Drow 'n' Smirr

8.5 miles  5h 59m  ascent 410m

Old Dungeon Ghyll- Stake Pass-Rosthwaite

This was our third Cumbria Way walk. The official third stage runs from Dungeon Ghyll to Keswick but we decided to split the walk and end this day at Rosthwaite. I am pleased we did. The day was a glorious, but the heat got the better of us, sapping our energy such that the walk felt twice as long as the miles we walked.

The walk was originally planned for a weekend but a delay found us walking on a Monday and the differing bus times forced some logistical changes on us. We parked at a pay-and-display in Keswick, took the 555 to Grasmere, and a taxi to Old Dungeon Ghyll, having changed the taxi times often enough to tax the patience of our driver. Audrey repayed his good nature with a chat about sheep and cattle breeds, and a tip.

We arrived back at Old Dungeon Ghyll in much the same weather as the last visit, blue sky and warm still air. I had my new rucksack, an extra 11 litres capacity but still full with the same gear I usually carried in the smaller one. The waistband was tight at first but within a few minutes it needed tightening a few inches. The same thing happens with my trousers belt as well; I’m tempted to take a tape measure along and see how much my waistline changes when walking. Perhaps I stand up straighter when striding out or exertion redistributes my fat acutely.

Raven Crag

We headed up behind the pub and rejoined the Cumbria Way where we had previously left it just below the rocky outcrops of Raven Crag. From here we looked back into Great Langdale then turned west and set off past a wee sign informing us we were now in Mickleden, whose name means big valley. Mickle being an archaic word for large and den, a valley, sharing its origin with words such as dene.

Crinkle Crag and Bowfell

A rocky path runs between a tall stone dyke and the bracken and red sheep’s sorrel of the the hillside. Foxgloves, wild thyme and tormentil added spots of colour and the bog asphodel warned us that there was wet ground about. For scenery we had Crinkle Crags and Bowfell at first then as we turned fully into Mickleden Pike of Stickle came into view with its jutting summit and skirts of scree. As we came closer to the end of the valley the steep slopes of Rosset Pike gave little hint as to how we might climb out.

Pike of Stickle

The valley’s grey herdwicks and their black lambs stood about, occasionally lifting their heads from the grass to watch us pass. Closer to the valley’s end the path approaches Mickleden Beck which has small fairy pools with clear water flowing over multicoloured pebbles.

Mickleden Beck

By now the day had grown very warm, but we were still fresh. A walker ahead of us made it easier to gauge the distance ahead. A cairn marks where the paths to Stake Pass and Esk Hause diverge and though it looked quite close the walker’s size showed it to be further than it would otherwise have seemed.

We crossed a wooden footbridge over Stake Gill, and rested on some flat boulders for a drink and some jelly babies before the effort of the climb up to Langdale Combe. The sheep were wise enough to rest in the shade from the walls of a sheep fold, whereas the humans sat in the sun.  A couple of brown sheep watched as we headed up to Langdale Combe. (I have checked the photographs so I know I wasn’t seeing double).

We took the climb slowly, zig-zagging with the path, but the heat, and the effort both of the climb and of taking notice of each footfall on the uneven rock steps, tired us quickly. I found myself picking a spot ahead then walking up that far and taking a rest. We didn’t fall further behind those ahead of us and weren’t overtaken from behind so I’m happy we kept a reasonable pace.

Langdale Combe

We could see a (false) horizon which marked the steeper climb from more gentle climb across Langdale Combe. We stopped for lunch and a rest, but I was feeling quite warm and decided to dangle my feet in Stake Gill to cool down. I left my boots where we sat and walked barefoot to the stream, my feet and ankles sinking into the warm water of the  peat’s shallow pools. The gill’s clear water though was wonderfully chilled, there was tiny blue milkwort growing on the stream’s bank and mountain air was clean. Had there been a breeze it would have been an idyll.

I had initially sat on a boulder by the gill, but then moved to sit on a grassy bank, only realising later that the ground was damp. I had a soggy bottom. I tried sitting on dry rocks to dry my behind but realised that I would just have to let evaporation do the job. In retrospect I think that this may have helped me shed some heat. Thank you, latent heat of vaporisation.

After paddling I enjoyed my now warm sandwich and drank some of my still cool water. By then my feet had dried and the boots went back on. Rested and cooled we crossed Stake Gill, picking our way over a ford using natural stepping stones. Langdale Combe is a hanging valley filled with post-glacial moraines. The ground was boggy in places and the path occasionally disappeared into boggy ground forcing us up to higher ground. Perhaps I should have carried my boots and walked barefoot through the bog?

Stake Pass

Crossing Langdale Combe took us across the watershed, leaving Stake Gill flowing away to the south and meeting Stake Gill its waters tumbling north over its waterfalls. A cairn at the northern end of Stake pass marks a crossing of routes and also marked the end of our climbing for the day. We paused for photos at the highest point of the day’s walk and then took a short detour to an un-named tarn just above the path. I breathed a sigh of relief as we began our descent into Langstrath thinking end of the climb was the end of our effort. All that remained now was to stroll down to the valley floor then downstream to the end of the walk. But Langstrath is literally the long valley, and the miles were country miles.

Langstrath

The descent into Langstrath we had spectacular views of the valley in brilliant sunshine. But he who looks to the distance ignores his footfalls and the path was treacherous. The path winds down the hillside like a giant ribbon snaking from side to side to beat the gradient. It seemed to have been topped with stones and pebbles so walking on it was akin to walking on scree. We both lost our footing several times despite walking with care, but both stayed upright. And despite this being descent I was exhausted by the effort. As soon as we crossed Stake Beck, on its footbridge, we paused to rest by an ancient Rowan.

Ancient Rowan in Langstrath

Judging by its circumference that tree has stood at the head of the Langstrath through the reigns of six monarchs, for decades before a man-made aeroplane crossed the sky above it,  and may even have been gazed upon by eyes born in the eighteenth century. Humbled, we sat on a nearby boulder and watched the sheep resting in the shadow it had been provided for them and their ancestors all that time. Perhaps shepherds in older times sat on the same rocks, by what was then a wee sapling, and counted their sheep, “yan, tyan, tethera…”.

The ancient rowan was the walk’s half way point, but the first half contained the main ascent and descent. The second half should have been easier and certainly we did not have to face any more climbing. I would love to say that we strolled easily drinking in the surroundings but we were beset by two challenges: the rocky uneven path and the temperature. I don’t know how hot it was but the following day was the hottest day recorded since 1976.

Aaah…1976…’O’ levels, Bohemian Rhapsody, the Wurzel’s Combine Harvester, and a heat wave. (Nostalgia kicked in and had me looking at photos of Manchester from 1976. My it looks old.)

Back to 2017…we strode along the Langstrath joying the sun, the towering valley sides, boulders covered in lichen, (some still showing striations scraped by the glaciers), sheep,  lambs and, hiding in the shade, several tiny carnivorous sundews. Several streams cross the path and were either dried up or easy to cross, but in wetter weather they might have been more of a problem.

Blackpot Moss

Langstrath Beck winds along the valley, perhaps a little less full than it can be, but at Blackmoss pot it enters a rocky ravine and stills to a deep pool. There were several youngsters there climbing the rocky ravine sides to dive into the cool water.

We left the swimmers to their pools and pressed on, but when we reached Greenup Gill the water was just too enticing and our bodies just too hot to walk past. So below the footbridge we stopped to cool in the water. In retrospect I think both of us were showing early signs of overheating so the rest and cooling were more than just for comfort.

Greenup Gill

The bridge above our heads had a small plaque dedicating it to a young man who had died in the valley from exhaustion in 1939. A reminder that this beautiful and calm place of nature’s powers.

Cooled, and rested, we set off alongside Stonethwaite Beck, but now at least we were walking in woodland and I found myself wondering why the ancients worshipped the sun but seemed not to have sent their prayers to a god of the shade. (PS on reflection, I suppose the deity to thank would be the one controlling the trees).

The path

We continued to stumble over rocks never daring to mention when the path flattened out in case in made it become rocky again. I had slipped into trudge mode and found myself counting my paces to check we were walking at a reasonable pace. There was some question as to whether we should take a detour to Stonethwaite for a chilled drink or press on for Rosthwaite. The choice was uncertain until we reached the Stonethwaite bridge, but once there we looked at each other and decided to keep going for Rosthwaite, which by then was only 20 minutes away.

At Rosthwaite we headed straight for the pub and a well deserved ice-cold drink. Due to a misunderstanding we missed the bus, but that gave us an excuse to have a second drink.

A short journey on the 78 bus returned us to Keswick and the car.

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Some more photos….

17 miles 560m ascent 8h 31m

Cumbria Way: Ulverston-Coniston

This was our first section of the Cumbria Way, from Ulverston to Coniston.

We drove to Coniston, parked the car near the Crown Inn, and caught the X12 bus to Ulvertson, but that doesn’t quite capture the experience. I had set off without my spare (dry) clothes and, given the heavy rain, thought it would be tempting fate to go without  a change of clothes. I hoped the brief detour back home would ensure, by a reversed Sod’s Law, that they were not needed.

Once at Coniston, in plenty of time, we kitted up ready for the walk, in light drizzle, with time to spare to make use of the facilities. Luckily I had some 20 pence pieces. A sign explained that by spending a penny I was ensuring that the public toilets remained open. So I felt both public spirited and relieved after spending a penny (attached to 19 other pennies). We then sheltered in a bus-stop provided, as a sign informed us, by the Coniston and Torver District Nursing Association in 1959.

The bus arrived in plenty of time, but it transpired that the driver had cut his hand. A passenger, who he clearly knew, did her best to patch him up using the bus’s first aid box but this clearly wasn’t satisfactory so she announced that she would go home and get some better dressings. Time passed and with the other passengers we boarded the bus. More time passed, the driver finished his snack, then settled into his seat, closed the doors and set off.

It occurred to me that the good Samaritan had not yet returned to the bus with her medical supplies. She had been left behind. Should I remind him? But before I could decide we stopped beside some houses and she rejoined us, with her bandages. The driver was soon patched up and the bus carried on, with some nifty driving as the bus-driver managed to squeeze us by a coach on a very narrow road.

Once in Ulverston, we made our way to the start of the Cumbria Way, which is marked with a sculpture containing a cairn of rocks from different parts of the Way.

By the time we started, the rain had decided to turn it down a notch such that waterproof trousers were deemed unnecessary. We posed for our “Start of the Walk” photos then took our first step of the 39,083 of the day.

And the walk started as it meant to go on. We found ourselves faced with a fork in the path and no pointers. The CW it tuns out is the left fork, which follows a small stream beneath mature broadleaved trees and hedgerows and walls dotted with wildflowers. A short footbridge then lead us to a narrow rocky path between two stone walls and this was just steep enough to quickly blow off any remaining chill in our muscles.

The path ended and we passed through a gate and on to a minor road. My attention was caught by a bench dedicated to “Happy Wilkinson 1926-1996”, and my cynicism led me to look closely and see if those really were Ps rather than adulterated Rs…they were Ps. After a few more paces I was glancing at the map and noticed that the CW route appeared to just touch this road then head off across farmland. We backtracked and found a gap built into the wall allowing us to climb into the field.

Farmland above Ulverston

This was to be the first of many such slim gaps built into walls that we would encounter. I haven’t quite got the technique of shuffling through these but doubtless that skill will come.

The day was warm, and with walking I soon transitioned from comfortably warm to too hot, but the rain itself had stopped so I was able to stow my coat without getting my upper body wet. The grass we were walking through though was very wet and long enough to soak my trousers up to the knees.

In my mind I had broken this section into 3 slightly unequal parts, Ulverston to Gawthwaite, Gawthwaite to Beacon Tarn and Beacon Tarn to Coniston. The first part took in farmland, moorland, woodland, minor roads and farm tracks, farmyards, old churches (such as St John’s of Osmotherley) and small villages. We headed from farm to farm, confirming our position by finding the correctly named farms on our way.

Near Old Hall Farm

Route finding was not without problems, however. We soon realised that the CW plaques were identical to those for other public footpaths except that the words “Cumbria Way” were written within the small direction arrow. Since many of the signs were weathered this led to some confusion. Was this weathered way marker a CW waymarker with the “Cumbria Way” words eroded, or did it point along some other footpath? Later we were able to factor this into our decisions.

I should perhaps digress a little here to reflect upon the usefulness of particular objects. Both Audrey and I have the Cicero Cumbria Way book. Identical, I would have said, but now experience has brought wisdom and I know better. It is not the object per se that is useful, but the object and its context. My book was resting, dry and safe on a bookcase a hundred miles away, while Audrey’s copy was in her rucksack.

Wee fellows who cast some spell to confuse us near Broughton Beck

We found ourselves referring to the book on a few occasions, usually in retrospect. Broughton Beck to Knapperthaw saw us stray from the route. Just past the village we came to a farm, and three choices of route, two had official footpath signs, one marked “Cumbria Way”. There was also the farm track itself, with a gate fastened shut and an unofficial (hand-painted) Cumbria Way sign. I suspect this unofficial sign is the correct one. We followed the direction indicated by the official sign, and followed weathered signs. This took us to a minor road at Nettleslack, perhaps 300m east of where the route would have joined.

Our way barred at Nettleslack

This wouldn’t have been too much of a problem except that there was a herd of cows with their calves walking up the lane towards us. I would have no problem walking through sheep, but cows with calves are another matter. We waited, and waited, and waited some more, but more cows were joining the group.

Eventually we decided to backtrack a few metres, get into the field on our right and bypass the herd. Unfortunately, though we could get past the cows, there was no exit from the field beyond them without climbing the wall. I was ready to suggest scaling the wall but by then the cows had passed the gate so we walked back, rejoined the road at the gate in the photo, and were on our way to Knapperthaw again.

Tired horse near Knapperthaw

Keldray Farm was the next challenge. We walked on to find our way barred by a rather unwelcoming iron gate. Heading back along the path Audrey spotted a track, much overgrown, and we followed that, finding for once a way marker confirming we were on the CW route.

We could soon hear then see cars on the B5281 which told us we were approaching Gawthwaite. This was our planned spot for a lunch break, and as we arrived so too did our friend the rain, but a lunch stop was a necessity and we made the best of it. I had hoped for a bench, warm sunshine and a lovely view, but we sat on a low wall beside a stream, visibility was poor, and it was a bit on the chilly side. But I was at least partly rejuvenated by the sandwich, pork pie, coffee and the jelly babies, washed down with coffee.

Beyond Gawthwaite we were in the Lake District National Park, and the walk to Beacon Tarn would take us past the 10 mile point, a rather arbitrary but nonetheless important achievement. The farms now looked more like hill farms and more time was spent walking in wilder moorland. We had fewer route problems on this section. Again we were walking in farmland or on minor roads but with an increasing amount of moorland.

Hillfarm near Kiln Bank

Though we hadn’t climbed much above 200m the ascent from Cockenskell to Beacon Tarn sapped our energy and I was looking forward to our next refuelling stop. Beacon Tarn was Beacon Tarn, what more can I say. Perhaps on another day with the sun glinting on the water I might have stopped to enjoy the place, but trudging over waterlogged ground picking a way around standing water, and seeing nowhere to stop and sit just drove me to walk on. That said there was some colour hiding in the brown and green, lousewort (pink) and milkwort (blue) scattered among the grass and moss.

Beacon Tarn

After leaving Beacon Tarn we entered another hollow with a small unnamed tarn surrounded by a larger area of marshland. The track here was uneven, rocky and in places waterlogged so we had to range away from the path at times.  This higher ground then opened out giving us a view to the north. I am sure that in better weather we would have been able to see the Old Man of Coniston, but not today. Beneath us was Stable Harvey Moss (we were roughly two thirds of the day’s walk).

Stable Harvey Moss, Coniston Fells in the distance

The footpath skirts the edge of the marshland and stays high enough to be dry most of the time. By now we were ready for our next stop and looking out for likely seats. If we found none I thought we would stop on the firmer ground of a track just past Black Beck. Unfortunately Black Beck was a stream to be forded, and with the recent rain the ford was wide and deep. This meant a bit of a detour to find a section that could be jumped.

Just before the aforementioned track we found some rocks large enough to sit on and close enough that we could still see each other without binoculars. By now it was becoming colder so we we didn’t tarry long, and despite the snack I have to admit that my morale was flagging.

We trudged on again, and looking at the lousewort and milkwort I had also noticed some tiny white flowers. I wondered aloud if they might be albino milkwort (if it exists) and Audrey suggested I have a look at its leaves. I did and … Wow! It was Bog Rosemary, the county flower of Kirkcudbrightshire. I had been on the look out for this wee flower for some time, and here it was. My flagging morale soared.

So I took the flooded Mere Beck in my stride, climbing a small tree to get across. I did begin to have some misgivings, though, when I saw Torver Beck ahead of me, its white water cascading over rocks. The misgiving grew as I drew closer, but then I saw Audrey, taking photos of the river, from the footbridge.

Torver Beck

As we crossed the A5084, tired as our legs were, I felt the end was in sight (figuratively), with just 3 miles to go. As it would turn out, it was four miles to go, and felt like five.

Coniston Water

These final four miles along the banks of Coniston Water, could have been quite enjoyable, the sun was shining, the path being beside the lake there little in the way of climbing, we walked through beautiful woodland casting dappled light on wildflowers, and when the woodland ended we walked through park type farmland with sheep grazing and their lambs gambolling about.

But we were tired, the path was uneven and covered with slippery tree roots, and there was no easy way to know how far we had walked. We were really only certain that we were close to the end when we could see Coniston and the fells beyond it. The old Man of Coniston, though, remained in cloud.

Approaching Coniston

The building you can see in the photograph above is the 16th century Coniston Old Hall and we found its chimneys drew our eyes. They looked rather industrial and suggested to me that it had once been an industrial rather than residential building, but as far as I can find out it has always been residential (but now owned by the National Trust) and just has huge chimneys. They are referred to as “traditional chimneys” on some websites.

At Coniston Hall we were just over a mile from the car and at least we were walking in sunshine.

Walking into Coniston

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The Cumbria Way is a 74 mile trail from Ulverston to Carlisle passing through the Lake District. We walked the Way in seven sections varying in length from 8.3 to 17 miles. 

1. Yan: Ulverston to Coniston
2. Tyan: Coniston to Old Dungeon Ghyll
3. Tethera: Old Dungeon Ghyll to Rosthwaite
4. Methera: Rosthwaite to Keswick
5. Pimp: Keswick to Grainsgill Beck
6. Sethera: Grainsgill Beck to Churchtown
7. Lethera: Churchtown to Carlisle

Yan: Ulverston to Coniston

17 miles 560m ascent 8h 31m

Farmland, upland fells and lakeside trails.

Tyan: Coniston to Old Dungeon Ghyll

12.8 miles 6h 44m 454m ascent

Tethera: Old Dungeon Ghyll to Rosthwaite

8.5 miles  5h 59m  ascent 410m

Methera: Rosthwaite to Keswick

8.3 mikes  4h 44min 192m ascent

Pimp: Keswick to Grainsgill Beck

9.8 miles 5h 21m 456m ascent

Sethera: Grainsgill Beck to Churchtown

10.8 miles 6h 14m ascent 490m

Lethera: Churchtown to Carlisle

12.2 miles 6h 7m 98m ascent (207m descent)