Backpacking In The Lake District: A High-Level Borrowdale Circuit

Sunset, Grey Knotts

As a youngster the Lake District was a place of magic for me long before I ever went there. Through Arthur Ransome’s Swallows & Amazons books I fell in love with the fells, the lakes, and the thought of camping amongst them. I so wanted to do that! And when I did many years later it was just as wonderful and special as I had imagined. My early backpacking and wild camping all took place in the Lake District and whilst there must have been rainy days in my mind it was always dry and sunny. In the summer of 1976 that was actually true for weeks on end. I visited the Lake District with friends many times that year and had many superb high camps. 

One of my 1976 camps. Taken with a cheap film camera before I was a photographer!

My backpacking journeys soon took me far from the Lake District for long walks in much bigger, far wilder places. I moved to the Scottish Highlands and visits to the Lake District dwindled. Then Terry Abraham, with whom I’d made a film about winter in the Cairngorms, suggested making one about backpacking in the Lake District. I agreed, wondering if the magic would still remain. And if it would rain.

We came up with a high-level backpacking route that went round Borrowdale and only crossed a road once. It could be done in two or three days (or half a day by fell runners) but filming is a slow process, so we took a little more. It’s not a walk to hurry anyway. There’s too much to see.

Camp on Bleaberry Fell

The first day was hot. I left Derwent Water to climb beside Cat Gill to join Terry and another friend Mark (of online outdoor retailer Valley and Peak) to camp on Bleaberry Fell. The evening was lovely. Dusk came slowly with a gradual fading of the details of the hills and a deepening pink wash over the western sky. Just a few days from the solstice and there was no real darkness, just enough for a few stars to appear. Already the magic of the Lakes had returned.

Dawn was softly beautiful too with a warm cast over the land that hardened and brightened as the sun rose higher. We were reluctant to leave but eventually packed up and headed south along the broad ridge on a dry, sunny day. I marvelled at the landscape spread out around us, both its beauty and its compactness. To the north the Solway Firth was visible, to the south Morecambe Bay. Eastwards the distinctive summit of Ingleborough in the Yorkshire Dales stood out. Only to the west did the hills seem to stretch far, though I knew this was not so. There was cloud this way too, rolling over the Western Fells.

Camp on High Raise

Our second camp was on the side of High Raise, looking out over Langstrath to ranges of ragged hills. Again, dusk and dawn were magnificent, the land bathed in the warmth of the sun. The following day was even hotter. To the west though the clouds were still rising and falling over Bowfell and Esk Pike. Our route was turning in that direction. Soon we’d be heading back north.

Angle Tarn was half in sunshine, half shaded by the clouds. I’ve always found this a magical place. I first came here on a school trip. I was about eleven years old. I’d never been to the Lake District before, never seen hills like this. A lake below a cliff. Just wonderful! It still is.

From Angle Tarn we went past Sprinkling Tarn, the false Esk Hause and Styhead Tarn, places that felt very familiar as I’d been here so often even though my last visit was many years earlier. Close by but out of sight of Styhead Tarn we camped  with a tremendous view down Wasdale and across to the Scafell range. Another friend joined us. There was ample room for four tents.

Inversion, Wasdale

As the sun sank behind the western hills a faint haze could be seen in the valley below, a haze with a distinct upper edge running along the hills. Soon this began to thicken and in just a few minutes had turned into a dense white mist that filled the valley and billowed up the sides of the hills, a quite magnificent sight. Over a few hours the temperature inversion rose and fell, with the lights of Wasdale Head coming and going, before it faded completely.

This was the end of our first filming trip and the next day we descended. The weather had been perfect, the Lake District as wonderful as I remembered. This had been a trip to match those in 1976.

Back again weeks later we sweated up Grains Gill on a heavy, hot, and humid day. Soon we were back on our route. A gentle breeze now mitigated the humidity, but it was still hot. Past Sprinkling Tarn we descended into another heat cauldron in the bowl containing Styhead Tarn. Above us reared the massive distinctive bulk of Great Gable. Climbing its steep slopes didn’t seem attractive in these temperatures. Instead, we took the dramatic Climbers Traverse across the steep rocky southern slopes of the mountain. I’d not been on this narrow, dramatic and often sketchy route for many, many years and I’d forgotten how impressive it is as it winds across steep rocky slopes below the huge, shattered cliffs of the mountain with stupendous views across Lingmell Beck to the Scafell range and down to the neat green fields of Wasdale.

Terry Abraham on the Climbers Traverse, Great Gable

I’d also forgotten that care is needed to find the easiest and safest route as in places there are several paths. ‘Keep to the lower ones’, said Terry, who’d been along it much more recently than me. We did, yet still found paths below us. There were some very easy bits of scrambling but nothing very exposed and the surrounding rock scenery and views down Wasdale were magnificent. Eventually, after we crossed one more steep wide scree slope, we came on Moses Trod and followed this reputedly illicit whisky distillers’ path below dark and foreboding Gable Crag on the north face of the mountain. Rather than complete the girdle of the mountain we then turned away, heading north along the broad undulating ridge towards Honister Pass.

Camp on Grey Knotts

On the boggy, pool-dotted summit of Grey Knotts we stopped and made camp, finding dry pitches on the east side with superb views back to Great Gable and the Scafell range. The sunset was wonderful with dappled clouds slowly turning pink and reflecting in the pools. 

Evening on Grey Knotts

Dawn however came with an overcast sky. The summits were still clear though, just flat and hazy rather than sharp and dramatic. We descended a rather loose and stony steep path to Honister Pass and then climbed up the equally steep but grassy far side. My plan had been to camp at Dalehead Tarn, which I remembered as a pleasant spot. Terry had intimated that this might not be a good idea. When we arrived I could see why. The tarn fades away into reed-filled marshes and the area is very boggy. That camping here was to be avoided was confirmed when we stopped briefly to get water and have a rest and were immediately set upon by biting insects, the only ones of the whole trip. We moved on up to High Spy, another indistinct, rambling summit with, again, plenty of dry spots to camp, though water was further away and the shallow little pool we drew it from rather muddy. I rarely filter or treat hill water. Here I did.

Just a descent back to Keswick was left. The steep path from Catbells was hard on the feet and took us back into the heat and humidity and stifling air. Keswick was reached with relief.

This walk brought back to me the joys of backpacking in the Lake District. I think it’s a superb route, staying high and wild. I’d happily do it again. 

This piece first appeared in Lakeland Walker magazine last year under the title Journey Through The Past.

Backpacking Borrowdale feature in Lakeland Walker

 

For the first time I have a feature in Lakeland Walker magazine. Earlier in the year editor John Manning asked me to write a piece for the Great Lakeland Walks series, which is about personal accounts of walks of discovery, and this has now appeared in the July/August issue. 

In the piece I describe the backpacking trips on the fells round Borrowdale I made with Terry Abraham when we were filming the Backpacking in the Lake District DVD and talk about my discovery of the Lakes and how my first backpacking trips took place there. A few of the illustrations were taken on one of those early trips in the hot summer of 1976. 

Camping in the Lake District in the long hot summer of 1976

In Hollow Stones

As the rain continues to beat down outside I've been sorting through more old photos and came across some from a very different summer, one where it was dry for week after week after week. 1976. I made several trips to the Lake District, alone and with friends, walking and camping in the fells. The heat made for an indolent relaxing idyllic time, ambling to the tops, relaxing in the sun. A summer like no other.

Near Bleaberry Tarn with Crummock Water far below

My pictures, taken on an old point-and-shoot Instamatic, are soft and grainy and the colours have faded. They do bring back that glorious summer for me though.

A rare cloud! Great Gable from Lingmell

Bowfell Links from Three Tarns

Scafell Crag from Lingmell. My pack is on the right - Camp Trails Ponderosa bag on a Camp Trails Astral Cruiser external frame

Hollow Stones

A Trip to Glenridding: John Muir Trust AGM/Members Gathering, a short cruise on Ullswater, Aira Force

View over Ullswater to Birks

Last weekend I was in Glenridding in the Lake District for a very enjoyable and productive time at the John Muir Trust AGM and Members Gathering. I was delighted to see so many members there and to chat to many of them along with JMT staff and fellow Trustees - I've just been re-elected for a second term. There were excellent informative and inspiring talks from staff members and from guests from the Patterdale Parish Council, Foundation for Common Land, Lake District National Park and Fix The Fells.

Rob Bushby, John Muir Award Manager, addressing the packed meeting

The whole weekend was extremely well-organised and as on previous occasions I was impressed by the dedication of the JMT staff. The locally provided food and drink was excellent too. Tirril Old Faithful golden ale was a refreshing welcome discovery!

Ullswater

Amongst all the talking, formal and informal, there was time to enjoy the outdoors and on the Saturday afternoon I joined a group for the short trip on an Ullswater 'Steamer' to Aira Force. This was a 'self-guided' outing, which meant that once off the boat you were on your own to make your way back to Glenridding any way you chose. A few people neglected to get off at Aira Force and ended up going all the way to Pooley Bridge at the far end of the lake and then back again on the boat!

Aira Force

I wandered up beside Aira Beck to the main waterfall, crashing down under an arched stone bridge and watched by dozens of people. This beauty spot - and it is lovely - is very popular as its easily accessible. Once above the bridge there were fewer people and a quieter more peaceful feel. Sunlight on the bright spring leaves created a light airy atmosphere that was soothing and relaxing. Wild flowers - bluebells, ramsons, wood sorrel, primroses - dotted the floor of this long narrow strip of woodland - it doesn't extend far beyond the beck either side.

Aira Beck

Always there was the gentle company of the beck, swirling in deep pools, tunbling down rocks in little cascades and gliding dark and deep through narrow miniature gorges. At the top of the path I set off across fields intending to walk back to Glenridding over the lower fells. At a stile I turned and looked down to the ribbon of green I'd just left. Ahead the hillside was brown with last year's bracken. I hesistated then headed back to the beck. I was enjoying the trees and the water too much to want to leave them so I forgot the hills and descended the path on the other side of the beck. Back at Ullswater I followed a path back to Glenridding through fields and woods and at times right by the lake. Although close to the main road I did enjoy this walk and for once I was glad I hadn't climbed up into the hills.

Ullswater

On the train north the next day I reflected on the weekend. It had gone very well, I thought, and the John Muir Trust was in good shape. It needs to be. Too much wild land isn't.

The Thirlmere Zipwires - just what are National Parks for?

Zipwires over Thirlmere in the Lake District? When I first heard about this proposal I was taken aback. Surely no-one could propose such a thing in the heart of a national park. Well, they have. And it’s causing a big fuss, as it should.

Before looking at the proposal itself I think it’s worthwhile reminding ourselves of the aims and purposes of national parks. These are laid out clearly on nationalparks.gov.uk. Here are some quotes from this document: 

      The Environment Act 1995 …. set out two statutory purposes for national parks in England and Wales:

 1. Conserve and enhance the natural beauty, wildlife and cultural heritage 

       2. Promote opportunities for the understanding and enjoyment of the special qualities of national  

     parks by the public

National Parks are protected areas. A protected area is a location which has a clear boundary. It has people and laws that make sure nature and wildlife are protected and that people can continue to benefit from nature without destroying it.

Sandford Principle

"Where irreconcilable conflicts exist between conservation and public enjoyment, then conservation interest should take priority"

This principle was updated in the 1995 Environment Act, to say;

"If it appears that there is a conflict between those purposes, [the National Park Authority] shall attach greater weight to the purpose of conserving and enhancing the natural beauty, wildlife and cultural heritage of the area"

This is quite clear. I think it’s also quite clear that zipwires over Thirlmere should not be allowed under these terms. Conservation should always take priority. 

Thirlmere is a reservoir with many dense conifer woods on its shores. It’s a man-made lake, the woods are a man-made forest. Does this matter, does this mean any development goes? No. In fact rather the opposite. Areas like this can become wilder (see Wild Ennerdale for an example). Water and trees are natural. They’re not concrete, steel or plastic. Remember the words above, the first purpose of a national park – ‘conserve and enhance’, not ‘damage and degrade’. 

In fact little if any of the Lake District landscape is truly wild. It’s all been influenced and modified by human activity. Few though would argue that it’s not an area of natural beauty. I can’t say I know Thirlmere well but I have looked down on it from neighbouring hills and what I see are woods and water, a peaceful Lake District scene.

Proposing zipwires for Thirlmere is also grimly ironic because it was here that the British conservation movement that eventually led to the creation of national parks had its genesis. The Thirlmere Defence Association, set up to campaign against the proposed reservoir in the 1870s, was the first stirring of organised opposition to destructive developments in areas like the Lake District, opposition that led to the creation of the National Trust and Friends of the Lake District. 

Opposition to the zipwires is growing. Friends of the Lake District and The Wainwright Society have both come out against the proposal. My friend noted film maker Terry Abraham in a bold, brave move resigned publicly as an ambassador for the Lake District Foundation at its relaunch due to the neutral stance of this ‘conservation charity’ to the zipwires. You can read his views here. 

One thing I should make clear is that I have nothing against zipwires as such. I’m not personally interested in them but if people find them fun that’s fine. It’s the location that matters not the actual nature of the development. There should be nothing done at Thirlmere that doesn’t enhance the natural beauty. And roads, car parks, zipwires and noise certainly won’t do this.

If you agree the zipwires should not go ahead you can write and object on the National Park website. Objections have to be submitted by January 2nd. There’s also a petition on 38 Degrees and you could support Zip Off, which has regular updates on the campaign against the zipwires.

Update: Roger Smith has written an excellent piece for The Great Outdoors here.  The British Mountaineering Council has also objected to the scheme.And now the Council for National Parks has done so too.

Update 2: The opposition mountains up. The National Trust has now objected to the scheme, as has the actor Caroline Quinn. Report on Grough. Also the date for objections has been moved to January 12.

Lake District rain and wind, a ruined priory, and Hadrian's Wall: a weekend with the OWPG

On Causey Pike in the rain and wind

Rain hammering down. Well, it was the Lake District. In October. The Outdoor Writers and Photographers Guild always holds its AGM weekend somewhere scenic and this year it was at the Newlands Adventure Centre in Stair in the Newlands Valley. Right above us steep bracken and grass slopes rose into the mist. Somewhere up there was Causey Pike. The morning of the AGM six of us decided to climb the hill despite the weather. After all, why come to the Lake District and not venture into the hills?

A bit of a view from the climb up Rowling End

 

The ascent was enlivened by easy scrambling on the initial steep slopes of Rowling End, the rocks greasy from the rain. Waist-high bracken hanging over the path ensured that those of us not wearing overtrousers quickly had soaking wet legs. It wasn’t very cold and I reasoned I’d have been nearly as damp and probably more uncomfortable with overtrousers than without. My camera is more water-sensitive than my legs and stayed in its case. For photos I used my smartphone, which is waterproof.

Getting wet legs

Occasionally the clouds thinned to give hazy views of shadowy hills, green fields and shining Derwentwater. The rain came and went. Hoods went up and down. The mist was damp anyway. Staying completely dry wasn’t possible, especially as the wind grew stronger as we climbed. On the summit I recorded gusts of 48mph. Enough we thought and cut down to the path by Stonycroft Gill. One hill would do.

En route to Causey Pike

The next day the weather was no better with the hills still hidden. The forecast was for rain, low cloud and high winds. I was glad I’d put myself down for a trip east to Hadrian’s Wall, somewhere I hadn’t been since the 1980s. The day began though with a visit to 12^th century LanercostPriory, which is partly built with stones from Hadrian’s Wall. This gaunt ruin is quite dramatic, as is its history, and there’s a particularly fine vaulted undercroft.

Part of the undercroft

 

After Lanercost came the Wall itself and a walk from Cawfields Quarry to Sycamore Gap that took us over Winshields Crag, the highest point of the wall, and which gave excellent views of the Wall undulating over the hills. We looked at mile castles and the dead straight line of the Vallum, thought about patrolling the Wall in Roman times, and learnt much from our guide Mark Richards, author of the Hadrian’s Wall Path guidebook. The weather was blustery but with only spots of rain until we left the Wall. To the west dark clouds hid the hills. This was the place to be. 

Hadrian's Wall

 

Dropping down from the Wall in the rain we walked to The Sill, a futuristic-looking building that is the Northumberland National Park’s National Landscape Discovery Centre. Wet and starting to get chilly – soaked legs again – I’m afraid we were most interested in hot drinks, feeling we’d discovered enough landscape for the day.

Hadrian's Wall and Crag Lough