Lords Rake, West Wall Traverse, Scafell, Foxes Tarn, Lingmell

Sitting in the porch of my tent peering through the curtain of rain to the cloud-shrouded flank of the Langdale Pikes I held little hope of decent walking weather the following day. But Saturday 12 May dawned fine and the forecast was fair. So my pal The Teesdale Viking and I drove over Wrynose and Hardknot passes to Wasdale for a day on the hill. Our companions for the walk were Richard (of Wasdale MRT) and Jos Naylor (of fellrunning fame).

Arriving at the NT carpark at Brackenclose, we found the place heaving and, even at 9.30am, we were lucky to find a parking space. While we got booted up and sorted our gear, Jos and Richard chatted with a gang of Bob Graham-ers who had rigged a sophisticated kitchen on the tailboard of their 4x4 and were cooking a full English breakfast. An aromatic start to the day - we looked on enviously and The Viking chided me for drooling like Pavlov's dog.

By 10am our little group had crossed the beck and found ourselves in a slow procession heading up the pitched path beside Brown Tongue. Jos, unsurprisingly, soon pulled ahead. Richard, The Viking and I set a steadier pace in his wake. Younger stronger walkers overtook us but, for the most part, we overhauled the throng. Most were getting along fine, if a tad slowly, but a few were really struggling. Nonetheless, we made good time up to the path junction below Hollow Stones. There we found Jos, eyes a-twinkle, perched elf-like on a rock waiting for us.

We took the right-hand fork and headed up towards Mickledore on a well-pitched path. Now we were virtually alone, the majority of people walking in crocodile up the main path towards Lingmell Col. Richard pointed out a comparatively level patch where Sea King helicopters can set down in emergency and Jos showed us a discernible hollow which, he said, was slowly developing into an incipient tarn.

A little further on, Richard veered a few yards from the path to show us an insignificant little trickle of water springing from the fellside, the last fill-up before Scafell. Assured of its cleanliness by both Jos and Richard, The Viking and I drank gingerly. "That'll strengthen your immune system," said Jos.  Richard added that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger; "I've been drinking from here for years and it's done me no harm." He said it with a grin. Being of a more pessimistic outlook I foresaw fevered dashes to the loo in the days to come.

Refreshed, we struck off left up scree to the bottom of Lords Rake. There, Richard pointed out the memorial carved in the rock to four climbers who died nearby. The carved names and date are weathered and easy to miss - look carefully next time you pass that way.

We scrambled - or, rather, scrunched - up the first gully of Lords Rake. The Viking's dog looked distinctly unimpressed with the going underfoot (or, rather, underpaw). To be honest, I tended to share the cannine viewpoint. While it presented no real difficulty, I found the steep scree tiring and unpleasant to walk up and had my hands on the rock fairly frequently.
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Jos forged up Lords Rake with graceful ease, not pausing until he was above the leaning chockstone. Richard, however, wanted to show The Viking and I a less well-trodden route. So while Jos continued up the rake, we turned left into the West Wall Traverse and thence into Deep Gill.

This provided a very entertaining route to the summit (although the dog evidently thought otherwise). It was wet in places but had plenty of good handholds and was intermittently loose underfoot. There was a bit of exposure in one or two spots but by no means scarily so. We emerged very near Symonds Knot where Jos was nonchalantly scoffing home-made cake. An opportunistic raven circled above him.

It was my first time on top of Scafell and I found the deserted grassy plateau a far more welcoming place than the crowded boulder-strewn litter bin that is the summit of Scafell Pike. We layered up - the temperature was hovering around zero and there was a breeze - and ate a relaxed, if early, lunch. Very few people passed by Symonds Knot although more were gathered at the summit cairn. A guy came over to ask for a steer to Deep Gill and chatted for a few minutes. But otherwise we had the place more or less to ourselves. We then walked over to the summit cairn and took in the wide views.

From Scafell summit, we made our way down to Foxes Tarn. I was very surprised how small the tarn is - I'd imagined it a good bit larger. We dropped down the gully and found quite a few more people coming up to the tarn, presumably en route between the Pike and Scafell.

Richard led the way over to the bottom of Broad Stand where The Viking and I slipped through Fat Man's Agony to gawp at the infamous climb and the rock spear below it. Richard regaled us with tales of rescues at the spot, some with rather gruesome outcomes. Soon after we emerged, a group of lads arrived and began preparing ropes and gear. When we had crossed Mickledore, we looked back and watched them start their ascent.

We avoided the path from the Pike and headed over the grass and rocks above Pike Crag towards Lingmell Col. Until this point, the air had been very clear affording us some excellent long-distance views. Now, however, cloud rolled in and swirled majestically up over Mickledore. Jos, ahead in the mist, paused - when we caught up with him he pointed to a spot nearby where he'd just seen half-a-dozen dotterel land. He said it was the first time he'd seen any for some years but the birds were so well camouflaged that I couldn't discern them among the boulders. Having never seen dotterel, I was a bit disappointed.

We were still good for time so we decided to take in Lingmell summit. We crossed the main path near the zigzags below Scafell Pike and a few hundred yards of easy walking took us to the cairn atop Lingmell. The prospect over Piers Gill to the Corridor opened up and there was a particularly fine view of Gable. A line of ant-like figures dotted the skyline from Ill Crag to Great End, a lark rose into the now clear sky and all seemed right with the world. We celebrated with cake and Kit Kat.

Like Scafell, Lingmell was nearly deserted. A couple of Richard's colleagues from Wasdale MRT came over for a brief chat before bounding off downhill and a few other walkers turned up. We started back and, after an easy trot over grass, the slope steepened down the nose of Lingmell. Jos was off like a rocket, scampering away down the fellside, but we followed at a more sedate pace. Re-united at the carpark, we bid Richard farewell then Jos, The Viking and I drove to the Wasdale Head Inn for a well-earned pint.

In summary: fine weather, great companions, fascinating routes and some of the most magnificent rock scenery in the Lake District. All in all a day to remember.

A nicely written account.

That Jos sounds a bit of a Jess.

Cracking day Skip. Bit of a legend you walked with there...

Ta, Ed and GOF