Central Lakes Getaway Part 1: A Stormy Start

 I'd booked a weeks annual leave for the first week of June, and had made some reservations at a couple of lodgings in the central Lake District from where I planned to tick off quite a few of the central fells.

It had been a nice few days over the weekend, and on the Sunday afternoon I drove up to Glenridding & parked up on the main car park. For my first night I was planning to camp out on Catstycam, after reading an article in Trail magazine of how amazing the views are from the top & how it is only a small summit with enough from for a tent or two.

But, before I reached Catstycam, which lies just off the Helvellyn ridge, I had to first summit Birkhouse Moor.

Sunday 3rd June 2018

The road out of Glenridding temptingly passes by the Travellers Rest pub, where a few people were enjoying Sunday afternoon drinks, but I plodded on & took the turning at the junction down to Gillside Camping & Caravan park which lies at the foot of Birkhouse Moor.

After passing over Rattlebeck Bridge, I picked up the path which ascended along side Mires Beck. This was a popular route for Helvellyn, so the paths were very well trodden & stone pitched steps lead up the cove to the left of Birkhouse Moor. It had clouded over & was quite humid, so I made sure I had plenty of water for the hike.

On reaching the top of the cove, the path widens to a gravelly-path & swings west up the flanks of the fell. Behind me, the view looked back over Ullswater & Place Fell, which disconcertingly now had low cloud covering its summit. I continued on as the path then swung northwards..

As eventually happens though, the low cloud descended on top of me, and the views were replaced with a grey void, with only the path ahead. The ground flattened out, with grassy plains either side. I then spotted a narrower, less defined path turning off to my right & on checking my map, this was the path to Birkhouse Moor summit, which was reached in a little over 300 feet. (#118 - Birkhouse Moor - 2,356 ft)

It was a very still atmosphere at the summit, with no wind & the low cloud having a muting effect. The only noise that was heard was the chirp of birds every now and again.

After visiting the summit, and having a go at re-arranging some of the cairn rocks, I back-tracked to the main path & continued on. Even in the low cloud, the path was very easy to follow & was relatively level, only undulating over the high-level moorland. It ran along side a stone wall, which eventually came to a step-stile. I wouldn't be crossing here, as the path on the other side of the stile lead onto Striding Edge, after a gap in an adjacent wall. This crossroads of paths was known as 'The Hole in the Wall' - for obvious reasons.

My path headed straight past the step-stile, & continued to run parallel to the wall for a short while before veering off over the moorland. As the cloud blew across the moor, every now and again I could see a glimpse of the outline of the lower slope of Catstycam - which confirmed I was heading in the right direction.

The misty moorland had an eerie quality to it - their were marshy patches of moor of the path which were a bed for Cottongrass, which was in bloom, the white cotton ball flowers disappearing into the grey cloud. I could easily have been mistaken for walking through a fantasy landscape from The Lord of the Rings.

After a short while, the sound of running water could be heard - this undoubtedly meant I was approaching Red Tarn Beck, and ultimately Red Tarn, the small body of water which lies in the cove some 760 foot below Helvellyn's summit.

I headed off the path slightly and headed down to Red Tarn's shoreline. The low cloud obscured the view of Helvellyn, with only the lowest part of the crags visible. Both the edges on either side - Striding Edge & Swirral Edge were also hidden. I was hoping their would be some improvement in the morning as my route tomorrow involved me climbing Swirral Edge.

I rejoined the path heading north-west towards Swirral Edge, which reached a t-junction at a plateau. To my left was the path at the start of Swirral Edge - it's rocky route just teasing itself through the cloud. To my right was the path upto Catstycam, fading into the clouds. I turned right.

It was a short climb up a steady gravel path, and I was quite surprised to reach the summit rocks in no time at all. (#119 - Catstycam - 2,917 ft). The bare rock at the summit held a couple of small puddles of water, and there were quite a few midges buzzing around. On the north-eastern side of the summit, before the slopes dropped away into the grey void, was a small patch of grass - this was the pitch my magazine had suggested.

I unpacked my tent and began to pitch. Unfortunately the soil wasn't that deep, and my tent pegs could only go in an inch or two - which wasn't really any good. I gathered together my tent, and back-tracked just down off the summit. On my ascent, just off the side of the path I had spotted an area that would be perfect, so ended up pitching there.

It was still late afternoon, just after 6pm, but in these conditions I doubted there would be anyone heading up this way for the rest of the evening. The low cloud shrouded everything, and there was no view to be seen.

I fired up my Jetboil, cooked my dinner, had a few beers & settled down for the night listening to some music.

Around 1am I woke up. I could have sworn my tent had it up. Had my phone got a notification, or had I triggered my head torch that was lying next to me somehow? No.... my answer came in a few short moments as a long, deep rumble resonated around. A thunderstorm.

I had never experienced a thunderstorm whilst camping before, and it was scary. I peeped out of my tent - it was pitch black but I could tell the low cloud was still lingering.

I was still half asleep, then another flash of lightning came.

Being in the cloud meant that the lightning lit it all up for a split second. I waited, counted, 1, 2, 3, and after a few more seconds the thunder bellowed.

What do I do? Catstycam is a prominent peak in the area so I was in an exposed location.

Do I stick it out? Thinking of my tent with its metal poles, my aluminium hiking stick & camera tripod, would be a magnet for lightning.

Or do I pack up and head down to lower ground?... In the dark... but this would mean carrying all the metal items.

Another flash came and illuminated the tent. This was risky. It would only take one strike to take out the tent, and its occupant. Again I counted - 8, 9, 10. This time there was a longer gap until the thunder crashed - which was good news, it meant the storm was moving away from me.

But I wanted to be sure...I would wait for the next flash, if the gap between the thunder was longer than the last time, I would be confident the storm was moving away, so could relax & hopefully try and grab a few more hours kip.

The flash came. Anxiously, I began to count 1, 2, 3 .... 9, 10 - no thunder yet - 11, 12, 13... I got up to 18 before the thunder rumbled, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I settled back into my sleeping bag, and closed my eyes - but was listening out for further rumbles until I eventually drifted off to sleep.

[Addendum: On returning to civilisation I managed to google a website which tracks lightning strikes. In the 1 hour between 1am - 1:30 am their had been 16 lightning strikes in the area between Penrith & Carlisle.... the nearest being about 8 miles from where I camped. I've included a screenshot of this (the yellow 'X's being the lightning strikes), and marked the general location of my camp with a red circle.]

Monday 4th June 2018

The next morning I awoke to rolling clouds. The storm had passed, but the cloud still lingered, although felt a bit 'lighter' than the previous evening. I brewed a coffee & quickly packed up before heading down the Catstycam west ridge to the base of Swirral Edge.

For a brief moment the cloud cleared just enough to reveal Hevellyn's summit above Red Tarn. Looking over to my route up Swirral Edge, a thick bank of cloud was hugging the northern edge of Swirral - concealing the drops on that side.

I moved onwards, following the narrow path as it skirted the rocks. The path split, either along a narrow shelf on the left hand side, or up onto the crest of the ridge. I opted for the crest and followed it until both paths rejoined.

It was an exhilarating experience, hands clambering up the rock as the path made its way up to the top.

I was quite surprised when a short while I was a large cairn - thinking it was marking the route - when in fact it was the cairn marking the end of the route. I had made it, I was on Helvellyn's summit plateau. I wandered past the trig point & onto the cairn, and was there for 9 AM.

The cloud had dropped again, thicker this time, but the paths on the top of the Helvellyn range are really well defined & well trod. I followed the path north, heading past the Swirral Edge cairn, and following the path over Helvellyn Lower Man's summit and onto the wide grassy slopes of Whiteside. There isn't much to say about the view - it was grey - but the wet stuff held off. A helicopter flew loudly overhead - it must have been flying low, but was out of sight in the cloud.

I reached the large stone wind shelter on Whiteside & dropped a small stone on the cairn, before continuing on. (#120 - Whiteside - 2,832 ft) Coming down off Whiteside, I reached familiar territory as I reached the turning for the Keppel Cove path which I had previosuly followed earlier in the year in snowy conditions on my way down off Raise.

What surprised me this time though was, as I passed signs regarding 'Fix the Fells' working in the area, I passed a large earth-mover parked up on the side of the path! It wasn't the only one either, as I passed a second further down.

As I was on my way down, I passed two American chaps making there way up. They asked me about the cloud conditions on the top - & I said it was just grey - although I had seen some blue sky about 2 hours ago though, so told them to keep their hopes up!

The path wound its way down the fellside and towards Greenside Mine. Instead of taking the same route I had taken previously, along the road back to Glenridding, I turned off at the small hydro-power plant across Glenridding Beck & crossed the small footbridge to the path on the other side. This traversed the lower slopes of Birkhouse Moor & followed a ruined leat - a since dried up stone watercourse dug into the hillside which used to carry water to & from the Greenside Mine.

The path eventually ended up at Gillside Camp site - and was back at the car park in no time. I decided to call in the Fellbites cafe in the centre of Glenridding for a late breakfast. I order beans on toast - which, as a first time - came served with side salad, coleslaw & nachos. Still, I wolfed the lot!

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It was about mid day when I left Glenridding. Driving north along the Ullswater lake shore, I took the Troutbeck turning by the side of Aira Force north before joining up with the A66 to Keswick. I decided I would pay a visit to Castlerigg Stone Circle. My first visit there was on a damp November morning - and the conditions were far from perfect. It was a bit drier this time, but still not ideal for photography. It was also very busy! Its a popular tourist spot, as the 5000 year old stone circle has some pretty spectacular views of the surrounding fells. I had a look round, scouted out the area and decided it would be better to come back another time when conditions were better. So instead, I jumped in my car and took the narrow country lanes to St Johns in the Vale - a small little church pretty much in the middle of nowhere, from where I could climb on of the easier Wainwright fells.

It was easy enough to find - theres only one road, and its single track - and has a gate halfway down it was well. There's a small parking area opposite the church, as well as a Youth Centre building.

According to Wainwright guide, the lowly summit of High Rigg was only half a mile away with just 450 foot of ascent. 'Anybody full of the joy of spring will do it in 15 minutes' Wainwright wrote, before adding that he himself did it in 35 minutes.

The path runs up behind the youth centre, first to an area of flat ground, in the centre were logs arranged in a circle around the charred remains of a large camp fire. The path continued on up onto the fellside past some grassy knolls and onto the rocky summit knoll. I was closer to Wainwrights time to get the the top - at around half an hour. (#121 - High Rigg - 1,171 ft)

From its lowly vantage point, the views stretched south down over the valley over Thirlmere to Dunmail Raise. The western side of the valley was the entire stretch of the Helvellyn ridge.a small part of which I was on earlier this morning - the clouds were still covering the tops.To the north, were the northern fells of Blencathra, & Skiddaw. I could make out Tewet Tarn & Castlerigg Stone circle (which was alot quieter now), with Keswick beyond & the north western fells on the skyline.

Looking west was the Central fells ridge - stretching from Bleaberry Fell, across the notoriously boggy high ground, to High Seat, and Ullscarf beyond.

I wandered around the summit knolls for a short while before heading back down to the youth centre & church car back, packing up and driving back along the road & turning south to my accommodation - Stybeck Farm, which is situated on the A591 main road, just near the turn off for St Johns in the Vale.

After being greeted & shown to my room in the farmhouse, I relaxed for a while, before heading out to the nearest pub - The Kings Head - which was about a mile down the road. After a lovely meal, I returned to the farmhouse, and spent the rest of the evening sat in the chair, listening to music, looking out of my bedroom window & watching the sun set over the wooded hills of the Thirlmere valley, anticipating the days to come...

Mark