Walk Summary
Delightful walk amongst Lakeland's less frequented western fells. Wonderful views over Loweswater. Choose an icy day to avoid the worst of the boggy bits. Contemplate whether Hen's Comb really does look like a hen's comb.
Date: 06/12/2022
Length: 7.86 miles
Height Gain: 601 m
Terrain: Stone paths, grass paths, boggy fell, trackless fell, woodland trail. The descent on Hen Comb's western flank is steep, trackless with a few small crags (easily avoided). In poor conditions it is safer to use the alternative route along Hen Comb's north ridge.
Navigation: Map/compass and gps required. There are plenty of fences linking the peaks, providing good navigational handrails. The ascent to Burnbank Fell is via a vague path and trackless moor. The descent down Hen Comb's western flank and across the valley is trackless and would require a bearing in bad weather.
Start: Maggie's Bridge Carpark
Route: Maggie's Bridge Carpark, Holme Wood, Burnbank Fell, Blake Fell, Gavel Fell, Whiteoak Moss, Hen Comb, Bridleway Along Whiteoak Beck, High Nook Farm
Map: OL4 The English Lakes North Western Area
Weather: Grey. Intemittent sun in the afternoon. Icy.
Walkers: Nun, The Cabin Boy and Captain Mo
Gallery
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Loweswater
Chief Petty Officer's Log
Burnbank Fell
Whooop, whooop, whooop.... Two Mute Swans flew side-by-side overhead, and headed for the east end of Loweswater. I wondered whether they ever got neck ache holding their head straight out like that, in flight. We'd parked at Maggie's Bridge and we followed the direction of the swans. At Watergate farm two dogs greeted us with snarls and growls. A man appeared at a workshop door and issued a command, although I wasn't sure whether it was directed at us or the dogs. We reached the lake side at Holme Wood and had fine views across the lake to the Loweswater fells. Captain Mo missed the path we needed through the wood, but the Cabin Boy's keen eye had spotted it, and put him right. We climbed through the wood to the other side and reached the bridleway that contours along the hillside. My original intention was to follow the bridleway northwards and then double back to ascend to Burnbank Fell, but I spotted an alternative track near Holme Beck, that offered a more direct route instead. I thought it might zig-zag upwards, but it ended up contouring above the bridleway, and so we left the track and made a more direct vertical assault of the fell. We reached a shoulder that provided a stunning view across the wood and lake, towards Grasmoor. There was a vague path from the shoulder that headed in the direction of the top of the fell, and so we followed that. It meant stepping over an unbarbed fence that sent my singing voice from bass to soprano in an instant. Our vague path joined the main path to Burnbank Fell and we soon found ourselves at the summit cairn. Burnbank Fell is at the edge of the western fells and we had good views over to the Solway Firth, and to Scotland beyond.
Blake Fell
I'd climbed today's peaks last November (see Fangs Brow Substitute), on a wet and boggy day. Today was bitterly cold and all the better for it. The water and bogs had iced up and so it was more like walking on concrete than a swamp. The Loweswater farmers love their fences and we followed one up to the top of Blake Fell. Captain Mo was navigating and the walk provided him a good test of using fences as navigational handrails. We had a break behind the stone shelter on the summit, in attempt to escape the cold wind. When we got up, the Cabin Boy remarked how all the ice had melted around the area where Captain Mo had been sitting. Either his sit mat wasn't very insulated or his backside was generating a lot of heat. Before leaving the summit we walked a short distance westwards to get a great view down on to the lake, Cogra Moss. I asked Captain Mo to set a bearing to Gavel Fell and, using his compass for sighting, he correctly identified our next Wainwright. We could see that our route involved following a series of fences. We set off alongside the first one.
Shelter On Blake Fell's Summit
Blake Fell
Gavel Fell
On the way down from Blake Fell, we met a farmer walking up. Well, a farmer and half a dozen Beagles. A couple of them took rather a keen interest in Captain Mo, by putting their front paws up at him. I'm not sure whether it was truly a sign of friendship or whether they were just trying to warm their feet on his backside. The wire fences didn't present any problems to the dogs; they just leaped from one side to the other. I'd previously found the col between Blake and Gavel Fell rather juicy, but today it was easy to cross its frozen bog. We followed another fence up to the top of Gavel Fell and celebrated another Wainwright tick. The sun had started to make an occasional appearance, but it offered little in the way of heat. Across the valley we could see our next objective, Hen Comb. It is difficult to say whether the profile of Hen Comb truly represents that red serrated skin on the top of a hen's head. Maybe after drinking a few glasses of Glenmorangie, followed by a firkin of Owd Rodger, it might vaguely resemble one. Whiteoak Moss currently separated us from Hen Comb. I'd secretly been dreading this bit of the walk, since on my last traverse, I'd found it the wettest place in the Lake District (see Fang's Brow Substitute). No point delaying the inevitable though, and Captain Mo followed yet another fence, down towards Whiteoak Moss.
Hen Comb
In the end the traverse of Whiteoak Moss was a breeze. The bogs and pools that had caused such misery on my last excursion had largely frozen over, making the path merely damp. I felt a bit of a cheat, having given the area such a big build up with Captain Mo and the Cabin Boy. Having said that, I much prefer dry feet to wet ones. After Whiteoak Moss, there was a short, energetic climb to a ridge that brought us to the top of Hen Comb. We were a little late for lunch. It was too cold and windy on the summit, and so we dropped a little way down its western flank to escape the wind. Our lunch spot gave us an elevated view back over the valley to Gavel Fell, and an idea floated to the surface in my mind. My original intention was to descend down Hen Comb's long north ridge, but since we'd dropped down its western flank quite a bit, I wondered about continuing the descent and crossing Whiteoak Moss again, to pick up a bridleway on the other side of the valley. Given the icy conditions, our recent experience had shown the bogs to be frozen. I mooted the idea to Captain Mo, and we set off down the side of Hen Comb to re-cross Whiteoak Moss again. It was trackless walking, but it was dry enough. In fact the boggiest bit was on the bridleway itself, when we reached it on the other side of the valley. The bridleway dried up and became easy walking as we descended down the valley, back towards Loweswater.
Hen Comb