Four Wainwright’s from Thirlmere Dam

Commitments and the never ending rain which makes planning clear summit days difficult have kept me away from the hills so far this year. But the weather seems to have finally turned and it looks like spring has arrived, soon to be merged straight into summer. As I park up at High Bridge End the sun is shining, lambs are gamboling in the fields, new life abounds and a chirpy chaffinch heralds my arrival back to Lakeland. The air is fresh and clean and the mountains green and lush. I’ve missed the reassuring presence of these hills and it’s good to be back.

It took four years for the Manchester Corporation to build the dam at Thirlmere starting in 1890. The dam raised the water level of the lake by sixty feet turning Thirlmere into a reservoir to supply the ever growing population of Manchester with their water supply. At the same time a 92 mile aqua-duct was being built to get the water to Manchester by the power of gravity alone. As someone who can just about put a shelf up that might be level I can only marvel at these amazing feats of engineering. And the dam still looks pretty good today despite being 130 years old. For those interested in such things I found the below short video very informative.

It’s a calm and sunny morning and as I cross the dam there’s barely a ripple on the blue waters of the lake. Raven Crag, my first hill of the day looms large over Thirlmere, it’s vertical cliff face looking formidable. Fortunately the path doesn’t head straight up the rock but climbs up forested slopes to the north.

It’s a steep and loose path up through the trees, crossing a couple of forest roads, the gap in the trees providing some nice natural framing and a view of the crag close up. The gradient eases as Castle Crag is approached and the path to Raven Crag diverts off from the forest track.

It’s still a fair climb up to the summit but the incline is not as steep and some serious carpentry has taken place with wooden steps and boardwalks in place to ease the passage along what I imagine would have been a boggy trudge.

The boardwalk stretches all the way to the top of the crag which has a wooden decked viewing platform perched right at the top. I’ve not seen anything like this on any other Lakeland summit and I suspect it may be unique.

The views are good for what is a relatively modest height and the gorgeous weather helps. Thirlmere stretches southwards, flat calm, deep blue and glistening in the morning sunshine. To the north there are grand views of Skiddaw and Blencathra, the top of Blencathra with a light dusting of frost on it, a reminder that this winter has a long tail that has still not fully vanished.

Retracing my steps back to the forest road I turn left and head south along the track. After twenty minutes I leave the track at a gate and head up the open fellside. A thin but discernible track leads me all the way up through the heather and bracken to the small double summit plateau of High Seat, the Trig Point being on the higher of the two summits.

The weather is just about perfect walking weather, blue skies with little wind and just the right amount of cloud cover to keep the temperature down. The summit of High Seat provides an excellent 360° panorama of most of the high hills of Lakeland. The tops are clear and with no heat haze the clarity of the air is superb.

I sit on a patch of soft heather, eat lunch and take in the views. This is my first walk in Lakeland this year and I know I’ve been away for too long. The restorative power and benefits of walking are well documented. Whether on the beach with waves crashing around and sea spray on your face or silently, through ancient moss covered forest, walking provides us with an opportunity to step outside of our normal routine for a while. It gives us time to relax, reflect, be present in that moment and re-centre ourselves, silencing the mind chatter. Sitting gazing at the expanse of blue sky, cotton wool clouds and rolling Lakeland hills I already feel myself decompressing.

Wainwright had convinced me this walk was going to be a bog fest, so much so that I was wearing my winter boots in anticipation of getting a soaking. The walk up however has been remarkably dry considering the rain we have had and as I leave High Seat behind I am surprised to see a paved highway across what was a notoriously boggy section called The Pewits.

The slabs end before the summit of High Tove but they have made what was once no doubt a laborious bog hop into a pleasurable dry walk across the moorland. Hats off to the carpenters of Raven Crag and the stone layers of The Pewits.

Although I generally like (and mostly get) summits to myself, the hills are for everyone and today being Saturday was always going to be a big ask. I arrive at High Tove at the same time as a group of teenage girls on a Duke of Edinburgh expedition, silver as it turns out. They have come up from Watendlath, are wearing backpacks the size of which a Nepali porter would be proud of and have Ordnance Survey maps flapping in huge plastic cases and compasses dangling around their necks. They are also talking, non stop, all at once, without breathing.

I wait to see if they march on, but when a couple announce that they are ready to eat their ‘wraps’ they sit down as one around the summit cairn. I’m reminded of an evening years ago sitting on the balcony at Routeburn Falls Hut listening to the chatter and gossip of a similar aged group of young Kiwi girls (Here if interested). Full of joy and the innocence of youth, careers to pursue, bills to pay and the cares of life are far in the future for these girls. All they have to do is not lose their way, not on this mountain, not in life.

Leaving the girls to enjoy lunch I head off toward my final summit, Armboth Fell. There’s no paved highway here and the track is the boggiest I have encountered today although it’s top of the boot bog rather than top of the knee bog. The worst bog I walked in was on Nine Standards Rigg when my daughter nearly disappeared, sinking up to the top of her thighs and I had to pull her out (Here if interested)

Armboth Fell has a slight Pride Rock feel to it. A rocky promontory from which the last two hills climbed can be seen, slightly higher mounds on an otherwise flat moorland. Leaving Armboth Fell the path enters a small ravine with some steep, occasional rocky downhill walking among the trees of Fisher Crag plantation and following the line of Fisher Gill.

Halfway down I catch up with three women I met at the start of the day chatting to one of the D of E leaders who was making her way up to check on the group. I walk down with the ladies and ask if any would like to be fourteen again, the consensus seemed to be that once was enough.

Just before the road a balanced rock mentioned by Wainwright in his chapter on Armboth Fell is passed and not long after that the car park at Armboth is reached. From here I follow the road back to the dam, views of the reservoir and Raven Crag providing some interest along the way.

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