Friday 22nd July 2022, Keswick to Caldbeck

 

A mere 15 miles today, every step of which I am now feeling!

We had a good breakfast at our B&B, the Dolly Wagon, to see us on our way out of Keswick, and another 8 hours on our feet, poor things.

There are three possible routes for this stage - the official one, which we wanted to take, the mountain route (are you kidding?), and the lower level route for foul weather which adds 3 or 4 miles to the day (absolutely not). We woke up to low cloud on all the surrounding hills and fretted a bit that this would mean the longer, lowest route, but the mountain weather site suggested a 60% chance of clear peaks and that the cloud would come and go a bit, so we risked the standard route. 

We're so glad we did, as despite low cloud all around, we didn't get rained on at all, and although it remained cloudy all day, this just meant a deliciously cool temperature.

A fairly long steady climb took us out of Keswick, with lovely views back over Cat Bells and other pointy peaks around the lake that were bathed in sunshine yesterday, and today were shrouded in mist.

At this point we left the Lake District proper, with all its distinctive craggy beauty that makes it so special, and moved into terrain very familiar from our Scottish walking holidays - much more open, with round-shouldered hills smothered in bracken and heather. 

We skirted Latrigg and Lonscale Fell, admired Skiddaw, and turned into the valley of Glenderaterra Beck, following a steadily climbing track all the way to Skiddaw House. This is apparently the highest youth hostel in Britain, and is situated right in the middle of nowhere. 

More heather and bracken, and the welcome addition of bilberries. I tasted a few, all freshly washed by the overnight rain. Delicious! Of course, it's possible that they'd been washed by a passing sheep, but sometimes you have to be prepared to take a risk. The bushes were laden, and with a container and some nimble fingers you'd soon have a fruity feast. 

The landscape continued much the same, looking more or less bleak and beautiful, with the cloud dancing up and down the slopes and leaving us well alone, as we passed under the slopes of Great   Calva and started climbing towards Carrock Fell.

This area is home to lots of old mine workings, some dating back to the 16th century, and one closing as late as 1981. What were they mining? I hear you ask. Tungsten, lead, arsenic and copper, to name a few. The becks must have been horribly polluted, and you can still see some spoil heaps.

Onwards and still very much upwards we unintentionally went a bit off piste. We were toiling very steeply uphill, wading through heather and gradually getting wetter and wetter. He-who-shall-not-be-named forgot that I am 52 and not 2 and tried to distract me with some brightly coloured moss. Thing is, moss grows in wet places. Yes, we were in the middle of a bog. 

"That was unpleasant," I remarked mildly, and not unreasonably as Joff ushered me into the Lingy Hut bothy, handily on the spot. I soon recovered, 'cause I'm resilient, innit.

From here we had an easy ascent to the summit of High Pike, with fine views all around, and then the last two or three hours were descending into Caldbeck, our pit stop for the night. This little village was once a hive of activity. Not only the nearby mines, but also many mills, including a 19th century bobbin mill which had the biggest water wheel in the country at 42 ft or nearly 13m across.

We're staying in the Oddfellows Arms, which we more or less fell into for a welcome pint of Wainwright.

The pub has a lovely atmosphere and we enjoyed our meal and accompanying drink, then hobbled in a dignified manner to our room and the welcome prospect of a night's recovery. A fitting end to another tiring but very enjoyable day.

Em x