High Hartsop Dodd and Little Hart Crag in the Snow

Standing on top of High Hartsop Dodd with the snowfall becoming increasingly heavy I wondered whether history was about to repeat itself. One of the rules I have set myself on this journey through the Wainwright’s is to get a view off each mountain summit. This was the second time I had stood in this very spot in as many months. The first I didn’t count as the cloud came down and obscured the view. Was this second attempt going to go the same way. Should I carry on and hope the forecasted ‘snow shower’ passed or should I turn back yet again?

The day had started promisingly. A lovely low winter sunrise had painted the tops of Dove and Hart Crags orange, the summits were all clear and the air was calm and still. It was the day after storm Arwen and on my way to Sykeside campsite I had seen the destruction it’s 100mph winds had caused. Fallen trees littered the roadsides and some roads, Kirkstone pass being one, were still blocked. But now all was calm, albeit freezing at -6°c.

It’s only a short walk across the fields to the foot of High Hartsop Dodd and before long I was trudging up the steeply inclined ridge that leads straight to the summit. It was about half way up that the snow started to fall. Almost imperceptibly at first but by the time I was past halfway it was properly coming down. Large flakes of snow, drifting down silently in the windless air like manna from heaven all around me. A short while later my watch vibrated, ‘storm alert’ and the barometric pressure was plummeting. I kept faith with the forecast, which was for a brief ‘snow shower’ passing over and pressed on to the summit.

A small cairn marks the summit of High Hartsop Dodd and on reaching it I took stock. The snow was still falling and didn’t look like it was going to pass over any time soon. There were views from the top though and I decided that this summit was certainly going to count. Through a net curtain of falling white stuff I could see down to Brothers Water and in the other direction, the ridge line led my eyes up to Little Hart Crag, my next destination.

My intention at the start of the day after summiting Little Hart Crag was to take in Red Screes and Middle Dodd but both of these higher hills were now lost in cloud. What to do? I decided to press on, hoping that the snow would stop and the tops become clear. If not, or if the weather considerably worsened, I could always head down Caiston Glen or re trace my steps as an escape route.

The path to Little Hart Crag follows the ridge line and just before the summit there is a little bit of rocky crag to negotiate, presumably this is how the summit got its name. The summit is marked by a slightly larger cairn than that on High Hartsop Dodd. It was still snowing quite heavily but I was pleased that the top was clear of cloud and the views were pleasantly extensive. I could make out Dovedale, Dove Crag and the ridge that marks the eastern section of the Fairfield horseshoe. Scandale tarn and the pass could be seen below me but looking across Caiston Glen, Red Screes was hovering in mist.

My approach to this journey is that if the weather is bad, the mountains will always be there for another, better day. The fact that the weather didn’t look like it was going to change and the snow was becoming increasing settled on the ground confirmed to me that I would be heading down. I decided to retrace my steps. Conscious of the deteriorating conditions, I figured sticking with what I knew was better than heading down Caiston Glen which was unknown to me.

Just after leaving the summit crags, I slipped over and went crashing to the ground, crunching my elbow on a rock. I hadn’t brought any crampons with me as there was little snow on the ground at the start of the day and only a shower forecast. It was a schoolboy error that I made a mental note never to repeat. Winter can be unforgiving in the hills and it is as well to be over-prepared than under.

I took extra care on the way back to High Hartsop Dodd and on reaching it the continued snowfall convinced me I had made the right decision for the day. The steep ridge back down to the valley took an age as I was being extra cautious but finally I reached the old barn at its foot and a couple of fields later I was back in the camper, the kettle and heater full on.

The inclement weather conditions today, changing plans based on them and then concentrating on the functional act of walking safely and staying upright in deteriorating conditions meant that it wasn’t a particularly enjoyable or ‘mindful’ day in the hills. A day to ‘get it done’, more practical than profound. As the saying goes though ‘a bad day on the hill is still better than a good day in the office’

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