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.

In his chapter on Potter Fell, in the Outlying Fells guide, Wainwright states – “it behoves a walker subject to sudden maladies to endure a companion on this expedition” As I seem to be now inflicted with ‘sudden maladies’ I called upon Sir Hugh to accompany me, besides he has a more suitable car for navigating the presently troubled lanes in The Lake District. So we parked on a lane north of the River Kent near Staveley. A flooded beck [a lovely north country term] had devastated a bridge on its way to join the Kent; we have just experienced storms Desmond and Eva. Today is clear, but tomorrow, along comes Frank!

A man and his dog were walking by. I broached the subject of the local flooding; shaking his head, he told me of the farmer from the fellside above who, whilst tending his sheep, had slipped into the said beck and was washed away into the Kent. His body was found near Kendal – a sobering thought to start the day. Our walk started up the lane to his remote farm, and as we passed, I would have doffed my cap if I had been wearing one. It’s a hard life farming these fells.

It’s a hard life.

The first top was surprisingly craggy [a taste of things to come], and we gazed south to Sir Hugh’s house at Arnside.
Onwards to Brunt Knott, we met a local  Christmas family outing, stopped for pleasantries and were soon quite rightly involved in discussing the problems of overgrazing and lack of trees contributing to the serious flooding. Everyone up here is becoming concerned and is conscious of a lack of guidance or even sensible practical will from our southern politicians.

There was a stone trig point on Brunt Knott [427m] from where we tried to identify the surrounding hills of Kentmere and Longsleddale. One has a different perception of the supposedly familiar landscape from these lesser fells. Looking north, we couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t included a higher top of 429m in Sleddale Forest in this round; miles later, we were glad we hadn’t.

Approaching Brunt Knott.

The whole area is rough, with craggy fellsides, which we found challenging to navigate, even with Sir Hugh’s electronics. Intervening walls, unfortunately, had to be climbed, our increasing inelegance becoming a source of mirth. Photos deleted.  Passing over an unnamed summit on the list, we focused on the prominent cairn on Ulgraves and eventually reached it. What a surprise. It is perched on the edge of these Potter Fells and looks straight down and up into an unfortunately mirky Longsleddale.  To the south, the Howgills were prominent once we had orientated ourselves in this complex terrain.

Longsleddale.

Distant Howgills.

Things became easier as we picked up tracks to picturesque Gurnal Dubs, with its boathouse and then onto Potters Tarn. These waters are both dammed and originally supplied the paper mills at Burnside.

In the maze towards Gurnal Dubs.

We found a way down alongside a rampant beck to the road and a rendezvous with our transport as the daylight disappeared. So much for an easy half-day; this was a proper Lakeland Fell walk. I had forgotten my altimeter but reckoned on climbing 1500ft.  Tomorrow, I could be clinging to Preston climbing wall or shopping in the sales as Frank passes by; guess which wins.

As usual, check out  https://conradwalks.blogspot.com/search?q=potter+fell  for the true story.

                                                                            Knipescar.

Having descended to Askham from a good half day’s walk on Heughscar Hill I was not keen to risk again the flooded lanes around Penrith and chose to drive south to Shap. The distinctive Knipescar appeared up to my left, I pulled into a layby  to consult Wainwright and the map – an ideal quickie. Parked at the bottom of the lane to Scarside Farm I was in too much of a rush in the late afternoon and had gone well up before realising I’d forgotten my camera. Running back down I greeted four others going up for a late visit. Once camera reunited and relaxed on the lovely limestone promenade along the scar I could take in views of Haweswater, Cross Fell and now distant Blencathra. To my right was a substantial wall, the boundary of Lowther Castle estate. I soon reached  the summit in a maze of limestone pavement with several contrasting erratic boulders dumped by retreating glaciers. Those other four seem to have disappeared – where could they have gone at this time of night?

                                          Erratic boulder, Knipescar and distant Blencathra.

My search in the limestone pavements for the stone circle/enclosure marked on the map was fruitless, I couldn’t even locate the Ministry of Works sign mentioned by Wainwright and as the light faded I didn’t fancy braking an ankle up here. So I headed back as the shadows lengthened and the temperature dropped. The sun went down as I reached the farm lane.

                                                          Where is the ‘stone circle’?

Evening Shadow.

                                                The sun goes down.

The end of a beautiful day.

                                                     The Summit Of Heughscar looking to Ullswater.

Escaping from local flooding on the Calder and Ribble I headed up the M6.  It wasn’t as easy to get to the little village of Askham as I thought, every lane after the motorway seemed to be closed due to floods or damaged bridges. I was doubting my wisdom of driving into the Lakes, such was the devastation from the recent heavy rain. But the day was sunny and dry and an ideal time for more limestone walking amongst Wainwright’s Outlying Fells, my project for this winter. I avoided the quick dash to the summit and back and enjoyed his suggested walk around Heughscar Hill. The area had abundant Bronze Age cairns,  stone circles, a Roman Way and medieval quarries to explore. Paths went everywhere which helped the wandering. From the summit and a limestone escarpment were views into Ullswater and surrounding mist topped hills. Blencathra’s ridges could just be discerned.   As it was the Sunday after Xmas the area was popular with crowds of friendly walkers, going in all directions, and despite Wainwright promoting this Fell for old gits like me families and young children were in the majority.

                                              A wet Roman Road, Heughscar and the distant Pennines.

                                                   Moor Divock with a couple of Bronze Age picnickers.

                                                                          Distinctive  Blencathra.

I ended up at The Cop Stone, a standing stone, with views down to Shap with the Howgills behind. As I returned to Askham the ornate Lowther Castle acted as a foreground to Cross Fell throwing off its mantle of cloud, the Radar station on adjacent Great Dun Fell shining in the sunshine. As an aside I remember well as a teenager camping up there on The Pennine Way and experiencing the full force of the local Helm Wind. I survived the night, or rather did my Black’s Tinker cotton tent, but I retreated the next morning with my tail between my legs. This area also brings to mind an expedition I did along that Roman Way, High Street, between the forts of Brougham and Ambleside, a 25mile stroll worth doing if you can sort out the transport logistics.

                                                    The Cop Stone with distant Shap and the Howgills.

                                                               ‘Burial site’ with Heughscar Hill above.

                                        Descending to Askham, Lowther Castle and the Cross Fell group behind.

So for pleasant walking, all-round views and interesting antiquities Heughscar takes some beating, a real Lakeland gem. Let’s just hope the worst of the rain is over and this part of Cumbria can start to return to normal.

Having dropped out of the gale from Hampsfell

‘Calm’ before the storm – HAMPSFELL.

I was rattled and in no mood to go high again. Scanning my map I thought the lowly outlier Humphrey Head would be ideal for a quick ascent. Having driven towards it I realised the flooded access road was no place to be in my low clearance car.  A quick turnaround and I was navigating the complicated narrow lanes up to Cartmell Fell Church. This is an isolated church built in about 1504 as a chapel of ease to Carmel Priory. It has a squat functional construction, at one with the surrounding fells. The interior is welcoming with notable ornate wooden pews.    On the walls of the chancel are boards painted with the Lords prayer, the Creed and the Ten Commandments.

From here it was an easy dash up the rough fellside to the prominent stone cairn [The Old Man] on Raven’s Barrow. The highest point of the fell was a few metres SW. There were views to the Coniston Fells and over the still waterlogged Winster valley. The sun was beginning to set and the wind becoming colder so I didn’t linger. Better get home for Christmas and before little Eva arrives.

Desmond has passed but left its toll of flooding in Cumbria, and now little Eva is approaching. After a night of more rain, the day improved so I had a late drive up to the Lakes. Consulting my Wainwright Outlying Fells I chose Hampsfell as today’s destination. I now realise there is a ring of limestone to the south of the Lakes and in this rain-soaked month they hold the promise of better walking underfoot, several of Wainwright’s Outlying Fells occupy this region. Having said that there were some muddy paths out of Lindale but once on the fell things improved. This was a land of limestone pavements and miniature edges with paths going everywhere. I chose one that led me to the summit and walked up into a gale, with constant battering I wondered whether any of my photos would be in focus. There were birds’ eye views down to the Kent estuary with Arnside and Ingleborough in the distance. The highest point has an unusual ‘Hospice’, built-in 1846 under the instruction of a vicar of Cartmel as a shelter for travellers. The substantial structure has a flight of steps leading to the roof and an unusual viewfinder, an alidade, which act as a pointer to the surrounding fells. Today it was virtually impossible to stand on the roof let alone line up the views. Back in the calm interior of the shelter I was able to read the cryptic poems displayed on the walls. Above the entrance is a Greek inscription which translates as ‘rosy-fingered dawn’, a phrase apparently used by Homer referring to Eos, goddess of dawn.  According to Greek mythology, Eos’s task was to open the gates of Heaven each morning to allow the sun to rise, a romantic idea which could be put to the test by spending a night in here and witnessing the phenomenon. Today I could only view Morecambe Bay to the south and the misty Lakeland Hills in the rest of the compass.  I forced my way along the ridge in the gale-force wind in a northerly direction, the Cumbrian Fells in front of me. Dropping off the ridge field paths took me back to Lindale. My only problem was a large bull in one field, I trespassed in the adjoining field to avoid it, I would rather face an angry farmer than an angry bull.

Wainwright’s  Outlying Fells  –  Cunswick Scar and Scout Scar.

Scout Scar.

I mused about starting to complete Wainwright’s Outlying Fells a couple of weeks ago and it hasn’t stopped raining since. The Lake District has had some dreadful flooding and it’s been best to avoid travelling there. This weekend there was heavy rain again on Saturday but the forecast for Sunday was for frost and clear morning. Hence we found ourselves parked up in Kendal adjacent to Serpentine Woods, the higher western side of town which has some pleasant housing. We simply followed the master’s guide from then on [Chapter 1]. An old tramway took us past its limestone quarry into the fells, or more correctly into a golf course. Tracks led everywhere but we just followed the crowds. A large proportion of Kendal’s population seemed to be heading for the heights,  is that normal for a Sunday or are they all going up to survey the surrounding floods?  They were the usual dog walkers and casual walkers but also a fair proportion of runners enjoying the firm dry tracks, the whole area is Limestone. Everyone gave a friendly greeting. Before we knew it we were atop Cunswick Scar on the edge of the escarpment with views all round of snowy Lakeland peaks.

Kendal below.

Approaching Cunswick Scar.

A path followed the edge southwards towards a communication tower and crossing a road we were on the continuation ridge to Scout Scar. The prominent summit structure is called ‘the mushroom’ or ‘the umbrella’, it is, in fact, a shelter with a built-in viewfinder. It was built in 1912 commemorating the coronation of George V and has had several refurbishments. A perfect spot for refreshments and viewing, the Howgills looked close and splendid in their winter coat, as did the Langdale Pikes. The continuation along the edge gave us views over the Lyth Valley sadly still underwater. In the past I have climbed on the cliffs below, memories of loose trad climbs and some poor sport climbs [bolted] but from up here you had no impression of the crag face. I did spot one lower off and a couple of bolts. The day had been freezing with watery sunshine but clouds were building from the south as we descended through junipers to the outskirts of town. It started raining as we reached the car.

‘The mushroom’

Distant Langdale Pikes.

Distant Morecambe Bat and the flooded Lyth Valley.

A perfect little walk in these conditions, good underfoot with wide-ranging views.

Storm Desmond has been causing  lots of trouble in the NW this weekend and Cumbria has been hit hard. There were reports of flooding and roads closed throughout the area. I’d planned a start on some of those Wainwright Outliers but thought I’d better wait and see what this morning brought. The A590 into the southern Lakes was closed, Kendal was in trouble, so I wisely cancelled.

My heart goes out to all those people with flooded houses.

My copy of Wainwright’s The Outlying Fells of Lakeland is dated 1974 [£1.50] and I’ve hardly used it in those 40 years.  ‘a pictorial guide to the lesser fells around the perimeter of Lakeland written primarily for old age pensioners and others  who can no longer climb high fells but can still, within reason, potter about on the short and easy slopes of the foothills‘

I’ve covered a lot of ground in the Lakes over the years, walking and climbing, and I now avoid the overcrowded central areas. I also, unfortunately, come into the old age pensioner category. So when I fished this volume off my bookshelves and dusted it down this week a plan materialised. I daren’t venture abroad at present because of some unresolved medical issues so why not attempt to complete the outlying fells this winter?

The book is not as well laid out as his Lakeland Fell Guides and I found it a bit difficult to actually find the locality of some of the walks and their relationship to others. The internet helped out on that account with some lists and decent outline maps of the selected fell areas. Plans rapidly develop.

I have noted in my copy a few walks I have completed, namely 10, but suspect I traversed many more. so that leaves me with 46 chapters to go.  Each chapter is actually a walk.  As he often groups several fell tops into the same chapter/walk there is a larger number of Fell tops. Another list is produced on pages 270 – 271 of the 110 individual tops but this incorporates some inaccuracies, duplications and omitted nameless ones. I’ve marked down 24 of these I’ve visited, can’t believe I’ve not done more.

A more realistic list of 116 tops appears here https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Outlying_Fells_of_Lakeland   Better just start again, I told you it was complicated.

Chris Jesty has published an updated edition which might help but that would be straying from Wainwright’s original. As I want to read and follow his accounts –  I’ve bitten the bullet.