Reflections on Past, Present and Future

I have returned.  Our holiday was excellent, though at times it seriously felt as if The Powers That Be really can't be bothered to promote tourism in England.  Over the last few years, the little tourist information centres that proliferated in the market towns and which were a Godsend for vistors have all been closed, and if it hadn't been for a bit of detective work and dedication on our part, we wouldn't even have picked this destination.

What's even more depressing was the number of people who said to us, "Oh, so you're on holiday in Wantage.  You must be visiting family then."  And when we responded with 'well, no, we're here to SEE the place,' they'd just blink and go, 'Oh! That's interesting. What on earth made you come here?'

Sigh.... 

Here's a photo.  Sadly, I haven't done the market place in Wantage much justice because it was raining a lot of the time, and on the days when the sun came out, it was full of random people who cluttered up the views as if they owned the place (which they probably did!!).  I'm sorry about the lack of images, because the place, though filled with modern 19th century shopfronts, was very picturesque:-

It's official.  The British Summer has been a complete wash-out.

Our weekend in the Lakes was very wet indeed. So wet, in fact, that we didn't actually get out onto the tops. Though we did try....  In fact, I don't think we've had it this wet in the Lake District since December 2009, and we've been there a few times since then, believe me!

The target of the holiday was Ullscarf via the Wythburn (pronounced Wy-burn) valley.  Ullscarf itself isn't given a very good write-up by Wainwright, his description, in The Central Fells, is as follows:-

'Of the Lakeland Fells over 2,000 feet Ullscarf will generally be adjudged the most central, and it is a pity that Nature has not endowed it with a distinctive superstructure worthy of the honour. If only the crags extended a thousand feet higher, and if only the summit took the shape of a Matterhorn! Instead of which, the top of the fell is the dullest imaginable. The most central, perhaps, but not, alas, a very distinguished pivot!'

Unfortunately, I can't prove or disprove Wainwright's analysis of the summit in question. The weather forecast for Saturday didn't seem too bad, and when we set out, 'showers & sunny spells' seemed to be the order of the day:-





We followed the Wythburn Valley, along a delightful (though rather marshy!) route which proved to be virtually deserted:-





The path skirted this dramatic waterfall:-





And after that, the terrain flattened out into a geographer's paradise, full of moraines and a wide morass called, appropriately enough, 'The Bog'.  (Or, as Wainwright puts it, 'The Bog' (with a capital T & B deservedly)').

The big flat summit to the right with its sloping approach is Ullscarf.  We got just beyond the conical mound in the middle of the picture, and by then the 'showers' had become so heavy and prolonged that we were wet through and getting a bit cold. I was willing to plod onwards, but J, in a spectacular display of what I can only describe as 'anti-Spartanism', declared that 'there's no shame in turning back and tackling the summit another day. The shame lies in getting carted off the hill by the mountain rescue'.  With about another hour and a half to the summit, I reluctantly conceded, and the retreat was sounded.





On the way down, we passed this lovely boulder:-





And by the time we descended back to the road, the weather really was closing in. Here's the view towards the lower slopes of Helvellyn during the return journey:-

To my second post on Helvellyn now, and a guide to the summit.  The pictures aren't too impressive, because it was far too blowy on the top to try and venture too close to the edge.  But this'll give you some idea of what it was like.

The classic approach to Helvellyn is via Striding Edge, the route which claimed the unfortunate Mr Gough, and which still claims the unwary or unlucky traveller to this day.  If you look closely, you can see the little stream of figures, tramping their way along this narrow ridge...





Here's another view of Striding Edge, as seen from the summit:-




The other classic route to the summit is via Swirral Edge, equally dramatic, but considerably less terrifying!  In fact, it looks so inviting that this knitted, woolly walker almost feels inclined to tackle it some time:-





Here's a monument I found upon the summit.  It wasn't, I'm afraid, commemorating Mr Gough: instead, it was acknowledging the moment when someone landed an aeroplane on the mountain, then promptly took off again....





Looking away from the summit, we can see the rocky bluffs that represent the eastern faces of Nethermost Pike and Dollywaggon Pike.  Dollywaggon Pike was the objective of our walk last July, and it was to Nethermost Pike that we were heading following our ascent of Helvellyn on Saturday:-

Well, a couple of days, actually, but let's not split hairs...

I'm back now, and I'm so glad we made the most of weather and decanted ourselves down to the Lakes for the weekend.  Our destination was the Lancrigg Vegetarian Country House Hotel, where the food was at its usual scrumptious standard, and the views were absolutely breathtaking.

I've featured similar photographs before, but the scenes have usually featured mist, snow, leafless trees and bleak mountains covered with dead bracken.  These days, we visit so often in the off-season that I've almost forgotten how wonderful the Lake District is in summer, when the sun's out and it's not raining:-

Some gratuitous photographs of the fells now, before I leave Grasmere....

Obviously, we had plenty of photo opportunities in the course of our walk.  Here's a suitably bleak view across the later reaches of Stone Arthur towards Gibson Knott, Calf Crag and (I think!) Ullscarf in the background:




A similar view, but this time with an interesting tree in the foreground:-




And lastly, a piece of nineteenth century industrial archaeology.  Wainwright would no doubt describe it as an eyesore, because I don't think he had much time for industrial archaeology, but naturally I spotted it and went "ooh!  Look!!  A nineteenth century aqueduct!"

Stone Arthur doesn't get much of a write up in Alfred Wainwright's A Pictorial Guide to the Lakeland Fells.  In fact, in a minimalist account which reminds me a little of Ford Prefect's edited summary of the Planet Earth which is quoted in that eminent tome, The Hitch-Hiker's Guide To The Galaxy (e.g. 'Mostly Harmless...'), its qualities can be summarised in one small paragraph:-

'Without its prominent tor of steep rock, Stone Arthur would probably never have been given a name for it is merely the abrupt end of a spur of Great Rigg although it has the appearance of a seperate fell when seen from Grasmere.  The outcrop occurs where the gradual decline of the spur becomes pronounced and here are the short walls of rock, like a ruined castle, that give Stone Arthur its one touch of distinction.' (Wainwright, 1955).

At 1652 ft OD, it's modest in size.  This makes it an ideal destination for a winter walk, and an equally perfect destination for novice fell-baggers who've cut their teeth on Loughrigg Fell, Silver Howe and Helm Crag, and feel the urge to conquer something a wee bit more imposing.

I've been fascinated with this fell ever since I  first started visiting the Lakes in 2000 or thereabouts.  Its name - Stone Arthur - appeals to the romantic side of me, and most of all, seen from a distance, it reminds me of Weathertop.  It's that little crown of rock on the summit that does it - here's the view from Grasmere, with the rocky tor at the summit just visible in silhouette:-




To reach it from Grasmere, the intrepid walker is required to - gulp! - cross the road!  This is why it's taken me so long to visit Stone Arthur - until last summer, I'd stuck to the fells immediately overlooking Grasmere, but now I increasingly find myself wandering further afield.

There's a brief stretch up a picturesque lane before the real climb begins:-




It's quite a tough slog to the summit, which isn't even that easy to find.  It's quite prominent from various locations on the ascent, as pictured below, but the higher you go, the more tricky it is to discern the actual summit from the rocky outcrops that litter the shoulder of Great Rigg.




In the end, we wound up overshooting the summit the first time, heading on up the slope to take in the summit of Great Rigg before coming back down the hill again and taking in Stone Arthur on the descent.  It was no day to loiter on the summits, unfortunately: Stone Arthur in particular was battered and buffeted by a strong, cold wind that seemed worse at low level than it did when we were on the higher peak.  I assume Helvellyn's massive bulk was providing Great Rigg with some degree of shelter...

Anyway, the view was, as ever, spectacular, all shifting patterns of light and shade, with the muted colours of winter looking particularly beautiful.  Here's a view over to Helm Crag and Gibson Knott (December's destinations), with Easdale Tarn and Sergeant Man (last February's destination) seen in the middle distance. According to AW (and I'm not going to argue with him, because he knows what he's talking about much more than I do on regarding such matters!), the peaks beyond are Bowfell and Scafell Pike.




Another similar view now, with Helm Crag more centrally framed and the outcrop which rings the summit of Stone Arthur more prominently featured:-




And now I've visited it in person, I'm now even more convinced that this must be Weathertop! I can just imagine Nazgul swarming over the rocks in the dead of night, and Aragorn fighting them off with a heroically-wielded firebrand!!

All in all, it was a lovely destination.  It's one I'd recommend to anyone, whether they're an accomplished fell-walker or a novice recently converted to the noble art of Wainwright-bagging, and it's one which I hope I can return to in the future.  Hopefully when the elements aren't quite so malevolent as they were last Friday!!

And tomorrow I'll introduce you to Great Rigg!!

Back to the Lake District now, and a visit to that most iconic of fells, Helm Crag.

Helm Crag is synonymous with Grasmere, a looming presence which overlooks the town.  It's famous for its rock formations: 'The Lion and the Lamb' are a familiar sight to visitors, so much so that Wainwright lamented over the fact that Helm Crag now often gets called 'The Lion and The Lamb' by visitors unfamiliar with its true identity...  Helm Crag sounds much more majestic and imposing, conjuring up images of Helm's Deep...

Like Gibson Knott, it's very modest in height, standing at a mere 1299 feet. A perfect goal for a winter's walk, and an ideal introduction to fell walking, if you ever fancy trying your hand at it.  It was one of the first summits I ventured onto - Silver Howe was my first, and Helm Crag the second - but it was way back in 2003 or 2004 that I last visited it in person.

We were well due a return trip, and I must admit that wandering along the ridge path that day, I felt like I was in the presence of an old friend.

Here's an unusual view of Helm Crag, seen from the path that travels along the ridge to Gibson Knott and Calf Crag:-




A Lion and a Lamb can just be glimpsed - Wainwright suggests that there are two lions, and two lambs, one at either end of the summit.  These rock formations do, however, have alternative names...

Like the 'Howitzer', shown below, with the dramatic backdrop of Steel Fell to the rear:-



I'm not sure if this is the case, but I think it's this particular formation, and not the Howitzer, that's also known as 'The Old Woman Playing the Organ'. 

We lunched that day hunkered down between some boulders on the summit.  This was the view, looking out towards the snow-covered heights of Helvellyn and Nethermost Pike (to the right) and Steel Fell (to the left).  Wainwright's description of the summit mentions a 'strange depression' strewn with boulders - I guess we found it, because I couldn't describe the bleak area in the foreground any better:-



The path back down the mountain was steep (not half so unpleasantly steep as the descent from Dollywagon!!) but Wainwright recommended it for the return route - most people ascend Helm Crag and return via the Borrowdale bridle path.  Wainwright was quite right in his advice - the view over Grasmere towards Loughrigg Fell was breathtaking.

Okay, I accept it.  Sometimes the Ancestors move in mysterious ways...

You know what the run-up to this short break entailed.  In case you'd forgotten, here's a brief summary:-

1) Weather forecast states that weather will be good in the east and foul in the west.  Therefore, an east coast destination is preferable.  We decide upon York.

2) The Langdale axe factories feature in last week's episode of The History of Ancient Britain, on the very day that we're told there's no accomodation in our usual B & B in York, and that we're not likely to find any, as Jorvik has organised a Viking festival that's attracted vast crowds (shudder!).  Now, if that's not a hint, I don't know what is.

3)  Ignoring the summons, we decide on Lindisfarne and Northumbria.  No accomodation is booked, however.  That night, our evening episode of Simon Schama's History of Britain DVD happens to feature Wordsworth and Grasmere,  Now, if that's not the Ancestors jumping up and down and waving and shouting very loud, "Hello, we're here!!!"  I don't know what is.

So the Lakes it was.  And, oh boy, were we lucky!! 

Here's one of the many spectacular views we were priviliged to witness.  It features my old favourite, Harrison Stickle, giving a marvellous interpretation of what it is to be a mysterious and wonderful Sacred Place of The Ancestors:-


As you may remember from a post I wrote last summer, I had unfinished business with the nearby felltop of Sergeant Man.  A return visit was on the cards this year, but we didn't think an eleven mile high level fell walk was going to be practicable in February.  Thankfully, we were blessed with reasonable weather for the day of our expedition, so Sergeant Man it was.  Okay, so we ate our lunch hunkered down at the foot of the summit while hailstones (very small ones!) bounced off our jackets, but when the end result was scenes like the one featured above, then what's there to complain about??

I must confess that as we strode down into Grasmere for dinner on Friday evening, I did think, "What am I doing here?  It's only been a month and a half since my last visit," but after that walk on Saturday (it happened to be the third spectacular late February walk in so many years) I knew exactly what I was doing there and there were absolutely no regrets.  It was wonderful, it was marvellous, and I even managed to fit in some building sleuthing, so expect many pictures and blog posts in the coming week!

I shall catch up with all your news just as soon as I can.  And in the meantime, here's Easdale Tarn as I've never been able to capture it before, complete with rainbow:-