Adventure Week 6:
Loweswater Wainwrights

Back-to-back days in the Lake District see me ticking off six more Wainwrights on both sides of Loweswater.

The Checklist Beckons

Last week I hiked Middle Fell, Seatallan, and Buckbarrow, three Wainwrights overlooking Wast Water. I started book seven here out of familiarity with the area, but now it was time to see somewhere new. After all, beyond the physical challenge of ascent, bagging 214 Wainwrights would provide a detailed tour of the Lake District's many corners and vistas.

My analytical approach to any sort of completion applied here equally, so each fell was ranked by height and hikes identified that could chain together multiple in one outing. I recognised that if I started with the easiest from book seven, I would be confronted by an escalating wall of difficulty towards its end, so I'd have to be tactical. That being said, tackling a relatively easy grouping in a new area would put me within view of future summits, where the mind races and reels at future possibilities.

Loweswater, South

On Saturday I arrived at Maggie's Bridge car park, near the north-eastern edge of Loweswater, a lesser-known lake of the western Lake District. From here I would attempt a circuit that would bag me at least three Wainwrights, and four if I was feeling well and ambitious. Cloudy skies obscured the summits of Carling Knott and my first target, Burnbank Fell. The forecast suggested the weather would turn by midday.

A gentle walk along the lake took me into Holme Wood. Here weekday logging operations had closed the most straightforward trail up through it, but I didn't mind the extra distance. The path was saturated with rain and muddy from logging trucks' persistent track making, causing some sections to be unpleasant to traverse.

After a more persistent uphill following the trucks' path, I arrived at Holme Force. A series of waterfalls cascaded down well-worn rock faces, tumbling beneath the wooden bridge on which I stood. I ascended a small trail along the edge of the falls for a better view of the higher up falls. Somewhere higher above yet, a track would cut across this stream, and from there my ascent would truly begin.

As the track gently worked its way up the edge of the hillside, the mud comprising it became problematic. Every step saw the treads of my hiking boots disappear into slick mud, surface water rushing to penetrate. I had to keep moving, carefully but quickly. The middle of the road offered little respite. At one point a stream overflowed onto the trail, collecting in a depression that required a small leap to traverse without soggy ankles.

Mercifully, my map instructed me to take a hard right off the trail and ascend towards the treeline. I was perplexed to find no sign of a path at first, but a closer look above the track yielded a lightly worn trail. Unfortunately, the logging trucks had lowered the level of the track so much that I needed to vault up onto the steep ground above, using only slick muddy footholds and my hiking poles. In hindsight this would prove to be the scariest part of the day's efforts. Immediately a stunning view above the trees and across Loweswater rewarded my efforts.

Beyond this, the trail became heavily wooded, accompanied by a pair of Swaledale sheep before the next gate leading out onto exposed hillside. A short walk downhill from here, the wooden bridge crossing Holme Beck. The views from here were my favourite of the day - Loweswater coming into view with Low Fell beyond. As the trail continued upward and round the hillside, a wooden bench afforded an opportunity to rest and take in the dramatic clouded scenery.

Head in the Clouds

The next gate along the path signalled the end of my easy traversable romp up through the forest and the beginning of the real work - climbing the grassy slopes towards Burnbank Fell. I knew from my map that a short steep ascent would soon abate, and gentler hiking would follow, but my legs and lungs protested nonetheless. At least the hike through the woods warmed me up.

As I went, the views remained stunning, but a looming sense of the cloud layer just above warned me that it wouldn't be to last. I drank in one last view from a marker cairn along the way.

As promised, the trail levelled out and for now wouldn't exceed a fair slope. The mists beyond shrouded by destination, and each step took any view of it further away. The mists were upon me. Easterly winds from the Irish Sea blew clouds across the fells, keeping me windswept with drizzle. My waterproof hood went up and I persisted.

Several rises later, Burnbank Fell's summit came into view. A lone cairn by a fence junction, with no view to speak of. Still, a Wainwright is a Wainwright, and I had at least two more to go. I took a moment to put on my waterproof trousers as the windy drizzle began to saturate my trousers.

Pressing on over the next undulations, I reminded myself that hiking is about mental strength as much as it is about physical endurance. Moments like these tests your resolve to continue, but I persisted. My map would keep me right, and the trail was well trodden.

The next Wainwright, Blake Fell, soon arrived. Here a crescent-shaped windbreaker cairn tempted me to stop for some food before continuing, but the wind had picked up further and I was getting soaked. Still, a sit down was in order, as this featureless ridge offered no other opportunities to do so. I sat on a wet rock inside the cairn and pretended it was helping. My head was still getting buffeted despite my hood. I chose instead to think on another milestone achieved and guzzled down my water.

Next up was Gavel Fell, a slightly longer walk away, over several rises that would vaguely follow a fence line. At one point a junction in two fences with two separate stiles threw off my map reading skills, sending me down a hill in the wrong direction. Tired legs protested at having to re-do the metres back to the correct path.

Between these hills, clearly perceptible moving clouds began to part, showing Lamplugh Fell and Cogra Moss, albeit briefly. I held onto hope that the skies would clear soon, though I would take later at least. A persistent uphill march following a fence line spelled the last of Gavel Fell's ascent, culminating at yet another viewless cairn. At least the wind and rain kept away, mostly. Here I sat and ate my lunch, hood up.

Suddenly a black labrador appeared from the mists, as if from nowhere. Before I had a chance to process its existence, it was at my side, attempting to greed my sausage roll. Its owner soon followed, trudging between the fells, equally sick of the rain and cloud. Strange things and friends alike lurk in these mists.

A Clear Summit

Despite the miserable conditions, the going had been easy enough that I still had the energy to push on to a fourth Wainwright. Hen Comb was nearby and could be added to my hike on the return leg. I was keen to bag one more fell, and hopefully good weather would be kind enough to materialise.

Initially my route descended steeply along fence line, finding a wide valley at the bottom. Here I crossed paths with two other hikers who helped me plot a route across to Hen Comb's steeper back side, as my map insisted I ascend a nearby small hill when clearly I could just cut the corner and not bother. As we parted, so did the clouds - the last of the morning's low cloud cover floated east, and the Wainwright was revealed. If it stayed this way, I'd be on for a good view to round off the hike.

The valley was boggy, only punctuated by a low stream that required vaulting down and back up out of. For seemingly ages the squelch of my boots in sopping wet moss and grass was all I could hear. Eventually a hill materialised, and my last ascent of the day was afoot. It ascended steeper and steeper to the corner of a fence. Here I challenged myself to keep going steadily rather than employing quick bursts of effort and frequent breaks for breath. Slow and steady.

Getting up Hen Comb was much of the same, though steeper. From here unfamiliar views back to Great Borne reminded me that I didn't know this place well, but each ascent would change that. Two hikers appeared behind me, so I tried keeping ahead of them to see how quickly I could tackle the ascent. Their stops proved longer and the summit was mine.

From Hen Comb the main views are of Loweswater to the north-west and of Buttermere to the south-east. Initially I misidentified Buttermere as Crummock Water, as I couldn't see the latter, until I recognised Fleetwith Pike's distinctive profile at its end. Only then did I understand that Mellbreak to my east was completely obscuring Crummock Water. A full sense of where I was now in place, thanks to a previous circumnavigation of Buttermere last summer. Once again, the clouds hung dramatically in the distance.

Not long after arriving, two more groups of hikers reached the summit, similarly sitting to eat and take in the views. I chatted with one person who had completed two-thirds of the Wainwrights, and another who had recently begun the endeavour, but was travelling up from Surrey. He viewed the efforts as a ten-year project, with many hostel stays required. As always, an instant sense of community is present at altitude.

Bad Planning Adds Time

Now, all that was left was the descent. Hen Comb is normally tackled from the north, owing to its steady incline. How fortunate for me that this was to be my descent path. Initially the going was steep and with a partially eroded trail, but it quickly levelled off and invited views across Low Fell on the other side of Loweswater. Little Dodd's small protrusion half way proved to be the best view.

Beyond this, herds of sheep dotted the separating paths as I bee-lined for a distant stone field wall. Behind Mellbreak, Grasmoor showed its face. Photographing sheep up close is a fool's errand, but if your camera is ready and you stop suddenly, sheep quickly pay attention and look your way. Usually.

The descent I had planned for this addition to my hike called for crossing through farmers' fields, threading one gate to the next, as I had done when descending Whernside. The difference is that in the Yorkshire Dales I had been aided by a public right of way. Here I would be denied by a notice of private land and no trespassing. I would comply begrudgingly, immediately turning right in the direction of a path I knew existed to the east, though now I would have to unpick some of my descent across untrodden fields.

This route eventually yielded a trail that descended hard towards a stream. With my trail back to Loweswater village visible on the other side, there was no alternative but to ford. Fortunately, several large rocks were present, and my hiking poles allowed me to get across with only one foot plunged momentarily.

I was rewarded by an equally steep ascent on the other side. At this point my body declared it was no longer interested in hiking, but I required it to press on as my car was still where I parked it.

Following the trail from here was easy going, along the exit of the valley, eventually between field walls and past the farm. Here Loweswater came into view. I crossed the bridge, admired the snowdrops, and admired the stubbornness of a signpost with not one but two denials.

The remaining walk back was along the roadside, eventually retracing the last part of my drive in. Here I was able to correctly identify the fells around me, now familiar, now conquered or sized up for future hikes.

Encore!

After one day of hiking, I double-dipped - my friend Aušrinė would join me on an easier hike. She wanted to join me despite health concerns, so I reached for the two easiest Wainwrights of book seven: Fellbarrow and Low Fell. This would take us to the opposite side of Loweswater, onto fells seen clearly from Hen Comb the day before.

We arrived at Thackthwaite, parking in a dirt lay-by north of the settlement - seemingly the only parking for a mile. Despite the season and the 09:00 start, we were lucky to find a spot. Following the road into the settlement, we joined a path on the other side of the farmhouse yard, finding a rocky, beck-filled trail through the trees.

After a while this trail emerged through a kissing gate into a field, continuing uphill. From here, our first view of Low Fell before us. But first, we'd have to join onto a path heading south away from it and around the bend to an area we would spend the day navigating back and forth between the two Wainwrights.

As we ascended the path grew steeper, but it was well defined and wide enough for us to walk side-by-side. Behind us, views of Lorton Vale appeared, the sleepy valley of our origin.

We turned off the track, descended to cross a beck, then started the ascent to Fellbarrow. After reaching the fence line of an otherwise quite featureless hill, we came upon footholds and the first real adversity of the day. A few stops were needed, but eventually it was cleared, and the summit became visible ahead.

On the other side of the fence, a trig point and summit cairn. A quick hop over the stile between us and celebration. The view we were rewarded with was unprecedented - the Isle of Man to the west, and to the north the Solway Firth and the hills of Galloway Forest Park beyond - Scotland. We sat for a while, uncomfortably on cairn stones, taking in the view and refuelling before continuing.

Turning around, we retraced our steps back down the grassy slope, following the fence line up the next and across to the path we had observed others ascending along. This brought us along a muddy cut path to a gate, inviting us onwards to Low Fell. The first of many undulating parts here dropped us towards our first view of Crummock Water, although it was only a tease of views to come.

Low Fell refused to present itself immediately. Instead, each miniature summit presented another, demanding more effort before the eventual pay-off. The greatest ask was a steep muddy foothold ascent along a steep edge with airy views down to the valley and lake below. Here the sense of height and danger was mostly in the mind, but caution was taken with each footstep.

Before long, Low Fell gave up, and one ascent later, we were there. Despite the summit cairn and map confirmation that we were in the right place, there was no view of Loweswater to our south-west. As if beckoning us on, the trail continued...

A relentless series of hills snaked us further down the south edge of Low Fell, culminating in one last significant rise to another summit cairn - Bield. From here: a beautiful view across Loweswater and the farm I passed at the start of my walk yesterday, as well as both Mellbreak and Hen Comb from their fronts.

Still, the hill beckoned. I dragged my friend further into the chilling winds, down further to a third cairn, this time with clearly no further route. From here I found the best view of Crummock Water. To its left, Grasmoor. To its right, Mellbreak. Beyond, a sliver of Buttermere and all its surrounding fells. This was the Lake District that I had toiled for.

All that remained, of course, was the descent. The route back was straightforward, with a much more pleasant direct route back to our initial ascent. Herdwick sheep saw us off, and before we knew it, we were back in Thackthwaite.

Conclusion

Two exceptional days in the Lake District provided a sense of Loweswater and the eastern edge of Crummock Water. Despite wind, drizzle, and low clouds, I motivated myself to push on and bag as many Wainwrights as possible. A second day of hiking provided I had the endurance and recovery necessary for plugging away at a volume of Wainwrights this year. Hiking with a friend made the experience all the more worthwhile.