This is one of the shorter stages of my walk,
chosen for a reason, after the last three days climbing over most of the
mountains on the Coast to Coast I didn’t want anything too strenuous before
tackling the highest peak of Kidsty Pike the day after tomorrow.
It’s a relatively easy walk along a bridleway out
of Grasmere up to the tarn then down the valley, maybe three and a half hours
actual walking. I am looking forward to my rest day tomorrow, cruising on a
steamer on Ullswater.
Well that’s not how it turned out.
As mentioned previously, the path I choose is
exactly that, my choice, and today I have an enormous choice.
Arthur Wainwright encourages walkers to tread the
less trodden and deviate off the normal route, the normal route today is after
reaching the tarn, straight down the valley.
Wainwright also goes on to say, that if assessable
the higher ground is more favourable and should be chosen out of personal
effort.
I went to bed late last night, my luggage arrived
late and I needed my computer to keep up a timely blog. So a few more pints in
the comfy lounge and I typed away into the wee hours.
I was awake at 4:20 still not right with the time
difference, I checked today’s weather and decided that maybe I should try the
Helvellyn Route should my feet agree.
Hang-on my head decides where I want to go not my feet so I
covered them in Compeed to keep them quite and portioned my anti-inflammatories
and painkillers ready for downing after breakfast. Then I reorganised my
backpack dumping all the non-essential gear, like the wet weather trousers,
gloves, backup thermal top, etc. making it as light as possible.
The weather was forecast to be perfect for walking.
I was first to the dining room right on 7:30 and
first to leave after breakfast. I was on the road at 7:50 with just a quick
stop at the co-op as it opened to pick up some supplies.
Leaving the co-op I ran into old Roy and we walked
together for a kilometre or so and chatted until I moved off ahead.
 |
| Along Great Tongue |
I figured no one was in front of me and I made a
good pace up and along Great Tongue Gill, enjoying the sounds of the cascading
gill, the sheep bleating and the odd crows caw in the glorious morning sun.
The weather was perfect and I stripped off to one
layer.
After climbing to about 550m I reached the top of
Great Tongue, rounding the summit the impressive Grisedale Tarn lay before me.
On the opposite side of the tarn, as if rising from
it, is a mother of a mountain
called Dollywagon Pike.
 |
| Dollywagon Pike |
I dropped down the path to the tarn edge where the
easy valley route meets the alternative high routes.
If you want to get to Helvellyn then you have to
tame Dolly.
At 858m, she can only be ascended by the switchback
trail on her side. Switchback because she is so steep.
I rested, alone, in the warm sun on the soft grass
next to the Tarn. Dolly looking at me menacingly.
The track on her side was clear enough like a scar
she received in a bar brawl, if that was possible.
I could be in a pub in a few hours, necking ales,
eating lamb chops and chips, I thought.
I opened a Snickers bar, ate it quickly and then
had another.
Stuff it! I though. You only live once. I haven’t come here
to go around, if I don’t do this I will regret it. I picked up my pack and up I
went.
For an aggressive looking girl she was quite kind.
The track up was steep and tiresome but the switchback made it doable.
From the top in every direction it seemed like the
whole of England unfolded before my eyes. It was indescribable to me.
The Lakes District is where England’s famous poets
came and still do, for inspiration. I would imagine even they on seeing this
view for the first time, would have been lost for words.
I just raised my two arms high in the sky as if
trying to embrace the moment and draw it all in. Just fantastic.
 |
| Striding Edge |
Thank you Dolly but I have to admit, you have been
used. Conquer Dolly and Nethermost Pike at 894m is there for the taking so I
followed the path north.
For about a kilometre I traversed these two peaks,
and then 500m or so later I began the steady climb to Helvellyn at 950m.
My reward was sweeping views of peaks and fells and
lowlands and, if I dared, access to the infamous Striding Edge.
This part of the walk was described thus in the
guide book “the climb (via Dolly) is arduous and, having reached the top
(Helvellyn), you then face a nerve-tingling drop on a crumbling slope above Red
Tarn, followed by a knife edge walk along Striding Edge ridge to meet the trail
dropping to Patterdale.
Looking at Striding Edge made me very anxious, have
I made the right decision?
The sheer size of these peaks, the openness at the
top and the drop down into the valley were hard to comprehend.
I contemplated heading back the way I came but when
I turned around and l saw how far I had come I realised it was a bloody long
way back, all my hard work would be for nought.
The wind picked up so I put on my jumper and rested
on the lea side of a rock cairn, alone, my heart pounding and my mind trying to
take control.
After a few minutes I thought again, stuff it; just
get on, so I did.
I again, picked up my kit, I walked to the edge of
Helvellyn and peered down at Red Tarn. I watched the walkers on Striding Edge
coming and going in both directions and after getting in some pics I headed to
the “drop zone”.
The approach heading in my direction off Helvellyn is an almost vertical one-hundred-metre descent of granite boulders. Like someone filled a mineshaft with huge boulders but not enclosed like in a shaft you are open to the elements and a slip in either direction means you will be going home in a helicopter.
Three points of contact at all times I reminded
myself, just check before you let go. Constantly talking to myself in my head for reassurance.
Ok that was a bit tricky I thought as I tried to
stop my legs from shaking, now for the next bit to get onto Striding Edge.
Vertical slabs of granite like on a Stegosaurus’s back but many more guard the approach.
I let a
French guy pass me as I rearranged my pack. He began moaning like he was giving
birth, he was petrified, so I asked him, “don’t you have mountains in France?”
to which he replied, “I work in an office”.
Humour a great relaxant.
My tactic worked, I could watch him and learn.
With every metre conquered my confidence grew, now
I was asking others to take my picture as I stood confidently on this beast.
It was after all just a bunch of rocks that were
very high off the ground. Just don’t look down unless you have to.
Finally I made the less arduous path down into Patterdale.
It was steep and rocky and hot and my feet ached
but I didn’t care.
Halfway down I stopped for a spell on the grassy
hill-face in the afternoon sun, looking down on the village in the valley below,
very relieved and very pleased.
Arriving at my B&B Grisedale Lodge, my luggage waiting for me in my room on the second floor, I had time for a complimentary pot of tea and cream cake in the drawing room, followed by a Radox bath.
What a life!
Daily Stats.
Distance 15.65km
Assent 1207m
Descent 1081m
Time out 7h
44m
Stopped 1h
56m
Moving average 2.8k
per hour
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