Today’s news had ‘experts’ calling for food packaging to be labelled stating how much exercise a person would need to do to burn off the calories. Packet of crisps 30mins walk, piece of cake 1hour walk etc. How long for a fish and chip supper? I can’t see the food industry backing this proposal, they never do. As I drove up Kentmere for today’s walk I wondered how you equate these times to a strenuous fell walk, I’d had a bowl of cereal – 25mins. There is a proliferation of no parking signs throughout the village now, apparently a victim of its own popularity. I managed to squeeze in by the village hall and contributed to their funds. As most walkers headed up the valley I turned and headed the other way using a bridleway to circle Green Quarter, a featureless hill overlooking the village. This brought me a view over Skeggles Water, a totally tranquil scene with only skylarks and a buzzard for company. Not having been here before I settled on a convenient boulder for morning coffee.

Green Quarter above Kentmere.

Isolated Skeggles Water.

Morning coffee.

An easy climb up to the summit of Green Quarter [Hollow Moor] in bright sunshine but with the Kentmere Horseshoe ahead already in threatening clouds. [a little later I was in unpleasant but short lived sleet] A group of fell ponies grazed the subsidiary top and provided good foreground for Kentmere photos. The farmer appeared with his trailer full of hay and he cheerfully chatted about his no doubt hard life up here.

The Kentmere Horseshoe from Hollow Moor, Green Quarter.

Lunch arrives.

Kentmere farmstead.

I was back down within two and a half hours – now what can I have for lunch?

I realised I was well north when Radio Lancs transformed into Radio Scotland. There was a lot of fresh snow and judging from the puddles it had been a wild night. I arrived at my first objective after an hour and a half driving and waited in the car whilst a sleet shower passed through. I was planning a day mopping up five scattered Wainwright outlying fells in the Northern Lakes to save motoring mileage, none of them really justified separate trips.  Seven hours later, and in far better weather, I had completed the task and was on my way south.

Faulds Brow, Caermote Hill, Clint Crags, Watch Hill and Dunmallard.

This area is a quiet backwater – ‘do you ken John Peel’  the huntsman, not the DJ, born and buried in Caldbeck.  From Faulds Brow, I had views over farming land down Bassenthwaite, past Skiddaw into the snowy central fells and to the north the Solway Firth with Crifell prominent. I parked up next to Caermote Roman Fort but could see little of it and was soon on the top of the Caermote Hill with its ‘memorial boulder’. Two local families are remembered. Routledge and Dean.  An extension to St. John’s Hill revealed little.

Undistinguished Faulds Brow.

Caermote Hill.

‘Memorial stone’ with Crifell in the background.

Bassenthwaite from Caermote.

I was in need of a coffee and was pleased to find by the roadside the excellent Great Escape Cafe in Moota Garden Centre – a seasonal hot cross bun was a boost.  This place has an interesting history – a former second world war German prison camp. It is not mentioned as to whether any did escape. Apparently, there was a chapel on-site with paintings from the prisoners, what a shame nothing has been saved.

Next, I was on Clint Crags but couldn’t be sure of the highest point which seemed to be on the edge of a limestone quarry. More interesting were the limestone pavements below – they were obvious but covered in moss to give them a unique atmosphere. Why are other pavements elsewhere cleaner? On this hillside, there were several, what looked like new, shake holes possibly as a result of all the rain.

Mossy clints.

‘New shakehole’

My drive to the next group of hills took me past the Norman St. Michael’s Church at Isel, unfortunately, it was closed because of flooding. The daffodils in the grounds were at their best. It is unusual for a church to be situated so close to a river liable to flooding. There are signs everywhere regarding red squirrels but I didn’t spot any.  More of a problem the lane I was taking was signed as closed due to work on the bridge over the River Derwent – more flood damage. But luck would have it that at the very moment I arrived they took down the barriers having completed the repairs thus saving me a lengthy detour.

The walk up Watch Hill and onto the higher Setmurthy Common was the best of the day. A delightful grassy promenade in the sunshine with Cockermouth and the coast behind and views into the Loweswater Fells. I managed to find a quick way back to the car using mountain bike tracks down through the plantations.

Watch hill to Setmurthy Common with a brooding Skiddaw.

These quiet backwaters would be worth exploring in a more leisurely fashion. But today the busy A66 took me down Bassenthwaite, past Keswick and to Pooley Bridge. Here the destroyed bridge, dating from 1754, has been temporally replaced with a Bailey one, just completed last week and bringing life back to this community. The floods this winter have been devastating and Wainwright’s sketch of the old bridge now has added nostalgia. It cost me £2 to park which seemed expensive for the 30mins walk up and down Dunmallard. Surprisingly I saw deer grazing in the woods and a woodpecker was spotted close by. That was the only plus as the summit is completely tree covered so what would have been fine views down Ullswater are now denied.

Wooded Dunmallard.

My Winter project to visit all the Outlying Fells in Wainwright’s book is proving interesting, but is now running into Spring, too many other distractions.

A long day and unfortunately a long post.

The sun is shining once more as I collect Sir Hugh for another Wainwright Outlying day. I turn up in my new car which has the letters MCV on the tailgate, I couldn’t explain them, so he quickly googled and came up with – Manoeuvre Combat Vehicle (機動戦闘車 kidou-sentou-sha) is a wheeled tank destroyer of the Japan Ground Self-defence Force!  We hadn’t destroyed anything when we parked on the lonely road at the entrance to Swindale. There is no easy access into the Naddle Valley, and we never saw another person all day. we were soon on the first top, Scalebarrow Knott, with clear views back to the Cross Fell group and the closer limestone Knipescar. I think underfoot we had crunchy granite. Tracks led up to the cairn on Harper Hills on the very edge of the deciduous trees creeping up from Naddle Valley. Our next landmark was supposed to be a chimney over the wall, we were lucky to spot it in the trees. Probably has been the gable end of some long-forgotten building.

Our first summit – Scalebarrow Knott.

Distant High Street.

Rough walking then took us up to the sprawling Hare Shaw, a cairn and my altimeter suggested we were at the summit. From here Gouther Crag could be seen down in Swindale, memories of The Fang and Bloodhound climbs. Ahead were remnants of snow gullies on High Street and Harter Fell. The triangular Kidsty Pike was prominent and brought forth our reminiscences of the C to C walk done many years ago.

Distant Gouther Crag with Truss and Fang Buttresses visible.

Now down to the navigational ‘handrail’ of a wall which led us onto Naddle Forest ridge. A high hurdle gave us food for thought, climb it, pole vault it, lift off the top section or more simply just open the lower section.

There was no defined ridge and we wandered about on sheep tracks. Remnants of the forest were all around us, and it was gratifying to see much new planting which should change the appearance of the fell in 10 years time. We need these trees and more to combat our flooding problems. A couple of small cairns on nameless summits 435 m and 433 m were passed and then we headed through the difficult trackless heather to a high point, 426 m, ignored by AW.  Close by on the edge was the well cairned Hugh’s Laithes Pike giving views down to Hawsewater and its dam. A sheltered spot out of the wind gave us an ideal lunch spot. One more top, 395 m, was easily reached. I’ve lost count of our tops by now. We found a lovely winding track down into the wooded Naddle Valley, Birch, Oak and Alder were prominent.  On our way out of the valley, we spotted a group of deer next to Frith Crag.

View back from the last top – Hugh’s Laithes Pike, Haweswater and Measand Beck.

So not the most of interesting fells, but we enjoyed good weather and views. The woods were delightful. It was a strenuous round with a lot of ascents and we reflected that it was far better than spending time in the gym – not that I have ever.

Eight fells in one.

This was a grand day out, everything seemed to fit – good weather, excellent walking with views and interesting companionship, Sir Hugh. I had concocted an extended circuit of the Wainwright Outliers surrounding Devoke Water and wondered whether we would be up to it not knowing the terrain.

Devoke Water is the largest tarn in the Lakes and boasts a two storey boathouse and a tiny island. The first two summits, Rough Crag and Water Crag, to its north were reached with little effort and acted as a warm up for the day. Looking back three men were on the same circuit. Having dropped down to the stream coming out of the tarn there was a tedious climb up to the much higher White Pike and its columnar cairn. From this lofty height we gazed into Eskdale and reminisced on walking over Muncaster Fell on the classic Ravenglass to Shap walk. Muncaster Castle could be seen in the trees, I have a couple of Rhododendrons purchased from there which are about to come into flower in my garden. Nice connotations for me.

The three men on Rough Crag.

The other three slowly followed but we came off the ridge, plunging down the crags [Sir Hugh resorting to the ancient art of bum-sliding] to visit the volcanic pimple of The Knott. From here we worked out a traverse across the moor before a steep ascent up to Stainton Pike. We were still out of breath when the three gents joined us and wondered at our erratic course, mutual group photos were taken with the Scafell Range and Great Gable in the background. Lunch was taken in the warm sunshine.

The Knott and White Pike from Stainton Pike, Muncaster Fell in the background.

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An exhilarating high march across Yoadcastle and Woodend Height, lovely triangular cairn, provided the best views of the day into central Lakeland. From there it was a direct line down to the boathouse. Gaining our last summit, Seat How, proved more difficult as it was ringed by broken crags breached only on the eastern side.

Yoadcastle and Woodend Height along the ridge.

Cairn on Woodend Height.

Seat How on the right.

Last view down onto Devoke water.

Hopefully Spring is here but I’ve known it snow at Easter.

The Pike, Hesk Fell and Great Worm Fell.

The Pike from the Duddon Valley.

After a couple of sunny afternoons bouldering at Craig y Longridge my shoulders screamed out for a rest, so I headed back up to the Lakes.  I parked up on the Birker Fell road mid-morning just as mist descended on Great Worm Fell, something about early bird catching the worm came to mind. The Pike however was clear so I climbed the boggy slope to its summit first. From this aspect all was dull hillside but once on top you realise how steep it rises from the Duddon and hence the bird’s eye view.

View from The Pike, Dunnerdale and the Coniston Fells.

It took forever to trudge across the depression and climb over several false tops to Hesk Fell. A few stones possibly marked the top. I realised I was overdressed for this hot sunny day and was in danger of sun burn. The sky was alive with the sound of bird song, the Skylarks waking up from Winter.

Lonely Hesk Fell.

By the time I was back down to the road the mist had lifted from my original objective so I set off up again following Wainwright’s description. This was a great little circuit of craggy hill tops before reaching the rather desolate Great Worm Crag [no crag]. I spent some time at the base of Great Crag tracing out new climbs up the 40ft faces of good rock, unfortunately I discovered later on the FRCC site they have all been done before. Ah well – there can’t be many unclimbed bits of rock left on this Island.

Great Crag.

As I reached Great Worm ‘Crag’ I had the strange vision of a JCB wandering across boggy ground flattening it with the bucket. ?a new track or some strange form of land management. I didn’t make the effort to go across and question the driver. Nearby views of Green Crag and Eskdale with the Scafells and Bowfell as a background.

The Pike and Hesk Fell from Great Worm.

On my direct descent I came across a couple of Ravens talking to each other in a series of clicks and squawks.

The farm near my parking place was selling free eggs and I couldn’t resist, looking forward to my breakfast tomorrow.

I’ve just realised there has been an unintended bird theme to this post.

Whit Fell, Wainwright outliers.

Would you tramp across the fells to locate this pile of stones …..We, Sir Hugh and I, were on a mission to complete Wainwright’s chapter 35 in the Outlying Fells book – Buck Barrow, Whit Fell, Burn Moor and Kinmont Buckbarrow. These stones are on Burn Moor, there is nothing else here. Sir Hugh is concerned he is becoming obsessive about list ticking – thank heavens I’m not!

The day is sunny and fairly clear for our little circuit of these tops, from the highest, Whit Fell, I was sure we could see Scotland, the IOM, Ireland and Wales. Sellafield Nuclear Fuel centre was prominent on the coast below.T here was the usual debate as to which high tops we could identify. We happily wandered from one pile of stones to another, navigation not being a problem in the clear conditions. In the meantime, we sorted out the forthcoming EU referendum and criticised today’s budget. Generally, the going was good but there were boggy areas where fancy footwork was needed.

Distant Latterbarrow.

Claife Heights, Latterbarrow and an important other.

Early morning mist hadn’t cleared when I set off so I changed my direction of route to hopefully have better views later. Wandering through the forests up to Claife Heights there was no view anyhow. The trig point, occupied by a family, was barely above the trees and I soon plunged back into the forest musing on what this area looked like prior to planting. There was no sign of Peter Rabbit.

A mirky Claife Heights.

A House of Cards.

The sequestered summit.

National Trust Land.
With my ability to misplace keys this would be a nightmare.

Plenty of people were out and about on the well signed tracks and when I arrived at the prominent tower on Latterbarrow it seemed crowds were gathering. There was some brightness by now and there were views to the bigger fells, Bowfell and the Langdale Pikes being prominent. A dog was chasing a Frisbee with great skill and his owners were interesting to chat to. A drone then appeared at great speed and started aerobatics which looked decidedly dangerous for the assembled crowd, a definite intrusion into the day. They are apparently becoming a big problem, in Holland the police are training eagles to snatch any from the sky that maybe of criminal intent.

Distant Bowfell and Langdale Pikes.

Frisbee champion.

Unwelcome drone.

The track back to my car was delightful, through birch and alder much nicer than those conifers. It was a shock facing the traffic through a busy Ambleside. As the day was perfect by now I drove up a minor lane above Windermere and parked at Causeway Farm for a quick ascent of Orrest Head. The footpath mentioned in AW’s chapter was closed since 2007, it would have helped if there was some clue as to its successor. Further down the lane I found a signed route up to the summit. If I thought Latterbarrow was busy I wasn’t expecting the number of people up here. Some were struggling up the path from Windermere in the classic hill going high heels. All the benches were occupied. The view finder recalls the fact that this is where Wainwright first set foot in Lakeland – the rest is history.

Epiphany!

Modern day AW.

A popular view point.

CAW FELL – Dunnerdale.

Caw is the peak far left.

The shapely summit of Caw has been a prominent sight from many of the Outlying Fells in the SW Lakes I’ve been exploring this winter. By chance, we parked up on this frosty morning at the exact point that our route set off up the fellside. Seathwaite in the lovely Duddon Valley, I remember staying here on a Ravenglass to Shap walk, the Inn was serving extra-large steaks on the eve of the Beef Ban as a result of BSE. Wallowbarrow Crag above Seathwaite is a favourite climbing venue, low lying, sheltered and catching all the sun going.

Wallowbarrow Crag above Seathwaite.

Caw Fell rising above kept us in cold shadow, a mine track made the initial accent easy but it was life-giving to emerge into the sun at the remains of buildings and an ancient dripping adit. Already the view towards the icy peaks was outstanding.

The start of the useful mine track.

Approaching Caw summit.

There was a group of happy walkers at the trig point, 529m, when we crunched up the summit snow, they had been staying at the Inn. They had picked a good weekend and the previous day had been able to see Wales, Ireland, the Isle of Man and Scotland from the summits. Today we only managed the Isle of Man, but the Lakeland peaks were striking once we had orientated them. Haycock, Pillar, Scafells, Esk Pike, Bowfell, Pike O’Blisco and the Conistons. We toyed with the idea of continuing up the Walna Scar ridge towards the bulk of Coniston Old Man but being old men we were satisfied with scrambling up the nearby Pikes and the smaller Green Pike. Lunch was taken, then took an old weaving path found heading downhill, when this was lost we just took a direct route back to the valley.

The Lakeland skyline.

Rough going to Pikes.

One of those magic days – did we really only walk 4 miles?

High Dam.

Where is my compass when I need it?  I’m stood on top of Rusland Heights, 244m, which is in the middle of nowhere, see the map below. I’ve arrived here by extending one of Wainwright’s Outlying Fells walks, Finsthwaite Heights, one that strangely didn’t actually reach those heights. So from the Low and High Dams, he described I’ve struggled through bog and rough pathless ground over Finsthwaite Heights, c230m, and up to the highest point around here. Having emerged from the trees there is, at last, a view,  the Coniston Fells, a distant Windermere and the Leven’s Estuary. My way off is complicated and I realise that compass is still in my other rucksack which I haven’t unpacked since arriving home. This is where the 1:25000 OS maps come into their own – marked walls, hillocks, streams and woods all were navigational aids to see me safely to Boretree Tarn and then down to the road. This whole area would make a tricky orienteering course even with a compass. Not many people come up here though it is marked as Open Access, a new idea since Wainwright’s days.

Finsthwaite Heights.

Rough going.

Coniston Fells from Rusland Heights.

Leven’s Estuary from Rusland Heights.

There have been other changes since the ’70s, the start of the walk up Summer House Knotts goes through woods managed by the Woodland Trust who allow good access. The Tower on the summit, 185m, is now surrounded by mature trees and there were no worthwhile views. The inscription on a high tablet gave me thought as the political battle, lies and disinformation commence as to our status and future in the European Community.

Erected to honour the officers, seamen and marines of the Royal Navy whose matchless conduct and irresistible valour decisively defeated the fleets of France, Spain and Holland and preserved and protected liberty and commerce.      1799

The hamlet of Finsthwaite, with its squat church, was visited and I wished I’d had a look at the nearby bobbin mill for which the dams were constructed. An inscription in the car park was evocative of another era –                                                                                                                        This is the water that turns the wheel, that spins the lathe, that shapes the wood, to make the bobbin, to wind the thread, that wove the wealth of Lancashire. These are the trees, that cut by men will sprout again, to make the bobbins, to earn the pay, that fed the folk of Finsthwaite.

Finsthwaite with the Heights above.

I arrived back at my car parked next to the weir on the River Leven which had devastatingly flooded the Swan Inn two months ago. It will be a long time before it reopens.

Wainwright wrote “but this is not fell walking” – well today it was.

“the ascent is a barefoot stroll”

At 53m we are not talking fell here and we are outside the Lake District National Park but this hill is included in AW’s Outlying Fells – which underlies his idiosyncratic nature. I’ve been before; climbing on the rather stiff limestone cliffs but today I’m here because the weather deteriorated whilst I was in the fells to the north.

I strolled up, in boots I may add, from near the outdoor centre. The trig point gives views across the Kent Estuary, across to Heysham Power Station and across miles of treacherous sands.  The trees are bent double from the sea gales. I continued down to where this spit of limestone dips into the sea but was unable to walk back on the western side because the tide was already in. So back over the top.

A good quickie and the weather never really worsened.

       Rough ground to Bigland Barrow.

It has not rained for a few precious days and the tourist board are trying to attract people back into the Lake District.  Today was ideal for a quick raid on the Southern lakes Wainwright Outliers.  I didn’t use Wainwright’s route but followed my nose on one possibly more varied,  but I did take heed and visit point 182m for the best views. The lower end of Windermere was surrounded by smaller hills most of which I now recognise from my recent wanderings. In the hazy background were the white Coniston, Langdale, Helvellyn and Kentmere Fells. It was freezing on top despite the sunshine. Interestingly there is a cairn on this unlikely spot, I can only think it must be related to the popularity of AW’s books.

Point 182 with the lower reaches of Windermere.

Attractive open fellside took me across to the summit of Bigland Barrow 193m and its unusual wartime observation structure, others have written of it so just look up on that wicked pedia place.  The rusty steps and bannister have lasted well but won’t be there forever.

From here one can see down to Backbarrow famous for its ‘Dolly Blue’ mill on the River Leven, all tourism now.  Belted Galloway cattle roamed these uplands and there was much evidence of horse riding, [I later realised that Bigland has a large stabling facility]. On the horizon to the SW was a higher prominence which I was keen to explore so I found muddy paths above a delightful tarn,?Back Reddings, to the road outside the gates of Bigland Hall. This all looked very private but the footpath sign pointed down the drive and my map agreed. Within yards, I came across less friendly signs!

Throughout the estate there is an unnecessary proliferation of PRIVATE signs, they must be paranoid.  Bigland Tarn [No Fishing signs] was passed along with its boathouse and railings from the past.

Then, using stone steps in a wall, fields were entered giving access to the green hill, Grassgarth Heights 203m. I had an uneasy feeling I was trespassing and in full view of Bigland Hall but reached the trig point and was rewarded by superb views south into the Leven and Kent estuaries.

Bigland Hall and from forbidden Grassgarth Heights.

Leven Estuary with the railway viaduct and Chapel Island visible.

I retreated quickly to the safety of what turned out to be the Cumbrian Coastal Path although I seemed a long way from the coast. This guided me between all the private signs down to the river near Haverthwaite. Passing through a delightful hamlet, Low Wood, I found a woodland path alongside an old mill race. There were signs of past industry all about. Further on I was above the River Leven and able to watch some canoeists braving the falls of white water, there must have been an abundance of this in the last few weeks.

Back to a flask at my car just as the weather dulled – see next post.

                                                                   Coniston vista early in the day.

The day was quickly passing when we [Sir Hugh and I] arrived on top of Carron Crag poking out of Grizedale Forest. We had not come the usual way from the the forest centre’s car park. No we had already traversed virtually pathless [and boggy and rough and confusing] ground across Bethecar Moor visiting rocky Brockbarrow, Low and High Light Haw and Top o’ Selside. The day had been perfect –  sunny, clear, cool and calm. The latter adjectives can’t be applied to the next hour’s floundering through ‘open’ forest on a supposedly direct route west to our escape path. Tripping over tree roots, falling into bogs, frequent changes of direction, much under the breath cursing – surely not Sir Hugh?  Who was leading who? There are tellingly few photos of our plight as the tension increased regarding  our emergence. That word is scaringly similar to emergency!                                                                                                                                                  We should have known better from a combined experience of over a hundred years.

Top o’Selside from High Light Haw.

Carron Crag in our sights.

Carron Crag.

Panopticon company on Carron crag.

Miraculously the forest opened for us like the Red Sea and we were soon waltzing along the delightful bridleway high above Coniston Water back to Nibthwaite. Highlights were constant views of Dow Crag hiding shyly behind the Coniston Fells and the passing of the remote Low Parkamoor house. If you fancy an ‘eco’ getaway including a well with indoor pump, paraffin lamps and wood burning range and the luxury hip bath [they don’t mention how many kettle’s full of hot water] book it through their website.

Salvation.

Dow Crag and Coniston Old Man.

Low Parkamoor- your ideal retreat.

Low Parkamoor.

We were just happy to arrive back at the car with the promise of central heating, a hot bath and maybe a take-away.

I was just recovering from a delayed late flight back from Gran Canaria when Sir Hugh suggested that tomorrow, Wednesday, is the only good day in all this awful weather. [I’m a few days behind] So on a bright and cool morning we are parked above Windermere and setting off on a simple circuit of School Knott hills and Brant Fell. Knott is a Cumbrian word simply meaning hill.  This morning this area seemed very popular mainly, or rather exclusively, with dog walkers. On the first summit overlooking Windermere, School Knott 232m, we met a local dog walker very proud of his area and yet he had never been to our second summit 1/2 a mile away. We did however and Grandsire, 251m, was a splendid rocky perch with views up into snowy Coniston, Langdale, the Helvellyn and the High Street ranges. We cut back to Cleabarrow Hill 247m and climbed a wall to the highest rocky point. Retracing our steps we picked up the Dales Way, which I walked in Nov. 1981. This took us via several small tarns, not marked on my ancient map, through the well-kept estate of Matson Ground. All the properties being painted blue. We gained the open hillside and climbed to Brant Fell, 192m. On top of this prominence are the remnants of a summer house! Some iron railings and stone gate posts are all that survive. What a great lunch spot in the sun overlooking Windermere. Then we dropped down to the inferior Post Knott viewpoint, the bench was occupied! Paths on the edge of Bowness soon brought us back to the car. Sir Hugh was right this was the best day of the week if not the year.

Windermere and Langdale Pikes from School Knott.

Grandfather striding out to Grandsire.

Onwards to Cleabarrow.

Manicured Matson.

Lower reaches of Windermere from Brant Fell.

Post Knott.

Shapely mountains, Lakeland tarns, winding paths, rocky volcanic crags, slate quarries, rushing becks and expansive views – what more could you wish for in a day out in the Lake District. The three of us, The Rockman, Sir Hugh and BC, enthused over this relatively unknown outlying area, the true Dunnerdale.   That was before the snow came and we were in true winter conditions. The forecast had been optimistic for the day, cold and bright, but Dianne is not always right.

The afternoon was arctic with snow showers and slippery conditions underfoot, on the steep ground micro crampons proved useful. Dianne’s 6-inch stilettos could have been of some help. Not many people had ventured out. We wandered from one shapely peak to another on the rough ground finding paths from time to time between the tarns and crags. By the time we were eating lunch, the last of the Xmas cake, the distant views had gone. We omitted an optional climb up Fox Haw, 385m, Wainwright in his idiosyncratic way had ignored it.  We just followed our noses along the last ridge and found a steep way of the end into lanes back to Broughton Mills.

Near the end, we passed the delightfully plain Holy Innocents Church and on entering I was impressed with the striking stained glass window above the altar. Unfortunately, my photo didn’t focus well.

We reflected on the quality of this miniature fell walk as we trudged through the falling snow back to the car, appropriately named for a day like this …

I was inwardly having nagging doubts about that missed summit, but I’m digressing now

For the record an approximate outline of our wanderings over Great Stickle, Tarn Hill x2, Stickle Pike, Nameless Summit and The Knott…..

Despite not winning the Lottery Jackpot of X million I woke to a new dawn bringing in colder weather with thankfully less rain.

Are you inspired by the familiar or the unknown?  On our most recent trip, Sir Hugh and I were soon faced with the above sign. To avoid arrest or worse I shan’t go into full details of today’s walk. The virtual views from the summit included an alpine Langdale Pikes.

We had originally planned a full days walk further north but on seeing the latest forecast I suggested a shorter morning’s stroll visiting Williamson’s Monument on High Knott. This has an interesting history – ‘the cairn was erected by the Rev T Williamson in memory of his father who used to climb up to High Knott every day before breakfast’  The tablet in the cairn states  In memory of Thomas Williamson of Height, in Hugil, gent who died Feb 13th 1797. Aged 66 years. Erected 1803.  Why is there no official access to this monument?

Once we were up here Sir Hugh was charged to cut across pastures new to a couple of nearby fells, Hugill and Reston. I had to follow him through bogs and over fortified walls, we should not be doing this. We were rewarded with unusual views down into Kentmere from the first and into Staveley and the busy road at Ings to Windermere from the second.

At 12 o’clock when the rain arrived on schedule we were sitting in the porch of Staveley Church enjoying a hot flask. it was then a short walk back to the car.

Lonely fells.

Whilst the weather has been poor I’ve been at the climbing walls – mainly bouldering,  I did have my rope out in earnest yesterday whilst helping my son move house. This involved me belaying as we roped a heavy washing machine and trolley, Laurel and Hardy style, down his steep cellar steps, no casualties of either machine or man. So I have been busy in Manchester for the last few days but he’s established now. Hence the reason for the delayed posting of a dry and sunny day’s excursion last week with Sir Hugh. He had remembered a running circuit used several years ago based on Beacon Fell below Coniston Water and lured me in by promising six Outlying Wainwright’s. The bait was cast.

“When you see someone putting on his Big Boots, you can be pretty sure an Adventure is going to happen.”                                    A. A. Milne,   Winnie-the-Pooh.

We parked in Woodland which consisted of a church, two houses and a postbox in the middle of nowhere. This a secluded part of the Lakes with a maze of quiet narrow lanes. The postbox gets a quirky mention by Wainwright as where he “posted his 1972-3 tax return” 

Green tracks through the thankfully dead bracken soon had us by the modern cairn on Yew Bank, 207m, and then a more ancient doughnut-shaped cairn to the East. We had fun plotting Imaginary paths along the ridge to Fisher High and then down into bog before a surprisingly steep climb up to Beacon Fell, 255m. There was a pleasant lady in-situ at the cairn, she was on a mission to check on their holiday caravan after the storms but couldn’t resist a quick fell top. Sign of a true walker.

Summit of Beacon Fell with Coniston Water below.

Dow Crag and Coniston Old Man in the distance.

Striding towards Beacon Tarn, Wool Knott and Blawith Knott.

Lunch spot.

Throughout the morning we’ve had hazy views of the Coniston Fells and Water, and southwards to Morecambe Bay. Lunch was taken by the beach on Beacon Tarn. To complete our circuit over Wool Knot, Tottlebank Height and Blawith Knott more inspired use of sheep trods was needed. On the last summit, it was increasingly cold and the light was fading so we dropped to Lang Tarn and took a compass bearing straight down a troublesome hillside to Woodland, each man for himself.

Arduous tramping.

Looking back to Beacon Fell.

We both agreed this was a perfect and remote miniature Fell walk, a great little adventure, though I think Sir Hugh was itching to run it again. Apart from Beacon Fell, I suspect few people venture into these fells which is a shame,     6.5 miles and 700m ascent.

                             The village of Staveley with the fell rising above.

It was still early when I came down from Newton Fell so I drove up the valley and parked in the secluded hamlet of Staveley, strangely there was nobody about. The lane leading to the fells was rather dark and enclosed. My planned route was soon blocked off by deer fencing, Wainwright’s book is 41 years old and obviously in this area of plantations inaccurate. A little further on I found a waymarked path in the right direction. It led up through trees but was hardly trodden and one of the roughest ‘paths’ I have used. I had previously been in this vicinity whilst geocaching with Sir Hugh    https://bowlandclimber.com/2014/12/01/treasure-hunting-on-simpson-ground/    I have frightening memories of primaeval bogs so was a little apprehensive of venturing into the area again. What Wainwright described as open fellside turned out to be a morass of felled trees and branches. Finding the best way was impossible and I took ages heading up the vague ridge. Over several false summits, my altimeter announced I was at the highest point, 265m, a small cairn with at least a grand view to Windermere. The pale sun had never quite escaped the greyness.  Gummer’s How, climbed with my Grandson this last summer, seemed only a stone’s throw away. I could see a forest road down to the east across a Somme like desolation and I eventually staggered out of the trenches to reach it. I recognised this road as the one Sir Hugh and I had escaped on after our nightmare on Simpson Ground. It took me quickly through the forest to a path leading back to the village and in retrospect would have been the far easier approach to the summit.

In a lower open fellside, grazed by ponies, numerous wooden cages had been constructed presumably for tree planting but each one was strangely empty. Reminded me of the council worker digging a deep hole, resting on his spade for 5 minutes and then filling it in again. When queried about his labours he simply said the chap who plants the tree was off sick. Mild humour on an otherwise humourless outing.

The other things to note about the secluded houses of Staveley were a Victorian post box in a wall and an elaborate miniature railway layout complete with a herd of llamas.

Today was a purely selfish summit bagging outing and I was glad I hadn’t inflicted it on any of my friends, relationships would have been strained. The terrain encountered was a severe obstacle course and I certainly wouldn’t recommend visiting in mist.  Maybe to ease my journey through Wainwright’s Outliers I should invest in Chris Jesty’s update, or would that be cheating?

Happy New Year.