20-21st July 2025

Walk Report

With friends visiting from Québec for a fortnight of travelling, we finally had the perfect chance to turn years of fantasy into our first ever night amidst the Lakeland fells.

Lingmell, with its grand view of Great Gable and proximity to Scafell Pike, offered an ideal base for nos amis Canadiens to experience Lakeland for the first time. We had planned a gradual late-afternoon ascent following the left bank of Piers Gill, summitting Scafell Pike at dawn before returning to Seathwaite via Glaramara.

The weather was sufficiently pleasant to encourage us with the prospect of a leisurely walk ahead. Upon reaching Stockley Bridge, motivated by the hope of a less taxing ascent, we proceeded to follow Grain’s Gill to the crossroads southeast of Sprinkling Tarn.

As our plan unravelled, so too did our good fortune with the weather. Living up to its reputation, the Borrowdale rain soon arrived, living up to Wainwright’s description of the route as a ‘river of stones’. Reluctant to sacrifice our hard-earned elevation, we pushed on, continuing up Ruddy Gill in the downpour towards Esk Hause.

Clag-bound, our hopes to visit Great End and Esk Pike were quickly abandoned. Despite this, our spirits were unscathed. The lack of visibility paired with the ruggedness of the Scafell range produced a clarity of mind akin to the long, boggy moorland walks common closer to home.

Following a brief rest at the summit of Scafell Pike we pressed on to Lingmell, our weary legs encouraged by its presence throughout our descent to the col. Crossing the old stone wall, the steepness of the fell became tauntingly apparent. With the clag still thick, we mustered one final push to the top, pitching up next to the path, the summit crag sheltering us from the wind.

While a slightly misjudged water run to Piers Gill nearly cost us precious time, Maïka’s spring spotting skills saved the day, allowing us to enjoy some remaining light before taking a well-earned rest.

Daybreak was heralded by the ringing of my iPhone’s weekday alarm, affording my first morning atop a Lakeland fell an oddly domestic aspect. Given that our usual visits are limited to Saturday walks squeezed between long drives, the alarm was a reminder of how valuable our time here was.

Upon opening our tent, we were greeted with clear views of Scafell, Scafell Pike and Wastwater. Great Gable, however, would remain painfully cloaked in clag, a misfortune which immediately made our uninspired choice of pitch more palatable. Following a coffee and a bite to eat, we set off on our descent.

To return over Scafell Pike felt excessive with tired legs and no prospect of seeing its subsidiary summits. Furthermore, the option of descending the Corridor Route with our heavy packs, steep and unfamiliar as it was, seemed unwise. By contrast, the path near Piers Gill, which we had intended to climb the previous evening, felt like the sensible option.

The scramble, downplayed by Wainwright, turned out to be more technical than we had anticipated, owing to the sheer glissance of the rock. We navigated the scramble with care and without incident, but we were all agreed that the Corridor Route might have been less stressful. Indeed, our caution may have led to us to follow a trickier route.

After passing Middleboot Knotts, the descent softened significantly. At the foot of Great Gable’s steep southern slope, we ate our wraps, silently summoning the energy to tackle the only noteworthy ascent of the day up to Styhead Tarn. 

As we reached the tarn, we were rewarded by the sight of various hill farmers assembling with their dogs, ready to gather sheep from the commons. Taking a seat on the shore of the tarn, we enjoyed the best weather of the trip, admiring the dogs as they worked. The experience was a reminder that Lakeland was best experienced on a weekday, when the rhythms of rural life quietly emerge. 

Sore feet and sunshine ensured that our return would be a leisurely one, reaching the car in good time and enjoying a few dips on the way. After saying our goodbyes, our friends set off for Scotland, well-prepared for the rain if not the midges.