Today's walk would be the first one in the Lake District since I completed my Wainwrights Venture. It seemed odd not to have to plan a walk around any remaining Wainwrights. I had the freedom of the Lake District. I'd not been up Wrynose Fell for a while and so I decided to climb up to its lofty plateau from the Old Dungeon Ghyll Hotel in Langdale. I then planned to drop down to the Wrynose Road and return to Langdale via Blea Tarn. The weather forecasters had predicted heavy rain to start around 13:00 and so we arrived at the Old Dungeon Gill carpark just before 08:00. There were already some cars and vans there and so it had been a good idea to arrive early. The day was rather grey, although all the surrounding Langdale summits were clear of cloud.  The summit cairn was clearly visible on the rocky pyrammid of Pike O'Blisco. I decided that if we made good time and the weather remained good, I might include the PoB on our itinerary too.

Wrynose

A few campers were out and about as we made our way through the National Trust's Langdale campsite. On the other side, we started making the long climb up to Wrynose Fell. We took the path that follows the beck running through Redacre Gill. Much of this route was on stone steps and was a relentless climb. The steep, stone staircase was in a valley and was protected from the prevailing wind. On such a muggy day we were soon drenched with sweat. It was a relief when we reached the top of the steps and we were met with a very welcome cooling breeze. After a brief rest we branched away from the Pike O’Blisco path and headed eastwards across Wrynose Fell. on a sketchy path. The top of the fell was a mixture of crags and small tarns and the track meandered through them. The name of the fell was recorded in 12th century documents as Wrenhiase and in 16th century documents as Wrenosse Hill. It is thought that the name derives from Scandinavia although there is some debate as to what it actually means. Options include ‘Stallion’s Ridge’, ‘Pass Of The Raven’ and ‘Twisted Headland.’ There was a large cairn on Blake Rigg at the eastern edge of the fell. We dropped down further eastwards to get a wonderful view of Blea Tarn in the bottom of the valley with Lingmoor Fell. 

Pike O'Blisco

The weather still looked good and so I decided that we would include Pike O'Blisco on today's walk.  We retraced out way back westwards and then contoured to the southern flank of its craggy top. We intercepted a track that ascended from the top of Wrynose Pass and this led us up to Pike O’Blisco’s summit. Three walkers had just beaten us to the top and they were busy taking selfies as we arrived. As we admired the dramatic view down into the Langdale valley another walker strode up to the summit cairn. In a Brian Blessed booming voice he announced that he was from Leeds and was doing the Wainwrights. Fortunately he  went over to the three other walkers who had sat down just below the summit and started shouting at them, as well as those sitting at the patio tables outside the Dungeon Ghyll Hotel down in the valley. Although evolution had bestowed on him exceptionally effective vocal chords, it had compensated by diminishing his ability to hear, and so his dialogue with his three subjects was one sided. We followed the scattering sheep and escaped from the summit before he could attempt to reengage us in a deafening verbal barrage. At Black Crag we stopped running to catch our breath and sat down for an early lunch. We kept a canny eye to see if Mega Gob would catch us up, but it sounded like he’d chosen a different route. 

Blea Tarn

The green dashed marking of a footpath on the OS map, leading down to Wrynose Beck and then Wrynose Bridge, didn’t actually exist in reality. Well, not until you are nearly down to the Wrynose road. It was a steep descent and my knees complained at the workout. Once on the tarmac we started making our way down to Little Langdale, standing aside for the occasional car or motorbike. As the road flattened, we left it and headed over Blea Moss. The ferns were so high that the path took a bit of finding at first. It was obvious once we were on it though. The sky was getting a lot darker and I could feel the occasional drop of rain on my arms. At Blea Tarn a couple of wild swimmers were being escorted by a number of noisy people in an inflatable dinghy. The tarn is usually a bit more tranquil. A couple of women had stopped at the point where our path met the road leading down into Langdale. I noticed that they had an Extinction Rebellion sign in the window of their van. I thought they might block our route, but fortunately they let us through. 

Return

The path going down to the National Trust’s Langdale campsite was much harder going down than when we went up in the morning. Small stones on the steep, hard surface made the path feel like a Bellevarde black ski run.  People were still busying themselves as we pottered through the tents and motorhomes in the campsite. When we reached the road on the other side we started being hit by more serious raindrops. It was quite gloomy now and fingers of mist had appeared over the tops of the Crinkle Crags. None of us fancied a drenching so close to the carpark and so we hastened our pace to get there before the deluge started. We made it with a few minutes to spare.  

My first Lakeland walk post Wainwright Venture completion had turned out to be most enjoyable. I looked forward to visiting other Lakeland outposts that I’d neglected during the Wainwright bagging.

Rushbearing Postscript

Back at our base in Ambleside, we were all sat in the living room watching the telly, when there was a knock at the front door of our holiday let. Immediately, the Kapitan scampered along the hallway to the bedroom on all fours,  like a sewer rat, and the Cabin Boy scuttled behind the settee like a cockroach caught in torchlight. Baffled by this curious behaviour, I levered myself up out of the chair and went to see who was at the door. It turned out to be an elderly lady who thrust a red collection box towards me. There was a hastily written note sellotaped to the plastic container declaring 'Rushbearing Festival.' The old dear seemed to have an honest eye, but the presence of LOVE and HATE tattoos on her fingers raised in me a doubt of her credentials. 'What is a Rushbearing Festival?' I asked. There then ensued a productive conversation in which I learned about the procession, sports events and brass band that would form the event in Ambleside next weekend. I thanked her for the information and dropped the (later regrettably) large sum of £2.50 into her collection box. I returned to the living room and eventually the sewer rat and the cockroach returned to their sofa.