Vivienne Crow lingers in the Lakes
SULTRY. It’s not an adjective I use often to describe Cumbria, but that’s the word that sprang to mind as I set off through Ennerdale. The sweat was pouring off my face as I climbed the firebreak on the south side of the valley, over boulders and through knee-high heather. The air was heavy, the clouds fat with moisture. All was still.
Beyond the first little band of rock on Long Crag, the scenery started taking on an increasingly rugged appearance. A faint trail, grassy at first, continued along the ridge, which was gradually tapering, enabling me to peer down into the coves on either side. I was expecting a little more scrambling on this back
door route onto Steeple, but there was none. This would be over all too soon unless I slowed down. I sat awhile. Swirls of grey, like sliding doors, parted to reveal teasing glimpses of the formidable crags and scree slopes dividing Steeple from Pillar. To the west, Mirkiln Cove. When was the last time anyone, other than shepherds, had visited that forlorn hollow? Another eastern portal opened, revealing Wind Gap via a bite in the cloud – an arc of visibility.
I continued to Steeple’s summit. This fine rock tower is linked to its parent, Scoat Fell, by a short arête. The path along its spine is eroded, worn to rubble by the peak-baggers who wander across to claim the summit in 300 easy – but surely disappointingly short? – yards. Once I reached the main ridge, I headed west. Beyond Haycock and Little Gowder Crag I had several miles of broad-backed, grassy fell ahead of me. Having turned my back on more thrilling scenery, the sense of anticlimax was considerable.
After a late start and a leisurely approach to Steeple, it was well into the afternoon when I reached Crag Fell – and early evening when I left. I found a small sheltered ledge and tucked into my ‘dinner’. I never like leaving the hills, and, particularly in summer, the temptation is often to make my walks fill the daylight hours. I lingered, watching the fells change colour as the sun sank. Green, yellow, golden… The lake below went through a more subtle transition via various shades of blue.
With a chill setting in, I pushed on. Coastal views now dominated as I skirted the edge of the high ground. As I reached the lake, the twilight had brought with it an increase in wildlife activity. A woodpecker drummed on a tree while a juvenile sandpiper skipped along the water’s edge. As I put one foot into a shallow beck a massive shoal of tiny, silver fish parted, allowing me a nondestructive passage. After the sluggish start to the day, energy had returned to the valley.