Elterwater in Langdale. It’s 5am and it’s still dark. This comes as something of a surprise to us and we only have one head-torch between us. By 5:10, we’ve got ourselves sorted out and an imaginary klaxxon signals the start of our circuit of the Old County Tops of Westmorland, Cumberland and Lancashire.
The Westmorland summit, Helvellyn, is the first on the list. There’s a nice route up from Grasmere along Tongue Gill, up to Grizedale Tarn, up the steep slopes of Dollywagon Pike and along the crest of the ridge to the summit. Unfortunately we need to climb Red Bank even to get to Grasmere. A few metres of tarmac takes us to the path, which is surprisingly dry for a while, then turns comfortingly wet. We waste time trying to jump over the soggier bits. The purpose of Red Bank is either to provide a nasty obstacle at the end of the walk (if you start from Grasmere), or to give a stiff warm-up climb before the main business of the day gets underway. We’ve chosen the second option. It doesn’t take long to reach the top, and then we’re jogging down to the sleeping village and along the empty roads.
The Westmorland summit, Helvellyn, is the first on the list. There’s a nice route up from Grasmere along Tongue Gill, up to Grizedale Tarn, up the steep slopes of Dollywagon Pike and along the crest of the ridge to the summit. Unfortunately we need to climb Red Bank even to get to Grasmere. A few metres of tarmac takes us to the path, which is surprisingly dry for a while, then turns comfortingly wet. We waste time trying to jump over the soggier bits. The purpose of Red Bank is either to provide a nasty obstacle at the end of the walk (if you start from Grasmere), or to give a stiff warm-up climb before the main business of the day gets underway. We’ve chosen the second option. It doesn’t take long to reach the top, and then we’re jogging down to the sleeping village and along the empty roads.
At the top end of Grasmere the road turns uphill again and we stop running – another 35 miles lie ahead and this is no time to be disrespecting gravity. The Tongue Gill path starts grassily and dodges past a small wood, then enters the long valley and starts to climb properly. Conan is forging ahead on the pitched path, Lindsay and I are chatting, but we all cross the slopes above Grizedale Tarn together, looking across at the still lake, with just two tents pitched at the far end, and the steep grass of Dollywagon that rises into the cloud ahead. We’ve opted for the steep grass as it’s shorter than the winding path, but it provides a shock to the system after the gradual climb so far. It’s forbidden to stop of course, so the usual tactics of slowing, then zig-zagging, help to take us up into the cloud and along to the iron post that marks the place where we join the broad highway that misses all the interesting bits of this south end of the Helvellyn ridge.
We don’t mind missing the interesting bits today of course, as (1) we only want the three summits and (2) we can’t see the view in any case. We pass two coming down – they’ve spent the night on the summit, presumably in the hope of seeing a sunrise that must have been lost in the fog above 2000’. A bit further on, we pass a solo walker coming the other way. Conversations are limited if no-one stops and neither we nor he seem to want to, but Lindsay gets the impression he might be doing our route too. It’s good going on this stony super-highway of the hills, and soon the shelter and cairn emerge out of the fog and we claim the first of our three summits. We’ve only done 8 miles though, and this is by far the easiest of them by this route, so there’s no time to hang about, and we’re soon doubling back to find the Wythburn path.
We don’t mind missing the interesting bits today of course, as (1) we only want the three summits and (2) we can’t see the view in any case. We pass two coming down – they’ve spent the night on the summit, presumably in the hope of seeing a sunrise that must have been lost in the fog above 2000’. A bit further on, we pass a solo walker coming the other way. Conversations are limited if no-one stops and neither we nor he seem to want to, but Lindsay gets the impression he might be doing our route too. It’s good going on this stony super-highway of the hills, and soon the shelter and cairn emerge out of the fog and we claim the first of our three summits. We’ve only done 8 miles though, and this is by far the easiest of them by this route, so there’s no time to hang about, and we’re soon doubling back to find the Wythburn path.
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