Captain's Log

Shap

I didn’t have the best night’s sleep last night. One of the problems was the trains scooting along the west coast main railway line at the bottom of the garden-cum-campsite. They were so loud that I thought I’d actually pitched on the tracks themselves. The worst thing though was the heat. It was stifling. I slept on the top of my sleeping bag adorned only in my underkegs and I still felt like I was being roasted on a spit. The heat had continued into the early morning and I’d already got a dab on as I packed up my tent. The improvised repair to the Terminator’s tent had survived the night and he was confident that it would suffice for the rest of his trip. I’d had the idea of stopping off in the Lake District in order to do a walk around Haweswater or maybe even do the Ullswater Way. Consequently, this was probably the last day that I’d see the Terminator since he intended proceeding along the C2C to Gillside campsite at Glenridding. We shook hands and I wished him well for the C2C and he set off on the next leg. I’d booked a breakfast at the New Ing Lodge and so waited around for the cook to arrive. The veggie breakfast was pretty good and well worth the money and wait.

Today’s walk would start with a field-hop from Shap to the Haweswater Reservoir. I’d call in at the ruins of Shap Abbey on the way. I’d then follow the track along the west side of Haweswater. A decision would be made as to whether I wanted to do a tour of Haweswater or continue along the C2C. If I continued on the trail, I would then have the 780 metre Kidsty Pike to tackle, the highest point on the C2C. From there, I’d use the well worn path to Angle Tarn and then head down to Patterdale. I’d earmarked the Side Farm campsite at the side of Ullswater as a potential campsite. If I ended up taking the Patterdale option, then it would be a 15 mile day, which would be quite tough given I would have to traverse Kidsty Pike as well. I heaved the rucksack onto my shoulders and set off. 

Shap Abbey

It was a lovely morning as I field-hopped my way towards the Lakeland hills. It was already incredibly hot and it wasn’t even 09:00 am. There was not even a breeze to cool me down. The track started to descend into a shallow valley and the ruins of Shap Abbey came into view. The site was managed by English Heritage, but it was free to enter. The abbey was founded in the late 12th century and belonged to the Premonstratensian order of canons. I’d last come across these fellows at Hulne Abbey in Northumberland (see Captain’s Log, Hulne Park Yellow And Red). As I remembered, these were Catholics who were known for wearing white clothing, although I couldn’t remember the reason why. Later research revealed that it was because the Blessed Virgin Mary presented herself to St Norbert of Xanten in a vision, and she commanded the order to wear white, ‘symbolising the purity of angels and the glory of Christ’s Resurrection.’ Fair enough, it seemed a good enough reason to me. The main tower of the Abbey was largely intact and the foundations of the various buildings of the abbey were still visible. The site was in a picturesque position next to a bend of the River Lowther. It was interesting to spend a quarter of an hour wandering around the ruins and reading the information boards. I had to crack on though and so found my way back on to the C2C. 

Fields And Fell

The next section of the walk was over fields and fell. It was easy enough walking, but it was undulating. The signage for the most part was good, but there were one or two places where there was an arbitrary route choice from a WeBo perspective and I had to get my OS map out. The path joined Haweswater Beck and followed it upstream, eventually crossing it at Naddle Bridge. There followed a short section of woodland trail, the trees providing welcome shade from the intimidating sun. It was so hot that I was spitting feathers when I reached the small collection of houses at Burnbanks. I couldn’t believe my luck when I spotted an honesty freezer box next to the path. I was hoping that there might be bottles of fizzy pop in there, but I found only the type of drinks that come in 300ml sachets. I bought two and drank them, but they really didn’t hit the spot. I’d have to wait until I was walking along the side of Haweswater to get my fill from the waterfalls. Amazingly, I found three other honesty boxes along the first part of the Haweswater track, but none had the large bottles of fizzy drinks that I craved. The last box had a handwritten note inside saying that somebody had recently stolen all the money and items from the box and requesting people not to do it in future. I doubted that a letter would dissuade anybody with a mind to steal from a honesty box. 

Haweswater

For a while the trees shaded me from the rising sun, but eventually they stopped and I felt the full impact of the morning heat. The track made its way though a forest of ferns and these seemed to trap the heat to make it feel even warmer. At every stream that crossed the path I would douse my head in the water and filter some to drink. Even so, a few minutes later I would feel just as warm and thirsty. There’d been an option about a mile or so from the dam to divert uphill on to Low Raise and High Raise, before heading to Kidsty Pike. A lot of walkers do this route since the ascent/descent is a lot more gradual than tackling Kidsty Pike directly from Haweswater. I wish I’d taken that option now since I thought that there might be some breeze higher up that would cool me down. It was too late to turn back and so I pressed on. The track was undulating and is quite tiring even on a normal day. Today, it felt almost impossible. The views were incredible though looking in both directions along the reservoir. My last water stop before the Kidsty Pike ascent was at Randale Beck. A cyclist was bathing his feet in the pool just below the waterfall. I’ve no idea how he got his bicycle there or where he intended to go. It seemed so bizarre a location for a cyclist that I thought maybe it was a hallucination brought on by the heat. I’d given up on the idea of circumnavigating the Haweswater Reservoir long ago. It was just too hot for that type of stupidity. I went for the least worst option of climbing Kidsty Pike. At least there would be a breeze up there. 

Kidsty Pike

I climbed and climbed, expecting that breeze to kick in at any moment. It didn’t. The ascent from Haweswater was quite steep and got even steeper as I reached the crags at Kidsty Howes. Some EaBos were coming down, but nobody seemed in the mood to talk.
‘Is there any breeze up there?’ I would ask.
‘Hmmm. Not really’ would come the reply. I didn’t tell them about the fern-furnace down below. I reached the top of the crags of Kidsty Howes which allowed me to see the long path up to Kidsty Pike. Approaching the top, I could see a lone figure making his way up. I took a photo and then zoomed in on the lcd screen of the camera. The figure was carrying a sun umbrella. It was the Terminator! The fellow might not have carried an emergency tent sleeve for his tent poles, but he did carry with him a sun umbrella. Who was laughing now? This would be the last sighting I would have of the Terminator on the C2C, but it was certainly not the last I heard of him. Meeting EaBos on the rest of the trail to St Bees, they would tell me about  ‘...somebody else going WeBo who had a sun umbrella and wasn’t far ahead of me.'       

There was a pensioner EaBo from Essex on the summit. We chatted and he said he was training for a Kilimanjaro summit trek that was coming up. I told him it was nice and cold on its summit, although the lowest camp was a bit toasty. One lad from a group of Duke of Edinburghers asked me if this was Kidsty Pike summit. I told him that it was and also the highest point on the C2C.     

Angle Tarn

This area of the Lake District was well known to me and I made fast progress walking around The Knott and the descent path towards Angle Tarn. Even so, the DoEs eventually caught me up and passed me. The endurance and strength of youth. They and some other DoEs had camped by the side of the tarn. They looked eager to take a dip in its waters. I couldn’t believe that there still wasn’t a breath of wind. It seemed incredible. Normally it blows a gale down the valley from Kirkstone. The slight incline around Angle Tarn to the Patterdale valley slowed me down somewhat, but then I speeded up again as the path descended to the col at Boredale Hause. The Fairfield-Helvellyn-Dodds range was visible to the west now. An obstacle to overcome on tomorrow’s walk. It seemed even hotter as I made my way down the stony path towards the valley bottom. I was definitely looking forward to a cool shower at Side Farm campsite. I might even go for a dip in the lake. 

Patterdale And Glenridding

Side Farm campsite was about a kilometre from Side Farm. You have to book in at the farm before pitching on the site. Three Dutch EaBo girls were walking around the farmyard looking confused. We started chatting and they pointed to a sign that said that you had to book in at the farm’s tearoom for a camping pitch. If that was closed, then you had to go to the farm instead. The tearoom was closed and they’d knocked on the farm door and there had been no response. I sighed. The sign gave no phone number to ring if nobody was around. As I pondered my next move,  a mini-bus drove past with its radio blaring arabic music. A guy was hanging his head out of an open window whilst banging a bongo drum and shouting  ‘I love the UK.’ The bus departed leaving the stench of wacky-baccy in its wake. It was heading for the campsite. I looked at the Dutch girls and they looked at me, with the same expression: ‘Did you see that too?’ Even though I’d fantasised about a cold shower at the campsite for the last 3 hours, I knew for certain that I’d never fall to sleep being seranaded with a bongo drum lullaby .
‘I think I’m going to camp somewhere else’ I informed the Dutch girls. They had a consultation and decided to go to the campsite anyway. I guess the Dutch have a more liberal attitude where drugs are concerned. 

I pondered my alternatives as I made my way to the Patterdale village. Wherever I ended up, I needed to get some supplies and the only shop around was in Glenridding. I plodded the mile or so to the village and was delighted to find that the store was still open. I stocked up on food for my tea and some treats for tomorrow. I even bought a very expensive ice cream. I also drank the contents of a 2 pint carton of ice-cold milk (the fizzy pop was still warm in the refrigerators) and for the first time today my thirst felt satiated.    

The only other campsite around here was Gillside further up the Glenridding valley. My past experiences on the site hadn’t been that good, but I decided to go and have a look. Even if I didn’t camp there, I’d be able to refill my water bottles from their taps. I walked the half mile to the campsite and knew immediately that I wouldn’t be camping there tonight. The campsite reminded me of some Bosch hellish painting. I couldn’t believe how many people were squeezed onto the site. The owners must be making a fortune. I filled my water bottles and headed back to Glenridding. 

St Sunday Crag

Today’s Lakeland heat bomb had put me off doing anything like the Ullswater Way tomorrow. My only chance to escape this sweltering heat was to get higher into the fells, although I’d not had much success with that strategy today. From Patterdale, the C2C splits into a higher level over St Sunday Crag and a lower level route up the Grisedale valley to Grisedale Tarn.  My intention had always been to do the high level route. If I wanted to do St Sunday Crag, maybe I could make a start this evening and maybe camp up on Birks Fell. It was already 7:30 pm, and I'd already walked about 17 miles. I knew how atrociously steep that path was up to Birks too. Had I still got the legs for the climb? Apart from walking along the valley to Grisedale Tarn, I didn’t see any other options. I set off to climb Birks Fell.    

Two minutes after starting the climb, I wondered  if I’d made the right decision. 10 minutes after starting the climb, I knew that I hadn’t. Not only was the path incredibly steep, it was surrounded by ferns that had retained the day’s heat. Midges and horseflies battered my head and exposed legs. I could feel sweat dropping from each of my fingers. It felt like hell. Just at the point that I was about to topple over and accept my demise, I reached a small, flat area at Thornhow End. I almost wept with joy. It was large enough for a one-man tent. The location was next to the path, but I didn’t expect anybody to be using it at this time of night. I could also tuck my tent away to the east side of the pitch so that it couldn’t be seen by anybody down in the valley. I waited until 9pm before pitching. I got inside the tent and almost immediately heard peoples’ voices. ‘Oh no!’ I thought. It turned out to be half a dozen mountain bikers that were descending from St Sunday Crag. How anybody could descend on a mountain bike, what I’d just struggled up, seemed impossible to me.
‘Make sure you put your litter in the tent. There’s been a cougar spotted around here’ said one of them to me. I thought he was joking but later research revealed that this area is supposed to be a hotspot for ‘big cat’ sightings. To be honest, even if there had been one around, I was too knackered to do anything about it.     

The Terminator had said that he intended camping at the Gillside campsite tonight. I’d not seen him there, but I’d never have spotted him amongst that mass of humanity anyway. It had taken some effort, but I was glad I’d gone for this wildcamp. I had a wonderful view of Ullswater from my tent door. The views on today’s walk  were incredible too. I wondered whether the morning would present me with a breeze; even just a slight one would make the day manageable. I slept on the top of my sleeping bag with my tent flap open hoping for some coolness to seep in. It never did.