A linear walk from St Bees to Keswick, which included a wild camp at lonely Floutern Tarn, followed by an exceptional day of mountain walking and a pint or three in the Swinside Inn!
Day 1 – 16th August 2022 – St Bees to Floutern Tarn – 14 miles
I caught the 0802 train from Grange-over-Sands to St Bees, arriving at 1040 or thereabouts, after an interesting ride up the Cumbrian Coast. It was here that I discovered that my North West Lake District map did not cover the first few miles of my planned walk, a silly error on my part, but I was able to improvise with my phone.
My original plan had been to walk over the mountains to Grasmere, or maybe Coniston, spending 2 nights on the fells, but after a hard first day I decided upon something less ambitious.
To get to Ennerdale from St Bees I had to walk along the edge of the former industrial areas that fringe the north western Lake District. I had spotted a cycle way that followed the course of a disused railway line, and I decided to make use of this.
I headed north westwards out of St Bees, taking a public right of way that started at the rather posh St Bees private school. I felt rather out of place, but I was soon in pleasant farmland, and started to relax. A mile of easy walking took me to Abbey Wood, the enlightened private owner appears to be constructing a series of paths through the trees, but I stuck to the right of way as I had a long way to go.
I exited the woods over a narrow stile, my closed cell foam sleeping mat becoming jammed, leaving me stranded in a comic manner – I had to take my rucksack off to escape its clutches! More fields followed, then the track traversed up the hillside, with no sign of the lower path that I wanted to follow. I struck off across the hillside, quite hard on the ankles as the ground was steep, and eventually spotted a stile – I was on the right track. Another stile took me into dense woodland, with brambles snatching at me as I forced my way along the overgrown path.
After crossing another pathless field I came to a bridge under the railway line which runs along the bottom of the valley. Beyond lay yet more fields: these I hesitantly crossed, not quite sure where I was on the rudimentary map that I had hastily downloaded. I skirted some woodland, then climbed a slight rise, and there it was: the disused railway line at last – my navigational difficulties were over.
The area to the immediate north west of the Lake District was once a hive of industrial activity, with a series of railway lines linking the various coal mines and quarries to the coast at Whitehaven. Several of these disused lines have been converted into cycleways, and I intended following one of these towards the hills.
The level tarmac track made for easy walking, so I set to, marching forward at a brisk pace, stopping occasionally to admire the architecture or to let a cyclist past. On and on down the tree lined track I marched, passing Moor Row and then Cleator Moor, where I stopped for my lunch, a pasty from one of my local bakers.
I pressed on into more open country, and the track started to climb, an almost imperceptible gradient, but it began to take its toll as the miles passed. Eventually I reached the village of Rowrah, the end of the line, but the cycleway continued for a further half mile or so along a winding quarry tramway, before disgorging me onto a minor road seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Time to get the map out and take stock.
I was tiring now, and I was attracted to the beer tankard sign at Kirkland on my OS map, forgetting that the map was at least 25 years old! Needless to say, the pub had long gone, so I continued onwards towards the fells, struggling on the hill that climbed eastwards out of the village. Some nice ripe blackberries perked me up a bit, but I have to confess that I was starting to suffer, my legs and hips were aching under the heavy pack.
At the top of the hill I turned right along Cauda Brow, promptly losing some of the height that I had gained, but the road gave good views towards Ennerdale, the high fell tops still covered by cloud.
I eventually reached the bridleway heading eastwards towards Buttermere, and I was pleased to find myself following a faint path between dense hedgerows rather than be tarmac bashing. But my pleasure was short lived, the hedges crowded in upon the path, and an alliance of brambles, gorse, thistles and dog rose did their best to snag my clothing and tear at my flesh, whilst disturbed insects filled the humid air. I was glad to escape into more open fields!
The path climbed more steeply as it approached the open moorland above, and I struggled on, my pack feeling very heavy at the end of a long day. I was on the fells at last, though, and my spirits lifted as I reached the top of the pass and started to descend over boggy ground towards Floutern Tarn, my objective in sight at last.
Floutern Tarn had a really remote feel to it, tucked in below the steep northern face of Great Borne, well away from the Buttermere path. I skirted the shore so that I could fill up with water, being careful not to tread on the many sundews growing in the boggy ground. Just beyond the end of the tarn I found a good flat grassy area, a bit exposed in the fresh breeze, perhaps, but at least this would keep any midges at bay.
I soon had the tent up, and got some water on the boil for my Batchelors Supernoodles, which turned out to be quite disgusting. The sun came out from time to time, but I was to be denied a good sunset. I was absolutely shattered and aching all over, and turned in early after reading just 3 pages of my book, but at least I had a good pitch, and I would see how I felt in the morning before deciding whether to change my plans.
Day 2 – 17th August – Floutern Tarn to Keswick – 13 miles
During the night I was disturbed by the tent fabric flapping in the wind (it is a good strong tent, but the porch fabric is prone to flapping), but I resorted to ear plugs and got a decent amount of sleep.
I was up just after 0600, not feeling as stiff and sore as I had the previous evening, but I decided to shorten my trip by a day, walking to Keswick via Buttermere rather than head for Grasmere and spend another night on the fells. Despite this, I was in high spirits – the route that I intended to follow was one that I have had my eye on for some time, walking from Buttermere to the Newlands Valley via Sail Beck and Rigg Beck rather than over the fells. I really liked the look of the route on the map, the path traversing up the slopes above the Sail Beck valley, winding its way in and out of a series of tributary gullies, before descending down Rigg Beck, another valley unknown to me. And I would be passing the Swinside Inn, an old haunt of mine….
I quickly broke camp and descended steep trackless ground above a tumbling beck to the head of Mosedale, the hidden valley that runs between Mellbreak and Hen Comb, where I re-joined the bridleway between Ennerdale and Buttermere. There is a large amount of flat ground at the head of the valley, much of it boggy, I suspect, but the bridleway skirts the southern edge of this, thereby avoiding the worst of it. Conditions were initially rather dull, but patches of heather brightened the scene.
I crested a slight rise and caught sight of Crummock Water below, with mighty Grasmoor beyond, the skies brightening as I descended. The path split, the right of way heading directly downwards, but I took a path that traversed the steep hillside to the right, heading towards Scale Force. It was a rough path too, in places rocky and heavily eroded, and I took a tumble on a greasy rock step, relying too much upon my walking poles rather than using my hands to steady myself as I scrambled up. No harm done though, but perhaps a warning that I should take a break and have something to eat.
Another few minutes walking took me to Scale Force, a good place to stop, have a brew and eat some food, the obligatory Stoats porridge bar. The waterfall was not particularly full, but it was a most pleasant spot, and I sipped my tea to the sound of falling water, the place to myself as it was still early in the day.
Below the falls the path split – I chose the higher route, to prolong the views of Crummock Water, but the path turned out to be quite rough in places, so I had to tread carefully. After traversing across the hillside for a while, it cut down over boggy ground studded with orchids to join the main shoreline path – this was easier going, and I really enjoyed the walk into Buttermere Village.
Buttermere was quite busy, so I pressed on, crossing the bridge and taking the path that skirts the northern bank of tumbling Mill Beck, as the lower reaches of Sail Beck are known. The path soon climbed above the ravine through some lovely woodland, the shade most welcome as the sun had come out.
I emerged from the woodland into the sunlight, the bracken filled valley stretching away into the hills to the North East. The going was easy for a while, but at a cairn the path split, and the map revealed that I now had some work to do, the path traversing up the slope towards the first of the three gullies that cut into the otherwise uniform slopes descending from Whiteless Pike, Wandope and Sail.
The path turned a corner and began its ascent beside the small un-named stream, a pleasant companion as I climbed. I crossed the stream and was then faced with a steep climb up the slope on the other side, the hardest of the day, before the path levelled off again. I was really enjoying myself now – the hardest work was done, and the path traversed high above the valley floor, taking me towards the top of the pass, below crags and heather, into what was unknown territory for me. I was in my element!
After an easy traverse across the hillside, the path turned a corner and I entered the second gully, curiously called Third Gill. A few trees survived here, and the views up towards Whiteless Pike, and on towards the head of Sail Beck were impressive.
The path then traversed easily across the southern slopes of Wandope for about a mile, before turning a corner into the third and final gully, Addacomb Gill. The scenery was getting really dramatic now – I was close under the crags of Sail, below which heather clad scree tumbled, and Wandope towered above the upper reaches of Addacomb Gill. What looked like the remains of small scale mine workings and, higher up, a mossy waterfall added to the scene. I was planning to take a break, but a couple had beaten me to it, bagging a fine vantage point below the mine workings – these were the first people that I had met since leaving the woods. I pressed on after a brief chat, the path climbing across a heather clad scree slope below the crags of Sail – this was actually a lot more pleasant that it sounds as the heather was in full bloom; an absolute delight.
I was approaching the top of the pass now, and was rewarded with my first sight of the Rigg Beck valley, the upper reaches of which appeared to be almost completely covered in blooming heather. The knobbly outline of Causey Pike dominated the skyline, but what really caught my attention was the patch of ancient native woodland that clung to the steep heathery slopes. I began my descent in anticipation.
The path dropped steeply in places, some scree covered sections demanding respect, but I descended without any bother, letting my boots slide a bit on the loose scree. I stopped from time to time to feast on the many bilberries, the bushes seemingly black with them in places. As I approached the woodland, I heard the cries of a bird of prey amongst the trees, and I spotted two birds as they exchanged places on a perch high in a tree. I tried to photograph them using my superzoom camera, but the resulting smudge of pixels proved to be no help with identification – nice to see them, all the same.
Once past the woodland, the gradient eased, and I pressed on, my thoughts now turning to the Swinside Inn, which I remembered stopped serving food at 2pm. I didn’t rush though, that would be a sin in such a beautiful valley, and I stopped frequently to take photographs and soak up the atmosphere of this wonderful place – the heavenly smell of the heather filled the air. Lower down, bracken replaced the heather, but the slopes above me seemed to be even more densely covered in purple, a beautiful contrast to the green of the bracken and the blue skies above. My aches and strains of the previous day were forgotten.
I eventually emerged onto the minor road at the foot of the valley, and I pressed on, my thoughts now on getting something to eat in the Swinside Inn. I arrived with 5 minutes to spare, just enough time to get my food order in, before settling down to a well earned pint.
I lingered for a while in the pub, not having any particular deadline, an opportunity to relax and think about the wonderful walk that I had just completed, before walking the two easy miles back to Keswick. My bus to Kendal (555) pulled up just as I was approaching the bus station – perfect timing!
This had been a walk of two contrasting halves. The first day was at best undistinguished, at worst misery, as the miles of tarmac bashing took their toll, but the second day was one of the most delightful days of mountain walking that I have experienced in years, despite me not climbing a single hill.
WildAboutWalking 