It hasn't been the best start to my week off with my mother-in-law in the hospital, and if that wasn't stressful enough during a hospital visit, my wife was rear-ended by a bus right outside the hospital. Paula suffered whiplash and shock, but my car was a write-off. Luckily, my employer was kind enough to loan me a car until my new one arrives.

Anyway, moving on. It looks like we might have seen the last of the dreaded rain that has taken the end of June and all of July out. Yes, it's been a miserable few weeks for us fell walkers, but I can't help but feel sorry for the families who have booked camping holidays only for the rain to ruin it all.

For my time off, I'd planned a few walks around the showers, which included this one, which I purposely started late to allow the morning showers to push through. The week ahead doesn't look too bad, although the forecast is changing hourly, meaning I'm constantly checking and rearranging my walks accordingly. I'm known to chase the sunshine, but with this walk, it didn't matter; it had been ages since I last walked through the hanging valley of Gillercomb, and no matter the forecast, I couldn't wait to return.

If you turn up and find that you can’t easily park at Seathwaite without being confident a fire engine or tractor and trailer could easily pass, please consider one of these three alternatives.

The National Trust, Cumbria Highways and the Lake District National Park authority are working together to find a long term solution for those of you who like to park at Seathwaite, but it will take time.

By the time I'd arrived, the showers were long gone, leaving a mix of scattered grey clouds with blue skies edging through. I had my reservations about being able to park at Seathwaite, one of the busiest areas of Lakeland for fell walkers, and given that it's also the school holidays, I'd come up with a plan B and even a plan C walk should I be unable to park. Panic over, I parked easily about 200 metres from the Seathwaite farm, and after kitting up, I soaked in my surroundings while being watched by cattle from a nearby field.

Ahead, two guys emerge from a Volvo who I'd followed through Borrowdale who I soon overtake after a friendly 'morning' Next, I pass a large family who asked which way to Scafell Pike and if the path was suitable for their young children, bearing in mind that these youngsters were dressed in everyday clothing while the adults were fully equipped. I replied, while looking at a young girl of maybe 7 or 8 wearing wellington boots that it's a tough route and that they should take the day as it comes. "Is the path ok though? We have no phone signal." It was as if they were asking my permission, so I replied, "Enjoy the day and use your common sense."

Through the farm yard, I turned right between two barns before taking the path towards the footbridge over Grains Gill, which flows into the River Derwent as it passes through the valley.

With Sourmilk Gill now behind me, I arrived at the intake wall, where I passed the family of four and a solo chap, who I thought was with the family, but turns out he wasn't. While the family strode on, I got talking to the chap, and we shared our routes. "I'm heading for the base thingy, he joked, not sure where after that, perhaps Great Gable." After sharing my route, the chap said, "Oh, I like the sound of that; I might see you later!" I left the chap and quickly caught up with the family, and after a hello, I passed them too.

With the walkers behind me, it kind of felt like I had Gillercomb to myself, and I let off the gas as I took in my surroundings while being reminded that my rock climbing friend Heather Morgan would climb Raven Crag often. The sound of the family faded into the distance as I continued through the glacial valley until I came across another family nestled behind a large boulder eating lunch. Hello, I smiled, but got nothing back.

It was while eating lunch that I tried to trace my descent via the mine path, which I could only spot so far before it was lost to the bracken. With lunch over, I skirted around a second spoil heap and followed the path as far as it would go before succumbing to waist-high bracken. It was incredibly loose underfoot, with traces of spoil hidden beneath the bracken. I was sure I had lost the path, but gaps in the bracken told me perhaps not. The bracken gave way, then returned, by which time I'd lost count of how many times my boots had rolled over hidden rocks the size of my fist. I needed a game plan: keep calm and continue my descent. Yet more bracken gave way for a narrow path that passed between two grazing sheep, the same two sheep I had spotted from above earlier. Woodland now and more boot-tangling bracken before the path gave way for the valley bottom and this remarkable view of the Seathwaite valley from the sheepfold.

Feeling like I'd just done a couple of rounds with Mike Tyson, I adjusted my clothing and gear while looking back up the hill side. I had no idea which line I'd taken; it was simply lost among boulders and bracken. Note to self: return only in the winter. The sound of tent pegs being hammered into the ground broke the silence of the valley, accompanied by the sound of flowing water. I take another look back at my descent, squint my eyes, and pick out my line of descent starting from the grassy platform I'd stopped to eat my lunch at. Ah, now I see it. Two bridges later, I was back at Seathwaite Farm, which was surprisingly quiet apart from the farmer talking to two builders. Between the two barns, I disturbed the farmers dogs, who barked angrily from behind the barn doors. Just the odd cars now, with lots of places to park; this is the Seathwaite I like to see. Mooing cows and the sound of folk talking carry across a nearby field as the courtesy car comes into view, the sun now shimmering on its windscreen, the valley feeling hot and wild.