Category: Book Two The Far Eastern Fells

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Beda Fell and Angletarn Pikes from Patterdale

Winter has arrived in Lakeland. Which is a day early for the Meteorological calendar and three weeks early if you’re waiting for the Astronomical calendar. But the evidence of one’s own eyes doesn’t deceive and the hard frost, frozen water and bone chilling temperature is telling me it’s time wrap up warm for the next three months. Today’s walk has an end of term feel to it as I’ll complete my journey through Wainwright’s Book Two, The Far Eastern Fells with a walk up Beda Fell and Angletarn Pikes from Patterdale.

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A walk up Troutbeck Tongue

Troutbeck Tongue is a small mound of a hill, separated from the higher hills surrounding it by two valleys. The term often used for these hills is the slightly dismissive term ‘outlier’. Those seeking to walk the Wainwright’s in the shortest time or looking to fit multiple peaks into one day do not like outliers, they are an inconvenience with lots of effort for little reward. I don’t mind them so much, they provide short days and time for relaxed, contemplative walking. A chance to decompress. The enjoyment is in the journey not the target.

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Cloudbusting in Kentmere

It’s been a while. My summer has been spent elsewhere but the seasons wait for no one and in my absence autumn has arrived. Golden yellow leaves, having enjoyed a brief summer of life are falling to become mulch and then food for leaves waiting to be born. In the cycle of the seasons the land is going to sleep, preparing and protecting itself for the cold dark months ahead. There has been rain, lots of it and the ground is sodden underfoot. Moisture hangs in the air and I can smell the scent of Lakeland on the fresh morning breeze, moss and manure, wood smoke rising from the cottages, comforting and familiar. It’s good to be back.

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A walk up Place Fell from Patterdale

Place Fell is one of Lakeland’s iconic and best known mountains. The walk up it from Patterdale, one of it’s prettiest villages is a Goldilocks walk, not too long, nor too steep, but just right. It attracts children and grandmothers alike, neither of whom would be inclined to tackle other tops and the view from its small but perfectly formed summit is also one of Lakeland’s finest.

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A walk up Rest Dodd and The Nab from Brotherswater

It’s a dank grey day in Lakeland with a cloud filled leaden sky hovering worryingly over it. A day where the monochrome clouds threaten to descend to earth and smother the tops with their blanket of invisibility. Having a self imposed rule that I will see the view from each summit as opposed to only the hand in front of my face has inevitably meant some return visits on my journey through the Wainwright’s. This is because the weather does what it wants and does not seem the slightest bit interested in my needs, wants or desires. If we were in a relationship it would not be a happy one. It’s all good exercise though and as the saying goes, a cloudy day on the hill is still better than a good day in the office, not that I have had occasion to visit the office recently. And so it is in this frame of mind that I set off, more in hope than anticipation towards Rest Dodd and The Nab.

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Stony Cove Pike and Hartsop Dodd from Brotherswater

Putting my boots on in the car park of the Brotherswater Inn, my eyes are drawn upwards to the long straight grassy ridge that leads to the summit of Caudale Moor. Stretching high into the blue sky it gives the mountain the look of a giant green Lakeland pyramid and I wonder what ancient king is buried at its centre. This ridge is my chosen route to the heights today where I’ll be visiting Caudale Moor, (which has a somewhat split personality as it is also known as Stony Cove Pike and John Bell’s Banner) and Hartsop Dodd. The ridge looks pretty steep from the car park but I console myself with the words of Wainwright, who says “Of the many approaches to the summit, this is by far the best”.

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Five Wainwrights from St Peter’s Church Martindale

The morning sunlight is casting soft shadows over the quiet valley of Martindale as I park up at St Peter’s Church. Time passes slowly in this peaceful remote valley on the edge of Lakeland. St Peter’s sister church, St Martin’s, a little further down the valley dates from the fifteenth century and has a thirteen hundred year old yew tree in its graveyard. Not far away there is a Queen Victoria post box dating from 1851. Five Wainwright’s is a lot for me but they fitted together nicely when I was planning the route. So ahead of me, on what is turning out to be a fine spring day are Steel Knotts, Wether Hill, Loadpot Hill, Arthur’s Pike and Bonscale Pike.

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Brock Crags from Hartsop Village

From the car park at Hartsop the lush green tree peppered slopes of Brock Crags, my objective for the day rise up blocking any view to the north east. The view up the valley compensates with Gray Crag and Hartsop Dodd, their tops clear of cloud today, looking down from their lofty heights, silent observers of daily life in this small attractive lakeland village. The parking is free but donations are encouraged to support the local primary school. I went to school in a city and as I get my boots on I wonder what it must be like to go to a small rural school, surrounded by sheep and mountains in one of the most beautiful National Parks in the country.

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A walk up Gray Crag and Thornthwaite Crag

It’s a promising morning, the sun is shining and blue sky is all around. As I set off from Sykeside campsite I notice a band of cloud lingering over the higher fells. I figure however that the sun will have long burned this off by the time I get up there. My intention today is to walk up Gray Crag, Thornthwaite Crag, Stony Cove Pike and finish on Hartsop Dodd.

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A short walk up Hallin Fell

My wife and I have very different interests and hobbies. She is a creative, an artist. Part of an online Art Journaling community that collaborate and create elaborate pieces of Scrapbooking art. I on the other hand prefer the silence, solitude and simplicity of putting one foot in front of the other in the great outdoors, the sky above me and the earth below me. Occasionally, we venture into the other’s territory. I will go to the ballet where I will understand nothing of the subtle storytelling conveyed without words through the medium of dance. And she will join me in a walk up a hill, so long as it is not too big a hill, or too steep a climb.

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