Today’s walk saw me at the mercy of a weather forecast again, that & the fact that The Crookdale Horseshoe together with The Bannisdale Horseshoe had been on the books for the last couple of years so I guess you can say today’s walk is a little overdue.

I booked a day off work to do some fell walking which would then lead me into a couple of days into the weekend to spend some quality family time & to hopefully get round to some chores that I had been meaning to do i.e. tidying up the garden…you know what I mean, Springy time stuff.

I got pretty excited about this route a couple of days prior because it meant I would be able to traverse a path that I hold in biblical high regard on the Lakeland fells, it’s a mile of heaven but we’ll get to that later because my biblical proportions didn’t turn out quite the way I would have liked them to.

I’m not too sure why of late I have been setting a trend on the solitary of summits, perhaps these walks reflect my moods I’m not sure, after all, I choose to walk with the weather as do most, but I must admit these lonely valleys have been appealing these last few weeks. I guess what I want to say is don’t despair, I’ve not gone off my rocker I just want to explore new, more desolate places & now that I have I can confirm that although I loved my time in the loneliest of valleys normal Lakeland services will resume & so too will a couple of plans I have for the fells during the summer of 2014.

Before you read the blog I would like to touch on the subject of wind, because it featured very highly from leaving the car to returning to it almost 6 hours later. Of course I had observed the forecast as I normally do, which was just another reason why I stuck below 600 meters for almost the entire walk as I figured I’d be walking below any snow or hail showers.

I couldn’t have been more wrong, so much so I almost called the walk off after reaching my first summit.

Have a read on to see how I got on with the rest.

Wainwright Guidebook

-Crookdale

All is grass, and most of it is wet grass. Yet Crookdale has a certain beauty, the beauty of desolation, when the western sun burnishes its miles of prairie. A few sheep are the only signs of life; there is sluggish movement in the beck. This is a valley without habitation and the loneliest in the National Park.

I had already committed to Borrowdale along the twisting lanes of the Shap Road (A6) when the first of the showers arrived, I paid them no attention as I knew a few wintery showers were on the cards. My drive north took me off the M6 at Jct 36 where I then drove through Kendal & its adjoining satellite villages.

I left the A6 for Hause Foot along a narrow lane filled with flocks of sleeping sheep, approached carefully as I know Lambing season is upon us as these once docile creatures can have a nasty turn this time of year.

I make it through & continue along the lane passing over cattle grids disturbing the silence in doing so.

I wasn’t completely sure where to leave the car seeing as I hadn’t been here before so I drove right up to Crookdale Bridge with its idyllic Farm House nestled beside, no room to leave the car here.

With this I stuck the car in reverse & carefully winded backwards up the narrow track where I found a couple of ‘good spots’ to leave the car on a grassy embankment, the first of which I felt the car sink a little so I moved a little further up the track where I was assured of firmer ground.

Kitting up was done as quickly as possible if not only to add layers as right from the start the wind had a cold nip to it, this I first found out as I bent down to tie my boot laces when a sudden gust sent my mid-layer half way up my back.

Hat & gloves were added.

I traced my steps back to Hause Foot & Crookdale Bridge where I took a couple of photos & had a look at the Farm House, had it not been for the carefully manicured lawns & the car round the back I would go so far to say, the place looked unabated.

There was no first visual route up the fell side from Crookdale Bridge so I followed the beck for about 50 yards only having to go back after spotting a path by a row of British Gas wooden stakes routed into the hillside, besides of which lay a said grassy path, in turn I had to ‘double back’ along the beck when somehow I managed to submerge my feet in freezing bog water, not the best start before setting onto fell side.

Besides wet feet, here came the first of many rain showers during todays walk, this one was more prolonged than a shower & gave all my gear a good waterproof test.

The rain wicked of my peak as I stared at my boots for this, my first ascent of the day, the sky had gone black & all I could hear was the rain pelting my hood & jacket.

Not the best of starts, but I remained optimistic & continued with my climb until the path teetered out into no more than Moorland awash with grassy hummocks & underlying water.

I still had good visibility so here I made for the highest point crossing the hummocks which weren’t at this point causing any issues.

I made for the summit.

My first wake up call regarding the wind came at my first summit. Although the rain had now stopped (briefly) I found the wind incredibly strong, so much so I struggled to stand & hold my camera at the same time, drastic measures were needed…quickly!

High House Bank sits at an altitude of 495 meters (1,624 ft) my thoughts turned to… if the wind is so strong here what & how strong will it be further along the ridge…could I stand 6 hours of this was also on my mind.

There are many turn back routes on & off the ridge which were all considered, my next step was to give the second summit a go ‘Robin Hood’ situated just over a mile ahead.

During my ‘dramatic measures thinking time’ along came the next band of rain only this time, it had a nice mixture of sleet in it.

I retreat down the summit a little & shielded myself from the driving rain & sleet powered by 50mph plus winds.

I simply cannot believe at this height I am shielding myself from mother nature & all she had to throw at me.

I sat the sleet shower out, or rather lay it out as mentioned. I down pack & take out my sunglasses if only to protect my eyes from the driving sleet & a whipping from any loose straps from my pack.

After the shower had passed the sun returned briefly igniting the ridge ahead in a brilliant afterglow.

During this brief respite I tried to forget the wind & how it was affecting my forward motion as by now all my legs wanted to do was go sideways no matter what I told them, no matter the beauty of the ridge ahead the wind sadly was taking up all of my thoughts.

The sunny spell, sadly didn’t last.

I wasn’t as lucky as I was with the one before whilst on my ascent on Robin Hood, I managed to seek shelter in a group of carefully placed boulders which made for great shelter as I watched the hail cross the Crookdale valley, there’s a huge difference in being caught out without shelter & having somewhere where you can sit it out.

I guess I over stayed my welcome at those boulders, their shelter being just too comfortable to make a move.

I had high hopes as the morning progressed the hail showers should fade & all I had to cope with was the wind, which although still menacingly strong I seemed to be getting accustomed too.

‘He says taking photos whilst perched on one knee’

I was reminded of an old photographer friend who had once gave me tips on how to take the perfect shot…here Paul he says, have you ever seen those war movies with snipers? yeah…well do you know that they time a shot with their breathing? erm yeah, me being abit of a shoot-em up buff yes I knew that…

Well Paul, that’s how you take the perfect shot.

Well, seeing as the wind was controlling my breathing & the direction my legs were moving the chances of any perfect shots today was as remote as me winning the lottery! Still, the thought of the story made me chuckle.

Despite a few threatening showers the wind did a nice job of drying me out each time I got a soaking. As I headed towards my final summit along this ridge the light faded once again so as I had been previously I span around to see if I could see any approaching showers, to my delight I couldn’t see any as it was just that the sun had gone behind the clouds, for now anyway.

Footnote

Walking in high winds can be incredibly tiring both mentally & physically, the physical side of things are much more obvious than the mental side of things as all I seemed to think about was pressing on & looking out for the next hail shower to hit, I was a little saddened that my thoughts had been overcome by the weather & that by now seemed to draining the enjoyment out of the walk.

Back on High House Bank I didn’t think I’d make it this far, which helped heaps with the mental side of things, finding & taking 5 min breathers helped wonders too as I watched the grasses change direction rapidly in the wind, this & the wonderful array of light which at times only lasted seconds can make the difference between venturing on & returning back to the car.

You never know how true & how well your senses work when you take them out of a situation that is overcoming them.

The sound of the birds, the grasses flowing & the light in those time out shelters did wonders for the soul & prepared me to complete the walk.

I had been lucky in being able to follow a good path (albeit narrow in places) all the way from my starting point at High House Bank.

Here I am about to lose my path in the descent/ascent on Buck Crags & Harrop Pike, here I have shown my route in red as I found it much easier than to describe my undoubtedly wet & boggy crossing.

The main path lends itself to Tarn Crags so careful attention was needed when to leave the faint path for Buck Crags, here ascent is gained by eye & not path & although it was tricky & extremely wet underfoot the grassy hags weren’t as plentiful & easier negotiated than first thought. The ascent on Buck Crags is mild on the legs making the ascent enjoyable although I gather if not carefully plotted you may end up with very wet feet & equally frustrated.

Again this is a pathless ascent & without proper visibility, good map reading skills or GPS I wouldn’t want to attempt.

I plot my route over the peat hags & surprisingly make good progress although I fear getting my feet wet at this stage wont make much difference as I have been walking with wet feet since the beginning of the walk, the wet toes however are bitingly cold.

I arrived at the splendid Harrop Pike summit under more hail (spoke to soon) in which I had to retreat behind more carefully placed boulders, once the hail shower had passed I got up & made my way to the summit.

Wild & windy was the best way to describe my time spent here although I did find the time to take a few photos.

Here Tarn Crags (Longsleddale) can be seen in the foreground with Harter Fell (Mardale) directly behind, further down the ridge Kentmere Pike can be seen.

What looks like bog in the foremost foreground is in actual fact Greycrag Tarn (Dry)

If you remember at the beginning of my account I mentioned ‘one of the best miles Lakeland has to offer’ well in my eyes this is just one of them ‘Harrop Pike to Great Yarlside’

However my attention is averted to numbness that my feet are now experiencing due to walking for the last few hours in cold water, my boots are leaking in (only six months old) my last pair of Salomon’s I promise.

With this I take on a jog making sure I bend my toes with each step, it works momentarily yet the time of departing said socks with said boots can’t come soon enough, although I know I am still a few hours away from that precious moment.

Upon reaching the wall that will lead you towards the summit of Great Yarlside I make the decision to carry on a further mile to Wasdale Pike, all I have to do is head left & follow my nose.

Footnote

I’ve always found the route towards the summit of Great Yarlside odd, what I mean is the summit is on the right hand side of the wall yet the gate & a very distinctive path is on the left.

No matter, I shall return soon.

I feel it unfair on the little research that I did into Crookdale that most people fail to return here, even Alfred Wainwright stated that the valley was no place in the rain, perhaps. But I witnessed a different valley after leaving Great Yarlside, one of which I couldn’t but help repeat under my breath, Ill be back come summer.

This walk & this route covered some of my favourite valleys & summits which just so happened into the Crookdale Horseshoe, yes it will be remembered for the wind, but what remains are the memories of how the walk turned itself on its back where I was met with glorious skies & acres of untouched Lakeland hill sides with not a soul in site.