Great Crag

I'd only recently summitted Great Crag and Grange Fell (see Borrowdale Off Piste), but I needed to do them again for Captain Mo and the Cabin Boy's Wainwright list. After that last trip, I vowed never to do the knee-jarring descent down the steep steps of Great Crag, ever again. This time I went up them and found them thigh busting. Overall I prefer thigh busting to knee-jarring, and so would recommend going up the staircase, rather than down. Either way, the view from the top of the fell, over to Eagle Crag and Sergeant's Crag, was spectacular and well worth the effort. 

Captain Mo was navigating today and he successfully found the pretty Dock Tarn. The summit of Great Crag is a little way off the well worn path across the fell, and Captain Mo went a little astray at one point, but with a few hints and cajoling with my trekking pole, he finally managed to lead us to the top of Great Crag. It was a grim day and while we were near the summit, a hole appeared in the grey ceiling above us, and a shaft of light illuminated Great Crag's summit cairn. If I was religious, I'd have said that this was a signal from God that the Captain and the Cabin Boy were doing the right thing by donating their Dead Man's Money to charity. 

Watendlath

The weather felt like it was closing in as we descended down the footpath from Great Crag to Watendlath. Captain Mo didn't have to navigate much since every gate into the neighbouring fields had a red plastic lid nailed to it with 'Private - Keep Out' scrawled on it. Captain Mo heeded these notices and so by default kept us on the right path to Watendlath. When we reached the hamlet we sat on a wooden bench to eat our lunch. Or rather, me and the Cabin Boy sat on the bench and, for some unknown reason, Captain Mo remained standing. As we had our lunch I watched with interest his occasional toing and froing around the bench since there was a pile of dog crap on the grass, a couple of steps behind him. It was only when a collision seemed imminent that I stepped in, so to speak, and warned him of the potential disaster. He did a quick jig and managed to avoid it. My fun curtailed, I noticed a couple approaching Watendlath from the Rosthwaite path. They looked across the beck at us and it was obvious that they had been expecting the bench to be free, and a base for their lunch. They made do by standing near the stone wall on the bridge, over the beck. It seemed to get even darker and a light drizzle started. We packed up and headed for our second and last Wainwright of the day, Grange Fell.

Grange Fell

After a bit of investigative navigational work, Captain Mo led us to the path, over Black Waugh that leads to the summit of Grange Fell. The path follows a stone wall, almost to the summit, and so navigation is easy once the wall is found. We did get a view from the top, but it was drizzly and not very welcoming. I got Captain Mo to set a bearing so that we would pick up the track that went directly over the other side. After I'd recently criticised the plus or minus 90 degree accuracy of his £3.20 Ebay compass, he'd subsequently bought a new Silva Ranger compass. He plotted the bearing on which we should find the track, and hey presto, he followed the bearing and found the track. The views coming down from Grange Fell were stunning. Well, they would have been on a good day. Drizzle smeared the lens of my camera and I was forever drying it with a cloth. At one point two Chinook helicopters appeared low in the valley, from the direction of Grange, and then swung to the right over High Doat, towards the top of the Honister pass. I hoped their windscreen was less blurry than the viewfinder on my camera.

It was almost dark when we got back to Rosthwaite carpark. I made it clear to Captain Mo and the Cabin Boy that if I'd rolled over any £20 notes when I parked up, then I'd already staked my claim to them. I moved the car back a short distance and then there was an undignified scramble as all three of us quickly swung ourselves out of the car to see if any booty had been revealed. There wasn't any, of course. I told Captain Mo and the Cabin Boy that I didn't mind since if there had been any, then it was Dead Man's Money, and would inflict more bad luck than anyone could ever imagine. I could hear them uneasily caressing their £20 notes in their fleece pockets.