Helm Crag and Ullscarf

Sunday 16th April 2006

Another gorgeous day in the Lake District seemed guarrenteed after early rain had blown itself away, so on leaving Grasmere I decided to change my original plan by doing the Langdale Pikes next Saturday and instead I climbed up to Greenup Edge via Helm Crag, which is right next to the hostel. Climbing up onto the iconic hill I admired the stunning scenery and tried to pull one over on Wainwright who had been unable to climb up to the top of the large rock that sits at top of the hill. Unfortunately what defeated the great man also defeated me and I was left to merely look at the summit begrudgingly rather than standing on it in triumph. Continuing along the ridge I passed over Gibson Knott and after reaching Calf Crag on to the junction with the path at the top of Far Easedale. Crossing the head of the bog-infested Wythburn valley I climbed up to the surprisingly wide Greenup Edge and turned right heading along the wide ridge north. I have never walked in this area before having previously gone no further north than Greenup Edge from High Raise. This area is the heart of the Central Fells which is atypical of the Lake District being predominantly wide, grassy, boggy moorland, in fact typical English moorland. On this walk I immediately plunged into a huge bog, which would become a common occurrence during my day in the Central Fells.

After an age, during which I had my lunch, I eventually arrived at the top of Ullscarf, but I didn't stop at the summit and kept going since the weather had become breezy and cold. Stopping in this bleak landscape was not very appealing. After passing Ullscarf I realised that despite not doing the Langdale Pikes my pre-arranged route was still too long. I had originally planned on going as far north as Ashness Bridge and returning through Borrowdale via Castle Crag, but quickly realised Ashness Bridge was simply too far away so I decided to go to Borrowdale via Watendlath.

After walking around the huge, solitary Standing Crag I took a bridlepath past Blea Tarn gradually losing height as I crossed the boggy moor towards Watendlath. When I eventually arrived at the picturesque National Trust village it was after four o'clock and any chance of visiting Castle Crag would also have to be lost. Passing over the low headland I descended into the stunning valley and through Rosthwaite where the huge crags around Borrowdale dominated the landscape. It's been a few years since I was last in Borrowdale and I had forgotten how impressive it is. It was not at its best at this time with darkening clouds looming overhead, but I was back later in the week when I would have the time for a fuller appreciation.

With time advancing I passed the Borrowdale Youth Hostel and Seatoller, rushing up the old toll road to Honister Hause. This was a very different day in landscape to that encountered the day before. I had never walked over Ullscarf before and had actually always avoided the area north of Grasmere because of its bogs. One could have that attitude about the whole of the Central Fells with the Langdale Pikes as the only redeeming feature of the entire area, and I now planned on doing them on Saturday.

Dollywagon Pike by The Tongue

Saturday 15th April 2006

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Windermere to Grasmere via Thornthwaite Crag

Friday 14th April 2006

This walk was the start of nine days in the Lake District, but it started with a gruelling walk that I really shouldn’t have done. I arrived at Windermere train station at 10.30 and immediately began walking by going up a road that is opposite the station winding up the hillside through woods and came out at Orrest Head, a popular viewpoint for the Windermere tourist, including this day when it was liberally populated by the old and the very young. After taking a few pictures I left the top and headed north through farmland until I reached the Dubbs Road. This rough track took me towards the Garburn Pass, but before I got to the top I turned off at a stile onto the fellside of Applethwaite Common slowly climbing the widening ridge as I ascended Sour Howes. This was a total waste of time and energy that, as I later found, I really couldn't spare, but that didn't stop me also going across to the neighbouring fell of Sallows. The reason for this diversion was simple; both fells were Wainwrights and having been given his books for Christmas I simply had to do these fells. With hindsight it may have been better if I hadn't, but ultimately it probably would not have made much difference.

Once I finally reached the top of the Garburn Pass I proceeded along the path towards Yoke. When I went up these fells in 2004 I ttok a path near the top of the ridge beside the wall, which turned out to be a bad idea as it was exceptionally boggy. This time I managed to stay on the proper path, which, relatively speaking, was excellent: there being very few bogs to negotiate. At the top of Yoke I had my lunch before tacking Ill Bell. I remember this ascent as being really painful and difficult, but compared with ascents that I had to do later in the day it wasn't too bad. After Ill Bell I passed over Froswick and then climbed up to the top of Thornthwaite Crag.

By now the weather was excellent, so even though it was obvious I wouldn't get to my destination until quite late (I was thinking seven o'clock at this time) I was happy to continue. Before coming to the Lake District I had decided that I didn't want to be tied to getting to the hostel before six as I had been in the past. To this end I had taken a couple of camping meals with me as backups in case I was late at any time, so at this point in the walk I wasn't too concerned about how much further I had to go. I descended the scree slope to Threshthwaite Mouth and then climbed the rocky slope to Stoney Cove Pike and Caudale Moor. I was feeling good and relaxed at this point, in fact I was actually enjoying myself, but that would not last for long. From the cairn at the top of Caudale Moor I noticed another cairn a short distance away and going across to investigate I discovered that it marks a viewpoint overlooking Caudale Cove, the point marked on the map as Caudale Head. The views down Patterdale were stunning and I had never seen this sight before in all my years in the Lake District. In the past I had been overly concerned with bagging peaks, so this year I wanted to investigate a bit more: look down a few cliffs and look out from a few more viewpoints, and this was a start.

Passing the Atkinson Memorial I rejoined the path and descended the rather dull ridge all the way down to the Kirkstone Pass. Now I felt as if I was ready to arrive at the Youth Hostel, but I still had a lot of walking ahead of me. Crossing the road I started to climb the cliff face ahead of me, past the Kilnshaw Chimney and up to the top of Red Screes. The path is very good, being well designed and manufactured to ease the gradient as much as possible, but that didn't stop it being an absolute torture as I crawled all the way up to the top. In sheer exhaustion I finally got to the top of Red Screes and had a piece of my emergency supply of Kendal Mint Cake, and discovered that I had run out of water.

With still a lot of walking ahead of me, but without meeting another soul for the rest of the walk, I proceeded down the steep slope to the Scandale Pass. Passing over I ascended the hillside opposite climbing all the way up to the top of Dove Crag, though still stopping off at Little Hart Crag on the way: another Wainwright bagged. Dragging myself up the hill I eventually managed to get to the top of the ridge on the eastern side of the Fairfield Horseshoe. Turning right I passed over the top of Dove Crag and Hart Crag making sure that despite my extreme exhaustion I went over the summits of both fells. Both previous times I've been over these fells the weather wasn't too good, and last time it was raining. Now, for the first time I had clear views (remember that the good weather was one of the reasons why I had continued with this madness), so I was able to locate the summits with considerably more ease than on those previous occasions.

When I reached the col between Hart Crag and Fairfield I collapsed. I couldn't go on, the steep slope ahead of me felt like the north face of the Eiger: it was insurmountable. After a rest and another piece of Kendal Mint Cake I was ready to re-evaluate my assessment of the slope ahead. Staggering to my feet I started climbing up to the wide plateau of Fairfield, now gloomy in the twilight, but still clearer than on any previous occasion I had visited it. Despite this I passed to the south of the summit heading straight for the western ridge of the horseshoe. With a stunning sunset to admire all my fatigue seemed to drop away from me. Passing over Great Rigg I took a path that veers right away from the ridge and descended the fell over Stone Arthur. Which of the many rocks is the actual stone, I have no idea, but I went up several of them at first to ensure I’d bagged the right one, but soon I tired of this and hurried down the fell in rapidly diminishing light.

Using my tiny torch I negotiated the lower slopes of the hill onto the road beside the Swan Hotel. Now in Grasmere I only had to get to the Youth Hostel, which was up the hill. In my exhausted, hungry, sleepy state this was the last thing I wanted to do or could even cope with. After feeling ill just going up a small raise I decided to eat a third piece of Kendal Mint Cake. This gave me the necessary energy to get to the Grasmere Thorny Howe Youth Hostel, at 9.40 pm. At over eleven hours this was my longest walk so far, and definitely the most exhausting. I hope I am never stupid enough to repeat it. This walk was badly planned, terribly under estimating the distance involved or how long it would take me. My worst crime though was not abandoning the walk at the Kirkstone Pass when it was obvious the walk was going to be too long. Lesson learned.