28th-29th November 2022
Another linear walk, this time starting at Bootle railway station in West Cumbria. A rather drab first day was followed by a cold wild camp on the rugged Dunnerdale Fells, a long night at this time of year. The following day I walked by a meandering route to Coniston, visiting the lovely Lickle Valley and elusive Blind Tarn on the way, with a magical temperature inversion producing a sea of cloud below me.
Day 1 – Bootle to the Dunnerdale Fells – 11 miles
I got off the train just after 10:00, and an easy mile of road walking took me into the village of Bootle. After crossing the main road, I took a narrow dead end lane that led pleasingly towards the line of neglected low hills that run parallel to the south west Cumbrian coast, culminating in Black Combe to the south. A byway continued onwards once the tarmac ran out, and I started to climb, steeply in places, past woodland and across a secluded minor valley. The gradient eased once I reached the rather drab open hillside above, and I plodded on up, to where the byway joins the notorious Corney Fell Road, which is used as a ‘rat run’ by Sellafield workers. The weather was rather subdued at this stage, somewhat overcast with clouds rolling over the top of Black Combe, and this matched my mood – my heart wasn’t really in it, to be honest.
Once on the Corney Fell Road I entered the mist, and rather wimpishly decided not to head north up Buckbarrow and onwards towards Whitfell – perhaps the subdued weather had affected my mood. Instead, I decided to plod on down the Corney Fell Road – as soon as I descended out of the mist I regretted my decision, but I wasn’t strong willed enough to turn around and regain the height that I had lost. So on I went – the Corney Fell Road makes for pleasant enough walking, despite the occasional speeding car or van – it stays high for quite a while before descending gently into Dunnerdale.
I stopped for lunch about half way down – I had called in at my local bakers before catching my train, and sat down on a rock outcrop to eat my ‘Cornish’ pasty, followed by a huge slab of Stollen, both excellent, whilst enjoying the view up Dunnerdale.
Lower down, I encountered a herd of shaggy black cows, who seemed to prefer the road to the moorland on either side. They were placid, thankfully, and ambled out of my way without a fuss.
I now had to start thinking about where to spend the night, as I had burnt my bridges as far as Yoadcastle or Devoke Water were concerned. The Dunnerdale Fells were nearby, though – these rugged little hills form the southern end of the ridge running south west from the Coniston fells, and offer lots of delightful pitches amongst their tarns and crags.
To get there, I followed a minor road north from the Corney Fell Road, passing through some interesting open juniper woodland, before taking a byway that descends to Ulpha, past Penn and Frith Hall, names that hint at some past connection with Wales, as does nearby Black Combe (pronounced rather like Cwm). I know this area well, as my in-laws used to live nearby, this was their home patch for many a year.
A short section of road walking took me to Ulpha Bridge – this I crossed, before heading eastwards up a winding track onto the Dunnerdale Fells. I wasn’t quite sure where I was going to camp, but had previously admired the valley to the south of Stickle Pike, so I followed a path up onto the fells above this. The light was beginning to fade a bit, and I thought that I had the fells to myself, so I was disconcerted to hear the sound of an approaching quad bike, accompanied by the barking of a sheepdog! The farmer seemed amiable enough, despite it being obvious that I was going to spend the night on his patch of fell, and he sped off up the hillside after exchanging pleasantries. This encounter threw me a bit, I must confess, so I sat down to take stock. The sound of the quad bike gradually diminished, and I headed on up the hill myself, angling away from the quad bike tracks. I eventually found a secluded pitch on a craggy spur running westwards from Tarn Hill, a grassy terrace surrounded on three sides by rock outcrops and bracken, with the remaining side partially blocked by a huge cleft boulder.
It was only 4pm when I started pitching the tent, the light was fading fast, and the temperature was plunging – I was in for a long night!
Day 2 – Dunnerdale Fells to Coniston – 10 miles
And it was a long night! The cold had driven me into my sleeping bag at 1630, and there I stayed for fifteen hours, eventually getting up at 0730 the following morning, just as it was getting light. I had worn my fleece over my baselayers, and also a pair of homemade fibre pile booties on my feet, and I had been just warm enough. I hadn’t given much thought to ventilation though, and it had been an unusually cold, humid and still night, so I awoke to find the apex of the tent inner covered by heavy condensation, the first time that this had happened in my Lightwave T10 Trek.
Upon opening the flysheet zip, I was showered with particles of ice, and I discovered that the bottom of the guylines were frozen stiff, so it really had been a cold night. Despite the condensation I managed to get fully dressed inside the tent without getting wet, and I quickly broke camp – I rarely can be bothered to faff around making a hot drink and having breakfast when rising early, preferring to get a few miles under my feet first. I was on my way before eight, in time to see the sun rise over the Forest of Bowland hills from the top of nearby Tarn Hill
The hills to the east of lower Dunnerdale are criss-crossed with an extensive network of old tracks, so I decided to take advantage of these and head over to Coniston via a meandering route along the sides of the hills, rather than over the tops of Stickle Pike, Caw, and White Pike. I also decided to include Blind Tarn in my itinerary, as I have failed to reach this tarn on no less than three occasions in the past, for various reasons.
Firstly, I headed northeast around the eastern shoulder of Stickle Pike to some old slate workings, before following the well-made quarryman’s track down to the Kiln Bank Cross road. From here I headed northeast towards the Stainton Ground Quarries – I couldn’t resist having a peep inside the obvious level adjacent to the track, and I felt a familiar surge of excitement as I ventured underground. I crossed one slate cavern and entered a curving tunnel beyond – sadly this was blocked a short distance beyond, putting an end to my adventure.
My route now took me southeast towards The Knott, before again turning northeast towards the Lickle Valley, skirting a jumble of craggy hills to my left. The views from the traversing track were fine, southwest towards the Dunnerdale Fells, and, once I had passed the Knott, eastwards over an encroaching sea of low cloud. I stopped briefly by a stream to eat a cereal bar, not wanting to linger too long as I didn’t want to be enveloped by the clouds, before pressing on past a couple of farms to the entrance of the lovely Lickle Valley.
I took the path that climbs up the wilder western side of the Lickle Valley, rather than through the forestry plantation to the east. It was a lovely mile, climbing steadily along a good track, with the lively River Lickle below me to the right, and the craggy hillside rising up steeply above me to my left. The track I suspect was used to export slate from the Walna Scar Quarries beyond the head of the valley – it was well constructed, with substantial stone revetments, and had parallel grooves worn into the rock in places, possibly from iron shod sleds – I confess that I am guessing, but the grooves seemed too close together to be from the wheels of carts.
I stopped for another quick snack at the head of the valley, and was surprised to see that I was being chased up the valley by the sea of cloud – I was only a few hundred metres ahead of it!
I plodded on over some moorland and emerged onto the western flank of the fells – what a view awaited me!
The views were stunning as I skirted the Walna Scar Quarries, but I was faced with the ascent of the Walna Scar Road beyond – this didn’t look inviting at all, still being in the grip of the frost as it was in the shade of White Maiden, but I made good time, tackling the climb in 30 minutes and arriving at the top just after midday. Clouds were just skimming the top of the pass, but Dow Crag was clear, and I did consider heading up onto the hills, but common sense got the better of me, and I really did want to visit Blind Tarn.
I met a few people as I started down the eastern side of the pass, my first of the day, and stopped to have a chat with one couple, surprisingly glad of the company. As I descended, I was on the lookout for a track traversing across the hillside to my left towards Blind Tarn. I rejected one track, as it headed uphill rather too much for my liking, then an incline, which I again rejected as it involved a climb, before finally taking a faint level track heading northward. Of course, this quickly petered out, and a belated look at the map revealed that I should have taken the quarry incline. My carelessness was now punished by me having to regain lost height over rough trackless ground, steep in places. And boggy too – I stepped on one area of wet grass only to have the whole lot quiver most alarmingly under my feet. Blind Tarn remained elusive right to the end!
Eventually I won through though, and Blind Tarn was certainly worth the effort, its mirror like surface reflecting both the shady crags and sunlit slopes perfectly. The water was lovely and clear too, if it had been summer, I would have been in like a shot! I decided that it would be a good place to stop for lunch, so I fired up my alcohol stove and got some water on the boil for some instant noodles whilst I took in my surroundings. I sat on a rock overlooking the cloud sea to the east whilst I ate them, feeling very content.
After this most pleasant interlude I made my way back to the Walna Scar Road, sensibly using the incline, before recommencing the long descent towards Coniston. It was a glorious afternoon, with views out over the cloud sea to the east, and up towards Dow Crag to my west, and I really enjoyed the two mile walk to the car park above Coniston. I even spotted a couple of paragliders coming in to land near the car park, what an experience that must be on a day like today!
Another mile of road walking took me down into the gloom enveloping Coniston, where I took refuge in the Black Bull before beginning my cold, tedious, 3-hour, 3-bus journey back to Grange.
This had very much been a walk of two halves, a rather subdued first day followed by a spectacular second day, well worth the discomfort of a long night in a cold damp tent!
WildAboutWalking 