Scafell
Pike
(the second part of two men and their whisky)
(the second part of two men and their whisky)
June
2007 - After our satisfying trek up Ben Nevis last summer we were left mulling
over a simple question with our pints in the pub, ‘How can we beat that for a
day in the hills? How about the Lake District…’. We had another pint and
another then the idea was temporarily lost in a fuzzy haze in a Scottish pub.
February
2008 – ‘Hi Martin, it’s me, I’m off to the Lakes in June, fancy Scafell?’
June
2008 – ‘Martin about next week … I think we should make it a two day walk so
best you bring a sleeping bag …’
And so
we begin. On the bus to the Old Dungeon Gill Hotel in Langdale we got the first
view of the beginning of our route, the path up towards and then around Great
Knott, onto Crinkle Crags, the five of them spread out on the skyline leading
the eye to Bowfell that dominates that end of the valley.
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| Langdale |
Across the flat valley floor and then up and up and
up. It was a fairly constant gradient and we soon found our rhythm, heavy packs
with two days supplies sitting close to our backs reminding us that we’ve got a
long way to go, if not in total distance then in elevation. Before long we’ve
stopped for our first bit of Kendal Mint Cake sitting on a rock slab just off
the main path, I wander off for a look at the sheep returning to find Martin
chatting to a lost Scot who’s sure that everyone else is going the wrong way
while he, with his Wainwright book for a different area, knows exactly where he
is and it’s is the ‘best’ way to Scafell Pike. Worryingly he’s pointing the
wrong way when he says that. Wonder where he is now …
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| Sheep, not lost. |
Shouldering our load we head up leaving the path at
Great Knott to take in the view from the summit cairn. Looking back is a scene
reminiscent of last years trek, dozens of people with their heads down heading
blindly along the path to the Crinkles. Of course they could have done this
walk a hundred times before and knew that the view just got better but we
preferred to get out some sandwiches, appreciating the sunshine highlighting our
first objective, the first Crinkle.
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| Great Knott, Crinkles, Bowfell |
I’d
been watching the Wainwright Walks TV series and was really looking forward to
getting to the top of a few peaks that had been featured in the series. The
‘Crinkles’ were high on my list. Martin rather tolerantly went along with my
route, pointing out that Ms Bradbury wasn’t likely to be hanging around on the
off chance that two sweaty blokes form Plymouth might turn up. But you never
know… The first Crinkle hid the view of the other 4 as we approached but once there,
Wow, what a view! Arcing out in front of us were the remaining Crinkles,
Bowfell, Esk Pike, Ill Crag, Broad Crag, Scafell Pike and Scafell, their stark
beauty highlighted by a blazing sun. Magnificent!
A certain guide book describes the ridge walk along
the ‘Crinkles’ as the best in lake-land and I’m not about to argue with that.
It was entertaining, involving, rocky and largely deserted, possibly because
we’d taken a fair bit of time enjoying the view and eating our way through part
of our load while everyone else surged past us. I found it uplifting, possibly
because there weren’t any huge drops either side of me.
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| Bad Step |
My personal highlight,
clearing the ‘bad step’ on the second Crinkle, which is easy enough, without a
huge pack. We had the entire ridge to ourselves as we enjoyed the walk over the
remaining Crinkles getting closer to the imposing sight of Bowfell. This looks
like a ‘proper’ mountain, as it stands proud of the ridge, time to loose some
of the height we’d gained before heading up, and meeting the first people we’d
seen in a while. The top of Bowfell was initially disappointing; to say it was
crowded was an understatement with over 30 people perched on the top. Martin
added to his tally of ‘interesting characters’ as he became involved in a discussion
on how long it had taken a very confident man to walk from Scafell Pike to
Bowfell as he trained for a trip to the Himalayas in a couple of weeks but
first he had to get back to his car, do some shopping and drive 220 miles home.
Fascinating, I’d slinked off by myself again but Martin made sure that I got
the full ‘Mad-Bloke-On-Bowfell’ experience later. The crowds soon got bored
with the view and left to be replaced by a young couple that were easily
coerced into photographic duties. Now off to find a campsite.
Sprinkling
Tarn was our destination, via Esk Pike and Esk Hause. It’s a beautiful Tarn in
the shadow of Great End, sadly it’s also a popular spot for wild camping We had
hoped that on a Sunday night it would be quiet-ish but as we approached we saw
a dozen or so bright orange blobs pitched up like a Lakes version of a tent
city, with more around the sides of the Tarn at the only other suitable site.
Martin to the rescue as he dropped his pack and scampered off up a rise,
returning a few minutes later with a grin on his face. He’d found the perfect
pitch and it was time to unload and eat, again.
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| Tent village |
We spent the evening sat on rocks enjoying some
good whisky waiting patiently for the sun to set. That’s not such a good idea
when you’re a lot further north and a lot higher up than you’re used to, we
gave up after 11 as it was still light enough to see where we were going
without using torches. I’m not convinced it set at all as when I opened my eyes
at 4 it was light and already a beautiful day.
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| Sitting on rocks. |
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| Sheepy sunset |
After
a quick breakfast it was off to find the start of our route up Scafell Pike. We
quietly passed the massed ranks of orange tents and back down onto the Cumbrian
Way, a sharp left and then up the ‘Corridor’. The grey mass of Broad Crag
towering above us hammered home the fact that we, as individuals really are
insignificant in this landscape.
At this point I should say thanks to Alex, a friend
who told me in no uncertain terms that I must use the corridor. He was right
for many reasons; having it largely to ourselves that morning and appreciated
it all the way to the top, frequently pausing to admire the view and collect
our thoughts. As we climbed the weather started to deteriorate, clouds skimming
across the summits above us making the ascent atmospheric and putting the sheer
faces on our left into perspective. Taking a left turn up a gully we were
presented with our largest challenge so far, several hundred vertical feet of
scree slope leading us to the gap between Broad Crag and Scafell Pike. I’m sure
that I’ve never been on steeper scree and from the bottom it was daunting but
Martin, unperturbed suggested we ‘have a look and see what it’s like’. 40
minutes later we’re at the top, relieved that we’re not going back that way
with one last section of easy boulders to get to the top.
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| View through the clouds |
Once
there we were very surprised to find it deserted, our luck was holding and we
had a good half an hour there by ourselves, partly in cloud but occasionally
getting brief but spectacular views down to Styhead Tarn and the hills beyond.
Time for an early nip from the hip flask. Sadly the solitude couldn’t last and
with the cloud increasing we decided to leave as the crowds started to appear.
Off to the Mickledore and a look at the ‘Lord’s Rake’, a famous ascent of
Scafell but today we’re giving that a miss due to pack size, inexperience in
that sort of terrain and a number of warnings about rock falls in the area.
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| 'Path' |
Saying that we followed a path to Foxes Tarn isn’t
quite doing this section of our walk justice. Initially down a slippery
scree slope but then hang a right into a rock filled gully that requires hands
and feet to scramble to the top. It’s not at all hard, just a bit of a squeeze
in places, but it was so much better than the scree that came next. 200
vertical feet of scree at just the right angle to make walking hard work but
not steep enough to need hands, slowly heading up into a bank of cotton wool
above us. But we couldn’t complain, everything up to that point had been
spectacular and there is something about sitting in a shelter, surrounded by
white without a sound in the air that’s good for the soul.
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| Scafell Range |
At
this point the two men from the south had realised that getting back down past
Foxes Tarn (our intended route) would be tricky without rope to lower our packs.
Sadly there was no rope handy so we took the easy route out, a completely
downhill walk to a pub where plan A was to catch a bus to Ambleside, plan B was
to get a taxi and Plan C was to hitch. Several hours later and we’re at ‘The
Woolpack’ putting a smile on the face of the barman as we innocently ask about
busses and taxis. Pint in hand we head to the beer garden to contemplate the
disturbingly quiet road, where are the crowds when you need them? Then
salvation in the shape of Alan and Val, or more correctly in Alan’s delight at
having a good excuse to drive over the Hardknott pass. Given that we’d spent
two days away from plumbing and still had huge rucksacks how we managed to find
a lift from such a nice couple is beyond me but they insisted on dropping us at
our door, right beside the pub… and we didn’t see Julia anywhere.