Dollywagon by The Tongue

More pictures and entries from my diary of my walking in the Lake District over Easter, this time on Saturday 15th April.

After a night’s sleep and a large breakfast I was ready to return to the fells that had so exhausted me yesterday. Setting off from the hostel I walked along the road to Mill Bridge and then walked up the footpath near Tongue Gill up to Grisedale Hause (this picture looks down the short valley to Grasmere with Loughrigg Fell seen in the distance was taken from near Grisedale Hause). The previous time I went this way I followed the bridlepath up Little Tongue, today’s route, as recommended by Wainwright, is much better. From Grisedale Tarn instead of going up the zigzags to Dollywagon Pike I went down the rugged path into Grisedale. I had never been on this path before; it was very rocky, and quite fun. When I reached Ruthwaite Lodge I stopped and turned around to face the fearsome crags fronting Dollywagon Pike. That was my way, straight up to the top, almost.

Initially I headed up to Ruthwaite Cove following the small tributary of Grisedale Beck into the cove. Once in the cove I turned south and climbed onto a short ridge projecting north from The Tongue. Now things got really tough as I struggled up onto this ridge and from there steeply onto The Tongue itself, but I was enjoying every moment. There was hardly any trace of a path so most of the time I had to pick my own route up, and most importantly, there was no one else anywhere around me. On a day when Helvellyn, not far away was packed, I was alone. It was wonderful! Eventually I managed to get onto The Tongue and was totally awestruck by the view, for example in the picture looking down Grisdale with Place Fell beyond, taken from The Tongue. It was incredible with towering cliffs all around me while I was standing in an exposed position in the middle of it all. I couldn't help but think,

Oh Lord, my God,
When I in awesome wonder,
Consider all the works thy hand hath made.
Then sings my soul, how great thou art!

Slowly ascending The Tongue, the gradient now much more agreeable I finally arrived at the summit of Dollywagon Pike. After relishing the view once more I headed north hugging the top of the cliff all the way to Helvellyn. Passing over High Crag I came onto the wide plateau of Nethermost Pike, but instead of going to the summit I headed to a much more interesting place to be. Passing through the snow that was skirting the edge I descended the eastern ridge as far as I could go and then savoured the view. My goal this week is to go to vantage points such as these; when I've already been up to the summit it's always surprising to discover that the mountain still has so much more to give me. Nethermost Pike is a boring hill except on it's eastern side which features stunning crags. I had to venture down this ridge in order to see them.

Resuming my northward stroll above the crags, I passed over the summit of Nethermost Pike and up to Helvellyn. I was not alone. The summit was teeming with people, and loads more passing over Striding Edge where there they were queuing to get over the scrambly sections, as can be seen in this picture. Oh, I would hate to be on there at that time. Instead I passed over the summit and arrived at the top of Swirral Edge. The main objective for the day had been to go up the Tongue; I now had the rest of the day free to go over the Helvellyn edges, really just for something to do . The first 5-10 metres of Swirral Edge was snow and as soon as I trod on it I slipped over onto my bum. Not to be shown up I turned this to my advantage and started sliding down the slope on my bum. This was tremendous fun especially hearing the surprises of the other people around. Carefully keeping my speed under control with my feet and hands I turned a corner and hurtled down the slope to the end of the snow run.

Soon after I had resumed a more orthodox method of descent I discovered that I had cut my hand during or straight after my descent. Before long I started feeling a little light-headed so even though the cut wasn't really hurting or even bleeding very much I decided I had better stop to administer emergency first aid on myself, while half way down Swirral Edge. Perching myself on top of a rock I cleaned and plastered the wound while people were passing by me on both sides. No one said anything to me while I was there; maybe they could see I had everything under control or they just didn't want to get involved. If they had asked I would have said I was all right so maybe they were right not to say anything, this time.

Resuming my descent I dropped to the col and continued on the top of the ridge across to Catseye Cam. Here I had lunch and considered where to go next. My plan had been to descend the north-western ridge and go to Glenridding to begin an ascent of the north-eastern ridge of Birkhouse Moor. Realising that I was miscalculating my abilities again I descended by the eastern ridge then headed up to Red Tarn(pictured with the snow-tainted Helvellyn behind), and from thence to the Hole-in-the-Wall. Crossing the open moor I gained the summit of Birkhouse Moor by much more conventional means. After reaching the eastern end of the ridge (where I took this picture of this view of Ullswater) I returned to the Hole-in-the-Wall and passed through to begin my own traverse of Striding Edge.

It was now four o'clock and all the crowds that had been on the edge at lunchtime had long since disappeared giving me the opportunity to enjoy the edge almost on my own (see the picture). Staying on the very top of the edge I passed over with con- siderable ease. The great height and enormous exposure were not a problem for me in the slightest; over the years I have trained myself to not have a problem in this situation, but I do still occasionally have some difficulties. I found Crib Goch last year terrifying and I am planning on doing it again on May Day. Let's hope I find it easier this time.

Returning to Helvellyn I was amused to discover it was almost deserted. What a difference a couple of hours make! It was now five o'clock and I had to be back at the hostel before seven o'clock for the dinner that I had already paid for and ordered. So taking the expressway south from Helvellyn I bypassed the summits of Nethermost Pike and Dollywagon Pike and then followed the boundary posts heading straight for Seat Sandal instead of going down the zigzags. Sliding down the scree I was soon at the bottom but slowed down when I started climbing Seat Sandal directly opposite. Eventually after a lot of effort I managed to get my tired legs onto the top. Despite being in a hurry, another Wainwright was bagged. My route of descent was the south ridge, which although steep is grassy all the way. I did the whole descent at almost a jog, zooming down the fell. Near the bottom of the ridge are a few fields that are properly considered private property, but not according to my new map. These fields are now marked as being Open Access so despite locked gates I went through these fields all the way down the remainder of the ridge. Wainwright would have been so proud! If these fields now have open access then someone should provide stiles to prevent having to climb the gates.

Rejoining the bridlepath from my ascent I returned to the road and proceeded to the hostel with absolutely no time to spare until dinner. C'est la vie. Another long walk but thankfully I didn't get to the hostel in the dark this time. Some stunning scenery and not far away from where masses of people were crowding together to go over a narrow edge of rock.

The Lake District 2006

I am finally getting around to putting these reports and pictures on the blog from my holiday in the Lake District last Easter. It may be a symptom of my general malaise at the moment, but I have really been finding it difficult to find the motivation to put any thing on this blog lately. The upshot being I now have loads to put on here after a lot of walking over the last couple of weeks in the Lake District and Snowdonia. Well, without any further ado here we start with the first entry from Friday 14th April.

Windermere to Grasmere via Thornthwaite Crag

Today was a grueller that I really should have avoided. I arrived at Windermere train station at 10.30 and immediately began walking up the road opposite the station winding up the hillside through woods coming out at Orrest Head, a popular viewpoint for the Windermere tourist, especially today where it was liberally populated by the old and the very young. After taking a few pictures of Windermere (this picture was actually taken on the ridge to Sour Howes) I left the top and headed north through several fields until I reached the Dubbs Road. This untarmacked road took me towards the Garburn Pass, but before I got there I turned aside over a stile onto the fellside of Applethwaite Common. Slowly climbing the widening ridge I ascended onto Sour Howes. It was a total waste of time and energy, something as will be seen, I couldn't really spare, but that didn't stop me also going up the neighbouring fell, Sallows. The reason for this diversion was simple; both fells were Wainwright's and having been given his books for Christmas I had no choice but to do them. With hindsight it may have been better if I hadn't, but it probably wouldn't have made much difference to the end result.

Once the Garburn Pass was finally achieved I proceeded along the path towards Yoke. The previous time I did these fells I had taken a path near the top of the ridge beside the wall,which turned out to be exceptionally boggy, and a really bad idea. This time I managed to stay on the path, which was relatively excellent; there were very few bogs to negotiate. On top of Yoke I had my lunch before tacking Ill Bell. I remember this ascent as being really painful and difficult, but compared with the later ascents, it probably wasn't too bad. (The picture was taken from the top of Ill Bell showing a cairn marking the vantage point on the summit of Troutbeck Dale with Windermere in the distance). After Ill Bell I passed over Froswick and then climbed up to Thornthwaite Crag.

(The picture was taken from the head of Kentmere Dale, near to Gavel Crag showing Ill bell and Froswick with Kentmere Reservoir on the far left). By now the weather was excellent, so even though it was obvious I wouldn't get to my destination till late (I was thinking 7 o'clock at this time) I was happy to continue. Before coming to the Lake District I had decided that I didn't want to be as tied to getting to the hostel before as I have been in the past. To this end I had taken a couple of camping mealpacks with me as backup meals in case I was late anytime, so at this time I wasn't too concerned about how much more I had to walk. I descended the scree slope to Threshthwaite Mouth and then climbed the rocky slope to Stoney Cove Pike and Caudale Moor. By now I was feeling pretty good and relaxed; I was actually enjoying myself at this stage. Not for long. From the cairn on the top of Caudale Moor I noticed another cairn a short distance away; going across to investigate I discovered that it marked a viewpoint overlooking Caudale Cove, the point being marked on the map as Caudale Head. The views down Patterdale (as shown in the picture) were stunning and I had never seen this sight before in all my years in the Lake District. In the past I have been overly concerned with bagging peaks, this year I want to investigate a bit more: look down cliffs and from viewpoints. This was a start.

Passing the Atkinson Memorial I rejoined the path and descended the rather dull ridge all the way down to the Kirkstone Pass. Now I was ready to arrive at the Youth Hostel, but I had a lot of walking still ahead of me. Crossing the road I started the climb straight up the cliff face ahead of me, past the Kilnshaw Chimney onto the top of Red Screes. The path was very good, being well designed and manufactured, but that didn't stop it being an absolute torture for me as I crawled my way up to the top. In sheer exhaustion, at the summit I had a piece of my emergency supply of Kendal Mint Cake, and discovered that I had run out of water.

With still a lot of walking ahead of me, not a soul was met during the rest of my walk. From Red Screes I passed over the Scandale Pass and ascended the hillside all the way to Hart Crag, stopping off at Little Hart Crag on the way; another Wainwright bagged. Dragging myself up the hill I managed to get onto the top of the ridge on the eastern side of the Fairfield Horseshoe. Turning right I passed over the top of Hart Crag and Dove Crag, making sure that despite my extreme exhaustion I went to the summits of both hills. Both previous times I've been over these hills the weather hadn't been good, last time it was raining. Now, for the first time I have clear views (remember the good weather was one of the reasons why I continued with this madness), so I was able to locate the summits with considerably more ease than on previous occasions.

When I reached the col between Dove Crag and Fairfield I collapsed. I couldn't go on, the steep slope ahead of me felt like the north face of the Eiger; it was insurmountable. After a rest and another piece of Kendal Mint Cake I was ready to re-evaluate my assessment of the slope ahead. Staggering to my feet I started climbing onto the wide plateau of Fairfield, now gloomy in the twilight, but still clearer than any time I have visited it before. Despite this I passed to the south of the summit heading straight for the western ridge of the horseshoe. With a stunning sunset to admire all fatigue seemed to drop from me (I had been too exhausted to take any pictures for a while but I had to take some pictures of the sunset, of which the one on the left is an example). Passing over Great Rigg I took the path veering right that descended off the fell over Stone Arthur. Which of the many rocks is the actual stone, I have no idea; I went up several of them at first but soon tired of this as I came off the hill in rapidly diminishing light.

Using my small torch I negotiated the lower slopes of the hill onto the road beside the Swan Hotel. Now in Grasmere I had only to get to the Youth Hostel, which was up the hill. In my exhausted, hungry, sleepy state this was the last thing I wanted or could even cope with. After feeling ill just going up a small raise I decided to eat a third piece of Kendal Mint Cake. This gave me the necessary energy to get to the Grasmere Thorney Howe Youth Hostel, at 9.40 pm. At over 11 hours this is my longest walk, and definitely the most exhausting. I hope I never have to repeat it.