Longsleddale, Short Walk - Photo Gallery

There were no signs of snow and no rain as I drove to the Lake District, but as I got to Sadgill Bridge at the end of the road in Longsleddale I could see plenty of snow on the hills. I set off along the substantial track heading up the valley towards Gatescarth Pass; I wasn't going that far, just up to the first metal gate in the right hand retaining wall. I went through the gate and disturbed the sheep that were feeding there but quickly went through another gate in the adjoining wall. I like to get straight onto the fells and this was certainly straight up; up by the side of the wall on steep grass covered in wet snow, I was glad I had my ice axe with me to help stop me from slipping.

As I got higher the snow was a bit deeper and less wet, but on that gradient it was still easy to slip; I was glad to reach the top of the wall and I followed it round to the right. I was above the wall containing the hurdle that Wainwright described; it has a stile these days so you can climb over it without any loss of dignity. There are various paths or sheep trods following the contours around to the right; being unsure of where the paths might lead I decided to take a direct route upwards.

I followed a small stream uphill, it wasn't frozen so I was able to walk on stones that were not covered by snow; the stream fizzled out but I continued up a shallow grassy gully to a gap in the skyline. The snow was becoming better to walk on by the time I reached the crest of the slope; suddenly the ground fell away steeply giving me an excellent wintry view of Goat Scar and the head of the valley. It became quite misty as I continued climbing over rough ground; after making my way around and between rock outcrops and boulders I reached a small area of level ground, where a wall ran across my line of ascent.

The conditions were not good for climbing over walls; as I approached it I could see that the through-stones were good enough to use as steps and I was able lift my leg over the top of the wall onto the other side of the through-stone. The ground on the other side of the wall was too rough and steep to climb in snow; I turned right to follow the wall gently uphill until it was practical to start climbing again. As I gained a little bit of height I could below, not far after I started climbing the wall ended and continued as a fence; there was a stile in the fence so I could have avoided climbing the wall if I had followed it first.

As I reached the crest of a rise I came across a cairn; not only was it a viewpoint for Goat Scar (although I could barely see it through the mist), but I had stumbled across a path. Sometimes it isn't possible to see a small path in rough grass but snow will fill in the smallest of depressions; so it was, the path was probably more visible in seemingly atrocious conditions than in clear weather. It has to be said that in clear weather I could have seen where I was going; the path followed a course along the ridge that I would have taken anyway, but I was pleased to see it.

By that time I was walking blind apart from the path visible for a few feet in front of me; if I reached a point where I couldn't carry on I could always follow the path back down again. In spite of the ankle-deep snow, mist and freezing wind I was warm inside and enthusiastic about the challenge of finding my way. The path turned right as I reached a fence; shortly afterwards the fence nose-dived towards the valley but there was a stile by which I crossed it and carried on. That was where it all started to get a bit vague; I followed the path for a while until it petered out, although I suspected it went around to the right.

It was not the right time to start trying to trace a path that may or may not exist; I decided to keep climbing and find the highest ground. On Grey Crag, finding the highest ground amongst the outcrops and peat hags isn't easy at the best of times; I was beginning to think I might not find the summit. I was in no mood to give up, I had plenty of time so I kept trying; using a combination of experience and intuition I eventually came across what looked like a very small snow-enhanced path.

I assumed that I had started to climb too early and maybe I should have persevered with the path earlier on; it made sense to follow the small path in the hope of reaching the summit before I started to descend. After about five minutes I reached a cairn, beyond which the ground started to fall away; I wasn't going to go any further so if it wasn't the summit then I wasn't going to find it at all. By that time there was virtually no visibility and only the roughness of the ground prevented it from being a complete white-out.

If it wasn't the summit then I was going to have trouble finding my way to Tarn Crag; a compass bearing only works if you know where you are in the first place. With taking a fairly convoluted path to the summit I wasn't going to be able to retrace my steps down again; it was probably safer to find my way to Tarn Crag, so I decided to do that. Between Grey Crag and Tarn Crag is a large bog masquerading as Greycrag Tarn; I knew there was only one safe way to get across it - I had to find the fence. With my bearing coinciding with the small path, I thought I should reach the fence in about fifteen minutes.

The path disappeared and alarm bells started to ring as I reached an area of peat hags and reedy grass; I had reached Greycrag Tarn without finding the fence. I carried on along my bearing knowing that I would reach Tarn Crag anyway but I had to think again; whilst working around the reeds I had sunk into soft ground up to my ankle. When I took my foot out of the hole it left a black, muddy impression; there was no way I was going to try to find my way across the bog. I estimated my position and decided to take a different bearing once I had retraced my steps back to the start of the peat hags.

After changing direction it was a pleasant surprise, not to mention something of a relief, when I reached the fence after only a couple of minutes; I wasn't very far off course but I made the right decision about not carrying on. A fence in the middle of nothing-ness it could have been anywhere but it was where it should be and heading in the right direction; I turned left to follow it and soon came across some familiar landmarks. A small clump of iron fence posts and then three wooden posts side-by-side like an oversized but lop-sided set of wicket stumps; I was definitely in the right place.

The fence takes an absolutely straight line across Greycrag Tarn and then starts to climb uphill; a number of outcrops and boulders have to be stepped over, but I made sure I had a secure foothold in the snow before making each step. The gradient eases and shortly afterwards the fence bends to the left slightly; soon afterwards I followed another faint snow-enhanced path on the left that led me to the summit cairn of Tarn Crag. I followed the path for a short distance further until I reached the old survey column, just to make sure I was really where I thought I was. I retraced my steps back to the summit cairn and followed another faint path until I found the fence again and turned left to follow it downhill.

The snow at that stage was at least six inches deep and walking through it was no problem; the biggest problem with deep snow is that it hides things. The snow fills holes, gullies and the gaps between peat hags; the descent north from Tarn Crag is the wet side of the fell and there are many holes, gullies and peat hags. I was doing alright, avoiding the steep banks of peat and making sure of my footing as I stepped downwards. However, on one such step my foot found nothing and I over-balanced and ended up sitting in snow up to my chest; the only trouble was there was nothing to hold on to support myself getting up and who knows kind of hole there might have been underneath me. After floundering around for a minute or so I managed to get myself up, leaving a large hole in the snow.

I had planned to continue walking around the head of Longsleddale but I was wondering whether I should, given that anything ahead will not be any better and could be worse. As I got down to the col between Tarn Crag and Branstree it started to snow heavily; it was the convincing argument I needed to decide to call it a day. I knew there was a path marked on the map that would take me back to the valley path but there was very little evidence of it on the ground. I started walking towards Brownhowe Bottom keeping to the left of swampy ground and then keeping to the left of a stream until I found a tongue of firmer ground between two streams.

I could see the wall running along the valley floor and headed for it as directly as possible whilst avoiding swampy ground; after crossing a more substantial stream I reached the wall thinking I would find the track on the other side of it. Just as I got there I met a couple of walkers who said they had walked up from Sadgill; they were amused when I said I was going to find the track because we were standing on it. The broad track was completely disguised by the snow and I might have been confused for a minute if they hadn't been there.

I set off downhill, the snow covering the stony track was quite slippery, and it was steep enough to be slightly awkward. About half way down the snow turned to rain and I got wet on the last mile walking back to the car.

Andy Wallace 10th February 2007