Ridge Wandering Around Newlands and Buttermere
Posted: Mon Apr 03, 2017 7:09 pmA few weeks ago Karl and myself were in the pub talking about possible walks to do. I mentioned one of my favourite longer walks - basically a triangle of three fine ridges starting and finishing at Hawse End, which I'd done on two previous occasions many years ago. Karl liked the sound of this walk, and although neither of us had done anything of such a scale for some years, we were both keen to push ourselves a bit more than usual, so we decided to give this one a go.
The first weekend in April was mutually suitable and the forecast looked ok. Although Sunday looked decidedly better than Saturday, the prospect of getting up early for work on Monday morning meant that Saturday was the preferable option despite the poorer forecast.
Thus it was we arrived at the Hawse End car park at 5.00 on Saturday morning, in the dark and the rain. Psychologically, it wasn't a good way to begin. But having made the effort to get there so early we weren't going to abandon our plan before we'd even started, so we got kitted up, complete with waterproofs and head torches, and set off walking at 5.15am.
We appreciated the clear and well engineered path up Cat Bells, as it was easy to follow in the light of our head torches. But it wasn't long before we entered the clag. Torch light shining into a swirling mass of water vapour in the otherwise pitch darkness doesn't give much clarity of vision, to put it mildly. So we were made more conscious than usual of those points at which the nicely made path gives way to vaguely eroded free-for-alls. 'Where's the path gone?' was a pretty bizarre phrase to be repeatedly coming out with, considering the particular path in question!
Somehow we managed to find our way to the top of Cat Bells without any major diversions, and were even treated to a brief clearing of the clag below the summit, revealing the dark outlines of the surrounding fells and the lights of Keswick and nearby villages. Disappointingly it came down again when we reached the top.
A grey and reluctant dawn became just about discernible at around 6.15am, or thereabouts, as we made our way up Maiden Moor, and we were able to switch off our head torches. I took a photo of the summit cairn, but the light was so dim that it's not worth showing. Even on the summit of High Spy the light was still dismally grey and dull, but just about good enough for a photo.
As we descended from High Spy the clag began to disperse and we were treated to some views of the crags of Dale Head. The daylight was a real boost to the spirits, despite the light rain which persisted all the way down to the tarn and up the 900 ft. plod to Dale Head.
The point where the path reaches the shoulder on Dale Head's NE ridge is superb, giving grand views down the impressive Newlands Valley.
The view from the summit of Dale Head is even grander, but unfortunately was obscured by clag.
We didn't linger at the cairn but headed off briskly down to Honister Hause, which we reached at just after 8.30am. We were amazed to find the shop and café there open. I bought a mug of coffee to save what I had in my flask for later. Although we sat outside we were sheltered from the rain under a canopy, which was nice.
It was still raining when we set off up to the Drum Hause, but at least the cloud base seemed to be rising and the clag was breaking up nicely.
At Dubs Quarry the rain actually seemed to have stopped, so we removed our waterproofs. This proved unwise as we were forced to put them back on again a bit further on, thus wasting valuable time. But we were in good spirits as this section of the walk was really enjoyable and the views were getting better all the time.
It was difficult to walk as fast as we would have liked due to the wet and slippery rocks underfoot - especially on Haystacks!
From Scarth Gap we girded our loins for the long plod up High Crag - a section that Karl had not been looking forward to. Head down, steady pace, and it's surprising how quickly you find yourself at the top of Mount Purgatory .
And from here the wonderful length of the High Stile ridge lies ahead, one of the classic ridge traverses of the Lakes
The ground is quite rough and rocky in places though, and being wet it required a little care to avoid a slip or twisted ankle.
Along the ridge the views were fantastic on either side, but as we neared the summit of High Stile the clag came down again, so no summit views unfortunately
. All the same we stopped briefly for refreshments. It was 12.25pm.
So then it was on to Red Pike, which again was in the clag
From Red Pike the obvious way down to Buttermere is via the steep and badly eroded path to Bleaberry Tarn and then down the stone-paved path through the woods. This was the way I'd gone previously, but this time we decided to go down via Scale Force. Karl liked this idea chiefly because he didn't like the paved path through the woods on the other route, and I liked it because it would make a change. Only thing was, it had been so long since either of us had been that way, up or down, that we'd forgotten how rough and stony the path was, and how 'interesting' it was along the side of Scale Beck above the Force
We concluded that we'd probably have been better off going the other way . But at least the sun was now shining!
After much squelching along the rough and boggy path we crossed a fine, stone bridge and reached Buttermere village. We went into the cafe for a pot of tea and a brie and cranberry pannini, very nice too. We thought that was wiser than hitting the pub
.
It was 3.23pm when we set off for the last leg of our walk. Left up the road for the path to Whiteless Pike; only six more Wainwrights to go!
It seemed a fair old slog up Whiteless, but again head down and a good, steady pace did the trick. At least the ground is smoother underfoot on these fells due to the friable Skiddaw slate that weathers into smaller fragments.
The walking from here on seemed a lot easier than on the previous section.
Disappointingly the clag came down again on Wandope and Eel Crag, but we still caught glimpses of the impressively steep slopes of scree, heather and shattered rock on our right. On reaching the broken trig point on Eel Crag we felt that it was now downhill all the way. Well, almost. These were great fells to finish on and the ridge from here to Causey Pike is one of the finest in the Lakes. And as we descended towards Sail the clag cleared off again.
The summit of Causey Pike came almost as a surprise - a very abrupt terminus to a magnificent and delightful ridge. We congratulated ourselves on reaching the final summit of our itinerary.
The top part of Causey Pike - the 'thimble' - is a dome of exposed rock, the descent of which kept us from switching into autopilot. It's a steep little hill, this, and both of us started feeling a few aches and pains going down it. Karl had stubbed his toe on Red Pike and it was now hurting from the forward pressure. And my knees were aching a bit. It's usually my right knee that gives me bother, so I was quite pleased that my left knee was, if anything, the worse of the two. It was a relief to reach the road for both of us!
All that remained was the short walk on tarmac through Stair and up to Skelgill for the car park. Karl asked me how much money would induce me to do the whole thing again straight off. I said that several million might tempt me to try, but that realistically I didn't think I would get very far.
It was a question that made me think. Unlike most things in today's increasingly nasty and disturbing world, hillwalking isn't pursued for money, but purely for the love of it. That may seem daft to some, but for those of us who have fallen under the spell of this apparently absurd activity, it's a secret garden. While money has no intrinsic value, what we learn from hillwalking is that the journey is an end in itself. In the words of the great John Ruskin, 'There is no wealth but life'.
The first weekend in April was mutually suitable and the forecast looked ok. Although Sunday looked decidedly better than Saturday, the prospect of getting up early for work on Monday morning meant that Saturday was the preferable option despite the poorer forecast.
Thus it was we arrived at the Hawse End car park at 5.00 on Saturday morning, in the dark and the rain. Psychologically, it wasn't a good way to begin. But having made the effort to get there so early we weren't going to abandon our plan before we'd even started, so we got kitted up, complete with waterproofs and head torches, and set off walking at 5.15am.
We appreciated the clear and well engineered path up Cat Bells, as it was easy to follow in the light of our head torches. But it wasn't long before we entered the clag. Torch light shining into a swirling mass of water vapour in the otherwise pitch darkness doesn't give much clarity of vision, to put it mildly. So we were made more conscious than usual of those points at which the nicely made path gives way to vaguely eroded free-for-alls. 'Where's the path gone?' was a pretty bizarre phrase to be repeatedly coming out with, considering the particular path in question!
Somehow we managed to find our way to the top of Cat Bells without any major diversions, and were even treated to a brief clearing of the clag below the summit, revealing the dark outlines of the surrounding fells and the lights of Keswick and nearby villages. Disappointingly it came down again when we reached the top.
A grey and reluctant dawn became just about discernible at around 6.15am, or thereabouts, as we made our way up Maiden Moor, and we were able to switch off our head torches. I took a photo of the summit cairn, but the light was so dim that it's not worth showing. Even on the summit of High Spy the light was still dismally grey and dull, but just about good enough for a photo.
- Karl at the summit of High Spy
As we descended from High Spy the clag began to disperse and we were treated to some views of the crags of Dale Head. The daylight was a real boost to the spirits, despite the light rain which persisted all the way down to the tarn and up the 900 ft. plod to Dale Head.
The point where the path reaches the shoulder on Dale Head's NE ridge is superb, giving grand views down the impressive Newlands Valley.
- View down Newlands Valley from NE ridge of Dale Head
The view from the summit of Dale Head is even grander, but unfortunately was obscured by clag.
- Summit cairn of Dale Head
We didn't linger at the cairn but headed off briskly down to Honister Hause, which we reached at just after 8.30am. We were amazed to find the shop and café there open. I bought a mug of coffee to save what I had in my flask for later. Although we sat outside we were sheltered from the rain under a canopy, which was nice.
It was still raining when we set off up to the Drum Hause, but at least the cloud base seemed to be rising and the clag was breaking up nicely.
- Pillar, Haystacks, High Crag and High Stile from Dubs Quarry
At Dubs Quarry the rain actually seemed to have stopped, so we removed our waterproofs. This proved unwise as we were forced to put them back on again a bit further on, thus wasting valuable time. But we were in good spirits as this section of the walk was really enjoyable and the views were getting better all the time.
It was difficult to walk as fast as we would have liked due to the wet and slippery rocks underfoot - especially on Haystacks!
- Great Gable above the Head of Ennerdale from Haystacks
- Pillar from Haystacks
- High Crag from Haystacks
From Scarth Gap we girded our loins for the long plod up High Crag - a section that Karl had not been looking forward to. Head down, steady pace, and it's surprising how quickly you find yourself at the top of Mount Purgatory
.- Summit of High Crag looking to Great Gable
And from here the wonderful length of the High Stile ridge lies ahead, one of the classic ridge traverses of the Lakes
The ground is quite rough and rocky in places though, and being wet it required a little care to avoid a slip or twisted ankle.
- High Stile from High Crag, Ennerdale Water on left
- At the edge of Birkness Combe, looking over top of Eagle Crag to Robinson
Along the ridge the views were fantastic on either side, but as we neared the summit of High Stile the clag came down again, so no summit views unfortunately
. All the same we stopped briefly for refreshments. It was 12.25pm.- Summit of High Stile
So then it was on to Red Pike, which again was in the clag
- Summit of Red Pike
From Red Pike the obvious way down to Buttermere is via the steep and badly eroded path to Bleaberry Tarn and then down the stone-paved path through the woods. This was the way I'd gone previously, but this time we decided to go down via Scale Force. Karl liked this idea chiefly because he didn't like the paved path through the woods on the other route, and I liked it because it would make a change. Only thing was, it had been so long since either of us had been that way, up or down, that we'd forgotten how rough and stony the path was, and how 'interesting' it was along the side of Scale Beck above the Force
We concluded that we'd probably have been better off going the other way
. But at least the sun was now shining! - Descending towards Scale Beck, looking towards Mellbreak and the Loweswater fells
- Crummock Water and the Grasmoor fells from below Scale Force
After much squelching along the rough and boggy path we crossed a fine, stone bridge and reached Buttermere village. We went into the cafe for a pot of tea and a brie and cranberry pannini, very nice too. We thought that was wiser than hitting the pub
.It was 3.23pm when we set off for the last leg of our walk. Left up the road for the path to Whiteless Pike; only six more Wainwrights to go!
- High Stile and Red Pike above Buttermere
- Rannerdale Knots, Crummock Water and Lowes Water from the path up Whiteless Pike
It seemed a fair old slog up Whiteless, but again head down and a good, steady pace did the trick. At least the ground is smoother underfoot on these fells due to the friable Skiddaw slate that weathers into smaller fragments.
- Wandope from Whiteless Pike
The walking from here on seemed a lot easier than on the previous section.
- Crummock Water and Lowes Water from Whiteless Pike
Disappointingly the clag came down again on Wandope and Eel Crag, but we still caught glimpses of the impressively steep slopes of scree, heather and shattered rock on our right. On reaching the broken trig point on Eel Crag we felt that it was now downhill all the way. Well, almost. These were great fells to finish on and the ridge from here to Causey Pike is one of the finest in the Lakes. And as we descended towards Sail the clag cleared off again.
- Displaced trig point on summit of Eel Crag
- Looking back to Eel Crag from summit of Sail
The summit of Causey Pike came almost as a surprise - a very abrupt terminus to a magnificent and delightful ridge. We congratulated ourselves on reaching the final summit of our itinerary.
- Looking back along the ridge from Causey Pike
- Derwent Water from Causey Pike
- Ard Crags and Rigg Beck from Causey Pike
- Catbells and Helvellyn range from Causey Pike
The top part of Causey Pike - the 'thimble' - is a dome of exposed rock, the descent of which kept us from switching into autopilot. It's a steep little hill, this, and both of us started feeling a few aches and pains going down it. Karl had stubbed his toe on Red Pike and it was now hurting from the forward pressure. And my knees were aching a bit. It's usually my right knee that gives me bother, so I was quite pleased that my left knee was, if anything, the worse of the two. It was a relief to reach the road for both of us!
All that remained was the short walk on tarmac through Stair and up to Skelgill for the car park. Karl asked me how much money would induce me to do the whole thing again straight off. I said that several million might tempt me to try, but that realistically I didn't think I would get very far.
It was a question that made me think. Unlike most things in today's increasingly nasty and disturbing world, hillwalking isn't pursued for money, but purely for the love of it. That may seem daft to some, but for those of us who have fallen under the spell of this apparently absurd activity, it's a secret garden. While money has no intrinsic value, what we learn from hillwalking is that the journey is an end in itself. In the words of the great John Ruskin, 'There is no wealth but life'.
Three fine ridges and despite the poor visibility some decent record shots of your epic trek 
