I just had to decide where. There are a few odd hills in both Wales and the Lake District that I haven’t yet visited, and the odd one whose cairn I’ve only seen shrouded in mist; and there are more of these in the Lake District than in Wales, so that’s the area I plumped for. When Dr Frank and I had walked a Glaramara round a few years previous, being a little short on time, we’d omitted both Seathwaite Fell and Base Brown. Moreover, low-lying mist had caused us to miss what is, according to cognoscenti, one of the finest views in the Lake District, namely that looking north from Green Gable. So that set a good part of the route; all that remained was to devise the best way of making it a round. On our first round we’d ascended Glaramara via Thornythwaite Fell, and although this is a fine characterful route, I fancied something new. A red pin at Thunacar Knott caught my eye, and so the decision was made, especially since this route naturally combined with a return via Seargeant’s and Eagle Crags – which I understand Wainwright is pretty complimentary about.
So this is the route I fixed on:
Sadly, this meant a 03.00 am rise on the Tuesday morning if I was to get a good chunk of the morning available for walking – the AA was telling me it’s a 3.75 hour drive to Seathwaite, which is where I’d decided to start from; though I was sufficiently pumped up at the prospect of getting into the hills in good weather that no great effort was required to get on the road well before 03.30.
An uneventful drive saw me arrive at shortly before 07.00am, and the early morning mist was evident on the Scafell group of hills, and well down on Base Brown – the first target. But the forecast said (Oh, why do I never learn: “the forecast said….” - but in the hills the forecast is as often wrong as it is right…

Rather to my surprise, there were very few cars parked on the roadside approaching Seathwaite, so my parking was easy - probably due in part to the earlyish start, and it being mid-week and outside the schools holiday period.

After a quick breakfast, I headed west up the path towards the waterfalls, which follows the rather wonderfully named Sourmilk Gill (note that to get from Seathwaite to the start of the ascent, the path/right-of-way passes through a farm building!!!).



Ahead the path turns from west to south-west and towards Base Brown.



The path zig-zagged around the shoulder of the hill, crossing the contours at an acute angle and so not rising not too steeply to the plateau...




So I donned my down jacket, and hunkered down to wait - ever the optimist - for it to clear. After all, the cloud was only in the West; to the East all the peaks were clear, so surely the last few peaks in the West couldn't remain clag bound for much longer...???
Every now and again during the following half an hour there were part-breaks in the cloud, allowing maddeningly brief glimpses of the potential views to the North and North West.
But after half an hour I really was getting cold: the air temperature was anyway not that high, and Windy Gap was living up to its name, and some. So reluctantly I decided I needed to make a move.

I'd probably descended around 100m when I thought to take a last disappointed look back. Only to see that - YES! - the cloud really did look as if it might clear any moment, and sufficiently long at least for me to get the views. I hastened back to the summit, and just as I arrived the cloud cleared completely.





But that's not on the route card today. I spent 10 minutes or so just enjoying the views...

...before continuing on my way.
Via the endless scree that is Aaron Slack...

I must say that, having ascended Aaron Slack the last time I stood on Green Gable, descending it is massively preferable!
Towards the bottom of Aaron Slack, instead of descending as far as Styhead Tarn, I turned off on a path that initially was supposed, according to the map, to contour gently along the side of the Great Gable south east slope before gently descending to Sty Head. I think this must have been a "there really ought to be" path, rather than "there is a" path. Suffice it say, I - randomly - came across the odd sheep tracks, but nothing that could reasonably be called a walker's path.

But in the good visibility, there was no difficulty in reaching Sty Head, and choosing the right path to continue - namely, the main path to Scafell Pike, Angle Tarn, and, ultimately, Langdale. The plan was to walk a few hundred metres along the path, and then cut left towards Seathwaite fell - see dashed orange line on map extract below.

I was contentedly trogging along, when I saw this small crag - about 25m high, and - oh dear! - eminently scramblable


Not to mention a layer of geological icing....

And good views once the scrambling was over - eg looking down....

... and lifting one's head a little, looking north west towards Great Gable, Green Gable, and Styhead Tarn.

Moving on, then, more tasty sections of rock appeared...


Same with approximate scrambling route shown...
The mini-arete looked inviting from a distance, and was even more so close up...



Then on to Seathwaite Fell, from which the views, in all directions but especially looking north west...


But now I have to rejoin the main path. This is looking south from somewhat beyond Seathwaite Fell summit. Part of the main path I was heading for is visible more or less in the centre of the pic.

It's easy going to get to the main path, and even more so on the path itself, so I'm soon at the highest point, after which the path descends towards Angle Tarn.







Very shortly after this I took a left turn off the main path up to Rosset Pike.



Again, the path along the ridge is clear in some places, invisible in others; but it's an excellent route, with great views on the RHS down into Langdale. The descent from Black Crags into Langdale Combe necessitates a bit of care on the bouldery stretches, but that's all.



I should have taken the opportunity to check the bearing to High Raise from here; but in such fine clear weather, it's not really necessary, is it...??? I was labouring under the misapprehension that the rocky pimple ahead was High Raise...

In fact it was Sergeant Man!

Now thinking that I needed to take a bearing for the next stage of my planned route, I did take a look at the map - and realised that I hadn't yet reached High Raise. So I took a correct bearing - because High Raise is so little of a raise that it's barely visible from Sergeant Man: this is all you see...

...and headed off in the right direction this time.
Well, High Raise may not be very inspiring in itself, but the vista from the summit is quite superb...

The next destination - Sergeant's Crag - is clearly visible from High Raise; but after the previous screw-up with directions, I confirmed with the map and compass that I'd identified the correct hill this time, and set off on the bearing indicated.


Easy walking brought me in fairly short order to the foot of the small cliffs on the south side of the crag


... but I have to say, Sergeant's Crag is probably best viewed from a distance - either from Langstrath, where the slabs show to good advantage...


... or from the approach to Eagle Crag (see pic at 17.41.40 below).





But now came another dollop of icing on the cake - though of the variety where one thinks, "ooh, that was a bit too much...".
There are no paths shown on the map, either for ascending or descending Eagle Crag. Moreover, the contours on the north west, north, and north east sides are pretty closely bunched and punctuated with "cliffs" symbols. However, it did look - at least from the contours on the map - that, with a bit of cautious zig-zagging, one might be able to avoid vertical drops and get down via the north face. Knowing that it's not uncommon for quite effective paths not to be shown on the map, I'd planned to look around once I got to the summit, and if there was a reasonably worn path, to follow it as far as I could - reasonably worn meaning: track clearly visible, with recent boot prints. Well, there was such a path clearly visible on the summit, and it headed in the right direction - ie a tad east of north. It soon became pretty steep, not to mention being very muddy and hence slippery. I noticed also that all the boot prints were opposite to mine - ie in the "up" direction. But I kept going. In dry conditions it wouldn't have been too bad - perhaps a grade 2 scramble -, but the mud, slime and soggy turf made it much more of a challenge. Eventually I came to what turned out to be the real crux of the route, where, initially, I couldn't see how it could be down-climbed. Although it wasn't especially high - perhaps 3 metres - I couldn't see any foot or hand holds that would facilitate a downclimb; and a jump looked like it would be a pretty parlous undertaking, because the ledge below was quite narrow, with a significant drop if one were to fall off it after jumping. Eventually, by dint of hanging on to a secure hand-hold, and leaning right out, I saw a couple of acceptable hand and footholds that, at full stretch, I could just use to get down to the ledge.

After this it was a reasonably straightforward descent to the valley bottom, the path on the lower slopes being clearly visible from higher up. The downclimb certainly capped off the day with a frisson of excitement - I don't mind a bit of calculated risk, but I have to confess that this kind of aleatory risk, where you're not really in anything like full control, I normally try to avoid.


After this it was all simple, gentle valley-bottom walking, via Stonethwaite and the Seathwaite valley, back to the car at Seathwaite. Particularly nice was the fact that most of it was on paths and track, rather than metalled roads (however minor).
Sat in the car before setting of on the long drive home, I reflected for a few minutes on the day. The arbitrary manifestations of my heart condition means that I never know whether it will be a "good day" or a "tolerable day" - which essentially is measured by the ease with which I can ascend the steeper of slopes.
This day had been not just a "good day", but actually a perfect day. I just felt a sense of - quite tired but - absolute satisfaction and pleasure. It perhaps seems a bit hackneyed and corny to say so, but it seems to me
that the hills really can work a special kind of magic, which it's almost impossible to imagine being bettered. There's an intangible, indescribable, timeless something that on the best hill days can wholly fill one's consciousness and render "why?" and "wherefore?" questions quite pointless.johnkaysleftleg wrote:Excellent report from a fine route through some of the best country England has to offer. Glad you got the view from Green Gable eventually, all things come to those who wait apparently.As for Eagle Crag there is an eminently practicable route down from the summit which I have ascended twice, I admit it may be a bit more tricky to find the way down but for what it's worth my GPS from the route can be found here.
https://www.walkhighlands.co.uk/Forum/viewtopic.php?f=9&t=95639
Wainwright put it rather well:-
"The fleeting hour of life of those who love the hills is quickly spent, but the hills are eternal. Always there will be the lonely ridge, the dancing beck, the silent forest; always there will be the exhilaration of the summits. These are for the seeking, and those who seek and find while there is yet time will be blessed both in mind and body."