Walking in the Lake District

Just over a week ago I spent a very enjoyable weekend with my friend Ronan walking in the Lake District. We seem to have ended up doing something similar around this time of year for a while now; this time the plan was to go to the western lakes around Wasdale, spending the first day trying to climb Scafell Pike (the highest peak in England at 978 metres/3209 feet), and the second doing something a bit gentler before coming back.

Since it's a pretty long drive from here to Wasdale even without negotiating windy narrow and unlit roads of the Western Lakes, we set off on the Friday evening in a rented 4x4 (looking completely like tourists) for lodgings in Arnside. The town is on the southern edge of the Lakes, on the estuary of the River Kent (the north-east corner of Morecambe Bay); by the time we arrived it was dark and the estuary was a strange silvery presence alongside our walk to the Albion pub, oddly quiet and slightly magical: trains moving slowly on the distant opposite bank looked like travelling buildings in the darkness.

The next morning we followed twisty roads up and down hills on the way to Wasdale. In spite of the overcast and slightly hazy weather, the mountains of the Western Lakes were an inspiring sight - as was Wastwater, with the steep mountainsides appearing to plunge directly into the lake. Arriving at Wasdale Head, our attempt on Scafell Pike finally began - Ronan had picked out a less direct route to the peak that we hoped would be more scenic, and we set off. Even our gentler ascent involved some committed walking but we quickly climbed up the side of the valley (in my experience it pays to stop and look back from time when going uphill, to remind yourself that you're making progress). In spite of the wind and rain it was a good walk up - the paths are generally well maintained and we were rewarded with a couple of wonderful-looking tarns, which I could imagine swimming in later in the year:

Eventually though we encountered snow and mist (low cloud, really); the visibility dropped and the snow was often loose and slippery so progress was slower, but finally we reached 920m:

Sadly this was as high as we'd get - we couldn't see the obvious route to the peak of Scafell Pike, though on the map we could see it was close. Even so this remains one of my favourite moments of the weekend - stopping by the cairn we seemed to have been transported to an eerily tranquil place (even the wind was silent), devoid of landmarks or people. It was a little bit magical.

After the highs of course you have to come down! The ascent was tiring but fortunately our overnight accommodation at Rainors Farm (a really nice friendly B&B that also offers yurts - maybe next time - and which I would completely recommend) was very welcoming after all the walking, and an (ahem) "interesting" evening out at a pub in Gosforth rounded the day off nicely.

The next day the weather seemed a little more settled and we wondered briefly about trying for Scafell Pike again, before deciding on something a little less taxing - the mountains aren't going anywhere, and it was debatable whether my sore feet and legs would actually be able to get me there. Instead we walked up to Whin Rigg on the other side of Wasdale, with commanding views of the surrounding countryside out to the coast (including the Sellafield nuclear reprocessing plant), and beyond. Incidents involving Ronan's lost hat - happily recovered on the way back - and a tin of chicken soup added some light drama (or maybe comic relief?) but nothing we couldn't handle.

It's always a little sad driving back after a great weekend, but a detour through Morecambe took the edge off: nothing like fish chips, a view over the bay, and a chance to spend a bit of quality time with one of the town's most famous sons:

Bring me sunshine, indeed. What a great weekend!