The weather on the Saturday was not forecast to be particularly great and with much snow and ice still on the high ground I figured a modest re-introduction was in order. In the end I plumped for a walk taking in the smaller fells around the Jaws of Borrowdale as it had been a good few years since I was around this way.
I parked up at Rosthwaite, donning water proofs immediately, and set off with Hughie in tow along the stony section of the Cumbrian way to Stonethwaite. It wasn't actually raining at this point and given my layering up I was quickly over heating especially on the steep path through the wonderful woodland up to Dock Tarn. Five months of limited walking and nothing of Lakeland steepness hit home quickly and I was soon huffing and puffing badly, shedding layers as I ascended.





It was with considerable relief that I made it out of the top of the woods, which marks the end of the steepest section of the day, to be greated by a flurry of snowflakes. It was to keep precipitating for the next few hours without ever getting truly wet, given the brisk wind this was certainly for the best. With the hard work behind us the going was much easier as the path wound it's way to Dock Tarn, a lonely wild feeling place of notable atmosphere.
It was somewhere around here that I lost my water bottle at the second attempt having already dropped it on the steep woodland path necessitating dropping back down someway much to my chagrin.




Beck and wall by Anthony Young, on Flickr

Over the Stile by Anthony Young, on Flickr


The way to the summit of Great Crag from here is far from clear so I continued along the path to Watendlath until a likely looking trod headed off into the hummocky craggy ground that makes up the upper sections of the fell. It was once I attained the summit and reached for a drink that I realized my water bottle had gone, as I hadn't had a drink for some way the potential ground to be recovered was considerable so I made the decision to go on without it, relying upon my flask of coffee for refreshment. I made my way over to the North summit, which is of equal height before making a return to the main path as the snow and wind picked up.


The path down to Watendlath is simple enough but was very wet in places as disappointingly the freezing level was seemingly way above my head. I had lunch over looking Watendlath Tarn, often thronged but on this winters day fairly deserted.It was sad to see the lovely old bridge in a poor state, hopefully it can be restored fully once the weather gets warmer. I started my soggy trudge up Grange fell as the rain continued to fall but with the odd patch of brightness giving hope of better conditions ahead. Upon reaching the Wall at the delightfully named Joppletyhow Moss I made a navigational error. Despite my memory insisting I had to cross the wall further down I ignored it and crossed the stile before realizing after a few hundred yards my memory was right and I was on the wrong side of the high stone wall. A scrambled crossing later, making use of a convenient crag and I was soon on the rocky top of Grange Fell. It was still raining but with brighter patches around I continued on to the Birkett of King's How, once again through some very saturated countryside.




I had seen very few people to this point other than a few around Watendlath, but that was to change as a mini bus full reached the summit of King's how at the same time as I did, a few quick photos and I headed down towards Grange. I was far from sure about this section of the route but it was very easy to follow being it was a stone pitched path. The problem was it is not a very good stone pitched path and given it was soaked and covered with very slippy decaying leaves meant that my descent was labored and required a great deal of concentration.


Happily back at valley level it had stopped raining but with coffee all gone I was starting to feel a bit thirsty. I had not brought cash with me on the walk but fortunately the public toilets in Grange enabled me to refill my flask with water for the last climb of the day up the most diminutive of Wainwrights, Castle Crag.
I must admit I was feeling even this modest climb but I pushed on up Broadslack Gill before the path up though the tinkling slate led me to the summit. I sat and enjoyed the views of a clearing Skiddaw, noticing a nearby group who had the champagne out, no doubt celebrating a completion, I left them to it and made my way back to Rosthwaite.





My BnB at Troutbeck, just off the A66 was lovely, enhanced all the more by a great pot of tea being made by the landlady upon my arrival. I enjoyed a truly magnificent repast at the Troutbeck Inn before I relaxed with a few beers to decide on what to do tomorrow.