St Sunday Crag and Fairfield Horseshoe

The alarm went off at 05:10 but I was barely conscious of it. I woke properly at the next alarm ten minutes later. By six I was on the road from Sheffield to the Lake District via the Snake Pass and Manchester. The Snake was pretty clear and I forgot about a few of the 'yumps' so nearly had lift off early in the day; a recurring theme for later on as it was very windy on the hill.

After being snagged on the Manchester Ring Road I made it up to the Lakes to meet Steve Horner a few hours later. He has already written up the walk we did over Arnison Crag, Birks and St Sunday Crag, it was a good day and a good laugh and frankly I think he has said more than enough so will leave that there!

After a drink in the pub we left for our separate ways, me to drive back down Kirkstone Pass towards Ambleside and he for home. I parked up, had the obligatory wander around, snagged a bag of chips which I asked the lady in the chip shop to remove half of, and got some money back (bonus!).

Time was moving on and I needed to find somewhere not too far from Ambleside to camp up for the night. I asked a local guy who had finished cashing up in his shop if he knew of anywhere and he pointed me to a camp spot that I never found! However on my travels I found somewhere near Loughrigg where I could park my car and have a reasonably comfy camp for free. Good job too as it was getting dark and I just wanted to bed down.

After getting sorted out I used my phone to go online only to find said Mr Horner posting a pic of me to Twitter and making statements regarding my map reading capabilities. Hmm. I quickly made it known that while I may be camping I was not on another planet (well, maybe that's debatable) and that in the pic I was actually orienting the map. Luckily for him my phone battery was wimping out big time so I went to sleep, comfortable and warm in my 'dodgy' quilt.

I had a disturbed night, waking as I moved in my sleep because of a few massive bruises I had sustained after falling over yet again in the days walk. Finally, cows woke me up with their bellowing just after dawn, desperate to be relieved of their milk! Time to make a move.

Today's 'objective' was the Fairfield Horseshoe. As Steve said, I wouldn't be able to get lost on a horseshoe, would I? I really don't know how he has the gall to complain of my navigation skills though I did mention I wanted to work on them.

So I made my way back over to Ambleside, got free parking for the day as the car park machine wasn't accepting any money (cheap trip this) and set off down the road towards Rydal.

I had picked this walk because I thought it would be interestesting to see Fairfield from a different perspective, knowing that I would have seen it on the St Sunday Crag walk the previous day. I remember going on The London Eye a good few years ago; from the height you reach it really made sense of the geography of London, and gave a great overview of the city. Going up to Fairfield would achieve a similar aim over this side of the Lake District.

The route took me over Scandale Bridge where I took the gated track towards Rydal Mount and the conference centre there. I passed a dead sheep; no sign of blood; the neck was obviously broken or else it would have a hell of a crick in it's neck when it woke up!

Afer the hall I followed the footpaths that had been signing to Nab Scar, the first bit of ascent. I was almost glad to be walking on my own. While I got a bit fitter after the WHW I needed to stop frequently to catch my breath; I'm half surprised Steve didn't mention this in his St Sunday Crag post (though there was the reference to the OAPs...). It was really enjoyable though and such brilliant views that I didn't mind anyway.

Eventually I got to the top; this was probably the hardest part of the walk and I was glad I hadn't done the route in reverse; my knees certainly wouldn't have thanked me! From the top I could see along the broad ridge to Heron Pike, with a glimpse of Great Rigg leading up to Fairfield beyond. The views across to the other side of the valley were lovely. I'd got a great day for walking, the sun was shining, it wasn't as windy as the previous day had been and it being still relatively early in the day I hardly saw anyone else. That is until Heron Pike when two middle aged men in usual walking garb asked me to interpret their map for them. Steve may get worried at this point, but I knew exactly where I was without the aid of a GPS so could direct them to where a path led down towards Grasmere.

I carried on up to Great Rigg, quite enthralled to see the hills unfolding before me. The contrast of morning shadows played across valleys and dales, even Great Gable wasn't black for a time! I was joined by a couple who had walked up to Great Rigg from Grasmere on their Coast to Coast. They'd decided to take this route, hoping to link up Fairfield with St Sunday Crag before descending into Patterdale. We walked more or less together to the summit of Fairfield, with it's cairns and shelter.

It was pretty cold on top and I resorted to putting my glove liners and hat on while I had my lunch, looking out over the lunar landscape to the Isle of Man. It was incredibly clear with no haze. I could see the sandbanks glistening in the distance. A couple of people wandered on to the summit, and other people moved gradually away. There was a tall, lanky bloke in his 50s, wearing shorts with the sort of sinewy legs you'd expect to see on a Greyhound.

The view back to St Sunday Crag was pretty spectacular too.

After absorbing the views and wandering over the summit for a while, I gathered myself for the second part of the horseshoe. For the people that like that sort of thing, I'd already bagged four Wainwrights that morning, so had four left to do on my way back. The first of these, Hart Crag, was pretty close by. Nice couple of rocks to walk over, compared to the grassy lumps that had made up most of the mornings walk. There seemed to be a small cluster of 3 or 4 separate couples headed my way, each led by a man carrying the map, with a woman following on behind. The guys tended to mutter hello while the women tended to look utterly fed up! These didn't even look like ill-prepared tourists as such, more like people who regularly did this! Brightening things up somewhat , on my way to Dove Crag I saw a woman who could feasibly be me in 20 years time!

We stopped and chatted. She had an OMM pack on, a Woolpower top and Terrocs amongst other things. She gave me a run down of her kit and what she thought of it and I shared my (more limited) experience too. She was lucky enough to live nearby so was able to get out on the hills at least once a week. I wished I could do the same! While I like the Peak District, more and more I just want to be challenged by 'proper' hills that need a significant climb up!

Leaving her I followed the brick wall towards High Pike and not far after, Low Pike, enjoying the incredible views down towards Windermere and seeing the little summits of the 'ridge' I was walking along appear more pronounced as I descended.

There were a few boggy bits which I privately laughed at, comparing them to the mass of bog on top of Kinder. There was even a mini grough at about a foot high!

And then of course the inevitable happened and the Lake District got it's rewenge; I stood in a boggy bit so my right foot was covered in dark peaty matter once again
I passed some interesting rock formations on the way down, which held my interest instead of the views for a time.

Just a bit further on a rather strange lady approached to ask if she and 'Alan' were at High Pike, but I showed her where we were on the map. She almost looked as if she blamed me that they weren't farther along and said 'Well, I've done Low Pike before'; I showed her a couple of reference points and left them to it, wondering at the attitude of people on the hill. If I'm on a route that covers a hill I've already done I couldn't care less; I often repeat routes in the Peaks just out of enjoyment of being outside, rather than having a bingo approach to being up there!

Finally I made the last of the descent down to Ambleside, picking blackberries as I went and feeling rather mischevious. I indulged this further with some gingerbread in a coffee shop and managed to blag some for free for a friend! It wasn't a wildly exciting walk, and I noticed how much quieter it had been compared to the previous day in terms of verbal abuse and general bickering, but it was brilliant weather to walk in, utterly awesome views and a spur to do more and more hills in the future.