With high pressure continuing to dominate the Lake District for my last walk of 2025 I have chosen the classic route that is Skiddaw via Lonscale Fell. I always try to visit Skiddaw around this time of year, admitting it's also a favourite for the first walk of the New Year too. The forecast was looking great with clear skies and winter sunshine from the start, albeit windy at height, which might get the odd mention later in the report. I left home under starry skies , which remained clear for the duration of my drive north. Despite parking at the top of Gale Road more times than I care to mention, I missed the turning for Underscar from the A591 and ended adding ten minutes to my arrival time – a massive 'D'oh' – but at least it wouldn't have an impact on my plans.

After driving past a group of young lads who were using their mobile phones as torches, I arrived at the car park where I found half a dozen parked cars, the occupants of one having just passed through the gate head torch fixed, Skiddaw bound. Given the forecast and occasion, it came as no surprise that Skiddaw might get busy today. Having reversed my car through the mudruts I began my kit-up, but not before I nearly had the driver's door ripped from my grip by a gust of wind which kinda set the tone for the rest of the morning. I'd somehow managed to park directly behind a small bench, which I used to lace up. The wind was cutting through my base layer and by the time I'd laced my boots up I was begining to shiver. Adding another layer, my jacket, hat and gloves did the trick, and I closed the boot and extended my poles, ready for the off, before realising I'd left my 'big camera' in the boot, so I went back for it knowing it had a better chance of taking shots in direct sunlight than my mobile did.

With the car park behind me, I passed through the gate, my head torch illuminating the eyes of dozens of sheep on the other side of the wire fence. I spotted two pairs of head torches on the lower zigzags of the tourist path as their owners inched their way up the steep ascent. I steered right close to the Hawell Monument, and with Whit Beck ravined down to my right, I descended towards its crossing point via a series of dry stepping stones which told me I might be the first to cross this way this morning.

Along the Cumbria Way spotting more pairs of head torches on the Blease Fell zigzags. I had a spectacular view of the predawn horizon, which changed from deep red to mellow orange, capped off with a bright yellow. It felt good to be alive despite the task of ascending Lonscale Fell ahead of me.

I left the Cumbria Way and got stuck into the ascent of Lonscale Fell southern slope; as always the steepness seemed never-ending and despite divulging myself over the Christmas period I actually felt in good fettle.

I was joined by a pair of Ravens who would squawk at me as they circled above or teased me by landing on a fence post further up the slope; the pair never left me alone the whole ascent. The light of dawn grew stronger and the stars began to disappear as I shouldered Lonscale Fell. Soon the summit of the Lonscale Fell East Top came into view but I wasn't sure if I'd make it for the official sunrise time at 8:31am

With the steep ground now behind all that was left was around 340 feet of ascent towards the East Top, which I made with one minute to spare before official sunrise. It was blowing a gale but not so uncomfortable that the wind was affecting my walking; in fact, prior to reaching the summit cairn, I had time to de-shoulder to pack my head torch away and straighten myself out, which included pulling my jacket down from halfway up my back...don't you just hate it when that happens. I'd also pulled my trousers up and was looking and feeling presentable again before making my way towards the cairn. Technically I knew I wouldn't be seeing the sunrise from the East Top as the sun was still too low on the horizon, so I began to have a look around.

The silence I had enjoyed since leaving Lonscale Fell was disrupted by barking from an unseen dog, which seemed to be coming from behind me but with no dog to be seen I put it down to how sound carries across the fells, more so on the exposed Skiddaw range. As I approached the gate below Lesser Man, I began to spot groups to my left, some of whom I could hear talking over the wind, which was still on the increase with more height gained. I had a good ten minutes on the groups, and with that I began my ascent on Lesser Man, enjoying the short zigzags that made the steep ascent feel easier.

A quick look back at from the top of the zigzags confirmed one of the groups were making their own ascent on Lesser Man but I'd be long gone before they summited. The other group (who I would later meet during my Skiddaw descent) were resting at the gate post. The view from Lesser Man was amazing and, for this view alone, it was well worth the 4am alarm call.

With the south cairn reached, I now had a taste of how strong the summit winds were, which were confined into narrow band between the summit shoulder and the summit which was almost like the gap if I were to hold my thumb and forefinger one centimetre apart. I could see one chap passing Middle Man who had started off from the east side of the summit and was now being blown westwards; walking conditions were arduous, to say the least. I went for it, my walking poles becoming airborne and flailing between steps subsequently tripping me up. I trailed my poles horizontally behind me and with my head tipped into the easterly I began walking towards the summit. The views through my now streaming eyes were hindered; the brain freeze brought on by the severe windchill was nothing like I'd felt before – I questioned whether I should continue.

Two fell runners appeared from the horizontal path above Carl Side, took a dozen steps towards the summit and chose not to continue and instead doubled back the way they had come. The solo walker was by now bedded down, sheltering behind the concrete trig point that did little to sheild him from the wind I arrived, nodded and took two photos with my legs spread apart. The first captured the sun shining down on the pillared topograph map; the second captured the guy's exit.

We all know that the forecast can never be 100% accurate, more so with Skiddaw's exposed position leaving it open to the elements all year round, which leaves me to add the last time I felt wind so strong was also on Skiddaw some years ago, although I don't think those winds were as strong as what I experienced today which felt, gale force (40mph - 55mph)

If the solo walker hadn't wandered into my shot there would be no way to justify my experience arriving home some hours later to read the fell-top assessor had climbed Grasmoor and recorded a maximum wind speed of just 18.6mph, which goes to prove how exposed Skiddaw is and the unpredictably between two summits less than twelve miles apart. It had been a while since I had felt this vulnerable on the fell.

It was another battle to get back across the summit; this time the easterly gale force windchill was affecting the left side of my face. The solo walker was out of sight, but through leaking eyes I spotted walkers heading towards the summit; I hoped they were prepared. I passed the cairn at Middle Man having left the summit on its east side the wind had blown me westwards but I veered east again once the south cairn came into view. I started my descent following the cairns off the summit shoulder, and within one hundred feet or so normality returned, and I was able to look back on the summit set against the bluest of skies feeling a tad stired.

I continued my descent and spotted a group of five heading towards the gate at the col between Little Man and the summit. I opened the gate, and one of the lads asked if it was windy up there? Realising it was the same lads I'd passed this morning on Gale Road who were using their mobiles as torches and the same group who'd rested below Lesser Man I assumed this was their first summit and so I gave them a polite warning how windy the summit was. The last thing I wanted to do was put the lads off, but at the same time they needed the warning.

I had spent a delightful five minutes watching the cloud dramatics over Blencathra's summit before it was time to leave and continue my descent. I eased myself up from the boulder just as a trio of walkers were beginning their ascent on Lesser Man. Although I'd only been sat down for five minutes it somehow felt longer or at least that's what my body told me. I put my flask away, re-shouldered my pack and looped gloved hands through my walking poles handles. The sun was still climbing towards its midday peak exaggerating the colours of the wild grass beyond Jenkin Hill and onto Lonscale Fell. I passed through the gate below Lesser Man the trio half way up the slope and began my descent proper. Although there was plenty of walkers in ascent I still wouldn't call it busy passing singles, pairs and trios but with long stretches in between. I had reached the tourist zigzags where it's not uncommon to find walkers grouping together due to the steepness of the incline.

The walkers that I passed were all in good spirits but still caused me slight concern if they were aware how long it would take them to reach the summit and return versus how much daylight was left. Latrigg came into view as I reached the gate at the site of what used to be an old refreshment hut known as Halfway House, long gone now but if you look you can still see the level ground where the hut once stood. As it turns out it's the site of a favorite view point of mine and where I passed a geordie couple who told me they had attempted to summit Skiddaw yesterday but were forced back by the winds, I told them of my experience and wished them luck for their second attempt. I crossed the last zigzag and the stone path finally plateaued towards a sorry looking gate that had been opened and closed so many times it had dropped and could no longer be latched closed but I tried anyway. The last pull onto the grassy slopes alongside the Hawell Monument watched on by possibly the same grazing sheep my headtorch had caught after leaving the car park four hours ago. Long gone was the frozen ground now thawing underfoot in the strong winter sunshine.

It's been another great year on the Lakeland fells, and I hope you've enjoyed following my walk reports as much as I've enjoyed sharing them with you through this website. From the bottom of my heart, I hope you've had a wonderful Christmas, and I wish you the very best for the New Year.