Sunday 22nd: High Newton Fells 10km
The forecast wasn’t good so my enthusiasm to get going wasn’t high. I had booked YHA Ambleside on a special offer (£22 a night!) so had taken a gamble on the weather, a gamble it looked like I was going to lose. To make something vaguely silk-like from the sow’s ear, I was going to tick off some more of Wainwright’s Outlying Fells, starting with a short walk in the south. The motorway was strangely quiet and I arrived a little before 10am, parking at the top of a narrow road by High Newton reservoir, more popular with dog walkers than anglers on this morning.
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| Saskills |
The wind was blowing but it was sunny, with the forecast now showing rain later in the afternoon. On the far side of the reservoir I stepped over a fence, as many others had done, and followed the wall through dead bracken up to Saskills. The map shows a trig point but, according to the website, there has never been a column here. Carrying along by the wall I eventually made my way to White Stone, the Wainwright top, where there were excellent views over Morecambe Bay. The wind was very strong here so I didn’t stay long, finding my way back to a PROW and descending steeply, occasionally slipping on wet mud, down to the caravan site and onto the old A590 (bypassed in the late 2000s) to High Newton. I avoided the road a little of the way, through muddy fields full of sheep and geese, separated by the narrowest gap stiles I have ever encountered (not wide enough for my boots to get through, never mind the rest of me).
The sign by the crumbling old buildings at Low Newton warned you to keep out, but I carried on anyway as it was perfectly easy to keep clear of the danger. It was a pleasant walk between the stone wall and craggy woods, and out of the wind too. Just near Eller How a very good engineered path led up towards Dixon Heights, from where I turned through rocks on soft grass to the summit. There was a bloke ahead of me at the collapsed tower, though he soon moved away with a wave, only the second person I had seen, apart from the bric-a-brac browsers at Yew Tree Barn (‘ruin-bibbers, randy for antiques’, Larkin might say). There were lovely views all round, with Whitbarrow Scar looking particularly commanding. The hill ‘next door’ was higher than Dixon Heights but wasn’t on Wainwright’s list, oddly. Perhaps not accessible then.
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| Looking west from Dixon Heights |
I retraced my steps back to High Newton and had a look at ‘Heft’, what was once I presume the village a pub but now a pricey gastropub. Pleasingly there was still a public bar, with a good selection of beers, nice décor and a warming fire. I could have stayed longer but still had a drive to do.
Check-in wasn’t until 3pm and I was still somewhat early, so I parked in the centre of Ambleside and had a mooch round the shops for a while. When I got to the YHA I squeezed into what looked like the last parking spot, thankfully. After a quick shower (in a tiny cubicle), I sat down to watch the rugby at first in a tiny lounge and then in the more sociable setting of the bar with a coffee. It was around a 15 minute walk, in light rain, into town where I had a drink in the Golden Rule (as is the law, though it was busy and noisy) before moving on to the new Lakes Brew bar, which had excellent beers and so-so food. I got back to the almost deserted bar of the YHA fairly early for a last drink before bed.
Monday 23rd: Ambleside – Great Langdale 18km
Another day with a gloomy forecast ahead. Light rain was already falling but the suggestion was that it wouldn’t get much worse. The wind would be as bad though. My outline plan was to walk to Great Langdale and get the bus back but I hadn’t decided on the exact route. In the end I thought I would just see how things went as I walked. After a cooked breakfast, I walked through the rain into town to pick up a sandwich from the Picnic Box (tasty) and then turned towards Loughrigg Fell. The rain stopped at the start of the climb, there was even hints of blue sky, and the wind didn’t feel too bad, so I pushed on to the summit, rather than diverting to Loughrigg Tarn (Plan B). It seemed to take an age to get there, but in fact it was only an hour. The only other person I saw was an e-biker charging up past me and churning up the path. From the top I could look across to the cloud-capped summit of Fairfield, whose sides were still streaked in old snow. It was very windy so I didn’t hang around.
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| Fairfield group from Loughrigg Fell |
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| Looking towards Great Langdale from Loughrigg Fell |
One plan was to carry on beyond High Close to climb the ridge to Blea Rigg and drop down Stickle Ghyll. However, I was already annoyed at being buffeted by the wind, so I sacked that idea off. I could just walk down Langdale, but I’ve done that a million times before, so I thought I could visit Cathedral Quarry, as I had never been there before. If I was in luck I might get a pint at the Three Shires Inn, which I hadn’t visited since its takeover by Lanty Slee’s.
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| Little Langdale |
The rain made its return as I passed through a busy Elterwater and kept on coming unpleasantly for a while. I was still too early for the Three Shires, so I carried on past and found my way into the quarry. It is a popular spot, presumably because of social media, so there were a few people milling around but not many. To be fair, it is quite an impressive place, a narrow tunnel leading to a high-ceilinged cavern, supported by a broad, rough-hewn pillar. Light comes in from a wide, jagged hole high above. I stayed a short while before moving on.
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| Cathedral Quarry |
Beyond Slater Bridge, the crowds, such as they were, disappeared, and I followed the track between whitewashed cottages, some looking abandoned, some claimed by groups like the Fylde Mountaineering Club and the Yorkshire Ramblers. Water slooshed down all the paths.
Back on the Wrynose road, I started to feel the day’s effort in my legs and cut across boggy country behind Castle Howe to save some distance. I had forgotten how rough the path up to Blea Tarn was, so it made for slow going. The reward, as I passed Side Pike, was the view of the head of the valley (cloud-topped) and the magnificent bulk of the Langdale Pikes (cloud-free) ahead of me. The familiarity of the scene, with its rush of memories, gave me a warm feeling, like being hugged, and I wanted to hug the Pikes back in return. Instead, I did the next best thing and headed into the bar of the Old Dungeon Ghyll, which has the feeling of being my spiritual home. There were a few walkers in, a bloke in motorbike gear noodling on a guitar, and a fire in the grate (which didn’t seem to be generating enough heat to warm the room). There was a bus in 25 minutes, or another two hours after that. Only one choice. The hours passed by too quickly, catching up on messages, sharing photos, reading my book. A bloke came in with a whippet and two jack russells, his pint already on the bar. One jack russell leapt up on a seat and onto a table, the other cocked its leg. The bloke calmly walked behind the bar for cleaning spray and a cloth.
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| Close-up of the Langdale Pikes |
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| Boggy shortcut towards Blea Tarn |
The bus and a few passengers were waiting ten minutes before time and the journey went smoothly, dropping me at the Waterhead, practically at the door of the hostel. In the early evening I walked into town for dinner at Jintana (Thai, tasty, filling) and a couple more pints at Lakes Brew. Walking back I was tempted by the 555 waiting at Kelsick Road and regret fought with the thought that the walk would help my over-stuffed belly as the bus passed me by on Lake Road.
Tuesday 24th: Green Quarter Fells 10km
Yet another day of shonky forecasts so I packed unenthusiastically. There were hints the rain would ease up but the wind wouldn’t so I went with my plan of picking up more Outlying Fells. Parking at Kentmere is at a premium so I thought a wet winter Tuesday might be my best bet. As it was, I got the penultimate spot by Kentmere Institute. The light rain had fizzled out but I still put on all the gear and then boiled as soon as I started climbing towards Green Quarter. As I headed out onto the fell, the rain started coming down, driven into my face by the muscular wind. The paths were churned up by sheep so I slipped and squelched my way onwards until thankfully I could turn north and have the wind at my back. At this point I entered the clag, so I skipped a visit to Skeggles Water. I also managed to fall over on wet rock, choosing instinctively to go into a roll rather than doing the splits, so I bounced back up unscathed. I like to think I styled it out.
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| Kentmere |
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| Rain-spotted shot |
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| Impressive cairn on Hollow Moor's east top |
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| Looking across the Kent valley |
It is all open access but there are still fences that need stepping over, which I did to slog my way through pathless, energy-sapping tussock grass onto Hollow Moor. I was blowing like a broken engine at the top, where there were no views, and just a clump of marsh grass marking the summit. A quad bike track led me towards the next top, with a boggy fence crossing. This top had two stones as a minimalist cairn. Which was about all I could see. I tracked my way over bouncy sphagnum moss down to the fence (clamber across the gate) and to a PROW. The rain had stopped and I had only walked for 90 minutes, so I decided to add a little bit extra, aiming for the pass that comes up from Longsleddale. At the furtherest point, the rain returned and lashed down on me for the rest of the walk, making me question my life choices. At first walking in rain is quite a thrill, but the novelty soon wears off and, once you’re soaked through, it starts getting cold. At least the misty view across the Kent valley to crags, mossy walls and bare trees was picturesque. I wondered how the couple who I spoke to as I set off were getting on with their plan for going up Yoke and beyond. Mad idea.
