Braithwaite Weekend - Part 1

As last year, I was invited to spend the weekend away for my Father's birthday. Staying at the same Bed & Breakfast as last time - Hemiston Guest House in Braithwaite.

Thursday 15th November

I met up with my parents at Tebay Sevices Northbound at midday. They advised we would only be able to check into the guesthouse from 4 o'clock onwards, so I decided I would use those few hours to do my first hike of the holiday. After lunch, I shot off up the motorway, onto the A66, across to Keswick, and onwards north alongside Bassenthwaite Lake. I soon reached my turn off to Wythop. Driving along the narrow country lane, I pulled up in the layby by the side of St Margaret's church, the start of my walk.

The public footpath headed through the churchyard, where a single pink rose caught my eye, standing alone among the gravestones. Rounding the back of the church was a narrow path through a small wood. The path was overgrown, and ended at a rotted kissing gate. After picking up the gate, heading through & replacing it back, I was into open fields.

The faint path headed straight up the fellside along side a line of trees before reaching a break in a drystone wall. On the otherside of the wall I joined the main path circuits around Sale Fell - but that summit would not be my first stop.

Rounding the fell the path descended to join a tarmacked road running to Kelswick farm. I doubled-back and headed down the road, away from the farm to the T-junction at Brumston Bridge. These were quiet back roads, only leading to local farms within the Wythop valley, but there was a parking area near the bridge which could easily fit a good dozen or so cars.

I turned south, continuing to follow the road, when all of a sudden I spotted a large dark shadow to my left, moving swiftly towards me and letting out a haunting shriek. Then I realised it was a male Pheasant, likely spooked by my footsteps, swooping past me & up into trees by the side of the road. I hadn't realised until then how big a pheasant in flight actually is!

On reaching a gate by the side of the road, I then picked up a path onto Ling Fell. The path was relatively flat to begin with, but I could see a turn up ahead which made it a much steeper climb. Just before the turn, I saw a man & woman with three cocker spaniels. I noticed two of the spaniels were wearing brightly coloured collars - one orange, one green. I wondered if it was local 'celebrity' spaniels Max & Paddy. I let on to the owners before beginning the climb.

"Ling" is the Norse word for heather, and Ling fell is aptly named - its slopes covered with the plant. In late autumn though, the bright colours had gone, leaving the fellsides in various shades of browns &, greens. The path was narrow & steep, but I quickly made my way until I joined a more substantial track. I wasn't sure if this was an old mine road, or coffin route, but it was more sensibly graded, leading more or less to the top of the fell, which was marked by a trust Ordnance Survey pillar. (#152 - Ling Fell - 1,224 ft)

The sky to the south-west was aglow in the early evening sunshine. More substanial cloud rolled overhead from the east, but patches of blue sky kept appearing. It had just gone 3 pm. It had taken me just shy of an hour to get here from the Church. I would be heading back now, by way of Sale Fell summit. But could I reach the summit, and return to the car before the sun dropped below the horizon at 4:10 pm? I started my descent...

I made my way down of the felltop, through the dry heather & bracken to pick up the steep path I ascended, returning to the road, and picking up the track towards Kelswick Farm. Further along the track, I spotted a small herd of Swaledale sheep, slowly moving along the road. I soon caught up to them and they began to trot ahead, but only slightly faster than before. On reaching Kelswick, they turned into the farmyard, and my route ahead was clear. The path turned off from the road, which terminated at the farm, crossing a field before heading through some quite high wooden gates on the edge of Church Wood. On seeing the high fence & gates on the perimeter of the wood - I thought of one thing: Deer. From my recent trips to observe the deer rut, I noticed similar high fences near farms or bordering woodland, to prevent deer jumping over and into 'protected' land.

I headed through the wood, keeping as quite as I could incase there were any deer about. But instead, I came across a ruined building. There was a plaque within its ruined walls: "Site of the Old Wythop Church".

Wythop Old Church dates back to 1673 and was a primitive and small place of worship. Since replaced by the more ornate St Margaret's in 1865, the Old Church is now in ruin, without an altar, and having only 3 partially remaining walls. Even so a service is still held there once a year.

Continuing on after the ruined church, I exited the woodland - having seen no traces of Deer, and turned off the track up the side of the fell. The sun wasn't far off setting, and the low sunlight was beginning to catch the clouds overhead.

If "Ling" is the Norse word for Heather, then "Sale" must be the Norse word for wind, as on reaching the summit ridge, the wind really picked up. Before heading for the main summit, I took a detour follownig the path east to the subsidiary summit of Lothwaite. This offered a better overall view of Bassenthwaite Lake below, over to a cloud-topped Skiddaw range & Keswick beyond. I had to stop to get a photo, which I took near a small wooden bench & not before throwing on my down jacket to help defend against the cold wind.

I turned tail, and headed back along the ridge, continuing past the path of ascent, and onwards to the top of Sale Fell. The sun had just set by the time I reached the top. (#153 - Sale Fell - 1,178 ft). It was still relatively light enough to navigate without a head-torch (although I did have one packed in my backpack just in case), but there was little chance of any descent photographs now.

From the summit, I followed the path due west down the ridge, until it joined up with the track I was on earlier that circled the fell, and retraced my steps back to the car.

The night had drawn in by the time I pulled into the parking area of the Guest House, but Phil was stood at the front door to welcome me in. He showed me to my room - named 'Blencathra' after the fell visible from my window - and once settled, invited me downstairs for tea & cake - a slice of shortbread made by Helen that afternoon.

That evening I met up with my parents again, and we took the short walk into the village to the Royal Oak pub for our evening meal.

Friday 16th November

It was a grey morning over Keswick. Thick cloud shrouded the fell tops, but was forecast to lift during the day. I met up with my parents and enjoyed a cooked breakfast before I said my farewell for the day, and set off north.

Rounding the top of Bassenthwaite Lake, the roads narrowed to hedge-lined country lanes, before I reached my destination - the tiny hamlet of Longlands. I parked in the lay-by at the side of the road, booted up, and headed off through a five-bar gate and onto the open fell-side. Surprisingly, it was a lovely sunny day here, with blue skies overhead, the mass of cloud not reaching much further north than Skiddaw.

The track skirted around the lower flanks of the fell to avoid a large boggy area before it turned off on a rise to follow the nose of the fell. Just 30 minutes into the walk & I was regretting leaving my sunglasses in the car. The sun was shining right into my face!

In no time at all, I was at the top - #154 - Longlands Fell - 1,585 ft. This would actually be the lowest of today fells, and there were still another 5 fells to summit, and a few miles inbetween.

Heading south east from Longlands fell, I followed the main path towards Little Sca Fell, but at the head of the valley swung a left and doubled back, heading north to bag #155 -Brae Fell - 1,920 ft.

Although the ground was damp, maybe even boggy in places, overall the path was in good condition & easy to follow. It was living up to the truth that the northern fells are much quieter than the rest of Lakeland, as I hadn't yet passed another sole, although I spotted couple and their dog in the distance.

The Northern fells were also completely different to the rest of the Lake District, here the fells were large, rolling grassy hills, a far cry from the rocky ridges & sharp crags to be found elsewhere in Cumbria.

From the large cairn on Brae fell, I back-tracked once again, heading due north. The sunlight was catching the top of the cloud bank which was rolling over the Skiddaw mountain range like waves. The hills inbetween, some in shade, some in sunlight, highlighting distinct layers.

The route first crossed the top of Little Sca Fell, before a short descent and climb onto Great Sca Fell. These Sca fells are in no way related to their much larger namesakes over in the western Lake District. Them being more than 1000 foot shorter than it's Wasdale counterparts.

But, Great Sca Fell was a Wainwright, and so it had to be summited. Unlike Scafell Pike's huge plinth-like cairn, Great Sca Fell's summit was flatten, barren, and quite dull. Boggy grassland stretched out in all direction, and the summit cairn - which looked more like someone had just dumped a bag of stones - was itself sat in a muddy puddle. The summit was also sat below the leading edge of the cloud bank, so it was grey overhead. #156 - Great Sca Fell - 2,136 ft.

I didn't spend very long on Great Sca Fell's summit, instead just grabbing my jacket from my rucksack, before tromping across the damp grassland & towards the only fell of the day which would be in the clouds.

The flat grassland began to rise as I approach the flanks of Knott. About two thirds of the way up the hillside, I hit the cloud layer, and visibility was reduced. On reaching the summit plateau, the summit cairn lay, according to my map, in a south easterly direction, and after a few minutes, it appeared out of the fog. #157 - Knott - 2,329 ft.

The summit plateau was just on the underside of the cloud bank. Every now and again, it would lift to reveal the valley of Wiley Gill to the south, sunlight just highlighting the stream in an otherwise grey vista. I was hoping to grab a photo, but the weather conditions thought otherwise, and the cloud once again descended to hide the view.

I made my way back off Knott the same way I ascended, and returned, back out of the cloud, to Great Sca Fell. It's summit was something of a crossroads, and from here I turned west.

There was a steep descent off Great Sca Fell to a col before a more gradual climb up towards Meal Fell - an appropriate place to stop for a bite to eat.

On approach, the top of Meal Fell felt like a location from Game of Thrones or The Lord of the Rings. A large stone structure, looking like some ancient ruined fort sat on one end of a ridge, which was semi-circle in shape, giving the impression of an amphitheatre. There were three distinct high points of this ridge, the 'fort' occupying the highest. It isn't an unusual assumption, as the are remains of an Iron Age fort on Carrock Fell, just a few miles east. #158 - Meal Fell - 1,804 ft

On closer inspection however, the structure was a large wind-shelter. The wind had picked up, so I made good use of it, and took a seat inside its walls whilst I had lunch. Whilst sheltering, another hiker arrived and we briefly chatted about our planned routes for the day, before heading off in different directions.

My route headed west down the flank of Meal Fell, the valley of Burntod Gill ahead, and at the bottom of the fell reached the junction of a mountain cut-through known as Trusmadoor - which sounded like something out of J R R Tolkien's novels.

Instead of heading through the pass, I headed up the flanks of the fell on the otherside, following the path which circum-navigated the top of the cliffs above Trusmadoor. It was mid afternoon now. The clouds over Skiddaw were breaking more often now, and the summit was appearing out of the cloud. I imagined what the views would be like from there - was there a carpet of cloud dominating the view south, with mountain peaks peaking through like islands?

My own path was clear, and bathed in the afternoon sunshine, although there was a bit of a breeze. Just up ahead I could see the high point of the fell. On reaching the top, there was a lowly, almost disappointing cairn marking the summit of the funnily named Great Cockup (#159 - 1,726 ft).

This was my sixth and final fell of the day. From the summit I headed back down towards Trusmadoor, and turned north following the mountain pass down the valley where it eventually became a farm track which ultimately lead back to the five-bar gate from where my walk had started.

Sunset was still an hour or so away though, so I decided to head back towards Keswick & pay a visit to Castlerigg Stone circle. There were a handful of people at the site, one chap sat on a stool infront of a easel, sketching the stones, and one or two photographers, scouting out potential compositions.

As the sun began to set, a faint pink hue descended over the surrounding fells, and nearby Clough Head decided to wear a 'hat' of cloud, which I quickly managed to capture, before the wind blew it on its way. A few more photographers arrived, and altogether there were about five of them, all in a row with their tripods, stood in front of the 5,000 year old stones.

But, my eye was drawn away from the stones, to the actual sunset itself happening in the west. I find it can be worthwhile if you look away from the 'mainstream' photographs that some people will line up to take, and instead choose to explore different compositions at the same location.

The pink hue turned in to a golden yellow as the sun dropped in the sky. One shot that none of the other photographers were taking that evening at Castlerigg was actually of the stunning sunset, and I was hoping this now glorious weather would continue for the rest of the weekend.

Looking west towards the sunset, the nearby trees strangely mirroring the shapes of the distant fells, silhouetted against the golden sky.

Mark