(Extended) Field Notes #6

Weezing on the shoulders of giants.

Route. The Gables. And then some.

Distance Walked. 7.38 Miles.

Total Height Gain. 3448 feet.

Wainwright Fells Climbed. Seathwaite Fell, Great Gable, Green Gable and Base Brown.

Wainwright Tally. 170 climbed. 44 remaining.

Conditions: Very warm, dry and virtually wind free. Cooler on summits. Sunshine with scattered slow moving high cloud, clear skies by end of walk.

Number of times I am passed on the way up Great Gable by the SAME fell runner. 3

Notes: Great gable is one of those fells that is often described as a ‘classic’. For good reason. Not only is it a fine piece of rock in its own right (a much more attractive fell than its slightly taller but brash and over rated neighbours Scafell Pike and Scafell) but its position means that on a clear day a grand view of most of the Lake District is a real draw. As a result it has been high up on my list of targets for ages. The promise of slightly cooler temperatures and the promise of at least some cloud interest above the summits prompted an early start. A massive bowl of porridge with a generous dollop of peanut butter and honey is consumed and I head off early on a bright Sunday morning.

An hour and a half later I get a parking spot on the lane leading up to the wettest place in England, Seathwaite Farm. It is already busy despite the early hour. It’s a popular area and this is the first weekend of the school summer holiday. It’s a time of year when literally millions of visitors descend on the national park. Admittedly not all are heading up big fells like Great Gable (at 899m it is the seventh highest in the Lakes) but the roads that feed the various parts of the lakes were simply not designed for that level of traffic so things can get very clogged. I’m delighted with the free parking and after donning boots and checking kit, I start the walk up the valley.

I am on a circular walk that will visit four Wainwright fells. Last week, the climb up to Seatallan in 32 degree heat was a real haul; a painful grit your teeth sweatfest that at times was more about enduring rather than enjoying. Nevertheless, the addiction of fell walking is powerful and I have always been a pushover. My hybrid camera backpack doubles as a standard rucksack and has a compartment that accommodates a two litre hydration bladder. I’m grateful for it and pleased I added a handful of Ice cubes this morning. I am however still slightly worried by the heat on the valley bottom as I head towards the first climb, Seathwaite Fell.

The climb up is very steep and at times over loose scree and rock that requires hands on to boost confidence. Frequent stops are mandatory. It is surprising how much the view can change in a matter of moments and pausing not only allows the breath to be caught and the limbs to recover, but it generally involves a complete change in vista and a grab for my camera.

Is it sad that I like piles of stones? Possibly. Actually I need to quantify that. Although I suppose there isn’t anything particularly wrong with liking any old pile, I’m talking specifically about those at the top of fells. There is something very compelling about a good summit cairn. They come in very many guises. Some are discreet and functional, squatting low on the top of their allocated fell top. Others are brash and flamboyant affairs that shout ‘SUMMIT". It is not just the aesthetics that I find fascinating. It is also what they represent. They are guides in bad weather. They are often associated with memorial. For me personally they very often represent overcoming the ever increasing degrees of physical effort that is required to reach them.

The Wainwright is reached and I move off the fell down through dry tussocky grass that is shifting in a welcome breeze towards Sprinkling Tarn, before skirting its lower neighbour Styhead Tarn, nestled at the base of a very grand looking Great Gable. I stand and stare at its bulk and toy with words that best describe its lines. Intimidating keeps springing to mind. I head towards the stretcher box at the foot of the climb and am greeted by a group of climbers fresh down from the top. They are from my neck of the woods, Northeast England. Newcastle to be precise. Seeing as I am from Sunderland, banter is inevitable.

Geordie: Where you from?

Makem: Sunderland!

Geordie: I suppose somebody has to be!

Makem: I know, it’s a right dump. That’s why I’m going to Europe next year!¹

It’s all very jovial and well received. I am even offered a chocolate brownie nibble before starting the slow ascent.

The climb is steady and steep, but on a well maintained stepped path. Twenty minutes into the climb, I am passed by a fell runner on his way up to the summit. He is stripped down to shorts and lathered in sweat. He is literally running up the steep climb. Astounding. The same guy passes me another two times on my way up! He is obviously training on a technical descent down the terrifying scree slope that runs adjacent to the path. On his second pass down the slope he is perfectly framed against the distant Borrowdale Valley, an azure sky and the loose and jagged scree he is bouncing down with an apparent utter lack of fear. It is absolutely one of those moments when I say out load “that is possibly going to be a decent shot”. One of those you have high hopes for. I take care with every frame, and strive for the best shot of the scene or moment that has caught my eye. Every now and again, I get shots that bristle the hairs on the back of my neck with a genuine childlike excitement. Sometimes the feeling is unjustified and shot disappoints. This one for me didn’t. I regard it as the shot of the day.

As he passes me for an unbelievable third time I say “Fuck me mate, what did you have for breakfast?” He actually laughs as he overtakes me, although it is beyond me how he has the breath in him to do so. He is actually running. Up Great Gable. Three times in a row. And can still manage a hearty laugh.

A final steep section below the summit of Great Gable requires a scramble through boulders of varying size before attaining the top. The gradient rolls out and a rock strewn dome reveals itself. After grabbing a few deep lungfuls of air I start to take in the panoramic views that lie on all sides. The Irish Sea over to the west. Scafell Pike to the south. Looking north and eastwards the central fells and the Helvellyn range. And even further over, Ingleborough and the Yorkshire Dales. It is stunning. Classic Indeed.

There is also a sobering note. A war memorial dedicated to the twenty fallen members of the Fell and Rock Climbing Club who did not return from WW1. And yes, a memorial service is held up there every remembrance Sunday. There is also a small engraved tribute from friends to Steve.

Leaving the tops of such places is often hard. There is an air of stark beauty about them, and visiting is an experience that I am still getting used to. Another two fells are waiting so I pull myself away. The onward route involves a drop down back into Seathwaite that the guide book I refer to on occasion describes as simply “requiring care in the wet”. That’s it. I think I need to get a new guide book. I will add a caveat to their description:

A relentlessly pitched path that eventually morphs into a treacherous hands on scramble down narrow gullies and polished expanses of slab rock. Tackling this in the wet would be at the very least a miserable experience and at worst a potentially dangerous endeavour best avoided.

I’m fortunate. It’s hard work and takes an eternity, but at least it is bone dry.

Oh, by the way, dog owners, you may want to consider keeping your dog at home on days when bare rock is hot to the touch. Or perhaps show some solidarity and clamber around in bare feet and see how you like it. And while I’m on, don’t assume that EVERYONE loves dogs as much as you do and that some folk are not massively keen to have you untrained mutt jumping up at you. Especially when you are perched on the edge of a six foot boulder on a fell top.

I prefer cats.

Job done. The list is getting shorter. Only 44 Wainwrights left to climb. They are split into long walks in the aforementioned guide book.

Wish me luck.

1. A bitter rivalry exists between Sunderland (Makems) and Newcastle United (Geordies). We qualified for European Football next season. And beat them twice in the league. Geordies 0 Makems 3