Central Lakes Getaway Part 3: A Bog-Trotting Bimble

 Wednesday 6th June 2018

The Cockerel was crowing again to announce the sun had risen at just gone 4:30 AM. I turned over for another few hours before waking up properly at 7:40 AM. This was my last morning at Stybeck Farm, and there was another mighty walk planned - after yet another mighty breakfast.

I made my way downstairs and into the guest dining room. I was on my own this morning, so took a seat and poured myself some orange juice. Whilst I was doing so, the hostess popped her head round the door with a cheery 'Good Morning', and took my cooked breakfast order. After Tuesday's massive breakfast, I asked if I could swap one of the bacon rashers for an second sausage. 'No problem' was the reply.

Not long after, breakfast was served - there were still 2 rashers of bacon, plus the extra sausage, mountain of scrambled eggs, et al. I tucked in!

After breakfast, I packed my bags, cleared the room & checked out. After settling the bill, I jumped in my car and headed north to Keswick, then took the Borrowdale road south making my way to the small National Trust car park at Ashness Bridge.

I booted up, and set off walking back over the bridge. A signpost pointed the way to Walla Crag - the 'steep way', which was 1 mile away. The signpost also pointed a 'gradual way' to Walla Crag, which was 1 & a third miles. I wasn't going as far as Walla Crag, but would need to head in that direction before turning off towards my first fell of the day. I decided to go the steep way, which followed perpendicular along the hillside. Although quite steep to start, the path became quite wide & it was a gradual climb to Falcon Crag. I veered off the path slightly, heading through bracken to the Falcon Crag top, looking out across Derwent Water.

The weather was a bit mixed this morning. There was a slight breeze. To the west, there were blue skies, peppered with large white clouds, but to the east it was pretty overcast as a weather front broke over the Helvellyn range.

Back on the path, I reached a junction. The path either continued north to the wooded hilltop of Walla Crag, or turned right, in a south easterly direction to the domed grassy peak of Bleaberry Fell.

The Bleaberry Fell path, although a bit intermittent in places, turned into a quite substantial path which weaved its way through droves of young heather bushes before turning to ascend the western slopes of the fell.

Once on the tops, the view north towards Bassenthwaite & Skiddaw were spectacular. (#125 - Bleaberry Fell - 1,932 ft). To the east, para-gliders were flying, catching the thermals above the crags at the northern end of Thirlmere. I counted three in total.

The breeze had picked up a bit - good news for the para-gliders - but to the point where I had to dig my fleece out of my rucksack to help me warm up a bit. I consulted my Wainwright book. The next fell on the ridge was High Seat, just over a mile to the south.

Wainwright did not fill me with confidence for this part of the trek. He described it as 'all swampy' and only recommend it as 'a penance for your sins'. Going as far as saying 'this is a walk to wish on one's worst enemy - especially after rain'. I had been putting off this ridge walk for just that reason & had heard tales of people getting stuck in knee deep or waist deep bog around this area - which wasn't something I was particularly looking to repeat for myself. Instead, I waited until the summer and put my faith in mother nature - hoping that the past few weeks of dry weather had dried the swamp sufficiently for me to pass...

...And it was. Although there were obviously some boggy patches, and a slight 'bounce' in the earth in places, the path, for the majority of the route was fine as it made its way across the swamp to a stile in a fence. After the stile, the trig point on High Seat was visible, and it on was then an easy trek up to it. There were a few people milling about at the summit - this must be a popular half-way point along the ridge. I headed over to High Seat's second summit, the strangely named 'Man' - which looked to be of almost equal height - and stopped for a snack & a drink. (#126 - High Seat - 1,995 ft).

The ridge line continued south alongside a fence. Again Wainwright advised that 'this is not a pleasant walk either', as the path traversed a peat bog. Luckily, the bog was dry (on top), and the path was easy engouh to follow. There were a few sections where a small stream ran into the bog, making it permanently wet, but some old fence posts had been laid across the worst of the bog so as to help people cross. I spotted a single small child's shoe had been abandoned in the mud near one of these boggy streams, and thought of the parent who would have had to carry their child all the way down off the hills.

The path also weaved its way between some peat hags - that were a few feet tall in places, until the fence turned sharply right. The path cut its way across from this corner fence to just shy of the next summit. But this short cut ended up going through bog, and it wasn't completely dry. My boots squelched and slurped their way through the wetland, and I 'put my foot in it' twice on the way across - going ankle deep into the swamp.

Ths 'short-cut' rejoined the fence which had turned back aong the north-south ridge, and up a firmer knoll to the summit of High Tove. (#127 - High Tove - 1,690 ft) I say summit, but really it was just a grassy hump with a small stone cairn on top, surrounded by partly-dry swamp-land. There was also a gate in the fence here - this would be my way off the fells, down to the quaint little hamlet & tarn at Watendlath - but before that, there was one more hill I needed to summit to complete the ridge - Armboth Fell.

It was not recommended to head from High Tove over to Armobth summit by 'line of sight'. Apparently a large boggy tarn lay directly inbetween, so a slight detour south was required. Following the fence for about quarter of a mile, the path deteriorated as it became less frequented. There was no distinct path turning off to Armboth fell - I just had to 'play it by ear' - but going off Wainwright's guide I needed to start heading east before reaching the rocky knoll of Middle Crag. The ground was covered with large tufts of grass, and I couldn't actually tell if the ground was boggy at this point, as the grass was so densely packed. I stuck to the highest ground I could find as I made my way south east.

About half way across the open grassland I saw movement ahead, and spotted two deer. They had spotted me beforehand, of course, and were stood as still as statues, looking right at me. I stealthily crouched down and grabbed my camera, and managed to get a shot of them before they bounded off.

Admittedly, not the best shots - but the best I could do in the few seconds I had.

I made my way in the direction they went, and started to make my way up the slopes of Armboth fell. There was still no path, and the slopes were thick with grasses, heather & rocks.

I made it to the top of the slope, but the deer were nowhere in sight, only a scattered herd of sheep & lambs.

So, I looked around for the highest peak, and made my way over. A slight scramble was involved (and a welcome change from the bog-trotting), as I climbed the rocky outcrop to the top. (#128 - Armboth Fell - 1,570 ft). The view was over the desolate marshland looking back to High Tove, but one prominent landmark I couldn't see was the large tarn mentioned in Wainwright's book. Maybe the dry-spell had made it disappear.

There was only one way to find out - make a bee-line to High Tove. I spotted a narrow path heading down off the summit in the direction of High Tove - so headed down & along the path. It crossed a small beck - Fisher Gill - before heading straight up the slope towards High Tove....with no tarn, or bog, underfoot. If only I had known that earlier, it could have saved me time & distance - but then again I would likely have never had my encounter with the Deer.

I reached the High Tove summit once again, and headed straight through the gate in the fence. An intermittent path made its way over the relatively flat tops - a characteristic which helped the peat bogs retain their water - before it began to descend over just over a mile down to Watendlath.

The sun was breaking through the clouds a bit more now, and I could see the tiny hamlet of Watendlath below me - Civilisation! On reaching a dry-stone wall, the path became stone pitched as it crossed a small, and quite dry beck, before steeply descending towards the hamlet.

Watendlath (pronounced Wot-und-Lath) is a lovely little place - but very isolated - being situated at the end of a valley, a few miles further along the narrow Ashness Bridge road. The hamlet is home to a couple of farms, a tea-room (during the summer months) and a bothy. It was pretty busy here with visitors, and there were a few cars in the National Trust car park.

The path came in from the back of the hamlet, so I made my way round to the tarn. One of the locals lets people rent wooden boats to do a spot of fishing in the tarn, but no-one was out today. The shore of the tarn was a-bloom with buttercups, wild grasses & small blue flowers - which may have been a type of Forget-me-not.

From here, my route took me along the valley bottom, back towards my car. It was a lovely scenic walk, the sun was now high in the sky, and it was getting hot. I crossed the quaint pack-horse bridge at Watendlath, then followed the path along Watendlath Beck, past some waterfalls, through some fields & pastures. I stopped at a small pebble beach by the beck and splashed some of the cool water in my face to help get me refreshed.

The path then headed into woodland, still following the beck before reaching a metal footbridge with a curious sign. It was triangular & set into the ground. Each corner of the triangle pointed in the relevant direction.

I headed in the direction of the Keswick point and made my way over the bridge following the path into denser woodland. I was half-expecting to see the likes of a Red Squirrel, or maybe even another Deer as the woodland was so calm & quiet.

The path eventually joined up with the single track road which runs along the valley, and I followed this for a short while until reaching Surprise View. This is another stunning spot, just a bit further along the Ashness Bridge road, and is where there is a gap in the woodland where steep cliffs fall away opening up a view over Derwent Water & beyond.

I saw some buildings below, and wondered if I'd be able to see my hotel for tonight, as I knew that was also nearby. I checked my map to only find out my hotel was the buildings I could see below - the Mary Mount Hotel!

A narrow path headed along the cliff tops back into the woodland, so I follwed that, hoping it would lead me to other viewpoints along the crag-tops, and fingers-crossed - eventually back to Ashness Bridge.

Unfortunately I was being a bit too hopeful. There were one of two other viewpoints - neither as stunning as Surprise View due to being overgrown.

Unfortunately I also spotted that someone had left their rubbish behind - an empty plastic water bottle & some crisp packets & wrappers, so I stuffed them into my rucksack to help 'do my bit'. It both amazes and angers me how people can come out to stunning places like this - to enjoy the nature - only to discard their rubbish that they brought with them, spoiling it for the rest of us! Take your litter home folks!

It was also at this spot where I realised the path had ended. I wasn't that far from the road though, so instead of back-tracking I made my way through the woodland, known as Screes Coppice, down into a sheltered wooded glen, before heading back out onto the road. From there it was about a mile walk along the road back to the Ashness Bridge car park.

I pulled into the car park of the Mary Mount Hotel just after 4:30pm, checked in and was shown to my room.

I headed down to the restaurant around 7pm. The restaurant was situated had large windows on three sides, with a stunning outlook towards Catbells. I chose a table near the windows, whilst looking at the menu & watching the birds on the feeder just the other side of the glass. To eat, I indulged in a chicken burger accompanied with some huge chips! For dessert I went for a raspberry & white chocolate creme brulee, which was a bit different to what I would normally order, but was enjoyable.

The sun was baking the restaurant, the room was getting the full blast of the evening sunshine, so after tea I retired back to my room, changing out of my jeans and into my lighter walking trousers, and decided to go and explore.

Heading out of the hotel's grounds, and crossing the road, a path ran behind a stone wall beside the road, running north to south through woodland. I walked north, spotting there was the Kettlewell National Trust car park not too far away, which had a pebble beach onto the lake. "Should be a cracking spot to watch the sun set", I thought.

A few minutes later I exited the woodland through a gap in the stone wall, crossing the road into the car park. There were a couple of camper vans in the car park - their occupants milling around, with a beach-side barbecue on the go and a chap sat on a piece of drift wood sketching the lake. I sat on the beach to take in the view. As soon as I sat down though, the midges came buzzing around. I wafted them away, but they just kept coming back.

I moved back, away from the shoreline, but that didn't make any difference. There was only one thing for it - head back to the hotel and walk through the grounds to the Keswick Launch landing stage. It was about 20 minutes until sunset, so I made my way swiftly back through the woodland path to the hotel.

I got to the landing stage around 9pm, and walked out onto the pontoon pier. This meant I was out in the lake, with only subtle ripples in the water from the movement of the jetty. There were a few midges flying about, but being over the water, not as many as previously on the beach. This was a good spot for sunset. I just stood and watched the spectacle unfold.

The clear blue sky darkened. A yellow glow emanated from the north west. The sun had just dipped below the horizon. It was still high enough as to catch the thin clouds with its last-light, turning them a stunning pink colour. They stood out against the otherwise clear blue sky, and it was all reflected in the mirror-like lake.

Mark