Borrowdale November 2025

Sunday 16th: Grasmere – Borrowdale 16.6km

£28 for a room at Borrowdale YHA was too good to resist so I got it booked and then, after a little deliberation, booked my trains.  The earliest Sunday train got me into Windermere at 10:50 so I had chosen a walking route I could do within the available daylight.  That time was even further reduced when the busy train emptied and I joined the queue for the busy 555 bus.  With traffic in Ambleside, we didn’t arrive at Grasmere until 11:45 but at least the journey gave me time to eat half my lunch.

Helm Crag

There were lots of people milling about in the village and it felt a little chilly, so I set off as quickly as I could.  There were quite a lot of people walking in Easedale too and it didn’t really get quiet until Stythwaite Steps, where I guess most people were walking down from Easedale Tarn.  I stayed straight on into the remote and rugged Far Easedale.

Far Easedale

Far Easedale

Far Easedale

The effort of the ascent meant I was just wearing a fleece over my new merino baselayer, which was generally ok except when the wind made its occasional appearance to send a chill through me.  I have been struggling a little on climbs recently and this one was no exception, especially with my bag weighing in at 10kg first thing (I don’t seem to be able to pack light).  I was blowing quite hard after the first steep section, so sat down to eat the rest of my lunch while admiring the view.  From this point I slowed my pace right down to make the work easier and it really did the trick, feeling much more comfortable.  All the same, the bloke who greeted me at Greenup Edge did seem to have a look of concern on his face as he said ‘hi’.  ‘Steep pull,’ I gasped.

Greenup Edge

It was a somewhat cloudy day and the wind was cutting across the top so I didn’t hang around and was soon starting the descent of Greenup Gill.  Last time I came this way it was raining and the rock steps were treacherous.  This time it was dry but it is still an awkward path, particularly around Lining Crag which is quite eroded.  The compensation was the wonderful views into the valley with Eagle Crag standing proudly to one side.

Eagle Crag over Greenup Gill

I passed one other person on the way down then swung left at Smithymire Island to follow the western bank of Stonethwaite Beck, partly because I don’t like the loose rocks on the eastern side and partly because I thought the eastern side might be more prone to inundation with lots of gills running off the fellsides (there had been flooding recently and there was a flood alert in place).  Whatever the case, the western side was pretty good.

Lower reaches of Greenup Gill

My legs were feeling the effort of both the up and the down and I contemplated my options.  I was too early to check into the hostel so I could go to the Langstrath Inn at Stonethwaite or the newly reopened Yew Tree Inn at Seatoller, which I was curious to visit.  Without looking at my watch I decided that if it was 15:45 I would stop at the Langstrath, otherwise I would push on to the Yew Tree.  I rather hoped for the former.  It was 15:42 so on I went.  That said, a glance through the Langstrath’s windows seemed to show no hand-pulled beer was available.  The Yew Tree was a lovely place, lots of slate decorating the bar (it is owned by the Honister Slate Mine family), decent beer, and toilets you have to cross a yard to visit.

Of course it had got dark now, so I got out my headtorch and hi viz vest to walk along the road to the hostel.  After a shower I headed to the bar for more refreshment and some food (a very good steak pie).  While lounging on a sofa with my book I half-recognised one of the other people round the table.  ‘Are you Richard?  Do you have a dog called Tess?’  It was indeed Richard from the Walking Forum, who was camping at the hostel, and we spent the rest of the evening having a good old chinwag.  An excellent way to finish the day.

Monday 17th: Borrowdale – Keswick: 14.8km

With another day of travelling ahead of me, I didn’t lie in too long (not as much as I might have done) and was in the dining room for breakfast at 7:30.  A number of people were self-catering so the meals were cooked to order.  The lad behind me, when asked how much he wanted, replied, ‘As much as you can do.’

Borrowdale

It was frosty outside, so I put on lots of layers before stepping out and bumping into Richard again.  He was heading low-level to Keswick, after a hard day, while I was heading to the tops.  We waved goodbye then I immediately delayered, feeling much warmer than expected.  I was delayering again by the time I arrived at Rosthwaite, with the stiff ascent of Puddingstone Bank ahead of me.

Watendlath

This time I chose a slow pace for the climb from the off, having learnt my lesson from the day before, and was pleased to reach to top without feeling I had taken too much out of myself.  The views back to Borrowdale in the slowly-rising sunlight were lovely but the views to Watendlath were rather hidden by trees.  It was quiet in the village, just ducks scattering, a dog barking, occasional banging from a yard somewhere.  It felt tranquil and idyllic.

Watendlath

The climb back out of the village had looked fearsome from the other side.  Once more I engaged my low gear and plodded on up, and once more it did the trick.  I might have been slow but I got to the top without over-stressing.  My reward was superb views around the whole of the National Park, though the bright sun in the clear sky made it had to look south.  From High Tove I took the flagged path over the Pewitts to High Seat.  The ground was partially frozen and in some places verglas covered the flags, meaning I had to risk the bog to avoid slipping over.

View west from High Tove

At High Seat I saw the first people since I had said goodbye to Richard two hours earlier.  It wasn’t a place for hanging around as the wind blew coldly across the top.  The good path had finished so the route to Bleaberry Fell involved a lot of bog hopping and trusting in the frozen ground to keep me from sinking.  I stopped to eat at Bleaberry, staring over the Helvellyn range and remembering my two visits this year.  My onward progress was further slowed by a chatty bloke from Lancaster and another from Glasgow.

High Seat

The paths improved on the way to Walla Crag, guided on by excellent clear views of Skiddaw and Blencathra, though I managed my only fall of the day – on frozen turf while fiddling getting my water bottle back into its pocket and not paying attention.  After a quick admiring glance from the top of the crag to Derwent Water and Keswick, I turned my feet downhill again.  Many more people were now out, I suppose walking up from the town, while I passed them in the opposite direction, feeling in a good mood, knowing the hard work was over and just enjoying the beautiful weather.

Derwent Water from Bleaberry Fell

Derwent Water and Keswick from Walla Crag

There was plenty of time for a couple of pints at the Crooked River Tap, a bus to Grasmere for a necessary stop (blame the pints), a beer in Tweedie’s then another bus (open top 599!) to Windermere, where I had a rather too heavily topped pizza and some so-so beer in the Crafty Baa.  The train home was quiet, so I read and listened to music and mused on my trip.  It felt emotional somehow, having had worries about my health and ability, but receiving generous gifts in return from the landscape and from the company of the people I encountered.  It had been a superb couple of days and was everything I hope to continue doing for as long as I can.