Captain's Log

Ambleside

It seems to have been a year of rain. Come to think of it, the past few years have seemed like that too. Maybe that’s the way the world is going. Today was going to be no exception. The weather forecasters predicted a 2 to 3 hour window at Ambleside where we could walk with a prospect of remaining reasonably dry. I suggested to the Kapitan and Cabin Boy that we might use the time usefully to explore the peaks and tarns of Loughrigg Fell. In return, they respectfully suggested that the time might be better spent sat on the sofa and exploring what might be available for viewing on Netflix. I must admit, by the time we’d reached 9 a.m. and it was still raining, I pondered whether they might for once be right.  Another mug of coffee and half an hour later, and the rain had stopped…sort of. It wasn’t blue skies and sun, but it wasn’t driving rain either. I mustered my reluctant, grumbling adventurers and we headed out from our holiday let towards Loughrigg Fell. 

Loughrigg Fell is always a good option when staying in Ambleside since the lowly lump is literally on the town’s doorstep. We crossed over the River Rothay using the footbridge near the rugby club. The Kapitan had crossed this bridge a couple of days ago and claimed to have seen the blue flash of a Kingfisher flying along the river. It was more likely to have been a Walkers Cheese And Onion crisp packet being blown along, but I thought it was worth pausing in the centre of the bridge to see if I could see the reclusive, colourful bird. There was neither bird nor crisp packet on display today and so we progressed to the other side of the river. 

Lily Tarn

I’d decided to ascend the fell using the footpath from Clappersgate. It did mean a quarter of a mile walk alongside the A593, but there was a pavement and so was no trouble. The ascent path from Clappersgate is basically a long zig and then a zag. Initially this was through woodland, but then gaps appeared to offer stunning views along Lake Windermere and the Lakeland south western fells. Just below us I could see the Holy Trinity church on Bog Lane. It always strikes me as a curious looking structure; something you might expect Shaggy and his team visiting on an episode of Scooby Doo. Zig finished, we started on the zag which brought us to some craggy knolls standing sentinel on the end of the fell. The views over Ambleside and Lake Windermere were wonderful. The only disappointment was the strong wind that flung spots of rain at us. On the way down from one of the crags a young woman who was climbing up asked if any of us had a hanky she could use. It seemed an odd request; I wouldn’t fancy using somebody else’s hanky. The Kapitan and Cabin Boy couldn’t muster one and I generally follow a whale’s blowhole approach in such matters. I thought of lending her the sleeve of my anorak, but then realised that I didn’t really fancy wiping off her debris later on. We apologised and walked on. 

Lily Tarn was our first tarn of the day. As we stood admiring it, half a dozen dogs came bounding over a hillock. Just before reaching the tarn, five of them pulled up sharply, but one Collie carried on bounding into the water. He then stood in the tarn looking around at his mates as if wondering ‘Why didn’t you follow me, you plonkers?’ They might as well have all jumped into the tarn and got wet since the rain started in earnest as we headed westwards. 

Loughrigg Fell Tarns

It wasn’t long before we traversed our first peak Todd Crag, but it was exposed to the wind and so we didn’t linger. We plodded on into an area known as Black Mire and gradually ascended to our next tarn tick of the day, Loughrigg Fell Tarns. At this point I’ll provide a transcript of a conversation I had with the Cabin Boy to offer a typical example of the inane verbal interchanges I have to suffer on our walks. 

Cabin Boy: What are these tarns called? 
Nun: Loughrigg Fell Tarns.
Cabin Boy: But what are they called?
Nun: They are called Loughrigg Fell Tarns.
Cabin Boy: Okay, but what are they called?  
Nun: They are called Loughrigg Fell Tarns, cloth ears.
<...and repeat ad infinitum…> 

As you can see, our conversations can get rather tiresome. We walked alongside the tarns and then headed to the northwest, to the highest point of the day, the summit of Loughrigg Fell itself. There wasn’t an opportunity for inane conversations at the summit. I clung to the trig point so that I didn’t get blown away. I somehow managed to take a photo, but I figured it would probably be blurred due to me shaking. We descended eastwards and found better shelter from the wind. A few moments later, there was a thump from behind and turning around I saw that the Kapitan had taken the opportunity to wallow in some mud. His rucksack had taken the brunt of the fall, but his backside, trouser legs and elbows were filthy. Me and the Cabin Boy had a good chuckle, but then 10 minutes later I slid down too. Fortunately, with cat like agility, I was able to twist sideways before hitting the ground and so only one elbow and the side of one leg got muddy. 

Fox How

Loughrigg Fell is a maze of paths, tracks, crags, hillocks, tarns and becks. Rather than following the footpaths shown on the OS map, it was often worth picking a track that headed off in the general direction in which I wanted to go. After descending a while we came across a fellow with a wonderful four year old German Shepherd dog who clamped a large, muddy rock in her mouth. ‘What is her name?’ I asked. ‘Lola’ the man replied. There are a couple of songs I know that have Lola in their lyrics, but rather frustratingly, I couldn’t think of the lyrics of either of them. One is Lola by the Kinks, and the other Copacabana by Barry Manilow. My folks favoured the latter, but I just couldn’t think of the words. Later research revealed the song to be a lot darker than I was expecting. I didn’t get the opportunity to find out the backstory of how the man named his dog since the hairy beast was already dragging him up the hill, rock still in her mouth. 

At the location named as Scartufts on the OS map, we came across what looked like the debris from some mining activity. Somebody had built a shelter out of the surrounding stones or less feasibly, the remains of a basic building. Rydal Water had now come into view below us and we turned to the southeast on another vague track. This eventually brought us to our final peak of the day, Fox How. The wind on the top of this crag was as relentless as it had been on the summit of Loughrigg Fell itself. We ticked the peak and started descending again. 

Return

I decided to take the Fox Ghyll path off Loughrigg Fell. I wasn’t sure whether I’d ever walked down this track before; it didn’t seem familiar. It was quite pretty and followed a small beck down the clough. At one point we had to make way for a couple of mountain bikers that were skidding their way down the route. The footpath eventually ended up in a wooded ghyll before reaching the Fox How road. I’d quite enjoyed the path and made a note to incorporate it into future Loughrigg walks. We walked back towards Ambleside along the familiar Fox How road. The pigs in a roadside field were too busy rummaging in the mud to trot across and say ‘hello’ to us. The brightness of the day disappeared and it started to look quite overcast again as we made our way through Rothay Park towards Ambleside’s town centre. The day culminated in a rain shower so heavy that we were all totally soaked by the time we reached the holiday let. 

Loughrigg Fell is easily accessible from Ambleside and is always a good option on a day that looks a bit ‘iffy.’ It doesn’t skimp on views though with great ones over Lake Windermere,  the Coniston and Langdale ranges as well as views to the  hills around Fairfield.