Helvellyn

DURING a lovely week in August, the decision was made that we would tackle Helvellyn, the second highest peak in England (according to the Marilyns criteria). With it’s lofty altitude and engaging name, we found ourselves parking up in Patterdale, a stunning village boasting numerous pubs and hotels and terrific valley views which it shares with is close neighbour Glenridding.

On the way, we traversed through the beautiful, high Kirkstone Pass, having come from Coniston via Ambleside and we commented on the scenes out of the rear-view mirror as we climbed the locally known Struggle, they were simply flawless and that was just from the car.

Now out of the car with packs strapped up and boots well tightened, we set out with the help of a fantastic water resistant enlarged (1:16000) ordinance survey map sheet from The Yellow Walk Maps by Yellow Publications, it only cost a couple of quid from Summitreks in Coniston.

As we rose from Patterdale, headed for the valley between St Sunday Crag and Birkhouse Moor, the trademark lakeland sound of RAF practice flights rumbled through every stone and fell and reverberated like some great drum. The sound desperately in pursuit of the incredible blur that had long since passed ahead of it. 

Only when the sound had disappeared toward Ullswater did we continue upwards and eventually to Waterfall Woods.  We followed the beautiful single track road until you reach a gate. At this point we took the bridge crossing the tranquil, shallow, wide Grisedale Beck to the right. 

The view from Grisedale Beck before starting to climb.

Immediately across this was the point where the photograph behind the Fell logo at the top of this page was taken. Onwards we went through a short uphill stretch of sheep pasture which lead us to the real beginning of the ascent. From this point the way ahead climbed steadily for well over two hours until we caught site of a famous Helvellyn view; the hole-in-the-wall. 

It is definitely worth mentioning the absolutely stunning views on the way up the path. This is not a walk in which the only entertainment or purpose is reaching the summit. The end of the valley you can see as you walk upward is a magnificent back drop with Nethermost Pike and Dollywaggon Pike providing a formidable vertical stop gap to fill the landscape with scree and crags. 

As you turn anti-clockwise, now looking to about ten O’clock on an imaginary clock face a flawless ‘U’ shape can be seen between sky and slope, the opening into the Grisedale Tarn corrie. Further anti-clockwise is St Sunday Crag and it’s impressive rocky outcrops that punctuate the undulating lines to its summit. 

Striding Edge from High
Spying How

What was still hidden was the peak that we were on route for, the infamous plateau of Helvellyn. Once through the hole-in-the-wall, the pleasant and purposeful ascent to the start of Striding Edge passed by under excited steps. At the highest point on the ridge, High Spying How, the spine like, sharp arête threaded out in front of us. 

From this viewpoint, above it, my first thought was ‘Wow’! Then ‘How’? How was something so uncanny formed? One thing you don't register until you are on the ridge and in the middle of your crossing is the differing levels to the path, it rolls and contours, from the start it honestly looks far more level. You need to be comfortable with climbing up one surface and like walking a see-saw, be equally adept in keeping your footing on the corresponding downslope.

I got onto the ridge, I took a few tentative steps and then found my head for heights and feet for fells, and there I was! Like a tight rope walker, on a great serrated knife-edge striding on Striding Edge. It is an exhilarating feeling, but in that moment and even now reminiscing, the overwhelming emotion was pride. I felt proud of myself. It was a personal achievement, something I had wanted to do for a long time. In the moment I was taking it all in and thinking I’m really here! That is the love that I hold for the fells and mountains of the Lakes, it is very difficult to explain so I hope you can empathise with me for how I was feeling in that moment! 

A small amount of scrambling was needed as
Jasper works out his path.

Claire on the other hand was the polar opposite. In comparison to me, who knew what Striding Edge has in store for us, Claire was flabbergasted. The realisation that that whetted, protruding ribbon of land, linking High Spying How to the Helvellyn massif was the path we had to take, well the surprise was clear to see. 

Just take one step at a time. That old cliché, was what Claire was telling herself. Once she got onto the arête though, those common words couldn't unfreeze her legs. It was the drops on each side that unnerved Claire that day and the jagged form that the weathered stones take up there in the height. 

As I had strayed ahead in blind enthusiasm, it fell to a returning family coming in the opposite direction to be the catalyst to get Claire moving again. The mixture of peer pressure and the simple advice, “stick to the middle and you’ll be fine” got Claire headed towards the summit once more. 

At times further into Striding Edge, Claire recalls crouching and holding on as she became benumbed once or twice more. I advised her to get down on the goat track until later on, where footing is better and you only have to fight a mental battle to your left as the path is for the most part lower on the ridge to the right side leaving only that flank exposed to any episodes of sudden vertigo. 

The western view from the Helvellyn summit.

Some of you I’m sure will be wondering where in all this had Jasper got too? Well, as soon as I had lifted him over the hole-in-the-wall, he was again in the lead. This meant he wouldn’t be causing me any unwelcome stumbles at the point when the lead became taught. He earned his stripes up there. He is a fit a dog as you will meet. Between the family he gets walked a considerable distance almost daily, so endurance wasn't ever a worry. But the terrain was. Yet he calculated every step. If he picked a wrong route he would retrace his steps and follow another more dog friendly surface. 

In comparison to other walks he does on the moors and hills around Holmfirth, this was a different dog, who seemed to understand the seriousness of the occasion, and the care and attitude that was needed that day, without losing any of the pleasure of being in such a rare and beautiful location.

Red Tarn and Striding Edge from the path leading to Swirral
Edge with St Sunday Crag in the background.

After about an hour and a half on the edge we reached what is known as the chimney, a natural choke point which can be bypassed by the side path, but at this point in time I had Jasper by my side and Claire, who refused to stand up, sliding along Striding Edge on her bum, following closely behind.

Now the chimney is  a ‘V’ shaped exposed stone gash, that drops steeply, like a narrow vertically rotated ravine. I got into the chimney and found there was plenty of footholds to descend on but this was a far too bigger drop for Jasper to dive down, Claire edged him on his harness onto my shoulder and I climbed my way down with two feet and one hand.

Just in case Striding Edge wasn't enough for you, looming above you now is what W.A. Poucher described as ‘The Abyss’, a sheer slope of angular rock and scree divided only by a path that hairpins its way up to the sanctuary that is the plateau. 

A panoramic shot, featuring two Jaspers, two of me and a beautiful eastward backdrop.

There was a point near the base of the abyss where I thought that I would have to pick up Jasper again, but I was proved wrong with such impetus. I wish I wasn't so surprised by the manoeuvre he pulled off for I would have loved to to give you some photographic evidence. He seemed to dislocate his legs in order to get grip on the smooth, boot-polished surface on either side of him and then, like a spider in a hurry, masterfully scrambled upwards. Then he was off up on the easier but loose path surface that led still blindly to the summit.

Now, this was another point in time that Claire froze. Below me, I could see her hugging onto the rock face, practically digging her nails in as to not let go, and fighting back tears. She told me later that all she kept thinking was that she'd come too far to turn back. It was either climb up the hellish ascent, or wait for a passing helicopter to rescue her, and though the latter was tempting, she opted for the more sensible option. She just kept muttering under her breath "If my mum could see me now..." Soon enough, her torture was over, and the climb became more of a walk (I say walk, but Claire refused to let go of the ground with her hands so she was more like crawling to the peak).

By the time the two humans in our company had caught up with the canine companion, he had cleared the entire summit plateau of perched crows and rogue seagulls before stopping to admire the view. 

The Helvellyn ridge leading to White Side, with the majestic
Skiddaw and Blencathra to the north.

Up there, at the peak of Helvellyn the 360 degree vista was magnificent, so clear was an array of mountains and fells, both near and far it both rewarded you for your efforts and inspired you to climb its prodigious neighbours. To the north, the rolling shapes of Skiddaw and Blencathra dominated that field of vision, while to the west and south west, the tops of Scafell and Scafell Pike, Great Gable, Glaramara, Harrison Stickle, Coniston Old Man and Wetherlam are all visible, while to the south the ridge to Dollywaggon Pike and Nethermost Pike gives way for a glimpse of Lake Windermere in the distance.  

Catstycam from Swirral Edge.

After encouraging Claire to her feet and enjoying some sandwiches on the sun drenched cross shaped shelter, we took some of the photos displayed amongst this colossal hunk of text and made for Swirral Edge, and the descent from the most incredible view I have seen to date. Now facing east, the immaculately formed peak of Catstycam is backed by the glittering Ullswater catching and reflecting the now late and falling sunlight. Behind that was the silhouette of the proud Pennines running north and south in a stable surety. 

Swirral Edge offered a good walk back down the other side of Red Tarn but having conquered Striding Edge hours earlier the wonders of this arête were somewhat outshone. The decision was made not to climb Catstycam simply due to the time constraints, but we will definitely be back to tackle that pristine pyramidal peak. 

With the tarn now almost within a stones throw, the dog took off to have a cooling swim and drink before going to merrily greet a couple of wild campers just setting up their gear for a night undisturbed beneath the night sky. From here, we simply headed back to the hole-in-the-wall and down the path we had climbed earlier, only this time not far from the sheep pasture and Waterfall Wood we caught a rapid glimpse of a great predator, the unmistakable black and white flash of an Osprey. 

Claire said, “never again!” I said, “fancy going round again?” 

Finally, a happy #TeamFell at the summit of the marvellous Helvellyn, what more can I say!

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Cheers

#TeamFell