The Razor's Edge
Solstice on Souther Fell
The summer solstice was here - June 21st - the longest day of the year. I'd managed to get out of work a couple of hours early & had my rucksack packed ready for a night on Souther Fell.
Following the minor road from Scales below the flanks of Blencathra, I parked up at the small lay-by below Mousthwaite Comb. The path climbed relatively gently for starters as it followed the bottom of the valley, before climbing more steeply as it circled around to the head of the comb.
There was a crossroads of paths on the hause at the top of the comb. Heading up Scales Fell, round to Scales Tarn, down along the Glenderamackin valley, or the route I would be taking - turn right up onto Souther Fell.
From there it was a surprisingly simple ascent, a good wide path ascended the grassy slopes. There was a smaller subsidary knoll to my right, which I thought would make a good place to make camp. I had a quick wander over to see if it was suitable....and it was. With fantastic views towards Blencathra's iconic 'saddle', and a clear view south west towards some of lakelands other famous giants.
But it was a little too soon to pitch just yet, so I made my way back to the path along the ridge towards Souther Fell summit.
Soon, a rather shapely cairn appeared on the skyline. It obviously wasn't the summit, but a path turned off across to it, and from the summit there was a lovely view over Bannerdale Crags to Blencathra.
I rejoined the main path, and eventually reached the somewhat lack-lustre summit. There was no summit cairn to mark the highest point, just a small patch of bare rock. Even so, that was another Wainwright down #207 - 1,713ft.
Souther Fell is a fell that comes with a story....
Beginning on Midsummers Eve 1735 a servant of Mr Lancaster was up on the fell and lay witness to a ghostly procession of soldiers & mounted cavalry marching along the felltop. The servant reported the sighting, however his report was ridiculed.
However, two years later, Mr Lancaster himself, along with members of his family, visited Souther Fell, and again bore witness to it's spectral army. Mr Lancaster reported the army was five men deep, and again with mounted officers. But yet again, no one believed Mr Lancaster's account either.
It wasn't until a few years later - on Midsummer's Eve 1745 that there was a gathering of 26 respected members of the public on the fell. Once again the spectral army appeared, marching across the fell. This resulted in the most detailed account of the phenomenon. The army's host was half a mile long, consisting of marching foot-soliders, mounted cavalry and carriages which took several hours for the host to cross the fell.
At the time, the second Jacobite Rebellion was occurring, so all 26 individuals who witness the army, swore their report infront of a magistrate. In all cases, the witnesses returned to the scene the following day - but found no evidence - footprints, hoofprints or carriage tracks - but all to no avail.
I lingered around the summit, dropping down to a large patch of cotton grass that was swaying in the breeze. The distant, out-of-focus cotton grass gives the photo quite a 'spectral' feel, I think.
I headed back across the felltop and back over to the pitch I had sought out earlier on. A couple of Swaledale sheep were lingering nearby, but I set to work setting up my tent. I was a tad breezy, but nothing to worry about.
I then cracked open my first can of beer, whacked on the Jetboil & looked forward to a relaxed evening on the fells.
Being the 21st June & the longest day of the year, it was a long time before the sunset, and even a few hours after the 9:39 sunset the clear sky was quite bright. It was only as the time approached 11pm that it began to go dark, although the northern skies still had a yellow glow to it.
I had read on Facebook a day or so before that their was a lakeland-wide event in the early hours of the morning for the Police charity 'COPS' ( Care of Police Survivors ). Named 'Light the Lakes' it was an annual event that would see people light flares simultaneously from mountain tops across the National Park. I actually experienced this event by surprise a couple of years back whilst camping on Great Carrs.
I set my alarm for 5 minutes before 3am, to give me time to get ready to capture a shot. In the meantime though, I climbed into my sleeping bag for a few hours sleep.
My alarm went off & I jumped out of my sleeping bag, unzipped the tent and mounted my camera on my pre-position tripod outside. I had aimed my shot to the south west, where I would get the biggest number of fells in shot. The sky was still clear, only whispers of cloud overhead, and still a slight glow in the sky. I kept an eye on my watch ready for it to strike 3 am.
Suddenly, and in silence, small points of light appeared on each of the fell tops. My view ranged from Clough Head just across the valley, over to the distant fells, and I could see lights on such notable fells as Bowfell, Scafell Pike, Scafell & Great Gable, along with a good few others!
I could see a flare on the top of Blencathra just next door. Unfortauntely by the time I'd taken my first few shots, and moved the camera to point at Blencathra, the flare had died out, and after only a minute or two the fells were back in darkness. It was a short, but very special experience to witness, and has got me thinking about maybe enrolling to take part next year. I retired back to my sleeping bag, but not before setting my next alarm for sunrise at 4:30 am. As I dozed off, I could see the faint glow of head torches making their way down off Blencathra.
After just 90 minutes nap, I awoke again, stuck my head of of my tent door, and could see some fantastic colour developing in the still clear skies to the north east. Sunrise was imminent.
The felltop was alive with bird song & Skylarks fluttering overhead. Grabbing my camera, slinging on my jacket, and jumping out of my tent, I spotted a pink hue was catching some high-level cloud over to the west, and there was a slight mist lingering in St Johns in the Vale. That wouldn't last long once the sun had risen.
I headed to a small outcropping 30 seconds away from my tent, and patiently looked east, waiting for the dawn. It wasn't long before the sun began to rise above the hills of the north Pennines & the set the sky on fire.
I had to remind myself that it wasn't even 5 am yet! Once the sun had risen, I went back to my tent to catch another few hours sleep.
I was awake again just after 7:30 am - bright sunshine beaming into my tent & the sound of birds in the air. I opened both doors to my tent, and just lay there for a short while. Eventually I decided to make a move, got out of my sleeping bag & set to getting a coffee brewing. The water had just boiled when my gas canister ran out - which meant I would have to nip into Keswick this afternoon to buy a new one.
But for now, after breakfast, I set my sights on Blencathra's epic ridge walk of Sharp Edge...
The Razor's Edge
Before I wanted to attempt Sharp Edge I firstly had to get rid of my camping back-pack. A quick half-hour jaunt back down to the car park at the bottom of Mousthwaite Comb, I dropped my ruckscak into my car boot and swapped over to my smaller & lighter day-pack. I also changed into my hiking trainers - which again were lighter & more agile than my boots.
I headed back up Mousthwaite Comb, alot quicker than the evening before, and even overtook three groups of walkers that I had passed on my way down.
From the top of the Comb, this time I turned left following the level path which runs along the valley high above the river Glenderamackin.
Towards the end of the path, it turns & climbs up by the side of the beck running out of Scales tarn, before reaching the tarn itself. Situated in a glacial bowl, surrounded by crags on three sides, legend has it that Scales tarn, with its deep black waters, is bottomless - in fact it is about 25 foot deep - which is still pretty deep for a tarn.
Stopping for a short break at the edge of the tarn, I weighed up the path which climbed up onto Sharp Edge - the narrow ridge-line path which ran high above the tarn & onto the saddle of Blencathra. I could just make out a few people clambering over the rocks - their figures silhouetted against the sky.
I plucked up the courage, and made my way up the stony path. At the top of the rise, the rocky ridge jutted out of the grassy hill, and straight away it was hands-on-rock clambering up onto the top of the ridge.
Pulling myself up, it felt exhilarating to walk right on the top of the arete. Wainwright himself, stated the edge was 'sharp enough for shaving' - lending to the ridge's previous name of Razor's Edge.
The route changed from hands-and-feet scrambling over pointed rocks, to sections of lovely flat, grained rock which could easily be walked across.
Admittedly it wasn't for people without a head for heights. Just a slight glance to either side, and the ground fell away dramatically, either to Scales tarn down on the left, or to the grassy slopes below Foule Crag to my right... it was best to concentrate on looking forward.
For children & the infirm, there is a path which runs below the ridge - up to a point, where it then climbs to join the ridge path just before the precarious 'bad step'.
This the where the ridge quickly narrows, the rocks forcing walkers to down-climb via a rock which tilts out towards the edge slightly. This funnelling of hikers meant this rock was especially smooth from all the boots it had carried & in wet or icy weather it would have been very precarious. In fact it is this spot on the edge that is a black spot for mountain rescue, from people slipping into the gullies on either side of the step.
In today's perfect conditions however, it wasn't a problem. I concentrated on getting across safely, and once on the other-side that marked the end of the Sharp Edge ridge. But ahead of me was another scramble up the rock gullies & protrusions of Foule Crag. Before the final climb, I stopped for a minute or two, looking back along the ridge-line I had traversed, and back to the tarn below, filled with a sense of accomplishment.
Turning away from the views, I clambered my way up Foule Crag. As I climbed, soil and grass became more prevalent, before a path appeared to lead me around expansive grassy saddle to the summit of Blencathra.
I'd previously summited (and camped out on) the summit of Blencathra in April 2018 (Wainwright #100). Then, over the summer, the concrete Ordnance Survey summit 'ring' mysteriously vanished from the top... no one quite knows how, why or where it went - although it was presumed it was destroyed by vandals.
A Yorkshire stone-smith came forward to volunteer to re-make the summit ring, and an online fundraiser was started to get it commissioned and forged. On 31st March 2019, the new summit ring was installed, and 'opened' with a small ceremony with a large group of walkers amassed. It would have been rude not to pay it a visit.
From the summit ring, I then had a wander along the summit ridge along to the neighbouring subsidary summit of Gatesgill Fell, where I stopped for a quick snack whilst watching a para-sailor fly overhead, the valley of St John's in the Vale laid out below me, with Thirlmere in the distance.
I then turned back, headed over Blencathra summit before following the path down the grassy slopes of Scales Fell, down into Mousthwaite Comb, and back to the car.
It was probably the worst time of day to head into Keswick - 1pm on a Saturday afternoon - market day. I drove around Booth's Supermarket car park twice, as well as half a dozen other car parks beofre managing to grab a spot outside the Lakes & Dales Co-op. I managed to get a gas canister for my Jetboil, and a quick drink & snack & followed Crow Park Road to the lakeshore. Taking a path just off from a bustling Crow Park, I ended up at Isthmus Bay, looking back to Crow Park across the lake, with the spire of St John's being the only sign that the town of Keswick was just beyond. Further back, Blencathra was standing proud... now swarmed by numerous para-sailors all catching the thermals on such a hot summers day.
After the hustle and bustle of Keswick, I had to get out into the wilds. Heading out west along the A66 I turned off and took the back roads through to Low Lorton, on the Buttermere road. A few miles later, I stopped in the car park at Lanthwaite Green. It was still mid-afternoon, so I decided to head down to Crummock Water's lakeside through Lanthwaite woods.
After a short walk along the shoreline path, it reach a large bay on the north western shore. There was a large sweeping pebble beach, and I decided this wold be a good spot to spend a few minutes watching the world go by. A few others had decided the same a bit further round the bay.
Sitting on some rocks, the bay was below the towering crags of Mellbreak - a fell I had conquered earlier in the month (#199). From my little spot, I could hear the calls of some nesting birds from the crags above. Not your usual small-birds though, these sounded more aggressive - I could only put it down that it was some species of birds of prey - maybe Peregine Falcons, or something similar. I kept checking the skies to see if I could see any signs of Mum or Dad, but without any luck.
After a while, I retraced my steps along the shoreline, back through the woods (which apparently is home to Red Squirrels, although I didn't see any), and back over the fields to the car.
North-Western Fells Finale
For a while, I've had just two fells left to do from Wainwright's Book Six - The North Western Fells. The very first fell I climbed was Catbells, and it was that which then prompted my parents to buy me this very book for Christmas 2016, the start of my Wainwright journey.
I parked up at the lay-by at the top of the Newlands Pass. It was just turning 5pm, and already there were a couple of camper vans parked up for the night. It was still warm, with lovely blue skies overhead. Crossing over the road, I started the climb straight from the lay-by. It was a steep pull up the southern ridge of Knott Rigg, although the path began to flatten on reaching the initial rocky crest of the ridgeline, which then widened out to green grassy pastures, complete with both Herdwick & Swaledale sheep grazing. The grassy summit knoll of Knott Rigg was not much further along. I reached the small summit cairn 38 minutes after leaving the car park - #208 - Knott Rigg - 1,824 ft.
Wainwright claimed the walk to Knott Rigg & back could be done from the lay-by in an hour, so I think I could have easily done the descent back in 22 minutes - but I'll have to try that another day.
But for now, I had my last North Western fell to claim. Continuing along the path, which swept north east along the top of the ridge, it dropped down to a col between the two fells, but not before passing over a smaller subsidiary summit of Knott Rigg.
From the col, the hillside changed from grassy pastures to heather-clad slopes, the path also changing from a grassy trail to a stone track. After a couple of dis-heartening false summits, the top of Ard Crags was in sight, and I reached its cairn at 6pm on the dot. #209 - Ard Crags - 1,906 ft. I stopped for a quick breather, and watched as a butterfly landed not to far away from me, sunning its wings.
And that was it - the North Western fells completed. I now just have five Wainwright fells to do. I have my routes planned, to do over two weekends, although I don't want to rush them, and will be waiting for glorious conditions before I attempt them.
For now though, I turned back, and followed the path back along the ridge & down to the Newlands Hause lay-by. It was time for a wild-camp. I had decided to revisit one of my favourite camping spots from last year - High Snockrigg. After the long day I had had, the heavy camping backpack, and the hot weather meant it was a very slow trudge on the steep path up the crags & onto the plateau of Buttermere Moss. Sticking with the path, I soon reached the summit of High Snockrigg, and set to pitching my tent.
I wasn't the only one out tonight, a bit further along the Buttermere-edge of the hill, I spotted two people who had pitched a tent on quite a nice looking spot above some crags, which must have a gorgeous birds-eye view over the full length of Buttermere's lake - a pitch I must try out sometime!
I had a few beers, cooked my dinner, and spent the evening watching the sun set over the Irish Sea, Loweswater & Crummock Water. For a brief, fleeting moment, the sun caught the light in such a way that the entire upper Buttermere valley turned a fantastic pink colour.
After the sun had set, I sat just outside my tent. A few sheep that had been lingering around had moved closer, although they were more interested in grazing on the grass. Although one inquisitive little lamb came quite close to me, just a foot or two away. It was presumably wondering who this person was that would be camping out on their fell tonight.
I set my alarm for sunrise at 04:30 AM, and zipped up the tent for the night.
I peeped outside my tent just after my alarm went off. It was overcast overhead, and there was little chance of a sunrise to the north-east. I went back to sleep for another couple of hours.
When I woke at 7:30am, sunlight was beaming onto the tent & looking outside, blue sky was making an appearance. I brewed up a coffee, scoffed down a breakfast bar & took my time to break camp & pack up.
I had just packed up & was just leaving the summit when I saw a couple of walkers just ahead. We let on, and I continued my descent back to Newlands Hause.
I decided to pop into Keswick & visit a cafe I had heard rave reviews about - The Filling Station. The former petrol station had been renovated into a cafe / diner, and was a popular meeting spot for bikers & car enthusiasts. There were a few people sat out on the picnic tables on what was once the forecourt, but I headed inside and found a booth for myself.
The cafe's decor consisted of motorbike memorabilia, posters & quotes (one prominent one was from famed northerner & motorcycle racer Guy Martin), and rock music was playing quietly to give it a fitting ambience.
A Full Cumbrian Breakfast was on order, washed down with an orange juice. It was a mighty meal, with sausage, double bacon rashers, fried egg, beans, mushrooms, two hash browns, grilled tomato & toast, and honestly I couldn't finish it!
After breakfast, it was time to make tracks home - but not before visiting a location I had wanted to visit to grab a photograph. Just off the main A66 carriageway, was a short section of the old road - maybe three-quarters of a mile in length, if that, which was completely straight, and uninhabited, except for a farmhouse at one end.
The road, with its faded markings was completely quiet & perfectly poised to look back towards Blencathra.
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