Arnison Crag

Arnison Crag is quite a minnow; a mere 433 metres. The climb starts at Patterdale and initially goes behind its houses. Wainwright complained of there being a rubbish dump here, but it looks as though it has been cleaned up since his era. It was a steep ascent to Arnison Crag, but it wasn't long before I was spiralling around the back of it to get to the summit. There were good views over to Ullswater and across to Place Fell. As I stood on the top, the sun went in and it became grey. A chilly wind started. The cold wind stayed with me until the last hour of the walk.

My next target was Birks. I couldn't actually see its top from Arnison Crag since it was in the middle of a flattish summit. I could see a stone wall stretching up the hillside though. There was no path marked on my map, but I decided the stone wall would be my handrail up to the top of the fell.

The Berks Way Up To Birks

By the time I got near to the stone wall the hillside looked a lot steeper than it did from afar. I had to descend into a gully and climb out just to get to the start of the wall. This is the Berks Way up to Birks. A more sensible option would have to continued on my path up to Trough Head and then doubled back on a gradually ascending path to meet the stone wall further up the hillside. Unfortunately I didn't know about this other path and it isn't marked on the OS map either. No matter, I thought, at least I'll be walking a shorter distance. Until the other, easier path meets the stone wall, there is no track running alongside the stone wall. Even when there was a bit of a path, it was still hard going. I was thankful when it levelled out and I made my way across to the minor looking bump that is Birks' summit. Since it has a flattish top, there are  restricted views of the surrounding fells. At least it had a small cairn. I could see a path stretching along St Sundays Crag side to Gavel Pike, my next destination.

Gavel Pike And St Sunday Crag

On Gavel Pike I was having trouble standing upright it was so windy. I hunkered down amongst some rocks to take a time out. As I was contemplating the paucity of ginger in my slab of Bryson's Ginger Cake, when some Typhoons flew down Kirkstone and cornered the lake's dogleg at Silver Crag. Some went so low I feared for the masts of some yachts that were sailing on Ullswater.  After reviewing my series of photos of them soaring around the corner I noticed that they appear to have the ability to flatten the upright tailfins at the back. Two of the planes appeared to be flying very close and performing some sort of dog fight manoeuvre. All very Top Gun.

On the top of St Sunday Crag one chap was sat down on the leeward side of the summit cairn. An elderly guy approached the top and was very disappointed to find that the only sheltered spot was occupied. He'd got shorts on and must have been frozen. Disappointed he went around the other side of the cairn and sat down for a rest despite suffering the full force of the wind. The top was too cold for me and I decided to make a quick departure.

Fairfield

My original intention was to climb up to Fairfield over Cofa Pike. The strong wind was putting me off though. Cofa Pike is a bit of a scramble over a narrow ridge and I was carrying a bit of weight with my cameras. The alternative was to drop down on to the path to Grisedale Tarn and then climb Fairfiled on the easier west ridge. As I looked up at Cofa Pike, a gust of wind nearly blew me over. This made the decision for me and I started dropping down to the path that runs along the flank of Fairfield.

Along the path I met three Americans. They were over here to do the Coast To Coast. I knew they were Americans straight away due to their expensive, pristine kit, the likes of which I can only dream.  They were going over St Sunday Crag to Patterdale. One of them was worried about any narrow ridges further up and I was able to assure him that the path was safe. I think he was a bit unnerved at my close inspection of his expensive gortex gloves.  They looked very warm. More so than my fingerless gloves that were just fingerless through over use. They departed and I could only look in awe at the carbon fibre walking sticks one of them was using.

At Grisedale Tarn I sat down for lunch. The sun had come out but it was still bitterly cold with the strong wind. I heard a cry that I thought was a lamb but turned out to be a small baby being carried by the father in a front carrier. The baby's tiny legs were dangling out of the carrier like doll's legs. The baby had some sort of romper suit on, but it was so cold with the wind, I thought it must still be freezing.

For once the wind actually assisted me up Fairfield's west ridge. A few years back I saw a couple of mountain bikers ride down this ridge. A feat that I still find remarkable. It was too cold to hang about on Fairfield and so I walked straight across towards Hart Crag.  Hart Crag is another Wainwright and could easily be included in this walk, but I'd already ticked it and didn't include it today.

Hartsop Above How

Every time I descend from Hart Crag to Hartsop Above How I pledge that this will be the last time that I'll ever do it. It's not the scenery; the views are superb. There are tremendous views of nearby Scrubby Crag and Dove Crag. The cause of my dislike is the initial steep, rocky descent down to the main ridge of Hartsop Above How. It is easier going up the rock crag, although I noticed some ascenders at the bottom had decided to try the scree slope at the side. I've tried that route, and I didn't find it any easier. At least with the rocky crag you've got something firm to hold on to. A lot of the rocks are slanted at a difficult angle; many of them are smooth and quite slippery. It is safe enough with care and within 10 or 15 minutes I was down at the bottom of it declaring, 'Never again'. Well, until next time, anyway.

A couple had taken a seat just below Hartsop Above How's summit. They'd watched me walk across from my rocky descent. I asked where they'd walked today and the woman told me they had just come up here. As I was taking some summit photos, another couple, who had been following me, started approaching.  I said to the seated couple, 'Looks like you've got some new customers. I bet when you came up here you thought you'd found a right nice quiet spot'. The couple laughed and the woman said that they'd talked to more people today than they normally would do on a walk.

Further along the ridge I met the elderly man in the shorts who I'd last seen on the cold, windy summit of St Sunday Crag. He was sat down looking at the map. He asked me if the nearby stile over the stone wall led down to the car park at Cow Bridge. I told him that I remember doing that path a couple of times but that was decades ago. I'd remembered it being quite steep and overgrown with foliage at the time. I told him that I was following the ridge down to the road and taking the roadside path back to Cow Bridge. I saw him arrive at Cow Bridge after me and so I guess he decided not to take the shortcut.

It had been a really entertaining day with dramatic scenery. It was surprisingly cold given the outbreaks of sun, but I'd rather be too cold than too hot