Rambles
Monday dawned with clear skies and the merest breath of wind. Fantastic. After breakfast I dallied in Ambleside long enough to purchase some sausage rolls (Greggs of course), mint cake and drink, and set out. My plan A was to set eyes on Ullswater for the first time, going over Fairfield and St Sunday Crag, but I also had plans B, C, D and E up my sleeve for implementation on reaching the top of Fairfield.
Plan B was for if I had plenty of energy left but didn't fancy negotiating Cofa Pike. Down to Grisedale Tarn, then up to the ridge route Dollywaggon Pike - Nethermost Pike - Helvellyn, before descending to the A591 by Thirlmere. Plans C and D would also see me visiting Grisedale Tarn, but then involve no more significant climbing, taking me respectively to Ullswater and Grasmere by valley routes. Thus C takes me to my planned destination, D gets me off the fells as quickly as possible should the need arise. Plan E was for if I didn't fancy the steep descent to Grisedale Tarn - complete the 'Fairfield Horseshoe' returning to Ambleside via Hart Crag, Dove Crag, High Pike and Low Pike.
I followed the A591 out of Ambleside as far as Rydal (pavement all the way). It is possible to get off the road earlier, but I didn't want an early unnecessary detour should I take a wrong turning. There are plenty of paths on the ground which don't appear on the maps of the Lake District, as well as paths marked on the maps which don't appear on the ground, or even in some cases clearly couldn't exist on the ground. So I reached my real starting point of Rydal after a gentle almost level stroll, plenty of climbing ahead as Rydal Water is a mere 60 metres above sea level.
Blue skies at this time of year means low temperatures - maxima of 7 to 8 in the valleys and 1 to 3 on the fell tops were predicted. So I set out wearing sweatshirt, jumper, cardigan and jacket - enough to keep the early morning chill out. Now however I would be going up, so expect to generate lots of body heat. Off with the cardigan, up past Rydal Mount and then start the steep winding climb of Nabs Scar. Ahead I could make out a pair of walkers who I soon caught as they took time out to strip layers of clothing and admire the views. And you don't have to gain much height before the views are well worth admiring - down onto Rydal water and further south across Windermere. I've always found it difficult looking directly towards bright light, so the sunglasses got put to good use, and I could now see that I what I had taken to be the surface of Windermere was in places seething mist appearing to boil off the lake's surface.
Well up Nabs Scar now - must be around the 400 metre mark - and a screeching noise makes me turn. Heading up the valley over Grasmere, but below me, were three planes. Not an unusual disturbance around here, for the terrain is ideal for practising low flying. I'm reminded of a general complaint about bird books - they are great at helping you to identify birds on your fence with their side-on views, and even birds overhead with their under views, but few show you what the birds look like from on top. Which is a common view from the fells. I take advantage of the unscheduled stop to remove another layer of clothing.
On a crag ahead, but short of Heron Pike (612m) someone appears to be stood in a long grey coat looking back beyond me. Then their lower half moves, and their upper doesn't, shattering the illusion to reveal this sentinel as two sheep originally standing one directly behind and above the other.
Admiring the views and fellwalking go together in many minds, particularly those of the fairweather walker such as myself. However the two are usually best not done literally simultaneously for there are many rocks to trip on, loose stones to trip on and boggy patches for unplanned wetting of feet. This path however is sufficiently well-defined that one can risk looking aside regularly without coming to a complete halt. To my left I can see across Grasmere and into the hills the other side of the valley. A level area that earlier I thought might contain Easedale Tarn is proved to be no such thing as that tarn comes into view further along (and up) the path.
I stop for a better view, and also notice a white-haired gentleman striding up the path behind me. So I ask him the obvious question: "What is that flat area over there just south of Easedale Tarn? (That is Easedale Tarn isn't it?)". Confirming my identification of Easedale, and admitting that he didn't know, and hadn't noticed the other area before, he dug out his map. It appeared to be the same edition as mine that I had intended to check later, perhaps at Fairfield; but the two would never be mistaken one for the other as his had many holes where the creases used to be. We decide it is Blindtarn Moss, and guess that there used to be a tarn there. Real clever us literate types. We spend a couple of minutes staring at the hills surrounding Blindtarn Moss, picking out what from a distance look like paths. I think my companion is mentally planning a new trip.
The path was now fully on the ride so that as walked together upto and over Great Rigg (766m) we could see down into valleys either side - Grasmere now 2000 feet below us to the west and Rydal Beck maybe 1200 below to the east. The drops sound more impressive in imperial rather than metric measurements. I learn that my companion is 70 years old, has retired to Windermere, and first climbed to Helvellyn via Striding Edge in 1958. Like me he is now also a bit of a fairweather walker, but clearly does a lot of it. After 20 or 30 minutes conversation covering the state of Lakeland paths, Chris Jesty's revision of the Wainwright books, the Mountain Weather Information system at www.mwis.org, and other topics, as well as confirmation of my first clear view of Scafell, Scafell Pike and Great End which we were now high enough to see beyond the intervening peaks, we parted company with him striding on ahead. He was doing the Fairfield Horseshoe and no doubt slowing to keep me company had put him behind schedule. But a very pleasant interlude for me at least.
Grisedale Tarn (540m) had been in view for some time across the grassy western flank of Fairfield, and although there is no obvious path in existence across the flank I suspect one could make ones own route across if so desiring. But the top of Fairfield (873m) was my immediate goal, so that is where I went. The top is a broad plateau, so that for the best views one needs to go to an edge so as to get some depth, but my first and fairly simple task was to find a place to sit and have refreshments, remembering also to replace the previous removed layers of clothing before I got cold.
Decision time. First to the north edge to look down on Cofa Pike. In his book 'Doing the Wainwrights' Steve Larkin mentions Cofa Pike three times: '... terrifying Cofa Pike', '... was almost stopped in my tracks when Cofa Pike came into view. One look as it reared up formidably ... and I knew my days of climbing it were over', '... I would not choose to tackle Cofa Pike'. Wainwright himself describes the route over Cofa Pike as the best descent from Fairfield, an exhilerating and beautiful walk. He does admit though that strangers should not attempt it in mist. Having read both Larkin and Wainwright prior to departure perhaps you can understand my having alternatives up my sleeve ready for use.
So I looked down on Cofa Pike. Gulp. My immediate reactions are more Larkin than Wainwright: Hartshill Bank this is not. From here there appears to a path literally over the top and disappearing into thin air, of which there is a surfeit in the vicinity. So I start west looking for a path leading down that way, but what I find is a faint one zigzagging down and across what looks like loose scree. No thankyou. Decides to descend the broad steep western flank of Fairfield to Grisedale Tarn instead. But a few yards further on a clearer path goes over the north edge. The clarity of this path here is reassuring - lots of people must take this route, so I refuse not to allow it to be good enough for me (a temporary refusal maybe - time will tell). Besides I prefer going up to down - the former is merely effort whereas the latter involves keeping your momentum in check as well as coping mentally with alarming views below ones feet - so I can always turn round if things get too uncomfortable.
Once over the edge one is reminded this is November. I am now on a north facing steep slope that has seen no sun. Frost. Doesn't exactly detract from my feeling of nervousness. However Cofa Pike is soon reached, with the previously seen faint path having already joined my chosen one, and then the fun begins, with the odd patch of ice to supplement the frost. I've no particular desire to go over the very top - my earlier view screaming 'go round if at all possible' being seconded by my closer site inspection. Well there is a narrow steep path going around it on the northwest side, both attributes by neccesity. A contour hugging path would just leave greater steepness to be negotiated on the other side, as presumably is the case for the over the top path, whilst to the side of the Pike the ground falls too steeply into Grisedale for any path to follow. There is room for a few zigzags, but following zigs steeply down towards an apparent precipice is not the sort of path I take lightly. Instead like a touchie feelie environmentalist wishing to hug Mother Earth I kept low and where possible had a hand in contact with suitable rocks. Not quite a spider descent with legs in front, hands on the ground behind and face to the sky, but I suspect any viewer would have guessed in one that this was my first visit. Indeed there was a viewer, someone who came up from below, climbed to the top of the Pike, and then went down again, passing me easily and generally doing a passable imitation of a mountain goat.
Once past the Pike the going got progressively easier, eventually reaching the saddle at Deepdale Hause (680m). Time to start climbing again, to St Sunday Crag. A straightforward climb gaining about 500 feet in elevation with the path following a ridge sufficiently broad to remove any anxiety. Since leaving Fairfield I had stopped many times to admire the view (that's my story and I'm sticking to it - certainly the territory is such that view-admiring is for the stationary only). Mostly this involved gazing northwest across Grisedale towards the Helvellyn range, with a side-on view of Striding Edge, for on the descent from Fairfield my chosen path was below the ridge top so that rock obscured views southeast. However I could now as a variation also gaze down into Deepdale to the south and east. The climb of St Sunday Crag is definitely convex in profile so that several outcrops of rock on the way up appeared to be the summit until reached, when their promise was shown to be false. However in the fullness of time the true summit (841m) was reached and on moving to the northernmost point of its plateau top the view up across the valley to Striding Edge and down to Grisedale Beck 2000 feet below was augmented by one to the north-north-east of Ullswater, looking suitably beautiful.
But I'm not there yet, and as previously mentioned downhill is not my favourite direction of motion, particularly if steep, which inevitable this will be. Down to a saddle at 590m where I have a choice of a short ascent to take in the minor peak of Birks or skirting around its northen flank. The former route looks pleasantly grassy so I elect for the ascent, though this requires me first to cross a small boggy area with a narrow stream running through it. Experience has taught me that given sufficiently grassy spots to place ones feet it is possible to cross such areas whilst keeping ones feet perfectly dry. Plenty of grass here, so I did my walking on water bit and enjoyed the short climb to the top of Birks (622m). From here it was steep downhill all the way and I was pleased that the grass on this side soon revealed a clear path which in many parts consisted of a rough stone staircase, so that descent was not too demanding.
Reaching a tarmac lane made me feel that I had reached relative civilisation. This lane led down towards Ullswater following the Grisedale Beck that could be heard as it too made its way to the lake. Indeed it could be seen too, for few of the intervening trees are evergreen. No doubt in full leaf they block the view, but at this time of year I had another excuse to stop and look. On reaching Grisedale Bridge (150m) I decided to turn left for Glenridding rather than right for Patterdale, and on reaching the village put my trust in public transport to return me to Ambleside.
According to the maps my journey, including the pavement bits at either end, covered just over 15 km (say 9 miles) though the twists and turns of some of the paths will have added to the distance. I also climbed over 1 km in total, with descents being nearly as extensive and as demanding in their own way. At nearly 7 hours it took longer than I would normally care to admit, but I did take out time not so much to smell the roses - there were none of course - but to admire the views, which were plentiful and worthy of admiration. And as far as Cofa Pike was concerned, that bit was always going to take as long as needed, and more. But I got to see Ullswater, if ownly briefly. and a very nice lake it is too.