Lakes Rampage 2020, Day 8: Helvellyn

September 24, 2020Leave a comment

Thanks to our unplanned late night and the sorry state I was in (see last paragraph of previous post) we got up later than intended. By the time we’d queued for a parking ticket (a terrible experience), packed a couple of small rucksacks and set off towards Helvellyn along Mires Beck, the footpaths were heinously busy.

We looked up in horror at the multi-coloured ribbon of people stretching up the hill in front of us, cursing the fact that we hadn’t started earlier. People bumbled up in Doc Martens, flashy Nikes and clothing that looked a little too sparkly to be on the side of a mountain. We took every opportunity we could to overtake, flying past people grappling with umbrellas and theme-park type ponchos as it started to rain.

I think it’s wonderful that people are getting outdoors and appreciating our beautiful, wild landscapes, so long as everyone is respectful. Litter makes me furious, as do call-outs to Mountain Rescue due to inappropriate clothing and preparation. It sounds hypocritical as we were up there too, but this time, there were just a few too many people traipsing up for my liking.

Helvellyn in the clouds, Striding Edge on the left and Catstye Cam on the right

We did the steep climb onto Birkhouse Moor in good time, barely saying a word to each other as we rushed up for some less populated breathing space. The throng had subsided by the time the distinctive, jagged profile of Striding Edge came into view, so we slowed the pace and started to appreciate the rugged, green landscape. Helvellyn towered in the clouds above the black, slightly eerie Red Tarn, which sat between the two sharp ridges that lead up the mountain, Striding and Swirral Edge.

I’ve done Striding Edge once before, but Ryan hadn’t and he was a little disappointed. It’s a good, fun scramble, but there’s no real exposure and it feels very safe. The rock is good and we only needed to use our hands in a couple of places. I think it would have been a lot more fun if there were fewer people up there, as we got held up a lot and the busy-ness detracted from the wild, unforgiving feel that a rocky ridge should have. We noted all the crampon scratches on the rock and decided that it’d be a good one to come back to in winter.

At the end of the ridge, which is about half a mile long, we overtook some more groups and climbed up Helvellyn proper. On the summit plateau there’s a touching memorial to Foxie the dog whose master, in 1805, fell from the mountain and was found three months later with Foxie still barking by his side.

We were lucky in that by the time we reached the plateau, the cloud had lifted and we had a panoramic view of the dramatic mountainscape. The wild peaks of the Wythburn, Langdale, Borrowdale and Derwent Fells stretched in blue, hazy layers into the distance, and suddenly all the other people on the mountain seemed to fall away into insignificance.

We took a very quick trig point picture (well, three – see unsuccessful attempts below, when we both – true to form – managed to squint alternately) and continued along the plateau towards Swirral Edge, which flanks Helvellyn opposite Striding Edge. This part of the descent was a fun, but even easier and less exposed scramble than Striding Edge, and once again we had to do some overtaking. At the bottom we took the left branch of the footpath which took us up Catstye Cam, an easy 890m summit about a kilometre north east of Helvellyn.

The way down was less busy, very picturesque and so well-trodden that we almost forgot we were in the mountains. It joined the path that we’d hiked up earlier and, apart from the lovely, mountain-green scenery that I’ve already gushed over, quite unmemorable – so much so that with hindsight I’d guess that the hike back took 20 minutes, although it must have been longer as Glenridding was over two miles away.

We grabbed some food from one of the two convenience shops in the village, went back to the van to escape people for a little while, then wandered down to the edge of Ullswater. We looked out over the lake as the evening crept in, taking in the serenity of the vast, glassy surface with its high, rugged, green backdrop, glowing in the late sun. We just sat for a while, reflecting on how much fun our trip had been and silently resenting the fact that it was nearly over.

We headed back up to the Traveller’s Rest for one, then back to the van for Scrabble n chill. A good way to spend a Saturday night.

Lakes Rampage 2020, Day 7: Castlerigg, Aira Force, Glenridding

September 22, 2020Leave a comment

Sadly, our plan to climb Corvus was thwarted by a morning of intermittent heavy rain. We were bitterly disappointed but refused to mope around doing nothing, so after a quick look on Tripadvisor we went to Castlerigg Stone Circle, which was a twenty minute drive from our camping spot in the Borrowdale valley.

Castlerigg Stone Circle

Set against a 360 degree backdrop of rolling, green mountains dappled by the shadows of clouds, this Neolithic monument was very atmospheric. The perfect circle, apparently aligned with the sun and stars, was made up of 38 stones of varying heights between 2ft and 8ft, with a clear entrance marked by two huge stones and a rectangle of standing stones within. I’m intrigued by stone circles as their ancient significance remains unknown; I read that Castlerigg could have been a religious site, trading centre or other meeting place, but there’s been little excavation work carried out there and nobody’s really sure.

Having tried and failed to fathom the mystery of the circle, we traipsed back to the van and decided to head east across the north of the national park towards Helvellyn, which we planned to climb the next day. With no real plans, we pootled along and stopped in the Ullswater valley for a walk near Aira Force, a National Trust managed waterfall.

Aira Force

We followed a well-trodden footpath down from the car park and indulged in a short circular walk which followed both banks of the rocky, babbling Aira Beck, tucked away in an impossibly green woodland. It would have been idyllic if it weren’t so busy, with people congregating and faffing on the bridges and at the edges of the water. Furious, rushing masses of white water crashed down and were pacified by the calm river below, which carved its way through the land until reaching the next drop and morphing back into an unstoppable fall.

Glenridding

Impressed by the beauty of the spot but keen to get away from people, we went back to the van and drove into Glenridding, where we would begin our hike the next day. We tucked away in the far corner of the car park, which turned out to be a great overnight spot as it was discrete and right next to a dead end grassy bit of land ending in a river. It was only mid-afternoon and having had our climbing plans cancelled we felt a little lost, so we grabbed some supplies from the shop and had a drink at a picnic table in the middle of the village.

Glenridding is an attractive but busy place situated on the north eastern side of the Lake District, tucked between the south western end of Ullswater and the high sides of the hills, pikes and fells to the west. It has a small handful of shops all clustered into a small area, and the large car park (which has public toilets, an information centre and a large picnic area) is at the heart of the village, by the Ulls Water river.

We thought it rude not to try the pubbiest-looking pub in town, especially as it was called the Traveller’s Rest, up one of the residential streets at the west end of the village. We sat outside overlooking Glenridding and the high hills on the other side of the valley, listening to the bleating of the sheep in the adjacent field and enjoying our first, second and third pints. Before we knew it, we’d been there a couple of hours and I was drunk. We ate in the cosy pub, then headed down the hill to the Inn on the Lake, where we had one before Ryan guided me back to the van.

NB: final paragraph was pieced together from Ryan’s account and snippets of memory. Alcohol-related omissions were necessary.

Lakes Rampage 2020, Day 6: MTB Whinlatter, Canoeing Derwentwater

September 20, 2020Leave a comment

Whinlatter bike trails

We drove the short distance up the hill from our camping spot to Whinlatter Forest Park and started on the Altura North trail, a 6-mile loop graded red (“difficult”). A fairly arduous climb with a few exposed sections rewarded us with a stunning view of the surrounding mountains and forest, then we descended through the trees along a good (if slightly wet) singletrack trail with flowing berms, technical rooty sections and some slippery rocky corners. The last part was one of the best bits of trail I’ve ever come across – a big switchback section down a flowing gravel track with a thrillingly steep drop on one side and quick berms, which gave little margin for error.

Exhilarated by the long, fast descent, we started off on the Altura South loop, which was 5.5 miles long and also graded red. Like the North loop, this started with a wooded climb which led to some lovely downhill sections with jumps, technical features and smooth, flowing bits, although nothing quite compared to the last section of the North loop.

Ryan’s knees were still suffering from our 12-hour hike a few days before, but for completeness we finished with the Quercus trail – a 4.5 mile blue (“moderate”) loop. It was certainly more easygoing but definitely worth doing, with some lovely open sections and smooth bits of singletrack.

Although my experience is limited to just a handful of purpose-built MTB trails, those at Whinlatter are without doubt some of the best I’ve done. I wrote about them previously (see blog post) as I’ve been once before, but then I didn’t have time for the Altura South and I was extremely keen to go back. All three trails are very well-maintained, offer stunning views of the surrounding mountains, valleys and forests, and provide an exciting variety of tough climbs, technical features and fast, flowing downhill. A great morning, and a great outing for my trusty but battered 2008 Specialized Rockhopper, Rocky.

Derwentwater canoeing

We wanted to make the most of the day, so after a quick snack we headed down to Derwentwater and hired a two-person canoe from the marina. I’d never canoed before and Ryan had only been once, but we were soon paddling merrily along. The single oar took a bit of getting used to as opposed to a double-ended kayak paddle, as did the synchronised manoeuvring, but it was good fun and we stayed surprisingly dry. I learnt that the back person follows the stroke of the front person and steers by angling/dragging their oar, and the front person paddles along, humming obliviously and swapping the oar from left to right and vice versa as and when they fancy. Or that’s how we did it, anyway.

We had two hours, which was enough time to paddle anti-clockwise around about half of Derwentwater. It’s a large lake with several wooded islands, one or two big enough for a posh house and others no bigger than a car bonnet, which is surrounded on all sides by high, majestic peaks. Halfway round we approached a medium-sized island, admiring how we could see the smooth, brown pebbles several feet below through the clear water, and beached the canoe on a bank that was lush with overhanging foliage. The island was deserted, although people had clearly lit campfires between the tall trees in the middle, and we enjoyed a Thatchers Haze each before paddling on. On our way back to the marina we were treated to a fly-by from a fighter jet, a couple of carrier planes and a helicopter.

Satisfied with the day’s activities, we drove the short distance back to Keswick and found ourselves back in the Wetherspoons (as a trainee lawyer, I consider additional time spent in an old courthouse building invaluable experience). We agreed to climb Corvus the next day (see previous day’s post for background), drove along Derwentwater’s east bank back into the beautiful Borrowdale valley, and camped in a discrete layby.