Gimme shelter
Author of a new book about hiking through the Lake District, Tom Chesshyre recounts a memorable low cost (and low temperature) stay in a bothy
So it’s midnight and it’s freezing – literally freezing. The bedroom is -1°C. This isn’t the bothy experience I’d expected. The room is an icebox.
Staring at the cobwebbed ceiling of Mosedale Cottage Bothy, near Haweswater in the north-east Lake District, the temperature dips further still. I’m by myself; no other bothy dwellers that night.
Then the penny drops. It’s all my fault: I’d forgotten to pack a camping mat. You need a camping mat for a sleeping bag to work properly. That’s why my hips are hurting so much too, cutting into the hardboard bed.
So goes the penultimate night of a month-long ramble from Penrith and back via great swathes of one of Britain’s most popular tourist destinations. Ullswater, Keswick, Cockermouth, Coniston: I had seen them all, along with Ambleside, Bowness, Cartmel, Grasmere and many places in between, staying at a succession of cheerful inns, friendly B&Bs, small ramblerfriendly hotels and private rooms at efficiently run hostels.
It had been a dream hike in April, travelling in a big wobbly circular route. I had kept mainly to the lowlands, climbing a few peaks that caught my eye: Haystacks, Blencathra, the Old Man of Coniston and Scafell Pike, England’s highest mountain at 3,209ft.
It was a long but take-it-easy tour. I was more than 350 miles in, less than 30 to go back to Penrith, where I had started, after the night at Mosedale Cottage followed by another in the
village of Shap. Everything had gone ( fairly) smoothly and comfortably. Until Mosedale. No lolling about ordering pints of ale and steaming plates of Cumberland sausage in a cosy saloon lounge.
Back to the freezing night, which drops to -3°C. My solution?
Use a flimsy emergency storm shelter to form a makeshift greenhouse over the bed. Condensation drips down from the shelter, making the sleeping bag damp. But I make it to the morning.
Despite these difficulties, Mosedale Cottage Bothy, in the upper valley of Mosedale Beck, proves one of the trip’s highlights. It comprises a cluster of quaint whitewashed buildings surrounded by golden grassland and rolling fells; not another structure in sight. A burbling stream provides fresh drinking water, and a little yard includes a spot for barbecues.
Bedrooms may be basic, but they are clean and tidy. A sparse yet functional living room comes with chairs and a table with Lake District books and left-behind tea candles.
Then there’s a fireplace-cum-stove. This would be great if you could light it. But there was no fuel. You were meant, it seemed, to bring your own.
Had I done so, it would have been toasty and perfect. I may not have taken a camping mat or fuel, but I had not forgotten the wine.
Previous visitors had cooked delicious-sounding fish stews and Lancashire hotpots. I knew this, as these gourmet evenings were
described in a mouldy old guestbook. Mosedale is overseen by The Mountain Bothies Association. In the Lake District, there are five bothies (they’re more common in Scotland). Mosedale is among the most popular, with room for about 20 people.
You need not book in advance. You just turn up. It can be busy or it can be completely empty.
Done properly, bothies are clearly a treat, plus a great way to keep down costs. Combined with staying mainly at hostels and limiting overnights at inns and hotels to weekdays when prices are lower, it is possible to become a frugal long-distance hiker in the Lakes, without resorting to camping and a heavier backpack.
Yet the cheapest of all nights – in the bothy – was the most memorable of the trip.
The tremendous sense of isolation out on the empty fells is both inspiring and haunting: the resounding silence so far from any roads (save for the odd noisy sheep); the constellations twinkling in the jet-black sky (no light pollution); the slow lazy rise of a gorgeous red dawn.
No tourist hordes – this isn’t Ambleside. No tourists at all. Just remember to take a camping mat and some fuel... and you can stay in a bothy without any bother at all.
‘‘ Tremendous sense of isolation on empty fells is inspiring and haunting