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After a six-month lay-off a leg-loosener was required. No amount of gym-work or calories burned in a spin class can keep you genuinely “hill-fit.”
Scotland was out of reach for the two days I had available, so there was a chance to chase down some of those Wainwrights that get left behind in the rush to the heights.
The huge cairn of Hallin Fell had already been glimpsed from the approach down the eastern shore of Ullswater like a beckoning finger. With the icy hairpins negotiated to reach the parking spaces by Martindale church, the “wide grass path” described by AW stretched enticingly upwards. However, the sub-zero temperature conspired against his observation that it could be “ascended comfortably in bare feet.”
The cosy heat built up in the car from the previous hundred miles or so was snatched away as the door opened: there would be no hanging around today.
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- Ullswater, north from Hallin Fell
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- Eastern Fells and Ullswater from Hallin Fell
Fifteen minutes up and another fifteen down was sufficient to get some warmth into the fingers and to explore the latticework of paths that connect the knolls competing for the best views up or down Ullswater.
After collecting my sack from the car, Steel Knotts and Wether Hill were the next destinations:the latter being one of those points on the High Street range that had gone untrodden despite numerous trips to either side.
I ignored a couple of tracks that headed directly up the slopes behind the church and headed off to the left, slightly downhill, towards Howtown before striking up to the right . This made a much more satisfying ascent of the ridge from toe to top and then beyond to the wide open spaces and slopes to the east.
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- Steel Knotts
Despite being perched below the higher fells of High Street beyond, the summit of Steel Knotts is nevertheless a rewarding destination in its own right: in stark contrast to the guesswork and wandering required to find anything that marks the high point of Wether Hill.
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- Looking west from Wether Hill
Beda Fell had initially been my final target for the day; another one of those fells that have been neglected over the years. From the top of Wether Hill I looked over and, seeing the way it linked nicely to Angletarn Pikes, decided to leave it yet again for another day.
So instead, after treading a few hundred metres of the Roman road, I struck off to the left and strode down to the head of Fusedale to end the day with a saunter along the valley and back round to the car.
