It's not unheard of for me to pack three or four pairs of gloves, more beanies than you can shake a stick at, and the odd pair of extra socks that have been in my pack so long now that I think they are past their sell by date. Come spring, however, it's time to shed the extra layers and replace them with extra hydration, sun cream, and energy drinks. But for some reason, low pressure has outstayed its welcome on the Lakeland fells, meaning I'm still carrying all of the above. I really do think it's time to stop weather watching and start relying on some good old-fashioned spring weather.

I should have walked on Saturday, but I was too burned out with work and relished a lie-in instead, which paved the way to cut my lawns and take Brad and Holly on an extra long dog walk. Sunday was a washout, it rained from dawn through to late afternoon, but Monday looked much drier. The initial forecast predicted a bright day, but the brightness edged into the afternoon, leaving the Lakeland fells in extensive cloud, Come what may, I was going to walk.

The Coniston fells were calling, and initially I'd planned to re-walk our 2019 Remembrance Day route from Seathwaite to Grey Friar, then head as far south as Brown Pike before returning to Seathwaite. It had been a route I'd longed to repeat, but maybe too long a walk in extensive cloud, which was when I remembered about this walk, which stems back to 2017 which seemed perfect for a day like today.

As I was driving towards Yewdale most summits were below cloud, all except Wetherlam, which even had pockets of blue skies above it. Minutes later, as I arrived at Tilberthwaite those blue skies were beginning to disappear but the good news was that Wetherlam's summit remained clear. For a bank holiday Monday, the car park was surprisingly quiet, with just two other cars parked up, one of whom belonged to two women and their golden Lab who left with a 'morning' as I laced up. 

It was cool enough to add a jacket but mild enough to keep the beanie and gloves close by should I need them later. With the exception of cutting the lawns and dog walking, I'd had a lazy day yesterday, and the climb out of Tilberthwaite brought my calfs and lungs out of hibernation mode. By now the two women were up ahead and had opted to take the path around the head of the gill rather than the path that descends in and out of the gill (you can see one side of the path over on the right) which was the right thing to do as the bridge had been washed away sometime ago and is still waiting to be replaced. I was only here back in December and had crossed the gill which, unlike today, wasn't in spate. I too, would opt for the higher path.

Summit time was kept to a minimum, but before I left, I noticed a trail race GPS tracker surrounded by a sponsor flag wedged into the summit cairn, but for now it was just me and a howling wind. I began my descent from the summit in drizzle and walked into a headwind towards Swirl Hawse while being flanked by Black Sails somewhere over my left shoulder. It was here I passed a solo walker, and despite the conditions, a cheery 'morning' was shared.

Back to the path labelled Keld Gill Head on my map, I passed a deceased lamb, its death a complete mystery other than a five pence size incision on the side of its stomach.  A cut so clean it looked like it had been done with a surgeon's knife - I felt sad, this poor thing lying there in the wind, cloud, and drizzle. No photograph - instead, I wondered how it came to its untimely death, what made the cut, and why it was so high on the mountain when most lambs were still in the valleys. Could it have been separated and wondered up here from the Greendale valley below and died of exposure during the night before the Ravens struck.

I heard voices and the sound of rock falling well before I saw the dozen fell runners clambering down Prison Band, who were all in good spirits, including the girl I scared to death as we rounded the same crag.

Prison Band was the last 'real' ascent in todays walk, where I was brought back to basics. We all crave sunshine, but to ascend crag in thirty-meter visibility took me back to my foundations of fell walking, this was it; this was what I loved doing. It's just that every so often I get side blinded by blue skies when really, this is what it's all about.

I left the memorial and found my way back on the path, which, in good visibility, would offer grand views over the sweeping curve of Broad Slack towards Swirl How. There was no chance of that today. I arrived at the summit to find a solo walker drinking from a flask who offered to 'duck' his head down while I took this photo. 'no need, mate, I'll be on my way," and no sooner had I arrived, I'd left.

Although the cloud was lifting, it was followed by a sun shower and cloud so low it had almost followed me to the base of the ridge, but as soon as the showers had passed, it made way for white cloud that teased blue skies beyond. It was warming up now and before I made my full descent, I stopped to de-layer and sip hydration at will. 

The base of the ridge opened up to swollen ground, which I followed as far as the corner of this wall, which descended steeply to the footbridge spanning the gorged Greendale Beck. From here, I officially enter Little Langdale by following the footpath seen over on the right, passing Little Langdale Tarn as far as the Ford at the head of Little Langdale Quarries. 

I continued along the path, passing through Low Hall Garth, which was once a climbing hut but now resides as a holiday cottage. As I continued along the path, I began to pass holiday makers enjoying the bank holiday who flocked to Slater Bridge posing for photos or just enjoying the welcome spring sunshine. Things were a little uglier as I passed the sty, which led up to Cathedral Cave where impatient large numbers of people waited to cross. It wasn't good viewing.

The high numbers continued as I made my way towards the footbridge, where I turned right towards Little Langdale Quarries and Moss Rigg Wood. The bank holiday had drawn the crowds to some of Lakelands most famous hot spots, but the footpath through the woodland contained its quietude where I was passed by just one fell runner. The woodland gave way for farmland, where sheep grazed and lambs dozed nearby. I was beginning to overheat, but with Tilberthwaite moments away, I decided to sweat it out. I passed through Tilberthwaite Farm before joining the tarmac lane towards Low Tilberthwaite where I was passed by a young family, the father racing with his youngest daughter. Beyond the stone wall, more sheep graze in the midday sunshine, and while it's very spring-like here in the valley, the summit of Wetherlam was still lost in cloud as it had been hours earlier.