A Frosty Langdale Circuit





For some foolish reason, me and a bunch of my friends, from both walking and canoeing groups, like to spend New Year under canvas somewhere. Sometimes North Wales (flooded out twice out of 4 visits), sometimes the Lake District (only flooded out once, but wind issues most times!). We never learn, and almost never get the planned canoeing in due to high winds, and end up with some sort of epic flapping tarp city surrounding a smoking firepit. Good fun.

This year was the Lake District, with a plan for 9 of us over a 5 day period including New Year, but with various starting and finishing dates. We would based ourselves on the fine Great Langdale campsite, whose staff just smile and laugh every time they see us now in some torrential downpour or gale.

Checking the forecast just before setting off was enough to drop the group down to 7, with only Shaun from his family braving the weather, and he too going before NY. My old friends Nige, Helen and their adult son Chris would arrive for the second half. Friend Lynne (who also posts on Walk Highlands occasionally) would be on her own this year, with son Tobey studying (possibly!) and other half being sensible at home. Lynne is the other mad one who would join me for the duration. We also had a guest appearance from one of her friend’s, Ella, though she soon saw sense.

After an apocalyptic few days in the run up, when the National Trust campsite had to close due to high winds, forcing Lynne and I over to camp behind a wall in Buttermere on an entirely people-free campsite for one night, the whole of the Lake District flooded as we attempted to return to meet Nige and co for New Year. Fortunately with the valley road closed behind us, hardly anybody else turned up and we were offered pods for the night for a remarkably low additional price. So New Year was “indoors” in a pod. We declared this to be a practice NY night, for the weather the following evening sounded far better. As did the Thursday, 2nd Jan. In fact, it sounded really good.



Second New Year!

With both practice and delayed NY celebrations out of the way (for the second, we declared 10pm to be midnight so we could go to bed), we woke on the Thursday to a hard frost. Properly crunchy ground, and tarp, and pale blue skies above as the rising sun turned the hills orange.









Our plan was simple enough. Walk directly from the campsite to the bottom of Stickle Ghyll, then head left up to Loft Crag. We’d then see who wanted to do what, with the intention to visit most of the tops of the various pikes.
The climb up Mark Gate towards Loft Crag was straightforward enough, though the odd patch of ice made sure you kept your eyes on your feet. The sun was glorious, the views of the valley below, and the Dungeon Ghyll to our right, simply superb.






























Coming out onto the shoulder of the hill, Loft Crag and Harrison Stickle stood tall in front of us, as we hopped over a boggy bit, where ice crunched under our feet but didn’t often hold our weight. The views to Crinkle Crags and Bowfell were fantastic.





















In theory, this was meant to be a short day, and I for one had thought to just pick off a top and head down, as I was driving back to Surrey that night. That plan was already out of the window, as there was no way I was going down early when conditions were so perfect. We bypassed Loft Crag itself to head towards Pike of Stickle. This is known to us as Pike o' Pickle, as Lynne’s son Tobey couldn’t say it properly when he climbed it at the age of 3.












We lunched in the sun before the Pickle, brewing up tea and demolishing Lynne’s Christmas cake that seemed to contain enough alcohol to avoid when driving. Nige, Helen and Chris decided they’d head straight for Harrison Stickle before descending, as Hel hadn’t been up a hill for some time and didn’t want a long day. Lynne and I wanted to pick up the Pickle, before Harrison and then over to Pavey Ark, so here the group split.






Lunch views weren’t horrid


The shade round the back of the Pickle was a total fridge, and my hands hadn’t warmed back up after stopping. The views to Bowfell, the Scafell area and the Gables were astonishing though, as we gazed out from the ledge above tumbling cliffs.












The scramble to the top of Pike of Stickle-Pickle was fun, short and flippin’ freezing, with just a little care required in the frost. The top was fabulous, with views over the Langdale Pikes drawing our eyes, and the immense rock architecture of Gimmer Crag looking at its best. Further afield, the Coniston fells and the massif of Helvellyn and Fairfield were prominent to the NW & SE.



























Somehow time was slipping away. Well, I say somehow, but it was pretty obvious that we were spending far longer just looking at the view than was probably wise. We dropped down and then up the short steep slope to the foot of Harrison Stickle’s summit crags, before climbing up the top, finding it exposed to a chilling wind, but with yet more fabulous views.






Frozen “blooops”














Bowfell and Pike of Stickle-Pickle 😉


Great and Green Gables


Pickle of Stick 😉


The light was starting to fade, so we pressed on to Pavey Ark, losing a little time weaving around as the usual path was hidden in the frost and few others had been over this way.






Sheep Rock or Rock Sheep?





Helvellyn

We’d probably not made the best choice of descent here. On the map, a right of way descends a gentle-looking gully to the east of Pavey Ark, but the reality is a shattered steeper ravine that today was held together by the ice. This both helped and hindered, keeping the loose stuff to a minimum, but adding danger to foot placement. It was slow but steady, and we hoped the others hadn’t decided on this way after telling them of our plans earlier. I took no photos of the middle section.









Once down, and after crossing a stream, Lynne and I were soon at Stickle Tarn, after dodging ice sheets and some bogs. There were only a few others left on the hill now.









Ageing knees didn’t appreciate the big stone steps on the way down the Stickle Ghyll path, but at least it was quick and the ice had mostly melted on that side as I’d hoped. As we dropped down to the road, the sun had set, and ahead of us the moon and Venus hung in the darkening sky. A lovely end to a great day.


















There remained the small matter of a 6 hour drive home, but the memories of a fantastic day on the fells kept me going. One of the good days.