
On our first trip to The Lakes (as a couple), we spent a very poorly plan, yet highly enjoyable weekend in the shadow of the Langdale Pikes. Despite our entire lack of preparation and attempting a walk far beyond our capabilities the place captured our imagination and before we left we'd settled on a return trip. Maybe it was the peace and tranquility, maybe it was the seemingly secluded camp site, maybe it was the beauty of lambing season, maybe it was the fact there were three pubs in walking distance.... who knows!
This trip showed us how far our skills and knowledge had developed in the last few months. We planned a walk before leaving the house instead of asking an elderly women in a fleece for a route, which ended up taking us on a jaunt up the vertical side of Wetherlam giving up half way and still walking 21km. Ok maybe our improvement was from a very low bar. But progress is progress in my book.
This time we planned to take on the Langdale Pikes, following another route from Walk Lakes with a little help from the man himself Alfred Wainwright and his Pictorial Guide to Lakeland Fells (cheers for the borrow dad, we'll get it back to you soon, honest!).
This trip showed us how far our skills and knowledge had developed in the last few months. We planned a walk before leaving the house instead of asking an elderly women in a fleece for a route, which ended up taking us on a jaunt up the vertical side of Wetherlam giving up half way and still walking 21km. Ok maybe our improvement was from a very low bar. But progress is progress in my book.
This time we planned to take on the Langdale Pikes, following another route from Walk Lakes with a little help from the man himself Alfred Wainwright and his Pictorial Guide to Lakeland Fells (cheers for the borrow dad, we'll get it back to you soon, honest!).

The walk began in the national trust car park behind The Stickle Barn, a pub, which serves excellent local beer and one of the aforementioned within walking distance of the camp (quick side note: it also has a bunk house to the rear, where I recently remembered I had spent an eventful new year as a six year old. I remember dancing, it raining and my mum getting shamelessly drunk! Well it was new year.)
Back to the walk. A good 80% of this walks climb happens immediately on leaving the car park. A rocky (possibly pitched, I'm still unclear of the exact meaning of pitched path) path rises steeply along the side of Stickle Ghyll, up and up and up, for about an hour. The path was clear but the Ghyll itself, normally a striking feature of the landscape was barley noticeable. Instead of a gushing mountain stream, the path took us along a rocky gash in the mountain with barley a trickle of water and the occasional shallow pool. This summers heatwave was still in full swing and the staff of Stickle Barn had informed us the night before that Langdale hadn't had proper rain fall in two months. The Ghyll is the only water source for the Barn and it's neighbour, The New Dungeon Ghyll Hotel, and the hot spell had left both without enough water to serve food, and barley enough to keep the bar in operation. My inability to get a veggie burger and the nerve racking possibility of no pint at the end of the walk really highlighted how fragile these landscapes are and the risks of global warming. I might sound over dramatic, but if I can't get a meal in a country pub I can up and leave but the plants and animals of the Lake District don't have the same choice.
The Ghyll gets no more watery as you climb higher. Our guide talked about finding appropriate crossing points and the tricky nature of crossing the fast flowing water but we could have crossed at almost any point without testing the waterproofing on our boots. The scar where the stream should be gets broader as you reach the top and I can see how this could be tricky to navigate in wetter times. A short scramble after this broadening, the crater of Stickle Tarn, framed by the wall of Pavey Ark, appears almost from nowhere.
Back to the walk. A good 80% of this walks climb happens immediately on leaving the car park. A rocky (possibly pitched, I'm still unclear of the exact meaning of pitched path) path rises steeply along the side of Stickle Ghyll, up and up and up, for about an hour. The path was clear but the Ghyll itself, normally a striking feature of the landscape was barley noticeable. Instead of a gushing mountain stream, the path took us along a rocky gash in the mountain with barley a trickle of water and the occasional shallow pool. This summers heatwave was still in full swing and the staff of Stickle Barn had informed us the night before that Langdale hadn't had proper rain fall in two months. The Ghyll is the only water source for the Barn and it's neighbour, The New Dungeon Ghyll Hotel, and the hot spell had left both without enough water to serve food, and barley enough to keep the bar in operation. My inability to get a veggie burger and the nerve racking possibility of no pint at the end of the walk really highlighted how fragile these landscapes are and the risks of global warming. I might sound over dramatic, but if I can't get a meal in a country pub I can up and leave but the plants and animals of the Lake District don't have the same choice.
The Ghyll gets no more watery as you climb higher. Our guide talked about finding appropriate crossing points and the tricky nature of crossing the fast flowing water but we could have crossed at almost any point without testing the waterproofing on our boots. The scar where the stream should be gets broader as you reach the top and I can see how this could be tricky to navigate in wetter times. A short scramble after this broadening, the crater of Stickle Tarn, framed by the wall of Pavey Ark, appears almost from nowhere.