Gazing out at the glorious views of Lakeland from the summit of Great Rigg I feel a little melancholic. This is my first mountain summit since turning sixty. I remember well my first trip to the Lake District. In 1983, aged twenty one, a mate and I drove over from Yorkshire where I was stationed at the time. We were with a couple of girls we fancied in a very old VW Beetle owned by one the girls. We walked around Keswick before heading up to Watendlath for a dip in the tarn and then a walk up High Tove. On the way back to Yorkshire the Beetle broke down several times and had to be coaxed back to life with a bit of WD40. When you’re 21 thinking about being 60, well you may as well be thinking about being dead. But here I am, very much alive, still climbing hills 39 years later.
As well as Great Rigg, todays walk will take in Heron Pike and Nab Scar before returning to the start point at Grasmere via Alcock tarn. From the lay-by just outside the village I follow a familiar route up the lane by the side of Greenhead Gill. The tinkling sound of it’s rushing waters crashing over the rocks in a hundred mini waterfalls provides a nice introduction to the day ahead. At the top of the lane the open fellside is reached and the Gill is left behind, its sound slowly fading as I turn left along the path.
The last time I was here was in mid winter (you can read about that walk here) when all was still and nature was sleeping. Today is mid summer and the contrast is striking. Green verdant foliage, of every shade covers the fell-side, the trees, grass and bushes, all bursting and full of life, are abundant in their prime and enjoying the long daylight hours and warmth of a fine English summer.
It’s been almost a year (with a pause for Covid lockdowns) since I started my journey through the Wainwrights and Mother Nature and the cyclical familiarity of the seasons is something I have enjoyed witnessing along my journey. Seasons remind us that life is always moving forward and today, the first walk in my sixties is a timely reminder that life and time are finite and should not be wasted. I pause on the summit of Stone Arthur to take in the view down to Grasmere and its lake. Alcock tarn, my returning route is across the valley, a drop of aqua blue amongst a sea of green.
Grasmere Lake and Village from Stone Arthur
Leaving Stone Arthur the rather featureless path climbs steadily up the fell-side until the main Fairfield horseshoe path is joined just before the rise up to Great Rigg. You’ll know you are there because there will be a sudden increase in people. Great Rigg can be seen ahead and the path up to its summit is well worn and obvious. A large cairn marks the top and there are good views down to Windermere and in the opposite direction up to Fairfield from which the famous Horseshoe route gets its name.
After my mindful moment of reflection on the summit I retrace my steps back to where I joined the ridge and the carry on down the ridge to the summit of Heron Pike.
To say ‘summit’ is to confer on it something rather grander than reality reveals. A small grass mound with a couple of rocks marks the top although bizarrely there is slightly higher ground nearby and nowhere can a pike (or a Heron for that matter) be seen.
All the same, the views down to Ambleside, Windermere and around the horseshoe ridge are pleasant and the weather is perfect for walking, sunny, not too hot and with a gentle breeze. In the 80’s and 90’s before marriage, career and children took priority I walked many of the High mountains and classic routes of Lakeland and am now returning to them on this journey.
The Fairfield Horseshoe is a route I have completed many times. My memory of it then was of strolling along broad grassy ridges, soft turf under foot, hands in pockets. The path from Heron Pike down to Nab Scar seems to have suffered badly from erosion in the intervening decades since I was last here. The grass path I remember has split into a number of paths which are wearing down to the rock and the main path has loose stones and pebbles where there was once turf. Careful, rather than carefree walking is required to avoid mishap.
I suppose this isn’t a surprise. The rise in popularity of hillwalking and the passage of thirty years is bound to take its toll and the irony is not lost on me that I am actually contributing to the very damage that I am bemoaning. I can’t help wondering however what Wainwright would have made of his legacy of ‘honey pots’ and worn out paths.
That said, Nab Scar is a delightful little hill. Set just off the main path with a big cairn for Its modest height. I have the summit to myself and I sit for ages in the sunshine staring down on Grasmere, all is peaceful and the only sound is a skylarks song as it rises up higher and higher from the bracken in its distinctive vertical flight before plunging back down again.
Alcock tarn can just be seen from the summit of Nab Scar but I need to retrace my steps again for a short distance before a distinctive cairn marks the descent path to its shore.
The tarn is a popular destination for tourists coming up from Grasmere and today, a warm, sunny, summers day there are several groups paddling in the water and enjoying picnics and family time.
From Alcock tarn the path drops quite steeply down and it isn’t long before I cross the bridge and arrive back at lane head to once again enjoy the sound of Greenhead Gill on my walk back down to the village.
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