| Location | High Rigg, Wordworths Street, Keswick |
| Those Present | Jerry, Bill, Mark and myself |
| Dates | November 6th - November 13th |
Mark was doubtful due to pressure of work, and Sally decided not to come because one of the dogs was ill. Mark finally phoned me on the 6th to say he could come on the Saturday but would have to leave on Tuesday evening.
Bill, Jerry and I went in Bill's Golf TDi; not as much room as my Mondeo 2.5, but half the fuel consumption.
We arrived in Keswick at about 2pm after an eneventful journey. We did our shopping, picked up the keys, and arrived at the house in time to watch the Rugby World Cup Final (not a very inspiring game).
Keswick was very busy that evening, so we decided to drive to Portinscale and sample the steak pie at the Farmers Arms. It was just as good as it had been in the spring, and gained Bill's full approval. We had 3 pints of Jennings and then returned to Keswick. Disaster! - the Keswick Lodge was no longer Theakstons, having deserted to Thwaites. I had fond memories of the Thwaites in the Craven Heiffer in Ingleton, but this was truly disgusting, with a very unpleasant bubblegum aftertaste. We resolved to renew our aquaintance with the D&G the following evening.
We decided that the popular walks would be too busy, and decided to do Longlands Fell, Lowthwaite Fell, Little Sca Fell etc. I discovered that I had forgotten to pack my Bridgedale inner socks (thoroughly recommended in terms of blister prevention) and so we set off to Keswick to find some replacements. None of the shops seemed to stock the Bridgedales, but in Blacks I found some Brasher 'Better than Silk' inners. Stupid name, but they proved to be excellent.
It started to rain just as we parked the car at the pumping station just down from the hamlet, and halfway up the first climb we disappeared into the mist. I think we more or less achieved our goals; it was difficult to say since one wet grassy hillside looks much like another, and we kept meeting a man and his dog who appeared to be doing the same walk as us but in a different order. We eventually found the car again, and as we disrobed I discovered that I was the only one to have escaped un-wetted. My waterproof may resemble a green tent, and I have often thought of buying something a bit more elegant, but at least it keeps me dry.
That evening things began to look up. The Theakstons in the D&G was the best for several years, and the fish and chips at Mrs Miggins (the Old Keswickian) were back to their former glory.
It was grey and overcast when we got up, and we went into Keswick to help Bill and Mark choose new waterproofs. They both bought Craghoppers, reduced from £120 to £55.
By the time we got back to the house it had started to rain, so I suggested parking at Hawes End and walking to the head of Newlands. If the weather cleared we could do Dale Head and maybe Robinson, and if not we could go down Rigg Head and back along the lake.
By the time we had reached the Yewthwaite mines the rain had stopped, although the cloud was still down on Hindscarth and Robinson. It continued to clear as we went up the mine road to Castlenook, and by the time we had reached the mines Dale Head was in full view. We (well I did anyway) struggled up the rough path to the col at the head of Newlands and made our way to Dale Head Tarn, where we stoped for lunch.
Jerry, Mark and I had all done Dale Head before, and Bill looked at the steep path to the summit and decided he wouldn't bother, so we set off to Rigg Head. Before we reached the tun off Bill suggested that we go back over the ridge - I hadn't realised he hadn't done it since our first trip. As we trudged up the climb to High Spy I remarked to Bill "So you didn't want to do Dale Head!". The remainder of the walk was very pleasant, with the fine prospect across Derwentwater before us. We returned to the car via Hause Gate and the path which slopes across the flanks of Catbells above Yewthwaite.
That evening the Theakstons was just as good, if not better.
The weather forecast was good, so we decided to attempt the Langdale Pikes from behind. We parked at Stonethwaite and climbed up Greenup Gill. About half way up we found, on a large boulder by the side of the path, a small brass plaque with an inscription in memory of someone (can't remember the name) who 'Passed peacefully away while sheltering under this rock in the early hours of January ??th 1939'. We had never noticed it before and wondered why he was there early on a winter's morning.
We paused for a while at the top of Lining Crag before setting off up the boggy, eroded slopes of Low White Stones and on to High Raise. Spurning Thunacarr Knott we set off cross country towards Pavey Ark, initially on a sketchy path, but then over very boggy ground. We gained the summit of Pavey Ark after a brief scramble and settled down to admire the views of Langdale, Stickle Tarn and Harrison Stickle. Unfortunately the sun was shining brightly from the right, and I was unable to take a phot of HS.
Eventually we set off across tilted rock slabs and joined the main ridge path. By now it was getting late, and with Stake Pass and the length of Langstrath before us we decided we didn't have enough time for Harrison Stickle and Pike O'Stickle, so we once more set off across pathless boggy ground towards the head of Stake Pass. It was here that Jerry's knee, which had been dodgy for a couple of years (cruciate ligaments), finally gave out; his foot got stuck in a hole but his knee kept going. With our customary display of sympathy we have him a brufen and a walking pole and helped him to his feet. Fortunately he was able to complete the journey - it would have been a pity to leave him there for the night as the first round in the pub was his. As it was, we completed the last mile into Stonethwaite in darkness.
After a cup of tea, Mark set off for home.
We went into town to find some sort of support for Jerry's knee. He found a magnificent device in Blacks which had hinged metal braces on either side, and did a very good job of holding upper and lower leg together. In deference to the knee we settled on Binsey as a relatively modest walk. We parked at High Ireby, by the phone box, and followed W's instructions as far as far as the band of trees.
There was now no way through the wood, and the path went through a field on the other side of the stone wall, finally giving access through a gate to the slopes of Binsey. We sat in the sun for a while before climbing the pathless, heather-covered slopes. Jerry's knee didn't like the tangled, foot-snagging heather at all, and by the time we reached the final short grass slope to the summit he was in some discomfort. Pausing only to take the piss we pressed on and were soon established with our backs to the summit rocks, basking in the sunshine and gazing towards the heart of Lakeland. What a glorious view! We could see right down the length of Derwentwater, and Coniston Old Man, 27 miles away, was clearly visible.
After much poring over maps and interrogating Jerry's knee we set off to Patterdale, intending to climb Place Fell and return round the lake shore.
We parked opposite the church and walked back along the road, past the tiny school, and turned up the track leading to Side Farm. The ascent to Boardale Hause was continuous but not too steep, although we were passed by a group of elderly men going at least twice as fast as we were! We paused for a while at the hause and then set off uphill into the cloud, which had unfortunately descended and was now covering the summit of Place Fell.
Jerry's knee showed no signs of failure as he did his usual impression of a mountain goat and raced towards the summit. We made our way down past a small tarn and stopped at an old sheepfold for lunch. As we set off again we were suddenly confronted by a red deer stag and four hinds, silhouetted against the skyline. We stared at each other for a couple of minutes before the deer raced away downhill towards Martindale and we continued down to Boardale.
The lakeside path from Sandwick back to Patterdale was a delight, climbing over the rocky spurs projecting into Ullswater and affording splendid (if somewhat misty) views over the lake towards the Helvellyn range. By now Jerry's knee was going off again. He was relying heavily on one of my walking poles for support and was obviously in considerable discomfort. I gained revenge for all the times he has left me far behind and put on a quick burst of speed. It turned out that one of the metal braces was digging into his leg, and the next day he had an enormous bruise.
In the pub that night we discussed the possibility that we might go home early. Sally (Bill's wife) was upset because one of the dog was getting worse, and we all thought that Jerry shouldn't really risk any further damage to his knee. We decided that unless the weather was really good we might as well call it a day.
We woke to grey skies and drizzle, and so we went home.