Southern Fells

Skip past the Scafells to:

• Bow Fell and its neighbours
• The Coniston fells
• Glaramara and its neighbours

Scafell Pike and its neighbours

Saturday 24 June 1995. Scafell Pike (3210ft) from Seatoller, 12 miles.

A probable date, rather than a certain one; a week either way perhaps. Indeed, it might have been the small hours of Sunday when I returned. I’d booked myself on an organised Three Peaks Challenge, for charity. We were delayed leaving Ben Nevis, so it was an early evening start from Borrowdale.

I can remember fairly fast walking, the finest midsummer weather, and just about being able to see when I got back to the valley. But I can’t remember whether I went via Sty Head or Esk Hause; I guess the former is the more likely ‘tourist route’.

I’ve still to climb four of its neighbours; they will make two days out. Scafell (3162ft) is big enough to merit a day on its own. The Pike’s neighbours, Ill Crag (3068ft) and Broad Crag (3064ft), can go together with Great End (2986ft), which I’m planning as my last Hewitt.

That leaves Lingmell (2649ft). Ouch …

Going down was something else – though conditions were perfect, I knew that continuing with the original plan would have been foolhardy in the extreme, with some of Lakeland’s roughest ground still to come.

From the summit I could see the path dropping to Lingmell col, and from just above the col an easy, almost level, path on grass by a wall. The trouble though with almost level paths from mountain summits is that they have to get steeper if you’re ever to reach the valley floor.

I’ve been back to my gpx log to work out just how slow I was in descent. As a sampler, one 500 yard stretch finishing at the intake wall took me an hour.

I must never do that again. I must never do that again. I must never do that again.

Bow Fell and its neighbours

Thursday 9 June 1977: Crinkle Crags and Cold Pike, seven miles. Friday 10 June 1977: Bow Fell and Esk Pike, eight miles. Both from the Old Dungeon Ghyll.

Another trip to the Lakes with my teacher colleagues, again probably Mike, Pete and Geoff, three years after a couple of days on the North-Western Fells. It must have been a late half term, or I’ve got the dates wrong by a couple of days.

Not too good on the memories to be honest. That’s a shame for the Crinkle Crags day; it’s a smashing hill with an interesting ridge of five ‘crinkles’; the second (2818ft) and first (2736ft) are the Hewitts, as is the non-crinkle Shelter Crags (2674ft) to the north. We’d ascended via Cold Pike (2300ft) to the south, and returned to base by The Band.

The next day we set off for Scafell Pike, but owing to the rubbish visibility we turned back after having crossed Bow Fell (2959ft) and Esk Pike (2904ft). This time, probably The Band uphill, but maybe Esk Hause and Rossett Gill back.

It’s long been a matter of contention as to whether this or The Old Man of Coniston is the higher fell; I didn’t know it then, but a detailed survey had only resolved the issue (and then not without some remaining contention) less than five months before.

That just left Grey Friar (2536ft). It’s a bit awkwardly stuck out a mile to the west, but the ground is easy. It was though a bit of an out-and-back, diverging on my return to Levers Hause and the steep descent to its eponymous Water. Just like the day before descending from Pike o’Stickle, my knees locked out, but they soon improved on the more gentle ground through the Coppermines.

It was a good enough day for hill walking, indeed quite sunny on the ascent, but the wind started to get up on the top. Posing for a summit pic, a sudden gust grabbed my Tilley hat and thrust it over the crags above Low Water. I didn’t run after it, or else I wouldn’t still be here.

Taking care of my now bald head I set off down to the hause above Goat’s Water, which is sheltered in a classic mountain corrie. There’s no difficulty on the ascent to Dow Crag (2552ft), but the summit itself needs a little scramble.

Most times I have seen this walk anthologised, I have seen it in the opposite direction, but this keeps the steepest ground to last. I’ve always thought that a gentle descent is better, so it was always going to be a counter-clockwise route for me. This led me down easily to the summit of the Walna Scar Road (1995ft) – thankfully, although it’s called a ‘road’ and is classified as a ‘restricted byway’, motor vehicles are banned. From here, it’s just a pleasant downhill hour back to Coniston.

We parked up at the Birks Beck Bridge car park in the Duddon valley. A forestry track leads straight up from the bridge and curves round to just above Birks Farm. The climb starts in earnest here; it’s very steep initially, until it starts to ease off above a high wall.

The top is rocky, and there’s a choice of high points, all needing a bit of a scramble. I’d taken the trouble to take a pic of Wainwright’s summit page, which has a helpful drawing of the summit and how to get there. Enough of a scramble to need a bit of care.

I wouldn’t have wanted to reverse the ascent, but there are a couple of other ways off. One runs NE then S, but it looks a bit long and rough. Better to locate the path W off the fell, though it doesn’t take the course that OS maps say it should. No matter, it’s clear enough.

It ends at forestry, or at least did in 2024, as the commercial forestry hereabouts is being rewilded as it’s felled. The path through it is sometimes firm, more often wet; but it does eventually end, at the forestry track which leads back to the car park.

From here it was quite nice to pick my way past a small tarn to the larger Sprinkling Tarn and then turn left onto the clear path that links Sty Head to Esk Hause. Ruddy Gill makes quite a deep valley to your left. The scenery around here is top notch. Even with my limited knowledge of this part of the Lakes, I could reel off the likes of Esk Pike and Bowfell as well as those further away. Strangely though, Scafell Pike was hidden by lower fells.

I reached my second hill, Allen Crags (2575ft) with a left turn at a col. So far, so straightforward. And indeed there were clear enough paths heading over Red Beck Top (2365ft) to Glaramara itself  (2569ft). Here was a little conundrum. Three tops were possible summits. I climbed what looked like the two most likely high points, met a guy with the Wainwright guide, and we agreed the true high point mist be the third one, so went off to that.

The closest thing Glaramara has to a tourist path beetles off down over Thornythwaite Fell from here. My target though was Combe Head (2411ft), reasonably prominent. It’s listed as a Hewitt on the usually reliable Walk Highlands website, but it appears to be solely a Nuttall. However why take chances.

Paths were scant and becoming scanter, and there was no obvious ’tilt’ to the ground. I kept careful reference to the map but more than once found myself having to backtrack – and once holding on carefully over a slippy mossy slab. Still, that was my final Hewitt of Dovenest Top (2078ft) ahead, wasn’t it, not far from the fence? Two possible summits. Climb both.

It was on my way away, towards Tarn at Leaves where I would start my drop back to the valley in earnest, that I looked back and thought that there was a third, and undoubtedly higher, summit. I should have returned, even with a near-mile on the day. I did not, and so had to come back another day. Let that be a lesson etc.

Things were more straightforward now, even if hardly easy. I don’t think any of the five of us followed the same route to Combe Door and on to Glaramara; in particular I made no effort to revisit the true top of the latter, nor indeed the Birkett of Looking Steads, but I did re-touch cairns at Red Beck Top and Allen Crags.

Below Esk Hause, we turned left for Angle Tarn and the short climb up to my one undoubted new Hewitt of the day, Rossett Pike (2136ft). Staying on the ridge, we picked up the Birketts of Buck Pike and Black Crags before finding the summit of Stake Pass (1570ft).

I’d been on Stake Pass before, in the late 60s, on a family holiday in my teens. For some reason I thought it would be a good walk for me, my sister and my mother to walk from Stonethwaite to Great Langdale and use the bus to get us to/from Keswick. Alas, there was either no bus at Dungeon Ghyll in those days or we’d missed the last one, so we soldiered on to Grasmere. Kerry insists she has no memory of what would have been an epic for virgin walkers; my mother took any secrets to her grave.

Langstrath means, obviously enough, ‘long valley’, and it’s almost Highland-size in scope. It was not far off a couple of hours before we were in the pub at Stonethwaite for a well-earned pint.