Return to Martindale

 It had been almost seven months to the day since I had started this years camping season by doing the Martindale round & camping on Brock Crags. As autumn was upon us, and the nights were growing shorter, I decided it would be a fitting place for my last wild-camp of the year, and maybe experience the Red Deer rut.

Saturday 20th October

I left behind blue skies in Bolton, and headed north towards Ullswater. It was a grey cloudy day up in the lakes, but that wasn't going to stop me. I took the dead-end road out of Pooley Bridge, running along Ullswater's southern lake-shore towards Martindale, where I had my first wild-camp of the year back in March. Driving up The Hause & passing St Peters Church where I started last time, I continued along the narrow single lane road & I parked up on the verge near The Old Church of St Martin.

The current church was built towards the end of the 16th century, however there are records of a chapel being on this site as early as 1220, although it may date back much further. A giant Yew tree within its grounds is believed to be 1,300 years old!

I set off down the valley, with low cloud covering the higher peaks up ahead. A single track road heads down the valley, which I followed past fields, farmsteads & barns before reaching its end at Dale Head farm.

From there I picked up a path which followed a dry stone wall into Bannerdale - the home of England's oldest native herd of wild Red Deer.

The valley bottom is considered out of bounds - to be kept as a sanctuary for the Deer - so the wall, and path form the outer boundary of this safe-space.

I wasn't far along the path before I started to hear the bellowing roars of the stags. In places it seemed to be coming from all around, from down in the valley, but also from the tops of the surrounding fells - although I wasn't sure if the sound was just echoing around the valley.

There were a few people about - also on the look out for the herd. A few had binoculars & telephoto camera lenses to hand, scouring the hillsides for any sign of movement. I kept stopping and looking over the wall myself, but to no avail. I felt I had to get higher, to a vantage point where I could better look down into the valley. As luck would have it, that was exactly the direction the path was heading in as it left the top-end fields of Dale Head Farm behind, and began to climb to below the cliffs of Heck Crag. I spotted a grassy knoll which would make a perfect look-out spot.

I could still hear the stags roaring in the valley below, and I tried my best to pin-point their locations. With my camera on full-zoom I was combing the valley floor for any hint of the herd.

Unfortunately, due to it being autumn, a lot of the ferns & grasses had turned various colours of brown and orange - so not perfect for trying to single out a large brown-red animal.

I did spot something though - which initially I though was a large brown rock. I took a photo, and thought nothing more of it. It was only when I got home & reviewed my photos that I realised it was a stag sitting down on the grass.

It was around half-past four in the afternoon. Sunset was at six o'clock, & I wanted to have set up camp by five-thirty, so I gathered my gear & continued on up the narrow mountain path. The sky was still thick with cloud, but I was hoping my destination would be just below the cloud-base.

The path then topped out of the valley, and I had reached my location for the night - Angle Tarn. This is a very popular wild-camping spot, but this evening there was a strong westerly wind blowing in, so I had to find somewhere suitable to pitch. I trekked all the way around the tarn, and found a spot below Cat Crag, by the side of the lake, which was sheltered from the wind. I pitched my tent, and cooked my tea. Whilst cooking, I heard a dog barking, and spotted a couple had started pitching tents near the top of Cat Crags.

Low cloud was obscuring the summits of the nearby peaks of Angletarn Pikes & Brock Crags, and whisps of cloud blew over the tarn at points, sometimes making the opposite shoreline disappear completely. There would be no view of a sunset tonight.

I found a seat-sized rock not far from my tent & relaxed there, supping my beer. After the sun had dropped, it went dark - very dark. A faint glow was lighting up the cloud to the south east, which I can only presume was the lights from the village of Hartsop. Thats when I spotted a line of about five head torches heading along the main path from Boredale Hause towards the tarn. I sat & watched as the lights stopped & gathered at the commonly used wild-camping spot on the northern shore as they set up their tents. (I had decided against that spot, due to it being exposed to the winds as I walked round).

Whilst watching the lights I heard a bellow. A Stag! This was not from the direction of the valley I had come from, but sounded much closer & more to the south, towards neighbouring Brock Crags. I sat for a while, turned off my head torch & in the dark, with my eyes closed, soaked in the atmosphere of the sound of the water lapping against the shore, and the bellow from the nearby stag. Of course, it was so dark, I wouldn't have been able to see the stag even if it was 20 foot away from me, so I decided to head back into my tent to finish off my beers & then into my sleeping bag.

My alarm went off at 7am somewhat optimistically for sunrise. I peeked out of my tent door and it was just grey. A light patter of rain hitting the outer of the tent. I dozed off back to sleep.

It was still raining when I woke again at just after 9. I couldn't stay in my tent all morning, so decided to start packing away my things on the inside. During a break in the showers, I got out of my tent, slung on my waterproofs and finished by packing away the tent. Across the tarn, the group of wild-campers had done the same and had since moved on, although the tent of the couple on the crags above me was still there.

I made my way back the way I had come last night, and could here shouting from the opposite side of the tarn. The rain had returned, so, head down & hood up, I retraced my steps to the path dropping into Bannerdale. Then I saw a border collie sheep dog run past. I heard shouting again, and looking over to the crags just to the south, I saw a farmer with two other sheepdogs at his heel.

On the descent, once again I heard the bellowing of the stags - although they weren't as vocal as the previous afternoon. Due to the wet conditions, my camera was securely packed away in my rucksack as I didn't want to risk it getting wet. I finally got back to my car. The forecast was for it to brighten up later in the afternoon - but for now it was grey & drizzly, so I decided to linger for a while.

Driving out of Martindale, I took the road along the northern shore of Ullswater & pulled into the Brackenrigg Inn for a bite of lunch. This was a pub I had visited a year or two ago and another lakeland inn with its own micro-brewery. After a very filling burger & chips, I jumped back in my car and drove along the northern shore of Ullswater, pulling into a lay-by and sat watching the view down the valley as the clouds rolled over.

At last, they did. Patches of blue sky began to appear, and shafts of sunlight shone down between the gaps in the cloud. I headed round the lake, drove up the narrow winding road called The Hause & back into Martindale, parking in the large lay-by, opposite St Peter's Church, at the foot of Hallin Fell. I was still in two minds whether to camp out again as my kit would still be damp from the night before, so I decided to head up the modest fell, weigh up the conditions & make a decision there.

Jumping out of the car & putting my boots back on, I followed the wide grassy path up Hallin Fell. From the lay-by the ascent is less than 500 foot and only half a mile. One of my hiking magazines even suggests Hallin Fell as the best walk to introduce young children to hill-walking! I made it to the top in just shy of 15 minutes.

I could see the summit a few minutes before actually reaching it - the top marked by a huge stone obelisk some 12 feet tall sat atop a rock plinth.

The summit offered an almost complete view of Ullswater lake (only the southern end of the lake being obscured by Hallin Fell), but the views stretched as far as Penrith & the northern Pennines beyond.

I could see why this was a very popular wild camping spot - there were loads of potential pitching spots for a tent on the short-trimmed grass. Who needs a lawnmower, when you've got Herdwick Sheep to do the job!

No-one was setting up their tent for tonight however, and I had also come to the same conclusion. Although the view was stunning & both the rain and cloud had lifted, the wind was quite strong on the tops. I still had an explore around the summit though.

Suddenly, looking south, I spotted a shaft of sunlight moving over the top of Place fell which was casting down into Boredale & silhouetting a lone tree in a field. I managed to grab a shot just before the ray moved away.

To the east, beyond the Helvellyn range, a large band of cloud was massing, which would no doubt drift this way in the strong westerly wind, so I decided to head back down. The view ahead of me on the decent was of the valley's of Boredale & Martindale - and in the distance was The Nab, dappled with sunlight, separating the the valleys which were the home of the Red Deer, Bannerdale & Ramps GIll. As I headed back down the hillside, I could have sworn I heard the bellow of a distant stag being carried on the wind.

This made me even more determined to try & witness this years Deer rut first hand, and on returning back home, I made plans to make that a reality...

Mark