Glaramara - No. 90

Most of the snow seemed to have melted away as I drove down the B5289 which runs along the bottom of the Borrowdale valley, heading towards Seatoller. There were only patches left on the higher fells, and that was where I was heading.... to bag three more Wainwright fells, including my 90th - Glaramara.

I pulled into the National Trust car park at Seatoller just after 10:30am, dropped a few quid into the ticket machine and strapped my boots on before heading onto the road.

Back-tracking along the road for a quarter of a mile or so, I found the footpath which lead across one of the fields to the foot for Rosthwaite Fell...this was my first ascent of the day. Following the path south east, it steadily climbed over the course of a mile or two. It was a glorious day - bright sunshine - but bitterly cold & it was forecast to be quite gusty of the tops.

The path - or what there was of one - turned east and rose steeper up the grassy ridge, along the crest. Some exposed parts of the path, were still frozen over with thick ice, but it wasn't anything to be concerned about as it was easy enough to walk around.

Eventually the terrain opened up with crags jutting up around,with the path now winding between them.

A crossroads was reached near to a large, partially frozen tarn with the odd name of 'Tarn at Leaves'. Surrounding the tarn very various crags of different heights - and it was the highest one, known as 'Bessyboot' which was the highest, and was the summit of Rosthwaite fell. It wasn't that far away - about 200 meters or so to the north with a couple of dozen feet of ascent.

I reached the Bessyboot summit (1,807 ft) to be greeted, or more accurately 'battered', by a strong, bitterly cold, gusting wind. It was a matter of bagging the summit cairn and dropping down to the sheltered side out of the wind. After tucking into my packed-lunch - a Gregg's corned beef pasty, a pack of crisps, and my trusty Thermos filled with - you guessed it - hot chocolate - I turned-tail back to Tarn-at-Leaves to head due-south.

The path, which was again intermittent, wound its way up through the crags towards Rosthwaite Cam - the edge of the next highest shoulder of the mountain ridge. Some parts of the path, which weaved through narrow gullies were inaccessible due to accumulated snow drifts blocking the way, so it was a matter of finding a different way onwards. On reaching the top of Rosthwaite Cam, the view opened up yet again with another large plateau. From here I could see the ridge I would follow to reach the top of Glaramara - my 90th Wainwright, and it was quite a distance away...

The plateau of Rosthwaite Cam was relatively flat, with steady rolling hillocks. The path skirted between the large moraines, and eventually I came upon a large patch of snow which needed to be traversed. Heading onto the snow it was clear it was completely different to the snow I had encountered on Red Screes a few weeks earlier. The freeze / thaw weather cycles in the weeks between had meant the remaining snow patches had frozen hard. This also meant the footsteps of previous walkers had also frozen solid, providing a clear route to follow.

It wasn't long before I was on the other side of the snow patch and back onto the grassy path of the plateau, heading towards Combe Head, a crag at the head of the Combe Gill valley.

The large flat plateau's in the area, dotted with small frozen tarns gave the impression that, in warmer months, it was more likely to be a large boggy expanses, but the cold conditions meant the ground was frozen over.

Pausing for a moment on Combe Gill, I assessed the terrain to work out the path up the steep ridge to Glaramara's summit. After crossing the plateau, the ridge sprung up sharply, and the path with it. A small bit of scrambling was involved on the lower section of the ridge - nothing major, but its always fun to get up close & hands-on with the rock - after the initial scrambled the slope became more gradual,but with larger patches of snow.

Eventually the summit was in sight and in no time at all I was at the top of my 90th Wainwright fell - Glaramara (2,569 ft). That bitterly cold wind was gusting once again, so I dropped down off the summit and found a spot on the western side of the hill to stop for a quick break.

From this vantage point, I was overlooking the Seathwaite valley. Directly to the west was the Base Brown, Green Gable & Great Gable ridge that I'd done last summer. Below that was Seathwaite fell - one on the to-do list, and to the south west was the massive bulk of Great End - another on the to do list - and directly south was my next stop - Allen Crags - 1¾ miles away.

This as a cracking ridge walk, as the terrain undulated over crags and hillocks, a mixture of stone paths, grassy tracks and patches of snow. The trail twisted up and down across the ridge, until reaching a small plateau, & the home of High House Tarn. From the it was a simple & steady trek up the slope to the summit of Allen Crags (2,572 ft).

Once again, the wind on the exposed tops was battering, and once again, I found a spot just down off the western side of the summit to stop and finish off my hot chocolate. From here, it was all downhill. 'Simple' - I thought.

The descent off Allen Crags to the mountain crossroads on the Esk Hause plateau was simple enough. The sun had dropped and was now hidden behind the bulk of Great End, its almost vertical cliff face jutting up several hundred feet above me. The plateau had barely caught any sunlight & it was clear I would need to dig out my ice-spikes. The area was an expanse of frozen, compacted snow, but the footprints from previous hikers meant it would be difficult to get lost here. The parts of the ground that were visible showed that the path consisted of an orange-red stone, which was bleeding its colour into the edges of the snow pack.

The path down to Seathwaite then turned to cross a steep embankment crossing Ruddy Gill. Even wearing my ice spikes, and using the foot-holes of previous walkers I had to take my time and steadily descend to carefully cross the gill & onto the other side. In retrospect my ice axe would have come in handy here - but I'd left it in the boot of my car thinking it wouldn't be needed. I'll know for next time!!

From there, the path twisted and turned tightly high up on the steep slope besides the side of the gill. The ice patches became more intermittent as the path gradually descended, but there were one of two hairy moments when it crossed partially frozen becks, its ice cold water freezing as sheet-ice on the rock steps.

Eventually the path became more stone than ice. I was grateful to reach the point where I could safely remove my ice spikes & again once I reached the familiar waypoint of Stockley Bridge. Seathwaite Farm was only a mile or so away along a wide, gradually track, and it was then a gentle, level stroll following the footpath through the fields back to Seatoller & my car.

Mark