The Great End - Number 214

 It had been four years and two days since I had bimbled to the top of Catbells, from where I took the first steps on my journey to conquer the 214 Wainwright fells of the Lake District.

I had hiked the hills in all weathers & all seasons. Camped out in rain, wind & hail. Sauntered grassy slopes, trudged boggy marshes, and scrambled up rocky ridges. It was all leading to this...

A sublime finale. A Great End.

Friday 20th September 2019

A morning in work, a lunchtime drive up the M6, and I arrived at the National Trust car park next to the Old Dungeon Ghyll just before 4 o'clock.

Booting up, and slinging my rucksack on my back, I headed around the back of the Inn to pick up the Cumbria Way path into the valley of Mickleden.

After breathing in & squeezing through a couple of kissing gates along the farm track, the valley opened up, with the flat, rocky path leading to a Y-junction at its head, just shy of two miles down the valley. There were clear blue skies overhead, and the sun was dropping in the west, with the shadow ever so slowly creeping across the valley floor.

After crossing the rickety wooden bridge across Mickleden Beck, the path splits in to. A large cairn marked the junction, with a stone etched sign indicating right up Stake Pass, or left, up by the side of Rossett Gill & on to Esk Hause.

I turned left, as I had done a year or so earlier, but that was in much worse conditions. (See: When It Doesn't Go To Plan ).

I half-remembered it was a bit of a trudge up the path, but had forgotten just how much! It was stone pitched, with rocky steps for most of the way, and it certainly got the legs warmed up! During one of my rest stops on the way up, a couple walked past with big rucksacks. I asked if they were planning to camp out, and they said yes - at Angle tarn just over the top of the pass.

It took almost exactly an hour to reach the top of the pass, where it thankfully flattens out for a short distance just below the summit of Rossett Pike and from here, Great End made her first appearance.

The path continued on, dropping down into the glacier-carved bowl which contains Angle tarn. This is a very sheltered spot, and I counted three tents already pitched, and the couple who passed me earlier were just setting up theirs.

At the outflow of the tarn, I stopped for a quick drink & replenished my water supply before carrying on. It had just turned 6 o'clock. Sunset was due at 7:15, and I was hoping to have my tent pitched well before 7. The only trouble about descending into the Angle tarn 'bowl' is that you have to climb out of it on the other side, so after my refreshment, I plodded along - onward an upwards.

On nearing the top of the rise, at what I though would be Esk Hause was another half mile of so of path, I was on a shelf of the bowl, and wasn't out of it yet. A further climb lay ahead.

Eventually I reached the plateau & mountain crossroads of Esk Hause. The wide open area was prone to strong winds and gusts, and these were forecast for tonight, in the 30-40mph range. This was my last stop before heading to Great End where I could take an emergency route. Great End's summit was still a good mile off, with over 600 feet still to climb. The wind would be even stronger on the summit & I didn't know if there were any sheltered spots to pitch my tent up there.

I made the executive decision to detour onto Allen Crags, a short 10 minute walk away. I had recce'd here back in July after camping out on Seathwaite Fell, and on that trip I spied some potential tent pitches with amazing views of Great End's north face - so it was time to put them to the test.

On reaching the summit, I dropped down the north-western side of the fell, and saw another couple just pitching their tent on one of the rocky terraces of the fell. Just a bit further on, and lower down were a pair of small tarns, just catching the last of the evening sunshine - I headed towards them, and found a perfect little pitch to erect my tent. It was still breezy, but the hill was blocking the strongest of the wind. For now.

To mark the occasion of me about to complete the Wainwrights - I had a special dinner planned - fillet steak, with asparagus, diane sauce, mushrooms & mashed potatoes.

I was pretty peckish after the walk in, and already started tucking into my steak while the water was boiling for my mashed potato. It was a little more on the rare side than the medium-rare that I usually like my steak, but even so, it was lush.

After dinner, the sun had set, but there was still some glow left in the sky. The moon wasn't due to rise until about 10:20pm, so hopefully there should be a good night sky display. I cracked open a can of beer or two whilst the last of the light faded and the stars made an appearance.

The wind picked up slightly, changing from a south easterly, to a easterly breeze, but I was sat in shelter outside the lee side of my tent. After darkness had set in, I began to look up into the clear night sky. The constellation I immediately spotted was 'the Plough' (also known as 'the Big Dipper'), and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, hundreds, thousands, if not millions of stars could be seen, and running roughly north to south across the sky, was the milky way. Seeing the vast expanse of what is just a small fraction of our universe really puts things into perspective.

I had a dabble at some astro-photography, capturing the Plough above my tent, as well as having a go at light-painting with the torch function on my mobile phone - which I think came out pretty well.

Just before 11pm I decided to retire into my tent, and watched a show I had downloaded on Netflix, before trying to get some sleep. I say trying, as the wind hadn't died down at all, and the sudden gusts shook the tent. I wrapped myself up in my sleeping bag, and closed my eyes, hoping for sleep.

Saturday 21st September 2019

It wasn't the best nights sleep as I kept waking up when a strong gust of wind hit the tent, which was on and off all throughout the night. I had set my alarm for 06:40am, and sunrise was due at 06:55am. I was awake before my alarm, as the wind had picked up in the lead up to dawn.

The sun rose in a clear sky, bathing the landscape in a soft golden glow, with a slight pink hue in the sky. Great End was looking magnificent, and in just a few hours I was hoping to be stood on its summit.

I fried up some bacon medallions and had a bacon butty for breakfast, washed down with a small Tropicana juice bottle & after packing away my tent, was on my way once again.

Instead of climbing up to Allen Crag's summit, then down again, I spotted a path traversing around the fell, which took me straight to Esk Hause, where I could pick up my route form the evening before.

It was a steady climb up the path from Esk Hause, a wide stone path lead the way, the only thing slowing me down we the very strong winds on the open hause. It was a good 40 mph, and was due to hit 50 mph around 10am this morning.

I looked back and, from seemingly out of nowhere a huge walking group appeared, quickly catching me up.

I slowed down to allow them to pass me by, and decided to take a seat on a rock just by the rock-pitched steps at Calf Cove. My route would take me up the steps to the top of Calf Cove, where I could then follow the path up onto Great End.

A fell runner who walked with me for a short while back near Esk Hause, mentioned that more than likely the walking group would bypass Great End, and carry straight onto Scafell Pike. However as I reached the top of Calf Cove, I saw the waking group ahead, making their way to Great End. Typical!

I followed at a leisurely pace, and on reachin gthe summit plateau headed to a cairn on the north western edge. On closer inspecition, it was a small wind-shelter, so I took cover for a short while, munching down a cereal bar waiting for the walking group to move on.

After a few minutes they did, and I had the summit all to myself. Time to finish it.

The summit was a mixture of boulder field and some grassy patches (perfect for a tent, although not very sheltered), and getting closer to the very top, the bare rock was topped by a small cairn. This was it.

The wind was whipping up something ferocious, but I tapped the cairn, #214 - Great End - 2,984 ft.

I headed to the north side of the summit in lee of the wind, which was a bit more sheltered, and took a summit selfie to mark the occasion.

I descended off the summit, back to the plateau, and just north found a wide patch of grassy ground gently sloping before dramatically plunging down the north face cliffs. I sat on the grass taking in the extensive view of the Lake District.

Four years and two days since I had reached the summit of Catbells, here I was, having completed all 214 of Alfred Wainwright's list of Lakeland Fells, the vast majority of which were now laid out in front of me.

From the highest point in England, Scafell Pike, across to Pillar & Great Gable to the west, the Grasmoor group, Skiddaw and Blencathra to the north, over Glaramara & the central fells, the the full Helvellyn range running from Clough Head at its northern tip, to Fairfield & Nab Scar at the southern end, and lowly Castle Crag, the shortest Wainwright, I had climbed them all.

A fraction of the fells visible from the top of Great End.

But this wouldn't be the end of my Wainwright journey. I had one pilgrimage left: to visit & pay my respects to the big man himself, who started it all....