(Cumbria Way.  14th March 2014 – 14 miles)

As much as I like Keswick, I was keen to escape the traffic and return to the solitude of the fells.

On another beautiful spring morning, I was out of my B&B by 8.30 and shortly afterwards I’d crossed the A66 and was climbing above the town.

This was warm, steep work – and a little taxing so early in the day – but at least I wasn’t climbing Skiddaw.  Today, unlike Day 2, I had no silly plans to leave the ‘Way to bag an extra mountain.

The views over Keswick and Derwent Water were stunning.  And I was reminded of the path’s greatest failing: hurrying through this marvellous landscape too quickly.

I paused frequently to gaze back.  (I was stopping for no other reason.  It had absolutely nothing at all to do with being out of breath.  Nope).

On such a perfect day there were a few people about but this group of lads soon veered off on a path to the summit of Skiddaw

and I was left to myself: just the way I like it.

Before I turned north and became enveloped in a fold of the fells, I had one last look south.  I try to remember to pinch myself on days like this; to remind myself to be appreciative.  The Lake District is my favourite part of England but its weather, like any mountainous area, is often miserable: a cold, grey and soggy squib.  And yet in five days walking from Ulverston to Carlisle, it didn’t rain once.  And for that, I was very appreciative.

I remember this section fondly from four years ago (when I walked the CW from Carlisle to Great Langdale).  On that occasion, I was heading south, through snow-capped hills and getting my first, exciting glimpse of the Central Fells.

This is how it looked on that day in February 2010.

The next length of track – cutting high across the flank of Lonscale Fell – is one of the loveliest miles on the Cumbria Way and I slowed down to savour it.

The weather forecast was for cloud and rain but as I approached remote Skiddaw House Youth Hostel, I was still walking in a tee-shirt, still wearing shades, still applying sunblock.

From the hostel, the Cumbria Way splits into two, giving you a choice between the eastern and western routes.

In 2010, I followed the longer, lower, western path.  This circles away from High Pike – the highest point on the CW – and though it is a couple of miles longer at 16½ miles, it’s useful if cloud is low, rain is blowing into your face or you simply want to avoid a steep climb up the Pike.   But today the weather was still fine and as I could clearly see the summit of High Pike, I plumped for the 14 mile, more direct, eastern route to Caldbeck.

I dropped into a wide valley to meet the infant River Caldew – a companion I would rejoin tomorrow and then follow for most of the way to Carlisle.

Despite the open hostel, there was no-one about and I met only one other walker before Caldbeck.

Frogs had been busy here too.  I shook my head sadly and wished them good luck.

As I approached the Pike

cloud rushed up the valley behind me.  I speeded up hoping to reach the summit before it could be smudged out.

Too late.  I wasn’t quick enough and as I approached the foot of the climb, the summit was already lost from view.

It was here that I experienced the worst weather on the ‘Way.  Climbing up the rocky sides of Grainsgill Beck, I was hit by a fearsome wind that roared down the rocky gully and tried earnestly to lift me off my feet.  For a moment, worried at how much stronger the wind might be on the top, I considered retracing my steps all the way back to the Youth Hostel to pick up the western, longer route.  But that now seemed a ridiculously long alternative.  I struggled on up the steep, finicky sides of the stream, over wet, mossy boulders and boggy tussocks.  I expected heavy rain and, pulling on waterproofs, I stashed away my camera.  Sadly, therefore, I have no photos of the ascent.  It didn’t rain after all but it was wet – spray blew up off the beck and the thick mist was sopping.

At 2000 feet, I emerged from the gully and collapsed out of the wind behind a lonely, un-pretty hut.  The enclosed walls of the stream had served as a funnel, accelerating the wind into strong eddies and gusts.  But up here in the open, though the wind was still strong, it wasn’t as powerful as I had feared.

In poor visibility, I left that sad, solitary hut and following a compass bearing almost due north, I set out for the summit.  (I now know that the hut is a mountain bothy,  Great Lingy Hut and you may wish to consider using it if camping).

The top of the Pike at 2159 feet was, let’s face it, a disappointment.  The wind was blowing hard and I struggled to stand upright.  The views from here are supposedly glorious and perhaps they are … but not for me.

With nothing to see, I hardly paused before heading back down the far side following a handy arrow from the summit cairn plaque.

I was still walking on a northerly compass bearing and soon dipped below the cloud and got my first glimpse of Caldbeck.  It was 2.30.

I regained the main path

and a little later was back amongst habitation and at the joining of the eastern and western alternative routes.

My stop for the night was ‘The Old Rectory’ – my favourite B&B of the sixteen I used in walking from Ulverston to Berwick.  Anne and Tim made me very welcome indeed and I sat in their kitchen drinking tea, eating cake, chatting and gently steaming.

I murmured sweet thanks when I saw my room

and continued murmuring into the bathroom.

A few hours later, returning from an excellent pub supper at Caldbeck’s The Oddfellow Arms, (and with Anne and Tim out at an am-dram performance) I was warmly, if not ecstatically, welcomed home by the other householders. There were no other guests.

There is a limited choice of accommodation in Caldbeck (the B&B I stayed at in 2010 has now closed) but even if there were twenty B&B’s in the village, ‘The Old Rectory’ is the only place to stay … and one of my favourites in the country.Save