The Scandale Horseshoe

 It was the height of summer - the end of June, just a few days after mid-summer & it was forecast to be a lovely warm & dry weekend. I found myself plotting a route up to Dove Crag & planned a wild camp on Red Screes, making a horseshoe circuit to get 5 more Wainwrights in the bag.

At first I was planning an ascent from the Ambleside town centre, but parking was looking quite pricey for the length of time needed, so I headed just a mile or so further north to Rydal, turning off the road over the old hump-back bridge at Under Loughrigg & found a spot at the (cheaper) Pelter Bridge National Trust car park.

It had just gone half one by the time I headed away from my car. From the car park I followed the unpaved track for a short distance & picked up a footpath down through woods & to a footbridge crossing the River Rothay. The bridge came out the other side at the Glen Rothay Hotel - famed for its 'Badger Bar' (& the badgers who live the the hotel grounds).

It was a summery Saturday afternoon, & the beer garden was packed with folks enjoying a nice cold alochoic beverage. For me - that would come later. I needed to head into the hamlet of Rydal, once home to renowned English poet, William Wordsworth, and his former home at the 17th century mansion of Rydal Mount.

I followed the A591 a short distance through Rydal, past Dora's field - where, in 1847, Wordsworth & his wife Mary Hutchinson, planted hundreds of daffodils - in memory of their daughter. Unfortunately I was a couple of months late to see the daffodils in bloom here, so I plodded on...

A side road then turned off uphill by the side of St Mary's Church & the grounds of Rydal Mount. My route took me through the grounds of Rydal Mount. A lavish stately home & estate, with landscaped gardens, woodlands, cascading beck & camping grounds.

Also running through the grounds was the historic 'coffin route' path running between Grasmere & Ambleside & this wold be my route onwards.

The path went through some ancient woodland, with grand old oaks, and Scots pines along the way, until a gate was reached marking the boundary of Rydal Mount's grounds. The coffin route path, although a stone track, was easily wide enough to drive a car along. With fields on either side, it was a very popular walk (indeed, it was voted #27 in a 2018 poll by ITV to find 'Britain's Best Walk'), and a much better alternative to walking on the pavement beside the busy A-road just across the fields. And there were quite a few people heading along it - either making their way to Ambleside, or heading back to Rydal / Grasmere.

From the map, there was a turn off track about three-quarters of the way along & I soon reached a modern metal gate to a gravel paved road which headed up the fellside. I opened the gate (& closed it behind me) and began to climb.

Eventually I reached a locked gate at the end of the gravel road at the top of the rise, with the ridge-line path on the other-side. I clambered over & picked up the path due north towards Low Pike, following a stone wall.

These lower slopes were home to bracken, the ferns growing quite substantially in the summer season. There was quite a bit of high-level cloud lingering above which kept the bright sunshine at bay, but it was quite humid & the sweat was draining out of me.

Most seasoned walkers would know this route as either the end, or start, of the Fairfield Horseshoe route (depending if going clockwise, or counter), and I passed quite a few day-hikers heading down off the fells as I made my way up.

It was a good path all the way, all along the wall, with only one sticking point, a 6 foot rock step which needed to be climbed. Amazingly the wall continued over it unabated. I had to take off my rucksack, and hoist it onto the ledge above, before tackling the obstacle myself.

Once above the rock step, however, things were back to smooth-sailing, crossing the wall at a large step-stile and soon enough I was at the top of Low Pike - sort of. The wall actually crossed directly over the highest point. (#134 - Low Pike - 1,667 ft). I stopped for a break and tucked into my sandwiches from my rucksack.

After lunch, I continued upwards along the ridge. One or two stragglers were still heading down from the higher peaks.

After Low Pike, the next peak would be the surprisingly titled High Pike. The path continued on, as before along the wall.

I though this was an amazing feat of engineering from the time it was built, & wondering how long it would have taken the wall-builders of old to construct such a substantial & lengthy dry-stone wall straight up the ridge-line of the fells.

As I started gaining height, I started spotting clumps of Cottongrass still in bloom, its flower heads reminding me of a 'lucky rabbits foot'.

The path then reached another step-stile crossing back to the eastern side of the wall, and soon enough the summit cairn of High PIke appeared, perched on top of crags dropping into the Scandale valley below.

From here the mountain side flattened & widened significantly to large pastures with sheep grazing. The top of Dove Crag lay about a mile ahead with the wall leading straight towards it.

There was a hole in the wall here, so I could choose to either stick to the path on the eastern side of the wall, or head over to the western side. I opted for the western side, which offered amazing views over to the western fells - Great Gable, the Scafells & their ilk. Either way, both paths followed the wall due north & it was an easy & pleasurable walk. The high level clouds were starting to break, and the early evening sun was beginning to shining down.

The paths converged at a collapsed section of wall as I approached the wide summit plateau, and crossed back to the eastern side of the wall for the last few minutes walk to the top. (#136 - Dove Crag - 2,598 ft). Considering Dove Crag is named for its crags (& famous for the notorious 'Priests Hole' cave on its eastern face), the summit was surprisingly flat - a small rocky outcrop topped with a cairn, protruding from the otherwise flat grassy plateau expanse.

From here, the remainder of my route for the day was fully in sight. Retraceing my steps south slightly, I picked up a path running south-east down off the fell to the col of Bakestones Moss. The dry-stone wall had been left behind to run across the top of Dove Crag, replaced by a less aesthetically pleasing wire fence & the path traced the edge of the marshland.

A large rocky, upturned-hull-shaped outcrop lay just ahead - this was Little Hart Crag. From the path at the base, a short rocky path took me onto the small fell-top. A small cairn marked the top, and the rocky top had a few small pools . (#137 - Little Hart Crag - 2,091 ft).

This next part of the walk to my next Wainwright I wasn't particularly looking forward to - which you may think is surprising considering there was no climbing involved at all - it was all downhill, o pleasant grassy slopes & dropping 450 foot to my next target. The only problem was, after reaching this next Wainwright, I had to backtrack my way to Little Hart Crag.

I trotted down the grassy path down to High Hartsop Dodd. I decided to do this fell this way, as the alternative would have been worse. A direct ascent would have involved a 1200 foot 'straight-up' climb over 1 mile up the grassy nose of the fell from Hartsop. (Although in hindsight, would have been good practise for Kirk Fell in Wasdale - which is a direct ascent of 2330 feet over 1¼ mile!)

Directly in front of me in the distance were the twin 'humps' of Angletarn Pikes, and as I approached the lowly cairn, a few stones on an otherwise grassy peak, Brotherswater appeared below as well, a cracking view!

(#138 - High Hartsop Dodd - 1,702 ft).

I headed just further north of the summit, to the precipice & the path dropping down to Hartsop. From here I could also see the Brotherswater Inn pub & its neighbouring Sykeside Camp Site - which was full of tents. I was just imagining what it would be like to be camping down there tonight, with a pub next door & good pub grub - stumbling distance back to the tent. I made the decision that 7pm would be my 'beer o'clock' & I would then reward myself with a cider from my evening stash.

I put the thought to the back of my mind for now and turned around. 450 feet of ascent awaited me, so I put one foot in front of the other & made my way back up the grassy ridge to Little Hart Crag.

Just as I approached the bottom of the rocky outcrop of Little Hart Crag, I spotted a small path which skirted the summit crags, around the base & that eventually brought me back to the path at Bakestones Moss. I checked my watch - 7:10pm - time for a breather & that cider.

My next, and final destination would be the summit of Red Screes, which, at 850 foot of ascent to the top, lay imposingly ahead of me. I aimed to get to the top in just over an hour.

After crossing the hause where the Scandale pass crossed It was then a tough old slog upwards as the path followed another stone wall for about three quarters of the way up. Thankfully the path then turned off following the contour of the fell, rising more gradually towards the summit, arriving just before 8:30pm & sunset was still a good hour off.

On approach I saw what I thought was a large fishing rod sticking up. The was a descent sized tarn at the summit, but I was doubtful if there were any fish in it to warrant someone coming on a fishing trip.

This was my second time on Red Screes (#87) which I had first conquered earlier in the year in below-zero snowy (but sunny) conditions.

As I got closer I spotted a couple of tents in prime position around the tarn. It turned out it wasn't a fishing rod but a large (and I'm guessing about 10 foot tall) radio antenna. The chap beneath it quoted what I can only presume were grid references & other codes.

I managed to find a pitch on the northern end of the summit, which gave views both north towards Helvellyn & west to the Scafell's. I fired up my stove, cooked my dinner & cracked open a couple of cans of beer whilst waiting for the sunset.

The high level clouds began to gather again, but the sun was dropping below them, casting some gorgeous pink, orange and yellow hues around the sky. It intensified as sunset drew nearer, setting directly behind Helvellyn's summit & making it look as though the mountain was ablaze.

It went dark relatively quickly after sunset, so I set my alarm for an early wake-up call & settled down for the night.

My alarm went off at 4:15 am. The rosy glow of dawn was beginning to show - but the sun wouldn't actually appear for another 20 - 30 minutes. I woke myself up, reluctantly got out of my sleeping bag and into my boots & headed out into the crisp morning air.

Only light clouds were above. It was looking like it would be a lovely hot summers day. I headed over to the trig point, looking around for a composition for a photograph. The other campers were still fast asleep in there tents next to the tarn - oblivious to the amazing sunrise happening - their loss!

The early morning air was a tad cooler than I had anticipated, so headed back to my tent & the comfort of my sleeping bag, opened the door & watched the sunrise at from there.

Learning from my last camp near Buttermere, I also opened the opposite door to my tent - facing westwards. Again, I wasn't disappointed, as the first rays of sunlight illuminated the fells, ridges & that extensive ridge-top dry-stone wall in a glorious orangy-red light.

I watched the changing light on the fells as the sun slowly rose. At just after 5 AM, and still a bit drowsy, I decided to zip up the tent doors, and snuggle back into my sleeping bag for another hour or two.

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I woke a few hours later to what sounded like knocking not too far from my tent.

Curious, I unzipped the tent door to see two Herdwick Rams clashing horns a dozen or so feet away. It was a amazing to see animals behave in this way upclose - with my tent acting like a hide.

I tried to get some video footage of it, but as the sun was directly infront, it didn't come out very well.

Soon after, the rams moved on & that was my queue to climb out of my tent & stick on the stove to make a brew.

I headed to the edge of the fellside, and sat down on the grass to enjoy my coffee & breakfast bars.

Come 8:15 am, my tent was packed away, and back in my rucksack, which I slung on my back for the descent. A couple from one of the tents had packed up and left whilst I was having breakfast - heading in the direction I had walked up the night before.

There was still one, quite large tent still pitched. As I was heading away from the summit, a group of about half a dozen walkers appeared from the Kirkstone Pass direction, so I'm sure it wouldn't be long before the occupants of the tent were woken up.

Heading down from the summit plateau, I passed a few small tarns. One in particular caught my eye, as it had a row of Cottongrass growing on the far shore. Both the cottongrass & the clear blue skies were reflecting perfectly in the tarn's water.

The path continued down the fellside in a southerly direction, over Snarker Pike. Directly ahead of me was Windermere, glistening like a blue gem in the sunlight, and Ambleside, where I was heading for, just below.

It was turning into a very hot day. I was glad I had chosen to wear my zip-at-the-knee hiking trousers, which, due the heat, I had converted into shorts.

The track eventually crossed a large step-stile & entered an old drove road between the fields, on its way down towards the town. St Mary's Church clock rang out ten bells as I headed down The Struggle - the notoriously steep road which runs between Ambleside & up to the Kirkstone Pass Inn & is a regular fixture on cycle races. I knew I had arrived in the town as I passed the Golden Rule public house at the bottom of the hill.

Once I met up with the main A591 road, I followed it northwards, away from Ambleside, on the pavement for about half a mile before I found the start of the coffin route track. It followed the course of Scandale Beck upriver for a short while, before heading between the fields back to Rydal & eventually the Pelter Bridge car park & my car.

Mark