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Helm Crag
(l of centre with a pimple on it) |
HELM CRAG DAY - WEDNESDAY
I'd decided that I couldn't come to the Lakes and not climb at least one hill/fell/crag. My knee was holding up (reasonably) well. Anne was looking forward to a morning mooching around Grasmere and its surrounds and having decided Helvellyn was probably a tad too much, I decided to climb Helm Crag, a rocky promontory just outside Grasmere. At 405m it's comfortably less than half
Helvellyn's 950m and several of the near fells like Dollywagon Pike at 858m, but it's still a decent climb and should give good views. And it wasn't far - less than one and a quarter miles in a straight line from the front door, although nothing's straight here. With another roasting day forecast, I decided that setting off early was the best plan, and left the cottage at 6.30am with plenty of fluid with me and a frozen bottle of water in my pack also. Despite a couple of unintentional detours (I had three guidebooks/leaflets and each one gave me a different way), I eventually ignored the one that said "...ignore the path on your right..." and went up it.
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| Yup - that way |
It turned out, this was the right way, but it was immediately steep. Well cut stony steps initially turned my mind to Frodo, Sam and Gollum heading into Mordor in Lord of the Rings although I was rather brighter, and there were no orcs in attendance here. I had to stop for a breather a few times, but eventually the path became more of a rocky track before a final scramble to the top of the crag.
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At the summit!
Grasmere behind me |
I'd made it up by 7.50am, not bad going for an old git with a dodgy knee. I had the place to myself, and the views were wonderful. Looking back down to Grasmere I could just see lake Windermere peeking out in the distance. To one side I had the valley we'd climbed to Easdale Tarn, and on the other the fells of Seat Sandal, Dollywagon Pike and beyond, Helvellyn. As I sat there an RAF Hawk screamed up the valley towards Thirlmere BELOW me!
I mooched around for a bit, visiting the rock formation a little further along known as the "Howitzer" an uncanny resemblance to from certain angles.
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| Helm Crag summit with Grasmere behind |
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A distant view of Easdale Tarn
where we'd been on our first day |
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| The "Howitzer" |
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| Grasmere |
After about 20 minutes I saw a woman arrive at the top not far away from me - I'd have said in her 50's, with walking poles and pack. We had an amiable chat and I remarked that it was a steep old climb up. She said "Oh it's not too bad. I was going to climb Dollywagon Pike (a mere 858m remember) but I was doing the cool run so I'm just going along this ridge, round the fell and back down". Turns out she was 61and was walking about 8 miles or so, and for here this was an "easy" day - she went out about 3 times a week apparently!
I left her to crack on, but as the day was still young, and I was feeling good, decided to follow her route along the ridge for a while rather than head back down. The map (a proper OS map now) now showed me there should be a path I could take down into the valley to return. Ambling along the ridge was sublime. I passed two other walkers (a couple) and that was it. The weather was gorgeous, the views immense and all I had for company were buzzards, jackdaws, a few scraggy sheep, a distant pheasant and a few other birds - plus some annoying horse fly type insects who thought my legs looked a bit tasty. I passed prominences on the ridge called Gibson's Knott, Moment Brow and Moment Crag heading for the Pike of Carrs, wondering how these landmarks got their names, when I came to the path down that I was looking for.
There followed a long initially steep but shallowing decent from the rockiness of the crags, into a wide green valley occupied increasingly by sheep, wheatears and vibrant foxgloves. It was as peaceful as anything - or it was until a number of
F15 Strike Eagles came screaming through - this time above me - but not by much. Seems like this is a regular loop for them, much like the
Mach Loop in North Wales. Indeed they'd been a regular occurrence over Grasmere all week, but too quick and with me in too much cover to catch the. Here though I heard them coming and set myself up to catch them.
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| On the walk down |
Eventually I cam to habitation and a proper road, albeit still a mile or two from the village, and made my way across footpaths to the Travellers Rest where we'd eaten a couple of days before, for a well earned cup of tea. After a 20 minute walk back into Grasmere, it turned out I'd walked almost 10 miles, but I felt pretty pleased with myself, and even better, the knee was still in one piece.
Anne meanwhile had enjoyed herself bumbling around the village taking it easy and paying a visit to the famous
gingerbread shop.
After half an hour icing the knee as a precaution, we wanted up a lane to
Allan Bank, once an abode of William Wordsworth, now a National Trust place, where we just sat in the garden overlooking Grasmere for an hour or so, availing ourselves of free tea, and reading a book in some dappled shade. Very grown up like.
That evening, we ate out at our local, Tweedies, where I had an enormous plate of fish and chips washed down with a couple of very nice beers.
A very pleasant day indeed.
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