Category: Cumberland

Wandering from Keswick

There is no need to drive out of Keswick to enjoy a beautiful walk: the town is in the midst of prettiness. It was my quiet day, and so I looked about me at the town where I have been staying.

Derwentwater glimmered in the sunshine. I found the path up through the woods to a viewpoint on a tiny hill, Castle Head. From here, the lake is laid out before you, in its verdant basin, and the fells beyond.

I then followed paths to the north and east, through woods, by farms and over the road to a long, muddy way out to the Castlerigg Stone Circle.

There are always visitors at the circle, admiring it, breathing in the ancientness, or performing invented pagan rituals within it. All three were there to be seen.

Then down the road to Keswick. I spotted a path down to a rail trail – a footpath laid down on the old Penrith-Cockermouth Railway line, so I followed that in to the town centre.

A good morning’s walk.

Helvellyn over Striding Edge

I was told this was a fearsome climb. It was in part a gentle walk, and in parts gritted teeth, four-limb scrambling and prayer – which was answered.

From the car park in Glenridding, I followed the path another walker was going, befor finding there are several routes – you have to stick by the Mires Beck for the first stretch – but I looped over back to the beck, with cheery assistance from local folk who enjoy the views or the bowl of Lanty’s Tarn from the lower slopes. Back on track, I took the long, upward climb, along a path which is in parts steep or shallow – on average easier than those I have met earlier in the week. Past the forbidding crags, I followed up over Birkhouse Moor (the usual walk) from which the path levels out to follow a ridge beside a long, drystone wall. This leads to a prominent style known as Hole-in-the-Wall. Here the challenge begins.

On the walk I fell into brief conversation with a few other walkers – two young lads who powered ahead, occasionally caught up with, and three cheery young ladies who dropped further behind as I pressed on to the climb, and two experiences cragsmen (“Been doing this for 50 years!”) enjoying the familiar, breathtaking view.

At Hole-in-the-Wall, lying below you is a gorgeous tarn, Red Tarn, at the bottom of a huge corrie formed by Helvellyn; the back wall formed by the mountain’s long, cliff-edged summit ridge, fringed with snow; on one side Bleabury Crag and Striding Edge, and opposite the triangular shape of Catstye Cam. Up over rougher climbing (Bleabury Crag), to a jagged eyrie which is the beginning of Striding Edge. This forbidding eyrie is (I learn) called Low Spying How. Low it is not.

There is no path over Low Spying How: I packed my map away and with hands and feet I picked my way over the rocks between seemingly impossible gaps, with vertical drops to the valley awaiting any mistake. Then the Edge itself came into view. It appears like a set of dragon’s teeth, in a long ridge with nowhere for the feet. Had a wind blown up, there would be nowhere to protect you from being ripped from you feet and hurled into the void. It was though dry and largely still. I climbed down to the edge and round some way along it – occasionally stretches of path appear, and in others it has crumbled away and the tops are the only way along. It is thrilling, and deadly. Good boots that allow me to step on points of rock were vital.

I slid undignified on my bottom and reached hand over hand, creeping along in this unfamiliar landscape. Then I spotted the trio of young ladies from earlier – slower on the path, they were bounding along here, with all the confidence and suppleness of youth. And here was I creeping along: what years of responsibility can do to a man. Then halfway along, as I was poised not knowing how to move further, the cragsmen appeared. The guided me and the ladies (who had caught up by now) along the impossible tops and the final climb to the summit. I will be eternally grateful.

The summit is gentle, and in the sun shone as I ate my lunch there, unfurled the county flag (this is Westmorland’s county top) and wondered at the views.

The usual way down is another scramble, down Swirral Edge, to a gentle path. I could see hesitation amongst those going that way, and in any case I was enjoying the hills too much to go straight back.

So I headed north over Glenridding Common (a route with no scrambles and no edges). There is a gentle saddle from Helvellyn down and up to Lower man, and on to White Side, and on to Raise to the north. Over this and the path tracks along the slope of Raise before zigzagging down towards the Glenridding Beck, which I followed down to the village.

Route map

Maps

Scafell Pike from Wasdale

Three peaks stand in line above Wasdale, and in the middle stands Scafell Pike – Cumberland’s county top and the highest in the Lake District and in England.

It is a long haul up, but yesterday was the ideal day for it – dry, clear and still. It was a contrast to the first day I appeared in Wasdale, when I was told bluntly by the National Trust staff not to attempt it – and they were right. Yesterday I passed by the glass-like, beautiful lake beneath the Screes, where canoes were being carried to the water – the previous time (Sunday) a lone paddleboarder was looking uncertain, while wild winds washed Wastwater with white-water waves.

The path from the National Trust car park is a clearly laid track, frequented by many feet, so on a clear day even out of season you will never be alone, and the nervous, inexperienced walkers may appreciate cheery encouragement. It is an unrelenting, steeply climbing path all the way and you can think that the pain and exhaustion will not let you go any further – but it will. Once you achieve the top, all that exhaustion goes away.

I watched a few pairs and couples pausing in panic where you wade through the Gill at one point, but they soon find it is nothing – if you have the right boots or at least the right attitude. And so it climbs, apparently endlessly.

Actually, you cannot see the top until you approach the looming crag – then it is a haul up (hands and knees if you must for that bit, though you should just be able to walk, as if up randomly placed steep stairs.. Then round the crag, the top is in sight.

I did not want to leave. I was bathed in sunshine, and surrounded by good company (I was climbing alone but, as I said, you are never alone) and the views were awe-inspiring. From there the mountains of the massif and others of the Lake District rise in an endless parade. Below is Wastwater, glimmering. Further off the Duddon Estuary appears.

I showed the Cumberland flag – this is the county top, after all – then descended, far faster than the climb, and meeting many groups then coming up, giving encouragement and occasionally showing then were they were on the map.

Another fell done, and happily done.

Route map

Maps

Great Cockup – pride of the Uldale Fells

Let us not forget the gentler fells of Cumberland.  In the north of the Lake District are the Uldale Fells and the Caldbeck Fells, together providing a beauteous finale to the sweep of the mountains.  Here there are no silvery lakes and the dark, foreboding hillsides are less vicious in their aspect.  You may forget these places if you scale mighty Skiddaw to the south, rearing its head over Bassenthwaite (although the last time I climbed Skiddaw was in a storm; the cloud descended upon the hill like a biblical portent and the lake was quite invisible).

Is that not the point though?  There is enjoyment to be had from the open walk, the man on the fellside alone with his own thoughts.  There need not be the challenge, which is no challenge when you know you can do it, nor the threatening peril to life and limb:  the walk and the emptiness are all.

Therefore on occasion look away from the massive massif, cross the Dash Beck and make for the hills which do not throw you off but which are welcoming.  There is none there like Great Cockup, the most famed of them, and one which has the modesty to be named after its own valley.  It is only 1,726 feet; a bairn could climb it.  There then, you may look out at Longthwaite Fell, Meal Fell and the amusingly ill-named Great Sca Fell, Burnt Todd and Knott.

Actually, the latter is 2,329 feet and the highest of the Uldale Fells, so if you are walking above Uldale, is you ambition to achieve a Great Cockup or Knott?

Map