Category: Westmorland

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