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It was a trip that nearly didn't happen.
After a (somewhat clouded) trip in May, and a fabulous summer with friends in the Highlands, I was keen to get in one more escape from London before the end of the year. But without winter skills (hopefully next year), there were precious few "safe" weekends left. An October plan fell through in favour of viisitng my best friends, who are expecting a baby in December, leaving me with only one completely clear weekend in early November (the peril of also being a singer - many weekends lost to concerts and services - indeed, even this one was nearly claimed by a choral opportunity).
Still, I figured it was worth a go, once I got over the realisation that most YHAs close for winter, and found out I could cancel a bunk at Grasmere only a few days out if the weather looked dire. I booked my bunk, and started making plans to fill in some of the gaps around the more southerly Eastern and Central fells.
A few days out, I realised just how pricey trains would be now I am no longer elligible for a railcard (I prefer flexibility over specific trains for this sort of trip). But when YHAs are so affordable, one can offset the other. And the forecast looked mixed... but mixed was better than nothing.
I packed on Thursday (as I was going to a gig on Friday evening, before setting off early on Saturday), and decided to borrow my wife's walking poles, as I didnt anticipate major scrambles on this trip. The joy of staying in YHAs, of course, is that I could still fit all I needed in my 25 litre summer pack. Perhaps I enjoyed the gig slightly less that I would have had I not been anticipating the early start and days ahead. But we live and learn.
Saturday 9th - Patterdale to GrasmereBefore I knew it, it was 6.30am and I was leaving the house for Euston and the train to Penrith. I finalised my route cards on the train, noting some bypass options or early retreats, in case I was losing light and sharing them with my wife just in case, grabbed lunch in the Penrith Booths, and caught the bus into Patterdale, setting out into grey mizzle around 11.30.
Having previously come to Fairfield via Red Screeds, Little Hart and Dov Crags, the plan was a more northerly route via Arnison Crag, Birks and St Sunday. After all, one has to turn those red dots blue! From half way up Arnison Crag, the view to Ullswater was beautiful, but soon after I was walking in cloud. Thankfully, there was a moderately clear path from Arnison to Birks (not shown either by Wainwright or by my Harvey's 1:40,000). Still, I was glad of the walking poles, which were prooving their worth on both boggy ground and slick rock.
- Half way up Arnison Crag, looking to Ullswater. Sadly such views did not last.
The going from Birks to St Sunday was straightforward, and I had been told that it was worth repeating Fairfield rather than bypassing it and heading straight for Grisedale Tarn, for the joy of climbing Coffa Pike from St Sunday. From the twenty meters or so ahead I could see at any one time, it was obvious that this would be the case in clear weather. In the cloud, perhaps less so, but moving over the terrain was fun, and not too challenging despite the lack of visability. Certainly one to revist.
I topped out on Fairfield, my highest point for the weekend. It was my second time on the summit, and the second time without a view, so I paused to eat, but did not linger long, instead descenting westwards to Grisedale Hause. Here, at least, I was below the cloud, and enjoyed a more atmospheric view over the Grisedale Tarn, before cutting up hill towards Seat Sandall. Here again was a clear path, following the wall, not marked by Waitwright 70 years ago. (Perhaps I ought to get the revised versions, but they are less afforably available via Abe Books!).
- Grisedale Tarn below the clouds
The descent from Seat Sandall was less obvious. Wainwright recommended following the Shoulder of the fell, and but with no complete path marked on my Harveys, the need to re-enter civilisation, and the possibility of failing light I instead opted to retreat to Grisedale Hause, and the clear path alongside Tongue Gill. As I followed the gill, twighlight fell, but it was not until I reached the road that my headlamp proved necessary, and I enjoye a peaceful walk back to my YHA. The introvert in me appreciated not seeing many other people - it was just a shame I didnt see much else either!
The evening should have proven uneventful. I wandered into the village to enjoy a quiet meal and a well-earned beer, and then returned to the Hostel to unwind for the next day. But as I was relaxing, the fire alarm went off. I typically walk around in just a (clean) pair of socks when hosteling (to save packing a second pair of shoes), and my boots were in the drying room, on the wrong side of the hostel. I, meanwhile, had also gone down to basically just pyjamas, so I didn't much enjoy walking down to the fire assembly point. Thankfully, the cause of the problem (an overly steamy shower) was swiftly identified and we were allowed back inside. But it did mean I had to reconsider my sock distribution. I think next time, some sandals might be worthwhile.
Sunday 10th - Into the Central FellsAs with Saturday, Sunday's plan was a more northerly compliement to a previous route. Where previously I had explored the Langdale Pikes and High Raise via Silver How abd Blea Rigg, my plan was a horseshoe of Steel Fell, Calf Crag, Gibson Knott and Helm Crag, with a detour to Ulscarf. I was also considering Tarn Crag, though it looked as though paths to that option might be limited.
My early going was good, though once again clouded, and the walking poles contiued to proove my worth. Still I was starting to wonder whether a trip so late in the year was really worthwhile. Sure I was walking, and had the peace and calm I sought, but the grey going was rather dull. From Steel Fell, I swung South West, checking the map every so often, to ensure I was still heading in the right direction (having had some challenging route finding).
- An early taste of what was to come
I paused for a minutes silence at 11am, my thoughts joining those who would be stood at the summit of Great Gable, before continuing on, and meeting the coast to coast path. It was also at that moment that I met another walker, who I had bumped into a few times at the YHA. He had come up the southern spur from Helm Crag and was cotinuing to Ulscarf. He was also following a GPS which would have sent him down the wrong fork of the path, so I helped set him in the right direction. But prefering to walk alone, I took this as my sign to follow what looked like a reasonable path on to Tarn Crag.
My decision proved a good one, as the outbound path was mostly well trodden, and I enjoyed some atmospheric moments as the cloud retreated and returned. Standing atop Tarn Crag, it seemed to be worth attempting a direct ascent some day (in better weather), but noting a party below me, I swiftly retraced my steps.
Somehow, the path which had been clear throughout the outbound journey all but vanished on my return. Instead, I found myself picking my way through boulders and bog (once again grateful for the poles). Eventually, with a little help from my phone GPS, I found my way back to the coast to coast path - though not on the orientation I had expected. Perhaps I was led astray by the Fell's Spirits. I will aim to do my next summer trip entirely based on the map I think, to strengthen my nav skills.
Having ascended to the saddle between High Raise and Ulscarf, I paused for lunch, before pressing on. I arrived a Ullscarf Summit shortly before a couple who have come to it from the North. For both of us, it would be the high point of the day (at least in terms of elivation), and we exchanged some brief pleasantries before I returned South West.
It was nearing early afternoon as I plodded down the coast to coast path, towards the fork for Calf Crag, and the weather was starting to improve. I could see some way ahead, but low cloud/fog was caught lower down. Suddenly, my route swung into view - bulging summits, surrounded by cloud. In that moment, all my doubts about the trip disolved. This is what I was here for.
- The weather starts to clear
- The money shot
Following the spur along Calf Crag and Gibson Knot, I was overjoyed. Stunning views, an easy path, peace and quiet. What was not to like? Soon, however, my final challenge of the day came into view - Helm Crag. The Lion and the Lamb rocks - the true summit - are really a highball boulder, and as I approached, I soon understood why AW had never topped out. I wandered around the base and considered some options, before finding what looked like a plausible route. I'm a keen, but not particuarly good, boulderer, and after a couple of attempts on damp rock I was close to giving up - it hardly seemed worth trisking serious injury when travelling solo.
Just at that moment, a fell runner came into view. He had a dog with him, and was only very lightly equipped, so I guess he was local, and was half expecting him to tell me to come down and not take a silly risk. But no, his approach was quite the opposite. He gave me some beta, and (without my asking), stuck around while I made another attempt. I dont know what made the difference - whether the beta, or the knowing there was someone around in case of disaster, but the route seemed much easier now, and I was soon atop this one summit, relishing my success. As I descended, my inadvertant guide headed on his way, and I followed at a distance - nobody likes to have someone on their tail.
- Not pictured - the Lion and the Lamb (upon which I proudly sat)
Once again, the sun dusk was falling as I got back to paved roads. But with clear skys and more than half a moon, I had no need of my headlamp to get back to the YHA, and I let November win me over without further reservation.
Monday 11th - Most of the Fairfield HorsehoeMy last day of the trip aimed to be only a long morning, so I could catch an early afternoon train home. So after a light breakfast, I got an earlier start, with the aim of finishing completing (almost all of) the Fairfield Horeshoe. When I say early, I mean early for a leisurely hike, not an alpine start. That's something to consider another time, but on this occasion, I was pleased to be under way around eight, in what promised to be a beautiful day.
- Dawn light
- After the hard ascent - it was worth the work
On a previous trip I had popped up and back down Nab Scar to fill time while waiting for another train. So rather than starting the horshoe from Rydal, I followed the path from Michael's Fold along Greenhead Gill, with the intention of following a marked path directly up the eastern slope of Heron Pike. But here, again, I struggled with route finding - there was no sign of a path through the ferns that covered the slopes, despite the claims of my 1:40,000, AW and the app on my phone (even assisted by GPS). A few times I thought I had found the actual path, only for it to vanish as swiftly as it had appeared, and eventually I resorted to following gill, relying on the poles and (more than once), my hands as far as Butter Crag. Not the most auspicious start to the day.
Thanksfully, the ground sooneased off, and I was able to amble easily towards Heron Pike, enjoying the view west towards the previous day's ground, and south Windermere. Pushing on towards Great Rigg, I began to admire the summit of Fairfield in the distance, and the clear horseshoe, beckoning me onwards.
- The summit of Fairfield
In what felt like only a little time, I was atop Fairfield, and this time with clear skies in every direction. Third time's the charm! Leaving my pack at one of the walls on the summit, I wandered for ten or twenty minutes, craning my kneck to get a view of the route I had climbed two days earlier, and the craggy north-east butress, and admiring the cloud-flecked summit of Helvellyn to the north. Still, with a train to catch, I was soon under way once again, to Hart Crag (where I almost missed the true summit amid the rocks and stones) and Dove Crag (both repeats from a prior trip).
- Looking towards Helvellyn, still capturing the clouds
- St Sunday Ridge - Saturday's route, and Monday's view.
As I continued downhill towards High Pike and Low Pike in glorious sun, I was ever more glad of the walking poles - bogs regularly cut across the whole of the path, while the steeper, slate paths were regularly slick. Besides, on the mountain, who is there to judge you? I continued downhill, enjoying a sandwich atop the former and making the most of scramble down from the latter. Before I knew it Ambleside was coming into view, but not before one final treat, as the path took me past a herd of beautiful, and placid Highland cows (yes, I did do the "hey bear" thing, to let them know of my approach)
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- Descending into Ambleside
- Very fine cows on both sides
And then I was in Ambleside, pausing for lunch and wishing I had a gear shopping list (as everywhere seemed to have a sale on). I hopped on a bus to Windemere, and then caught the train, and I was back in London by 6.30pm, just 60 hours after I left. Proof that you really can cram a lot into a short trip.
So I say (as much to myself as to any readers), if you are on the fence, if the dates aren't quite right, if the weather looks iffy or the trains are more than you'd ideally like. Go for it. The mountains will not disappoint you, but missing them will.
