Tag: the wainwrights

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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 freezing walk up Sour Howes and Sallows

When I leave my warm sleeping bag and look at the thermometer it tells me that the inside of the van is -4°c. I knew it was getting cold in the middle of the night as my ears started to ache and I had to put my sleeping bag hood over my head. This is something I’ve only ever done a few times before, when sleeping in a tent at 15,000ft, you can read about those occasions here and here if you want to. When I check the outside temperature it’s -10°c so I know it’s going to be a cold walk up my designated hills of the day, Sour Howes and Sallows.

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A Harter Fell Round from Sadgill

It’s the second day of my stay in the little hamlet of Sadgill and I had another silent and restful nights sleep in the van. Yesterday afternoon I walked down Gatescarth pass and this morning I’ll be retracing my steps as I make my way to Harter fell. From there I’ll essentially be walking along the eastern section of the Kentmere horseshoe taking in Kentmere Pike and Shipman Knotts before following the old cart track back to Sadgill.

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Grey Crag and Tarn Crag from Sadgill

I arrive at the little hamlet of Sadgill at the far end of Longsleddale just before the sun sets and have the parking area to myself. This long, picturesque valley is situated right on the fringes of Lakeland. Remote, unfrequented and unspoiled there are none of the usual tourist trappings that attract thousands to the honey pots not that far away across the hills. No cafés or gift shops, no zip wires or yurts, no phone signal, just sheep and peace and quiet. And I’m pretty sure the residents like and want to keep it that way. Just before I turn in, I step out of the van and am greeted by total silence and a blackness I have rarely, if ever encountered in this country. Above a cloudless sky all the stars of the heavens were twinkling and the Milky Way stretched from one horizon to the other.

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A High Street Round

The low morning sun is glistening off the still waters of Haweswater and the bright green evergreens, standing tall like soldiers on a parade ground are reflecting on the water and forming a green sandwich filling between the dark blue of the lake below and the light blue of the cloudless skies above. All was peaceful in my little camper spot last night, I had it to myself, drinking cold beer as I watched the sun go down over Kidsty Pike, which happens to be the first objective of today’s walk. It’s going to be a long one, a circular walk taking in Kidsty Pike, High Raise, Rampsgill Head, The Knott, High Street and finally Mardale Ill Bell. Six tops on what is forecast to be a hot day, so I pack plenty of liquid.

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Great Rigg, Heron Pike and Nab Scar

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.

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