lining Crag
Summit of Helm Crag (The Howitzer)
As the ground levelled off, there was a lot more surface water about, which meant picking my way around boggy bits as best I could, whilst trying not to get my feet too wet. On Greenup Edge, I now crossed the path I had taken from Ulscarf to High Raise four days ago, having gone round in a large loop. Although I had taken my time getting this far, I decided that I still had enough time to take the route over Gibson Knott and Helm Crag, which is more interesting than the direct route, even if it takes considerably more time and effort. It doesn't appear to be much further on the map, but the path winds in and out and up and down around the crags, so it actually involves more distance on the ground, as well as being slower because of all the scrambling about over stony, uneven surfaces.
It was looking very dark over towards Grasmere, although there was a solitary shaft of sunlight on the side of Helvellyn, and I could see all the weekend traffic speeding over Dunmail Raise. I kept feeling a few spots of rain, but never very much, until I got past Helm Crag, with its distinctive rocky summit sometimes called the howitzer because of its shape. A strong, cold wind sprang up along with a more significant amount of rainfall, but I hoped I might be able to avoid putting on waterproofs for the short walk to the youth hostel. After a short shower, the rain died away, as I made my way down the steep path from the summit.
When the path reached the bottom, I thought I would just follow my GPS, having entered the coordinates of the youth hostel, as there were a few footpaths around that were not marked on the map. I got to a point where my destination was only 70 metres away, give or take some for the approximation of the grid reference, which can be 50 metres or so out in any direction. I then came to what looked like the private grounds of a large country house and I couldn't make out where the footpath was meant to go. I went straight on and found that it was actually a hotel with a very long drive down to the road, by which time I had gone a few hundred metres further from my destination. The road then looped round three sides of a rectangle to get to the hostel, so I had walked about half a mile round to get there when it must have been just over the wall at one point.
The last stretch of walking over the crags had tired me out, especially as I was trying to walk quickly so as to finish in reasonable time, so I was quite glad when I reached the hostel at 18.10. I ordered my evening meal of potato soup and pasta carbonara, before going off to my dormitory, sorting out the bedding for my bunk, and having a shower. I last stayed here in 1992, when it was quite a small hostel, all in one building, from what I can remember. Since then, an annexe had been added with four dormitories, and a large part of the main building had been used to extend the reception and dining areas. The whole thing had been planned quite badly, as the toilets and showers were in the main building and most of the dormitories in the annexe. I had taken my boots off before entering the hostel, but then had to go outside to the annexe. Similarly, I had to go outside to get to the shower and back. When I went to the shower block, I found there were four toilets, six partitioned washbasins, but only one shower. From what I heard, the female facilities were much the same. Fortunately the hostel was not very busy at the time I arrived, with only one person having a shower before me, but when a lot of people arrive together, I could envisage some very long queues.
One good thing was that the drying room was very warm, so I washed out a few things and put them in there along with my boots to dry. For the first time in the Lake District, apart from at the top of Great Gable, I actually had a good signal on my mobile for my call home, saving me from having to feed money into the youth hostel pay phone, though, in fairness, that probably didn't cost any more than it did on my mobile on a pay as you go tariff, it was just that the mobile was more convenient.
Dinner was any time between 18.30 and 19.30, so I went along a little after 19.00. There was a group of four people in there, one chap from my dormitory who was from Sheffield with three of his nieces from America, who wanted to see the Lake District. There were also a couple of teenage girls, just finishing off their meal, and a mother and daughter still eating midst huge sprawl of newspapers and magazines. I was the only other who was going to eat, and my meal was already there being kept warm, awaiting my arrival. The potato soup was very good, and the carbonara very large and filling, which, considering it was one of the cheapest things on the menu at £5.75, was very good value. The prices here were quite a bit less than at most hostels, where it is often difficult to find a main course for under about £7.50.
The atmosphere, however, was such a contrast from that of Black Sail Hut, but was typical of the way most hostels are going these days, with groups of people all eating at different times and sitting in their own little groups. There were quite a lot more people staying at the hostel, but they were either self-catering, eating elsewhere or too late for the hostel meal.
After dinner I went into the lounge, which was nicely carpeted, had quite new furniture and fine photographs of Lakeland scenes displayed on the wall, but with the chairs arranged all around the walls, it was more like sitting in a doctor's waiting room than a hostel lounge. I decided to go for a lie down on my bunk, as I was feeling a bit weary, thinking that I might walk into Grasmere village later for a drink. However, I did my usual trick of dozing off, only to wake up when it was getting too late to go out, so just went to bed.
Day 13 - Sunday 29th June 2008 - Grasmere to Coniston via Wetherlam, Swirl How and Coniston Old Man
Distnace: GPS 16.5 miles - 4,050 ft ascent
Accommodation: YHA Coniston
I awoke at 07.30 and peeked out of the window to see glorious sunshine, which gave me inspiration to get myself up and get going. Breakfast was from 08.00, and there were already quite a lot of people in there when I arrived. There was a large group of cyclists plus the people I had seen last night. The tables were all crammed together, so it was quite difficult to squeeze in and out to get things from the buffet, and to take thing to the washing up area. The buffet was the best one I had encountered on this walk, with a number of things that are not normally on offer, including grapefruit juice and grapefruit segments.
The things I had put in the drying room, including my boots, were bone dry, as I thought they might be. The only problem was that my walking socks, in particular, were as hard as if they had been starched, so were not so comfortable to put on. The chap from Sheffield was wondering where to take his nieces for a walk, as they didn't have suitable footwear for anywhere that might be wet or muddy, so it would just have to be a token gesture going along well-made footpaths.
I managed to get everything ready, and was off at 09.05. The weather by this time was not quite as bright, but the forecast gave 50% chance of cloud-free summits, which was better odds than I had had for quite a while, and well worth chancing the high level route over Coniston Old Man that I had planned, though there were also strong winds and showers predicted as well. The walk into Grasmere used to be along the road, but now there is a permissive path through National Trust land for a reasonable part of the way. I called in the village for a sandwich, as I still had a few things left over for the rest of my packed lunch, and I took the opportunity to post off another two maps that were no longer required.
My route needed to take me over to Skelwith Bridge and from there to Little Langdale, where I could pick up the path to Wetherlam, then onto Swirl How and along the ridge to Coniston Old Man. There are a few routes from Grasmere to Skelwith Bridge, but I didn't want to do much climbing at this stage, as there would be enough of that later on, so I settled for taking the road to the west of the lake, then a track up through the woods to Loughrigg Terrace, bringing me back onto the road again near its highest point by High Close. Lower down, there are some good views across Grasmere Lake, but these get lost further up because trees get in the way. On the way down the road, one of my feet started to hurt across the top of the toes, so I had a stop to sort out the problem. Because my boots and socks were so dry, thanks to the super efficient hostel drying room, the socks felt as if they had been starched and the rib where my inner sock was joined just above my toes was rubbing badly. It would have soon caused blisters if not corrected, so I tried to soften up the sock by rubbing it about and also positioned it so that the rib was out of harms way, which then cured the problem. Had everything not been quite so dry, things would have softened up a bit on their own, and I wouldn't have had the problem.
Across Grasmere to Dale End
Grasmere and Seat Sandal from road to High Close
Langdale Pikes from Loughrigg Tarn
Colwith Force
Part way down the hill, I took a path leading beneath Loughrigg Fell to Loughrigg Tarn. The top of the fell provides some fine views, but I didn't want to do any extra climbing, so contented myself with the low level route by the tarn, providing me with the classic view of the tarn, with the Langdale Pikes, which were just about clear of cloud, in the background. I joined the road to Skelwith Bridge, and was quite glad that there was a footpath running parallel for most of the way, as there was quite a lot of traffic and little space for walkers. From Skelwith Bridge, I was able to follow the Cumbria Way to Colwith Bridge, passing Colwith Force waterfalls, just off the route, on the way. The falls were quite impressive with different viewing places, first from the front, where the upper falls and the twin lower falls could be seen, then from the side, giving a closer view of the lower falls, and finally, one right up beside the falls with a view of the waters dashing down below.
There is a lot of very good walking country around here, particularly for those who don't wish to climb high mountains, but still want to get good views of the hills, mountains and tarns round about. A little further along, I came to a stile with a group of about twenty walkers coming the other way. They were climbing over the stile and then, instead of standing to one side, were all congregating on the footpath right next to the stile itself. Not only were they oblivious to anyone else trying to use the footpath, they were even obstructing some of their own party as they tried to get over the stile. Eventually, when the last members crossed over, I was able to push my way through and get on my way, but this sort of behaviour is all too common with large walking groups.
I then parted company with the Cumbria Way, which takes a low level route to Coniston, and was my bad weather alternative route. Instead, I continued on towards Stang End, where it started to rain. Rather than putting on my waterproofs right away, I pressed on to the nearby woods, where I could get some shelter from, what I hoped was just, a passing shower. The rain eased off, and I passed by Low Hall Garth, stopping a little further on for some lunch, overlooking Little Langdale Tarn. The chicken tikka roll, which I had bought from a small shop in Grasmere, was so full of chicken tikka that it was difficult to eat without bits dropping out on the ground, generally making a mess on me before they got there. It was quite expensive, costing £3.25, but for the amount of filling in there and the taste, it was not bad value.
A walker sat on a bench nearby reading his Sunday paper, but a sudden shower of rain made this not very practical, and drove him away. Setting off again, I ignored the right of way shown on my Ordnance Survey map, as there was no actual footpath there, but continued onward to the old mine workings, where there is a footpath. This is just another case where the right of way is a rather meaningless line on the map, just causing confusion to walkers. It would be far better to show the real footpaths with more prominence. The trouble is that a right of way is a legally defined entity, and requires legal procedures to change its course. Where one has been defined in a rather haphazard fashion, the tendency is to leave it as it is to avoid the effort and cost involved in changing it.
Little Langdale Tarn from near Low Hall Garth
Castle How and Langdale Pikes
Blake Rigg and Harrison Stickle from ascent of Wetherlam old mine working just below and Wrynose Pass below Blake Rigg
After the steady ascent to the mines along the valley, the footpath up to Wetherlam climbs steeply up the hillside towards various bits of mine workings higher up. I kept setting myself little targets of how far I should climb before my next little rest, each time looking back down to the mine buildings and watching them get smaller and smaller. By now, there were quite large areas bathed in sunshine, but also other areas in very dark cloud. Unfortunately, the way I was heading was into the cloud. Above the mine workings, the path went off at an angle to meet the main path along Wetherlam Edge, and the going got a little easier. By the time I reached the summit, the cloud had just lifted, though it was still covering the rest of my route over Swirl How to Coniston Old Man. However, the views over to the north were very good, with most of the major fells: Skiddaw, Blencathra, Helvellyn etc. free of cloud, with many in bright sunshine.
A strong, cool wind, some mist and some rain, made me put on my waterproofs, as I made my way along the ridge to Swirl Hawse, the dip before the ascent up Prison Band to Swirl How. As I reached there, the cloud suddenly cleared from all around and I could now see both Swirl How and Coniston Old Man, with lots of sunshine around. I stopped for another bite to eat, and to take off my over-trousers, but left on my jacket to keep out the cold wind. I met some chaps who were coming down towards me. They had come all the way over from Coniston Old Man in the mist, only to find it clearing as they were on the way down. I continued on up the steep ascent of Swirl How, but it didn't last long, and I was then soon walking southwards along the ridge towards Coniston Old Man. The cloud had not cleared completely, but was forming continually as it came over from the west and dispersing again over to the east, being blown quite rapidly in the strong wind, but there was a lovely view over Coniston Water, which was a vivid blue, with the land all around a verdant green. I had grown so accustomed to seeing everything in thick, cloudy conditions, that the vivid colours, brought out by the bright sunshine, provided such a welcome contrast.
Levers Water and Coniston Water from Swirl Hawse
Little Langdale from Swirl Hawse The Helvellyn Range is right of centre
Seathwaite Tarn from Great How Crags, Coniston Old Man The Helvellyn Range is right of centre
Along the ridge, I had to do battle with the powerful side wind, and the summit ahead kept going in and out of the cloud, but the walk, though quite a long way, was fairly easy up the broad ridge. At the summit of Coniston Old Man, I took shelter by the large base of the cairn, along with several others. The cloud was only just clear of the summit, and the fell-sides nearby were in its shadow even though more distant things were in sunshine. After a while at the summit, deciding that it was not likely to brighten up any more, I set off on my way down to Coniston. One of my options was to go down via the horseshoe round Goat's Water, over Dow Crag, which is a fine walk for the scenery in good weather, but, at the moment, was suffering from the same cloud conditions as Coniston Old Man, and very overcast. Time was also a problem, and this longer route also involved another several hundred feet of ascent, so I took the direct route instead.
Levers Water from Great How Crags, Coniston Old Man Coniston and Coniston Water are down below
Coniston and Coniston Water from Coniston Old Man
Low Water from Coniston Old Man with Wetherlam behind
As I dropped down the steep path towards Low Water, there was, at least, some shelter from the strong wind. At a fork in the path, I found a triangular patch of foxgloves, tightly packed together and very colourful, as if they had been cultivated, and I was surprised that they could flourish so well at this altitude. Past Low Water were some old quarry workings with various pieces of rusting machinery, as well as some very thick wire rope lying along the track for a way, presumably having been used for hauling things up and down the steep slope. The path eventually joined the track coming down from Coniston Copper Mines, and brought me out just above Holly How Youth Hostel. Near the bottom of the track was a cattle grid and, just in front of me was a sheep, which, without any hesitation, walked deftly across the grid, obviously having done so many times before. In many ways it is hardly surprising that an animal that spends half of its life clambering over steep crags should be able to negotiate a cattle grid. I have heard of a number of stories about sheep getting over cattle grids, in one case by rolling over, in another by using another sheep like a stepping stone for others to get across, but this one just took the simple, nimble footed approach. It is no wonder that sheep are found in all sorts of places where they shouldn't be.
checked into the youth hostel at 18.05, so it was just as well that I hadn't taken the longer route, or I would have been quite a bit later. When I came to order my evening meal, I was quite surprised how expensive things were compared to most other hostels, but then I would probably have had to pay even more in Coniston itself, which is a very popular tourist spot. I had a nice refreshing shower, only to find that I had forgotten to take my towel, so I had to shake and brush off as much water as I could before putting on my clothes - it was either that or streaking along the corridor to get my towel. After all the soakings I had suffered on this walk, a little bit of wet like this was nothing to worry about, and would soon dry off. I was quite pleased to find, though, that I had a good signal on my mobile to call home.
This was the first hostel I had come across that served real ale on draught, so I had a pint of the Jennings Golden Best before dinner for £2.95, which is the highest price I think I have ever paid for a pint of bitter. I was joined for dinner by a chap who had just completed his first day of the Cumbria Way, and we both agreed that the food quality and presentation were excellent and wouldn't go amiss in a high quality restaurant, so, from that point of view, the pricing was not unreasonable. The only thing is, though, that youth hostels are generally used by people on a limited budget, who are more concerned about stoking up with calories than having a gastronomic experience. The cost of accommodation and food is quite considerable, so it would be better for hostels to offer basic food at basic prices, as they used to do when I first started using them in the 1990s. It wouldn't do any harm to offer a few more costly alternatives for people who don't mind paying the price, so long as there were cheaper options available as well.
The chap who was doing the Cumbria Way had found his first day, the one I would be doing in reverse tomorrow, quite difficult, as he was not used to carrying a heavy pack, or walking 15 miles in a day. The walk doesn't go over any particularly high ground, but there are several lesser ascents over undulating country that add up to the same as that of climbing a small mountain. He was a similar age to me, but obviously didn't do the same amount of walking to keep himself fit.
I spent some time writing up my notes in the lounge, with a fine view of the magnificent monkey puzzle tree in front of the hostel, with its branches draping like a huge candelabra and large balls the size of grapefruits on some of the higher ones. I didn't bother going into Coniston for a pint, as I had already had two in the hostel, so I went off for a fairly early night. I slept quite fitfully after the rather strenuous, but very enjoyable day - I find that the body tends to go into overdrive after a lot of exertion, trying to recover itself from the toils of the day, and not being conducive to a restful night's sleep.
Day 14 - Monday 30th June 2008 - Coniston to Ulverston (B&B) via Cumbria Way
Distance: GPS 16.2 miles - 2,100 ft ascent
Accommodation:
I arose at 07.30 with sunshine shining through the curtains, though there was still a lot of cloud about. However, with no part of the route being particularly high, the cloud would not be a problem, even if it came down quite low. The high mountains give way to gentle, rolling countryside with some low hills and fells, and undulating farmland. This didn't mean that there was no climbing to do, but what climbing there was would be gentler and for shorter stretches at a time.
The chap who was doing the Cumbria Way ate breakfast with me. He was somewhat recovered, but still feeling the effects of the walk. His next stop was at the Old Dungeon Ghyll Hotel, which was about 13 miles instead of the 15 miles he had walked yesterday. I had ordered a large breakfast, as the standard breakfast here was only a cold buffet, another way in which they effectively charge more than other hostels. However, for the extra pound, I got a good plateful of very nicely cooked breakfast, so it was worth paying that bit more.
It was 09.15 by the time I got started, making my way down the road to Coniston and then following the route of the Cumbria Way, which soon joined the lakeside path through a huge NT campsite. There was plenty of open land and not too many tents, so it was not obtrusive, though at busy times this may not be the case. Further along was a static caravan site, but this was surrounded well by trees, so, again, wasn't too intrusive on the landscape. The walking was quick and easy on good, smooth paths for most of the time, though there were a few slower bits over stony parts or tree roots in some places. The scenery, however, got rather monotonous, with a large expanse of grey water, low, tree-covered fells on the other side of the lake, and a lot of woodland by the path and the edge of the lake, which had quite a straight shoreline. There was only an occasional glint of sunshine, but not enough to brighten up the scenery. I find this sort of walking is fine for a stroll with the dog, but not very interesting as part of a longer walk, though I am sure that there are plenty who would disagree with me. As they say 'one man's meat is another man's poison', and it wouldn't be any good for everyone to have the same tastes.
Monkey Puzzle Tree at Coniston Holly How Youth Hostel
Coniston
Hoathwaite Landing, Coniston Water
After about four miles, the path, at last, climbed up away from the lake to cross the road. I got confused with my map because bold bands of colour marking National Park Access Land boundaries confused much of the fine detail, I ended up walking up the road for a way, trying to find where the footpath on the other side of the road, when it was actually just opposite the path I came from. My maps were rather old, being printed in 1994, when the Ordnance Survey seemed to have an obsession with boundaries of various sorts: National Trust, National Parks etc. giving them much more prominence than other features that were far more important to the average map user. I am pleased to see now, that the latest revisions of these maps have now redressed this problem by using much fainter colours for the boundaries, and these no longer obscure other details to the same extent as used to be the case.
It was about time for a rest, and I found an ideal place on the grassy banks of a stream, with the sun starting to shine for longer periods. A group of ducklings, now already grown to nearly adult size, came out of the stream and settled themselves down just a few yards away, not bothered by my presence. Grey wagtails landed on stones in the stream, whilst the sunlight glinted on the water, and I had the unusual feeling of warmth that had been so lacking over the past two weeks. There have been very few occasions when I have felt warm, let alone hot: even when there has been sunshine, it has generally been struggling to fight off the chill of a bitingly cold wind.
Ducklings by Torver Beck
Coniston Water from Beacon on Blawith Fells
Beacon Tarn from Blawith Fells
Continuing onwards, I started a steady climb up into an area of low fells, which make very good walking country despite the rather diminutive height, and route finding was generally easy because of good waymarking of the Cumbria Way. There were good views back to Coniston Old Man, which was now out of the cloud, but still overcast, as well as other Lakeland fells and one or two tarns. As I reached the highest point of the path, I could see that there was a promontory just to the east, the beacon on Blawith Fells, which looked as if it might offer a good viewpoint, so I dropped off my rucksack to make life easier and made my way up the faint path leading to the summit. After a short time walking over rough ground, I picked up the main path from Beacon Tarn, which made the going easier, and I followed a couple who were making their way up there as well.
The view from the beacon was well worth the effort, as the whole length of Coniston Water was visible, with views right down to Morecambe Bay to the south, and the Southern Lakeland Fells to the west and north, though these had already been visible along the route of the Cumbria Way. On the way back down, there was also a fine view of Beacon Tarn. The faint path I had taken on the way up took a bit of finding again, but it wasn't long before I was reunited with my rucksack, though, in hindsight, I might have been better taking it with me and then just following the main path down to the tarn.
Since my previous stop, the weather had turned overcast again, but the sun now started shining, making this a good time to stop for a lunch break by the foot of the tarn. I even took my boots off to give my feet an airing, the first time I had done so on the whole walk, whereas it is something I generally like to do in the middle of the day if the weather is fine. It even tempted me to take off my shirt for a spot of sunbathing, but this soon proved a bit too ambitious, as a cloud soon came over and it then felt quite cold. As I sat there, I heard voices, and then a couple came into view. They were doing the Cumbria Way, and were obviously enjoying the walking they had done so far. They set off again around the opposite side of the tarn from the route shown on the map, and when I queried this, they said that their guidebook suggested this way as less boggy and more interesting.
Beacon Tarn with Blawith Fells to rights
Wool Knott from Cumbria Way near Cockenskell
Wool Knott and Bowder Knott from near Cockenskell
I set off again at 13.30, having still over halfway left to go. The way continued over more undulating fells, with good views looking backwards, in particular, though I could also see an inlet of the sea ahead: a good sign that I was getting nearer to the finish. A group of four, looking like Cumbria Way walkers, were flaked out on the grass in the sunshine as I went past, and a little further on, I met a foreign couple, probably Dutch, asking how long it had taken me from Coniston. It was about 14.00, so I had been walking for 4¾ hours with two long rests and a detour off-route to the beacon, so I told them that they were about half way. The scenery changed a little now, from that of low fells, to more agricultural land, though still good walking country, albeit now with more of it on minor roads, which had been quite well avoided for most of the way, once out of Coniston.
The weather remained quite good, with a fair amount of sunshine and a fresh breeze. The route crossed the A5092 road at Gawthwaite, and soon afterwards, I stopped for a rest with about five miles left to go. The way was getting less interesting now, going through countless farm fields, though the route was generally well waymarked, making it fairly easy to follow, but I did occasionally have to check with my map. I did see some rounded fells to the west with a wind farm on top, and wondered if these could have offered an alternative higher-level route, though this would have added somewhat to the mileage. When I was planning my walk, I had decided that the Cumbria Way was probably the most practical route for this section, so didn't look at much in the way of alternatives, and, in general, it had proved to be good for most of the way so far.
After walking through more farmland, I got caught up in a roundup of sheep. A flock were being moved to a different field, and I had been watching them as the farmers and their dogs skilfully drove them into the top corner of the field close to where I was walking along a minor road. They were then driven out onto the road just behind me, with one farm hand running ahead of me asking me to keep to one side whilst they came past. Of course, being sheep, they were very wary of me and hesitant about coming by. It would have been far easier just to have let me walk a little further on, past the field they were going to, but, as it was, there was a hold-up whilst the sheep hesitated about coming past until pressured from behind. One or two would then cautiously pass by, followed by a few more in their wake, but then there was another hold-up whilst this process was repeated. Eventually, they all got by and were driven into the other field, leaving me at liberty to continue on my way. I noticed that the older sheep had just been sheared, and many of them were stained with blood around their heads and necks, so I wasn't impressed by the skill of the sheep shearers, though it is possible that the blood could have come from the bodies of ticks, bloated with the blood that they had been sucking, rather than from cuts to the sheep themselves.
Further along, farmers were taking advantage of the recent improvement in the weather to gather in their hay, and it was interesting to watch a machine that was picking up bales of hay and wrapping them in black plastic sheeting. The bale was lifted onto some rollers, which were rotated at the same time as being spun around, whilst the plastic was fed out from a large roll at the side. Compared with all the manual labour that was required in bygone days, the whole process of baling and wrapping was so quick and easy.
Coniston Old Man and Helvellyn from High Stenningley
Hoad Hill, Ulverston from Windy Ash The monument can be seen just left of centre
Ulverston from Windy Ash
Quite near the end of my walk, the route turned up a steep road for quite a way. I wasn't quite expecting this, thinking that the rest of the way was just an easy stroll into Ulverston. At the end of a day's walk, it is always a bit of a shock to be faced with a steep hill, but I didn't mind too much, as I thought it might provide a good viewpoint, which indeed it did. The hill overlooked Ulverston, and also partially solved the mystery of what I had been able to see for many miles. It looked like a strange shaped beacon on a hill from afar, but from this vantage point it could be seen to be something more like a lighthouse on top of a hill, overlooking Ulverston. It was actually behind the hill that it appeared to have been on top of before, with most of the building hidden from view, and only the very top part visible. The mystery wasn't completely solved though, as it was in an unusual place for a lighthouse, so was more likely to be a monument of some kind.
The path then headed downhill towards the outskirts of Ulverston. Much of the latter part of the route was not as quick and easy as expected because of all the stiles and gates, as well as uneven ground in some places. At the point where the path met the road, was one of the most awkward squeeze stiles I have ever encountered, and I have come across quite a few. Normally squeeze stiles are tight below waist level, but wider above, whereas this was tight all the way to shoulder level, so I had to half-climb the wall in order for both me and my rucksack to get through. The way then doubled back on itself, whilst dropping down to the bottom of a steep valley, where it made its way into the centre of town.
It was obviously rush hour in Ulverston. I hadn't seen this volume of traffic for the last couple of weeks, so it took a bit of getting used to, as I crossed a number of roads whilst making my way to my B&B. I walked right past it at first, not noticing it on the corner, so ended up going right round the block before asking directions and ending up where I had been before. I was recommended a couple of good pubs in town for an evening meal, and told to go early as they could get booked up quickly. After a shower and phone call home, I went to one of the pubs, the Farmers Arms, where I had a very good halibut steak and some Yates's bitter at only £2.25 a pint, 70 pence less than the beer at Coniston Youth Hostel.
When I first arrived at the pub, the bar was fairly busy, but with one or two tables free, whereas the dining area had very few people in. However, by the time I had finished my meal, it was already starting to fill up. Where I live in North Wales, most pubs are struggling to survive because of the economic downturn, so it was surprising to find a pub doing so much trade, especially on a Monday evening. I returned to my B&B and then, as it was a pleasant evening for a change, I decided to explore the 'lighthouse' on Hoad Hill. The walk up was very good, with wider views opening up as I neared the top. There were a few people on their way down, but none at the top when I got there, so I had the place to myself for a while.
I discovered that this was a monument 'In honor [sic] of Sir John Barrow Bart. Erected AD 1850.' I had not heard of the man, but later found that he was a Baronet, who was a geographer and supporter of exploration, instigating many arctic expeditions. He was also a principal founder of the Royal Geographic Society. A notice on the monument said that lottery funding was being sought for its restoration, though there was no mention of anything to do with Sir John Barrow himself.
There was a fine view of the sea and estuary as well of the town, and I sat on a seat there for a while until it got a little bit too chilly, prompting me to return to my B&B. The sheep were munching away happily as I left, but far from being the last one up there, I saw two chaps arriving just as I left, and a lady walking her dog up there when I was halfway down.
Day 15 - Tuesday 1st July 2008 - Ulverston to Home
Accommodation: Home
I awoke to find a clear blue sky outside, which was just typical now that I had finished my walk and was heading home. Breakfast started at 08.00, and there was one chap who appeared to be a regular, with cotton wool in his ears, already there when I went down. A couple, who were about to start the Cumbria Way, came down and joined me at the large table. They were doing the walk in six days, splitting the Dungeon Ghyll to Keswick section into two days, as was the chap I met yesterday in Coniston Youth Hostel. It certainly looked as if they had picked some good weather, at least for the start. When it is miserable weather at the end of a walk, I never feel bad about finishing and going home, but with the best weather I had seen for a fortnight, it made me wish that I were just starting off instead of finishing.
Another chap came in, speaking very loudly to the first chap before asking us all what we wanted for breakfast, as he was obviously the breakfast chef. Some time later the landlord came along, also talking in a very loud voice, as he had done the night before, which made me wonder whether this was the reason for the cotton wool in the first chap's ears and not an ear infection as I had at first assumed.
Hoad Hill Monument from Ulverston
The railway station is on the southern outskirts of town so, after packing all my things, I set off down through the town. There was now no need to pack things carefully or worry about things getting wet, as all my clothes would end up in the wash as soon as I got back home. I had about 25 minutes to spare when I reached the station, but there was nothing else to see or do around that part of town, so I just waited on the platform. The station had been nicely renovated to its original Victorian splendour, and had tubs of plants and flowers to add to the colour. A modern building at the end of one platform used to be a nightclub, so a chap who was waiting for the train told me, but problems with rowdy behaviour had caused it to close.
The train arrived on time and, once it departed from the station, gave me a fine view of the Hoad Hill Monument, with the sea on the opposite side. This is on the edge of Morecambe Bay, where the tide goes out for miles, though it was high tide just now. Even so, there were large areas of salt marsh, home to thousands of birds and also to a number of sheep who found grazing there. Ulverston is an old market town, but has a few industrial developments on its fringes, but not enough to spoil its character too much. There were a couple of estuaries that the train had to cross on viaducts, whilst road traffic has to take the long way round. The second of these was from Grange-over-Sands to Arnside, which I fondly remembered from my Walks of the Westmorland Heritage Walk in 1993 and 2004. On these occasions, I had to take the train on the very short journey from one side of the estuary to the other, the only alternative being to risk the quicksand by walking across at low tide.
There were views of the low fells around this part of Lakeland, as well as the larger fells further north, all free of cloud. The nuclear power station at Heysham then came into view. This is a landmark that can be seen on a clear day from many of the Southern Lakeland Fells. If it is very clear, Blackpool Tower and even the mountains of Snowdonia can be seen, though there are generally only a few days in the year when the latter is possible.
From then on, the scenery was far less interesting, with not a great deal to see other than a few canals with colourful barges, as the track was either in cuttings or screened by trees, or else the surrounding landscape was relatively flat. We passed the rather industrialised areas of Lancaster, then the less industrialised town of Preston before reaching Greater Manchester. It is interesting to see the ways in which towns that grew up around the Industrial Revolution are now changing. Many of the old buildings have been restored to their former glories, where they have been considered architecturally or historically worthwhile, whilst others have been demolished to make way for new developments. I am not a great fan of this 'brave new world' of modern developments, though I do find a few of merit. I doubt very many will be considered of sufficient worth to still be standing a couple of hundred years from now, if indeed, they have been designed to last for that long.
The train ran on time all the way, the only criticism being that the general lack of rolling stock throughout the whole of the rail network meant that there was some overcrowding for part of the journey, with many passengers having to stand, particularly when nearing Manchester. I had a long wait for my connection to Rhyl, so I walked from Piccadilly Station to Piccadilly Gardens, one of the few green areas in the city centre, and even that is not very large. There is a fountain there with dozens of water spouts that shoot up in random patterns at intervals, and this was providing great fun for several young, and some not so young, children, who were running across dodging in and out between them, sometimes getting soaked in the process. It was a warm, sunny day, so some were wearing swimwear or other light clothing, which would soon dry out.
After a while watching the antics in the fountain, I went in search of a pint and a snack for lunch. There were several fast food outlets, modern café bars and Chinese restaurants, but I found a tiny traditional pub, Duffy's Bar, in the midst of it all. They didn't serve food there, but had some good Hyde's bitter at £2.20 a pint. There were surprisingly few people in there, though alcohol is now largely frowned upon amongst the business community at lunchtime, unlike the days when it was quite usual for people to go out for a pie and a pint, or two, or three. I picked up a sandwich from Somerfield on my way back, stopping again by the fountain to eat it. I suddenly realised that there was about ten minutes before my train departed, and the station was some distance away, with several busy road junctions to cross on the way.
Hurrying along as quickly as I could, I reached the station and made my way to my train, which just happened to run from the most distant platform, getting there with just a minute or two to spare. This is one of the things I am forever doing when I think I have plenty of time to spare: I kill a little bit too much time and then find myself rushing to get where I am going. This often happens when I have a short day's walk in my schedule: I set off later than usual, spend a lot more time having rests or sunbathing and then have a rush to get to the finish.
The rest of the journey was uneventful, un-crowded and on time, with my daughter waiting at Rhyl station to pick me up. Back home, my wife let out our dog Oscar to greet me first, as he had spent a whole fortnight without his main walking companion, so he never lets anyone else get a look in for a while. Only when he had been appeased, was it possible to get in to greet my wife. After a cup of tea and a chat about the events of the past two weeks, it was time for the long-awaited 'walkies' and Oscar was out of the door like a shot: back to the old familiar routine.
After Thoughts
One of the things I have always realised is that the weather is one of the most important factors in determining whether a long distance walk, or any walk, for that matter, is enjoyable. Thinking back to many of my walks in the past, I have been more fortunate with the weather than would reasonably be expected. Even when the general weather pattern has been poor, I have often managed to find a window of fair to good weather in the midst of it all. It became something of a joke, with people saying that they wanted to know when I was going on a walk so that they could book a holiday at the same time. However, my luck was bound to run out sometime, and this has been the case for the last two years.
Nevertheless, I have to reflect on the good times I have had, as well as the bad, on this year's walk. There have been several days when the weather has been clement enough, at least for part of the day, to make the walking enjoyable. There have been a few days when the weather conditions have been quite good, particularly in respect of clear visibility, giving wide-ranging views for many miles. There have also been several days when my walk has been more of a survival exercise, battling in the mist against wind and rain, with the sole objective being to get to my night's accommodation safely.
Many of my plans for high level routes and optional detours over the mountains were kicked into touch because of the bad weather, though one advantage of having devised my own walk was that I was not committed to a particular route, and could vary it according to the prevailing conditions. I tried to make the most of whatever opportunities there were for high level routes, even if the weather sometimes turned against me when I got there, but then 'nothing ventured, nothing gained!' The route I actually walked was about 213 miles (15 miles a day) as registered on my GPS, which is generally about 10% greater than map measurements over this sort of terrain, and the total ascent was about 40,100 ft (2,864 ft a day) measured from map contours. This is really about as much as I find reasonable to undertake without being too exhausted, and, had the weather permitted me to do more high level walking, this may have proved a little too much on occasion, though on some days I could have managed more.
I was glad that I spent two nights at Black Sail Hut, especially as the weather was bad, as this meant that I didn't spend an excessive amount of time walking in bad conditions, and was able to shelter from the elements whilst enjoying the convivial company of everyone there. My intention had been to use this as a base for mountain walking, but, in the circumstances, it served a good purpose by giving me an easier schedule and some rest after battling with the elements.
It is all well and good to climb mountains in fine weather, with marvellous views all around, but a very different thing to go up in mist with gale force winds and driving rain, which is a powerful reminder of the forces of nature and how vulnerable we all are in these conditions. It is something that stays in the memory when more pleasant times have often been forgotten. The funny thing is that, although I had more bad weather on this walk than I did on the Pennine Way last year, it didn't take as much out of me. Last year's experiences put me off long distance walking for a few months, whereas this year's didn't have the same effect, possibly because the Lakeland scenery has more to offer in bad weather than does that of much of the Northern Pennines. This year, I managed to finish with a couple of good days, whereas last year the bad weather stayed to the end, with the final, very long day over the Cheviots nearly finishing me off.
As far my route was concerned, I found that the Yorkshire Dales part of it worked, in general, very well, suiting me far more than that of the Dales Way. The Lake District section was not exactly planned, but decided by the availability of youth hostel beds. As such, it worked quite well, but would have been better, given a wider choice of places to stay. If a day's walk involves high mountains or lengths of craggy ridges, then it is best limited to about ten or twelve miles, whereas fifteen miles is fine in easier walking conditions. Parts of my route involved longer distances, limiting high-level options because of pressure on time. This was partly negated by the bad weather, which ruled out the high-level options in many places anyway, but had the weather been better, as I said earlier, some of these may have been a little too much for comfort.
There is still something not quite the same about doing a walk that is self-inspired rather than one for which there is an official, published route. Discussing it with other people is not quite the same as comparing notes on an established route, and everyone tends to assume that, by including one small part of an official walk, that the walk is being undertaken in its entirety. Because the walk has not been defined by someone else, there is no real sense of a challenge, as everything about the walk can be tailored to the circumstances at will, so there is not really a sense of success or failure. I have often obtained sponsorship for my walks to aid local charities, but this time it didn’t quite seem right to do so when there was no defined route that I would be taking, and hence no real measure of success. Notwithstanding all of this, though, it was the only way that I could break away from just repeating the same walks again and again, though it is true to say that I had already walked many different parts of the route on different occasions in the past, so not too much of it was entirely new to me.
With advancing age, one thing I have tended to find over the past few years is that I am not as eager to undertake extra walking during the evenings, though there is also the fact that I didn’t have much good weather to tempt me out either. Ten years or so ago, I was always keen to explore the local area after my evening meal, and would often walk a few miles in doing so, whereas now I find that the day’s walk is generally enough. I can still manage the same distances as I used to, but prefer to limit each day’s walk to a distance that I can do without having to push myself too hard. In the past I often undertook excessive daily distances on some occasions against my better judgement, whereas now I am more inclined to stick to what I can do more comfortably, though circumstances such as the availability of accommodation still do dictate otherwise sometimes. Just how much of this is due to declining ability with age, and how much is due to learning from unpleasant experiences in the past, is hard to say though.
One thing that has forced itself to my attention in the last couple of walks, is the performance of various items of equipment and clothing in wet weather, particularly when rain is combined with high winds. Waterproof jackets are a prime cause for concern, as this is where most of the wet gets through. Even when a jacket has welded or taped seams, there are still problems with front zips, as these always seem to let in water, even when they have flaps across. This arrangement may work reasonably well for a while during a shower, especially if there is not much wind, but in prolonged rain and wind, water always seems to get through and steadily soaks into clothing underneath until, after a while, everything is saturated. I am never quite sure how much wet gets through over-trousers, as I have the impression that a lot of the wet lower down has run down after entering through my jacket. My over-trousers have slits at the side for access to trouser pockets, so these provide an entry point for water, though the bottom of my jacket covers them partially, at least. The other problem is from water entering rucksacks and getting into their contents.
Looking at how other people have tried to overcome these problems, the most successful solution seems to be a large cape that covers the whole upper part of the body as well as the rucksack. The only drawback with these, apart from the way they look, is that they present a much larger area to the wind, which could create problems of stability. Otherwise, they provide very good protection for everything, whilst still allowing a good circulation of air to help cope with the other problem of sweat. The next best option seems to be to have a jacket with no zip at the front, such as a cagoule, which may be a little more difficult to put on, but has far fewer places for the wet to enter. The rucksack problems can be solved by carefully packing things in good, undamaged plastic liners and by ensuring that nothing of importance is at the bottom, possibly even making some holes in there to allow water to drain away. A waterproof rucksack cover may also help. These are the sorts of things that I will be looking at more closely before I embark upon another long distance walk in case I am confronted with a lot of bad weather again.
The problem I had with the lining of my boots disintegrating and wearing away the heels of my socks continued to be a problem. My Thousand Mile socks wore away just as badly as other socks had done in the past, the only difference being that the inner layer stayed intact, as that is made from a tough nylon material, whereas the outer layer is wool. Because of the problem, I wore the same pair of socks for the whole walk so that I only ruined one pair of expensive socks rather than two or three. By the end of the walk there were huge holes in the outer layer of both heels. My attempt at protecting them by sticking gaffer tape over the roughness inside my boots was thwarted the first time they got wet, much as I anticipated, with the tape starting to come adrift. The boots themselves wore out even more, especially around the heel, with some of the stitching of the leather also wearing away leaving a gap between the leather of the heel and the ankle cushioning of one boot. By this time, the boots had done over a thousand miles, so they had already given me as much use as I expected of them. When buying my next pair of boots, however, I will look at this aspect of their design very carefully, trying to ensure that I only buy boots either without any heel padding, or only with padding that is covered by a very durable material.
On a number of occasions, when I have completed a long distance walk, I have found that I have succumbed to some sort of health problem: either I have picked up a virus because exhaustion from the walk has weakened my immune system, or I have started to suffer back ache. This time, I was pleased to find that I suffered neither of these, and was back to normal within a fairly short time without feeling excessively tired. It is always a nuisance to return home only to be ill, so this made a welcomed change.
The next real test will be where I walk next year, and whether I go back to recognised walks or attempt something else of my own making. At the moment, I still have an open mind.
Photography and Technology
Over the years that I have been doing long distance walks, camera technology, Internet technology and display technology have developed by giant leaps from 35mm colour slides that had to be scanned to produce low quality digital images for the website up to the present day with high quality digital photography, almost unlimited memory and super fast broadband,
The article in the 'Other Items' section chronacles all of this throughout my walks.
