The last time I was in Eskdale it was freezing. Today it’s a balmy 25°c as I take advantage of a warm dry spell to complete the southern fells within reach from this beautifully remote and most quiet of lakeland valleys. I’m staying at Eskdale NT Campsite and although my objectives today, Whin Rigg and Illgill Head are a bit of a trek from here there’s lots of historical interest on the way which makes this a walk through history as well as a walk in the mountains.
Leaving the campsite I cross a small field and pass through a stile which even a thin man would struggle with to arrive at the hamlet of Boot and its 16th century water mill. For centuries Eskdale Mill ground the corn that fed the community and only stopped work as a commercial enterprise in the 1930’s.
Passing the mill a gate leads out onto the open fell and I climb up the fell side to reach a group of old peat huts. These peat huts, hundreds of years old, dot the slopes of Eskdale and were used to dry peat, dug out of the moor by hand which in turn dried the corn in the mill and heated the homes of old Eskdale. Thus food, warmth and shelter, the necessities of life were all provided locally by a self sustainable community of people.
This self sufficiency can only be admired and envied in our modern world of interdependence where events occurring on the other side of the globe, and which we have no control over can have an almost instant effect on our lives with increased prices, lack of supply and insecurity.
Standing at the huts I hear in the distance the whistle of the steam trains on the Ravenglass to Eskdale railway, ‘La’al Ratty’ as it’s known. It’s not a sound I’ve ever heard in the Lakes before and it sounds slightly alien hearing it in the heart of a mountain wilderness.
The path rises slightly and levels out into a wide grassy moorland plateau known as White Moss. It’s more reminiscent of the pennines than the lake district and situated near its high point are a number of bronze age stone circles collectively known as Burnmoor Stone Circles.
There are five of them, roughly 4,000 years old and I stand in the middle of one known as White Moss NE and ponder some imponderables, who built them, why here, and what were they used for. There are of course no answers to these questions and I leave the silent sentinels in peace to watch over the moor for another four thousand years.
Having walked past the 16th and 19th centuries and stood in pre history I note a small personal event in my own brief journey through time and space. It was on this very day forty six years ago that I left home at the tender age of seventeen to spend a number of years in HM Forces serving Queen and Country. This was during the Cold War and I had a friend in West Berlin who told me the life expectancy of troops there was about one minute should the nuclear button have been pressed. The Cold War and indeed the USSR have passed into history. Unfortunately war and the threat of war remains.
From the stones the path continues across White Moss and drops gently down to join a farm track which winds its way pleasantly along the secluded valley of Mitredale passing bright yellow gorse and old oaks looking splendid in the late spring sunshine.
Looking across the valley the slopes of my first hill of the day, Whin Rigg rise up and I notice a path, unmarked on the map but quite clear on the ground heading straight up the fell side next to a wall enclosing Great Bank Coppice. It looks brutal but would cut some distance off my planned route which was heading further down the valley so I decide to take it on.
Crossing the River Mitre at a small gated footbridge I walk back up the valley for a short while before switching into low gear and grinding up the steep slope. With no zig zags there is little respite from the incline but I think of the kilometres I have saved and eventually reach the ridge line just beyond Irton Fell.
I take a breather and then carry on up the gentler gradient towards the summit of Whin Rigg. On the way the Isle of Man comes into view, which is a treat as it’s often hidden by low cloud or sun shimmer. The sand dunes of Drigg point nature reserve, the largest sand dunes in Cumbria can be seen and less aesthetically pleasing, Sellafield nuclear power station.
All who walk or drive along the road next to Wast Water cannot fail to be impressed by Wastwater Screes, the vertiginous dark and foreboding crags that form the western face of Whin Rigg and Illgill Head and plunge dramatically down into the lake from the summit ridge.
Standing on top of Whin Rigg however there is no evidence of the dramatic scene only metres away from my feet. In fact Wast Water itself can’t even be seen from the summit. Thats not to say the view is disappointing. As well as the Isle of Man and the Cumbria coastline, the high mountains at the head of Wasdale, Yewbarrow, Kirk Fell and Great Gable have now come into view, although the highest, Scafell Pike is obscured by Scafell.
The way ahead is obvious and I follow the high level ridge to Illgill Head. About half way I catch a glimpse of Wast Water, a small sliver of blue far below.
Reaching the summit cairn, I have a quick check of the map and see the ground dropping away ahead of me. I’m pleased to have the summit to myself so grab a bite to eat and go about taking my usual summit pictures and video.
On leaving the top I continue north along the ridge but after about a hundred metres I’m thrown when the ground slowly rises. A more considered look at the map reveals my error. Illgill Head has two summits, about three hundred metres apart and in my haste I had mistaken the lower summit for the top.
So I confess the pictures and video you see hear are the 604 metre top and not the 609 metre top (and it’s plainly obvious on my route geolocated picture). But what’s fifteen feet between friends and I did visit the actual top. When I finish this blog I’m going to write out ‘Always Check The Map!’ one hundred times.
After visiting the ‘real’ top the path does indeed head down and I drop off the steep but grassed and easy eastern slopes of Illgill Head to join the old coffin route near Burnmoor Tarn. On the way there are superb views down to Wasdale Head and the big mountains that surround it. Wast Water itself even makes another appearance.
The coffin route, or corpse road is one of many in lakeland and were used in medieval times to carry the dead from their homes to their interment at the nearest church, in this case St Catherine’s in Boot. Before St Catherine’s was licenced for burials the dead from Wasdale had to be taken to St Bees, a journey of over twenty miles.
I have a final break at Burnmoor Tarn which provides a photogenic stop before heading down the old coffin route to Boot and a welcome cold beer in the Boot Inn.
To see a map of this walk with stats, geolocated pictures and a downloadable GPX of the route click ‘Learn more’ below