Wastwater Screes - Photo Gallery

For my own reasons I wanted it to be a memorable day and I certainly won't forget how hard it was raining when I got to the car park at Brackenclose; any resemblance to stair rods falling from the sky was purely proverbial. Leave the car park and turn left; almost immediately you cross a bridge over Lingmell Gill and turn right to follow the good track towards Wasdale Head Hall Farm. As you pass the farm on the left you carry on ahead through a gate and walk across fields where the sheep complain about having to move out of your way. The trickle of water in the small steams is a bit more substantial than usual and the small footbridge across the second one comes in useful.

You get to a gate where a notice announces the Wastwater Screes Path; it is uneven and rocky and may be slippery according to conditions – I think those conditions will apply after a day and a half of continuous rain. The notice also warns you to allow extra time in poor weather; the path is two miles long and I expect it to take about two hours because I have been there before. As soon as you go through the gate you are walking through chest high bracken; the path is obvious enough but you have to take care because the bracken can hide the wet rocks and holes waiting to trip you and make you slip. You gain height too so that you are quite a way above the lake shore; you are immediately on a forty five degree slope and it stays that way for the duration.

The rain stopped at that point; looking across the lake to Middle Fell I could see white water streams trying to cope with getting the rain downhill, it is no wonder that Wastwater is full to the brim. Eventually the bracken gives way to rough grass and a less even path where there are more visible wet rocks to step over; ahead you can see the first of the scree slopes. The first scree slope is a gentle introduction; the stones are small enough for a path to have been beaten into them. On the scree slopes bracken can't grow but there is plenty of the much rarer Rigid Buckler Fern looking at home with no visible means of support.

The next section is a mix of rock and vegetation making a colourful variation to the all-green bracken and the all-grey rock; there are occasional oak trees too that seem to be out of their natural environment. If you look down the steep slope to the water's edge you can see the steepness carries on well below the waterline. Then you reach the next scree slope; this one too is fairly comfortable but the stones are a little bigger now and there are a couple of streams of larger stones where the trodden path is obscured by their steady slide downwards.

You then reach a small copse of trees, the slippery nature of the rocky path isn't made easier as you stoop below hanging branches and step between wet exposed tree roots. This is the only place where a stream of water came downhill; I'm fairly sure this is only temporary as a result of the recent rain. Then you reach the rocks that the notice must have been warning you about; these piled-up boulders are too large for a path to be trodden and there is very little indication of a “normal” route apart from the absence of white lichen on some of the rocks. The way across is fairly arduous in these conditions; every rock is greasy, the slope is still forty five degrees and some of the rocks big enough to hold on to will wobble as you pass below them.

Looking upwards the boulders go on forever, or at least until the grotesquely shaped towers of rock that reach up into the mist. The awkward boulders didn't last too long before a more reasonable path across smaller stones reappears; then a rough mixed section precedes another copse with an awkward few steps past an oak tree at the water's edge. Then there are more awkward piles of greasy boulders, the lichen is a different colour but the rocks are just as strenuous to clamber over when they are so greasy.

You can not rely on your boots getting a grip; I always keep hold with my hands and let my foot slide into a secure position before moving on. The only problem is that your foot becomes so secure that you have to wriggle it out again to release it. Then there comes another section of grass and then bracken and just as your are congratulating yourself for getting past the scree the next scree slope comes into view. This is the serious part of the path I was expecting; up above is a massive boulder that you can see from the other side of the lake and ahead is a sea of piled-up rocks that doesn't look as though it has ever seen a pair of boots.

It is hard work, making sure your foot is secure at every step; in addition you have to work your way around some of the boulders that are too large to step over. In the distance I can see the outline of a huge boulder that rests at the water's edge and I know I have to pass just above it so I'll stay at the height I am at. As you pass underneath the big boulder there is a short scree-free area because the rocks sliding downhill have to pass either of it. The going then becomes really hard; the boulders are bigger than you so you have to go around them, they are extremely slippery when wet so progress can be slow.

I am playing with hard toys now, if anything gets broken it will be me; there is no exposure as such but you wouldn't need to fall far to hurt yourself. There are no clues about the “right” way to go, there is a temptation to climb because there seems to be a more reasonable route upwards. I can see the obviously larger boulders ahead and I know there is a cairn marking the route through them; it really is an all-fours scramble even though I am staying on a level course. As you get closer to the huge boulders all of the other boulders get larger but because they are stacked up randomly there is no recognisable natural route.

Eventually, after a tortuous up and down route around the greasy boulders I reached the cairn and allowed myself a short sit down to admire the view of the lake and the rock towers up the scree-covered slope. Once I got past the cairn there was no respite, just a continuation of the same level scrambling over slippery movable boulders. Eventually the boulders got smaller and another cairn appeared; a line of cairns and an almost obvious trodden path that could easily lure unsuspecting walkers into something they didn't expect. All of a sudden it is over and you are back on a fine lake shore path in rugged surroundings, the skyline here is better than at any time or maybe now I had time to look up.

It had taken me two hours to get to the start of the last scree slope and a full hour to get across that last quarter of a mile. I stopped frequently to take photographs and the wet conditions slowed me down but it seems that the warning notice is an understatement. The Screes is an experience that every hill walker should have at least once, doing it in wet weather is an optional challenge. The path to the end of the lake is straightforward after all that; it is a strange feeling when you get to the pumping station that you have worked so hard for over three hours and gained no height.

There is a good track on the other side of the pump house and after passing through a gate you get to a stile on the left hand side; crossing the slippery wooden step-stile is almost as precarious as the scree boulders. A faint path leads across a rough meadow where a different breed of sheep make the same complaints about having to get out of my way. The faint path leads you to another greasy, rickety step-stile at the bottom of Greathow Gill; I had thought about walking up the gill but it is a bit too overgrown to get into. Near the stile is a gap in the bracken that reveals the start of the steep path upwards.

The steep slope is covered by bracken but the path is obvious and eroded enough to have attracted the attention of the path fairy who has laid heli-bags full of boulders ready to construct a path. The rain had held off for most of the day and it was clear enough to take photographs at low level but by the time I had got close to the ridge I was in mist and almost zero visibility. I eventually reached a path on the ridge; I checked my compass before turning left just to make sure it was taking me in the right direction. The mist turned to rain as I climbed upwards to the summit of Whin Rigg; an indistinct and unimpressive shelter cairn which in the mist was not very convincing as the highest point.

I took a compass bearing before following the path, there are a couple of paths along this ridge and some of them get very close to a very steep edge that I would prefer not to be close to in these conditions. The only landmark on this ridge is a group of small tarns in the shallow col between Whin Rigg and Illgill Head so I was glad to see it. You then have a walk over grass and a slight climb to another unconvincing summit cairn; I had to check my Wainwright guide later just to make sure it was the summit of Illgill Head but without the view of Wastwater I wasn't completely convinced.

I had to take a compass bearing before setting off on the path from the summit; the terrain is completely featureless and landmark-less and the path keeps disappearing. Eventually I reached a junction of paths and needed to check my map and compass before picking a route; the path I chose was by the side of a ruined wall that Wainwright mentions so it must have been the right way. The path led me to the main path coming down from from Burnmoor Tarn to Eskdale; the streams lower down were very full of water.

In the seven hours I was walking I didn't see a single other person.

Andy Wallace 19th August 2006