| Location | Green Garth, Portinscale |
| Those Present | Sally, Bill and myself |
| Dates | November 2nd - November 9th |
We were making good progress, until we ground to a halt on the A66 at the back of stationary traffic near the Mungrisedale turning. We waited for a while and then turned round and took the pretty (long?) route through Hesket Newmarket. We were delayed so much that we didn't have time for shopping, but went straight to the cottage instead. When we had got settled in we went back to Keswick for the breakfast supplies. We subsequently discovered that there had been a serious accident just before the Keswick turn-off.
Sunday November 3rd - Catbells Terrace and the LakeA nasty wet day, so we walked from the cottage to Hawes End, along Catbells Terrace to Hollows Farm and down to Grange. Unfortunately the tea rooms were closed, so we walked for a while along the road, and then took the path across the fields to Brandlehow and returned to Hawes End by the lakeside path.
Monday November 4th - Silver How
The weather had brightened up, so we drove over to Grasmere to do Silver How, which Bill had missed the last time we did it. We parked in the central car park (expensive but convenient) and went up the drive to Allen Bank. We followed the path round the cottages and took the walled track up to a gate which led onto the fellside. The path continued through gorse and juniper busshes, typical of this area, before crossing Wray Gill and making the final ascent to the summit.
On the way up we said hello to another couple, and when I heard their accent I just had to ask. Yes, they were from Cambridgeshire! Silver How is a delightful place, and I knew Bill would like it. We spent some time wandering round the little humps and hollows, before settling down in a sheltered spot for out lunch.
Eventually we set off in the direction of Loughrigg to the main track between Elterwater and Grasmere. About halfway down an overgrown path went off to the right through the woods, and with plenty of time at our disposal, we decided to follow it. It eventually took us down to the Red Bank road at the top of the steep bit. Makes sense, as the main path, which goes down to Hunting Stile drops quite steeply. So the diversion didn't do us much good, except take us further away from the car! Fortunately after a couple of hundred yards along the road we managed to find a path which took us down to the lake shore.
The path by the side of Grasmere is very pleasant, and affords some very scenic views south along the lake, but ends all too soon when it climbs up to Hunting Stile and the Red Bank road. There then follows a weary trudge back to Grasmere, keeping a wary eye open for the traffic. I hate the last part of a walk along the tarmac - all you want to do is get back to the car; the best part of the day is over, and you just want to get your boots off. Still, we did manage to catch the mandatory gingerbread. I wouldn't be allowed to take leave again if I returned without it!
An interesting day!! It started off bright and clear, so we decided to do Glaramara in decent weather for once. We parked at Seathwaite and walked back along the road to Mountain View (at least the tarmac was over with at the start of the walk). All was well as we walked up by Combe Gill and then the steeper climb to Thorneythwaite Fell, where we stopped to admire the views back down Borrowdale. Bill admitted that he had thoroughly enjoyed the first part of the walk, although Sally was less enthusiastic.
After a while we pressed ahead towards out next objective, Glaramara. Immediatelt things changed for the worse. The next section of the path, while less steep, was quite boggy, which neither Bill nor Sally enjoy, and the only cloud in the Lake District seemed to have settled on Glaramara. Behind us it was clear and sunny; to our right across Grains Gill the sun shone on the Scafells; but ahead was thick, grey cloud. In retrospect we should have stopped then and retraced our steps while there was some enjoyment left in the walk, but we pressed on until the rock step to the north summit loomed ahead. Sally refused at this point, so we skirted right beneath the crags to the easy grassy gully leading to the depression between the two summits.
We paused briefly, but visibility was down to a few feet, and I realised that we had spent far too long on the ascent, and should really get going if we wanted to complete the walk in daylight. Again, in retrospect, it would have been better to return, but........
We took the obvious path, only to find it led us to the south summit, which I had wanted to avoid, and then spent a few uneasy moments scrambling down the other side. Those who are familiar with Glaramara will know the the summit is broad, stony, and fairly trackless, and Sally was becoming quite agitated because there was no obvious path to follow. I rummaged round in my rucksack and produced my seldom used compass (the last time strangely enough was on Glaramara in similar conditions with the added spice of a hail storm). Reasoning that the main path to Allen Crags runs north-south, and that we were on the west side of it, I headed south east and within about twenty yards had found it. Sally calmed down a bit, and it wasn't until High House tarn that she began to ask how much further it was. I hadn't got the heart to tell her we were only about half-way - she was tired and wet, her ankle hurt, and she was bored (Sally gets bored very easily). She wanted to stop, but really we couldn't as we were not yet half way, so we told her it was all downhill from now on, forced the contents of Bill's hip flask down her throat, and carried on. All was well again for a while until the ascent to Allen Crags loomed out the murk in front of us. I was called a lying bastard, and despite assuring Sally that this was really the last climb of the day, I sensed a certain air of hostility!
By the time we reached Ruddy Gill, at the top of the long descent down Grains Gill, it was almost 4pm on a November afternoon, and I realised (without telling Sally) that we weren't going to get down in daylight. By this time Sally was going very slowly. She's always slow downhill, but by now she had little left in the tanks and was beginning to panic again. I remarked to Bill that tomorrow would probably have to be a shopping day! I pressed ahead while Bill stayed with Sally, mainly because I find it difficult to walk that slowly, and waited for them on a rock by the bridge where the path crosses to the left bank of the gill. As usual, heeding my mother's advice about sitting on wet rocks, I sat on my carefully folded over-trousers. A disaster, but see Thursday's walk for why!.
By the time Bill and Sally caught up with me, it really was gloomy, and Bill offered us the use of his expensive new torch, which he had thoughtfully left in the glove box of his car. Personally, I don't think a torch would have helped much. I had begun to develop 'night-vision', which the glare of a torch would have destroyed, and in any case, it would only have been of any use to the person holding it. I helpfully suggested that we should aim for the lighter patches in the path, which were probably rocks, and off we set again. Shortly after this we met a party going up (??!!?). Unless they were really sure what they were doing, they deserved all they got!
By the time we got to Stockley Bridge, it really was dark, and a group of torches came down from Styhead and crossed the bridge just in front of us. Fortunately the section from the bridge to Seathwaite is reasonably smooth and level, and my concern was more for a solitary torch which seemed to be descending Hind Gill to our right. Having done this in daylight, I wasn't envious.
When we got to the farm, it was so dark that we got lost in the farmyard, and then I walked straight past Bill's car without seeing it. The bastard let me carry on along the road to see who far I would get, but after about fifty yards I realised my mistake and turned back.
We got back to the cottage at about 6:15, and I quickly changed and dashed to the pub to reserve a table for us.
All in all, a long and tiring day, but one which I perversely enjoyed.
As forecast, Bill had to placate Sally with a visit to the fleshpots of Keswick. I can't remember what I did; I suppose I must have gone with them, although I can't imagine myself wandering round the shops for a whole morning.
Anyway, by the afternoon Sally had started talking to me again, and I persuaded her and Bill out for a small walk.
We parked at Church Bridge, just down from Little Town, and strolled along the road to Newlands Church which we examined in a bit more detail than usual. Then along the track to Low Snab farm, across the footbridge to the mine road and back to the car. Not the most exacting of walks, but at least it got us going again.
The morning was dull and overcast, and Sally declined the offer of a walk, preferring instead to stay behind and 'tidy the house' in preparation for our departure. You won't have seen Sally in tidying mode, but it's not the sort of thing you want to get in the way of!
Bill and I parked at Seatoller and started up the old Honister road before turning right and up onto High Doat and then down to the Cumbria Way heading for Castle Crag. Just before the crag, we turned right and headed down to Rosthwaite. Half way down the heavens opened and we stopped to put on our waterproofs. Imagine my consternation when I found that my trusty over-trousers, purchased in 1987 from the bargain attic at George Fisher's, were missing. I suddenly had a vision of them lying, forlorn and abandoned, on a rock half way down Grains Gill. Very sad - I'd had them for many years and they were nicely baggy and a shade of green which matched none of my other clothing.
Fortunately the rain was short lived, and had stopped by the time we got to Rosthwaite. Just past the car park, where Bill made use of the PCs, we turned right and went along the narrow road through the back of the village. How fascinating! There's a lot more to Rosthwaite than you'd guess from driving through it on the main road. Unfortunately we missed our intended path and ended up on the road again. Rather than turn back, we walked along it to Mountain View, where my offer of Glaramara was pointedly ignored, and went past Thorneythwaite farm and along the path to Seathwaite. Then it was back along the road to Seatoller. At the end of the day, it seemed to go on for ever, and we were both glad to get back to the car.
We woke to grey skies and drizzle, and so we went home.