Whinlatter – But which bit is the top?
Thursday, our sixth day, and we were off early again. Just after 8am we left Keswick with the plan to climb Whinlatter first thing, and then see how the weather turned out later in the day. The Forestry Centre car park was almost empty when we pulled in. The climb to Whinlatter Top wound its way up through the trees for the most part. Eventually you break out onto a steep grassy slope. A short but sharp pull brought us onto easier ground, and then fairly easy drift over grass up to the summit.
Whinlatter’s summit is a modest grassy dome, well clear of the dark ranks of plantation that cover the lower slopes. Up here the world opens out. The eye is drawn westwards to the dramatic skyline of Grisedale Pike, Hopegill Head and Whiteside, their ridges serrated against the sky. To the south, glimpses of the Coledale fells appear between the folds of ground, while to the north the mass of Skiddaw is just about visible over the back of Lord’s Seat and Broom Fell. It is not a lofty perch, but it has the feel of a vantage point, standing slightly apart, as if surveying the greater hills all around. With the passing showers and a rainbow lifting briefly across the valley, the summit felt alive with shifting light and atmosphere.
We caught a couple of short showers on the way up. In between the rain we were rewarded with a fine rainbow stretching over the hills as we faced west. By 10am we were back in the car park. I was ready for a warming coffee in the café before heading out for part two.
High Tove
From Whinlatter we drove across to Watendlath. I took the narrow road all the way to the National Trust car park in the village. It was fairly quiet there, with just a handful of other cars around. The climb up the western side of High Tove was straightforward in good weather, though cloud was building as we approached the summit. Steep, but stepped most of the way and easy to follow.
High Tove is no shapely giant. It’s just a broad, peaty dome, a windswept tussock standing at the centre of the district. But its position makes it remarkable. From here the landscape fans out in all directions: northwards the towering hulk of Skiddaw and the sharp line of Blencathra; to the east, the Helvellyn ridge with Thirlmere not quite visible; southwards, a march of knobbly tops over Ullscarf leading eventually towards High Raise. On a clear day it feels like standing at the hub of a great wheel, every spoke of Lakeland radiating outwards. Even with cloud massing overhead, the breadth of space was unmistakeable.
Bogtrotting
We pressed on towards Armboth Fell, knowing this stretch has a reputation for being boggy. Despite months of dry weather it still lived up to its reputation. We squelched across sodden ground towards the top, getting ever wetter.
If High Tove feels central, Armboth feels forgotten. Its summit is barely raised above the surrounding mire, a scattering of rock and a small cairn marooned in a sea of heather, moss and boggy grass. Yet there is a quiet wildness here. Across the valley, the long flank of Helvellyn rises like a fortress wall, its top often shrouded in shifting mist. The sense is not of grandeur but of solitude, bleak and untamed. Up here the weather holds sway and the ground itself seems to want to absorb you.
It was at Armboth that the rain really set in — heavy, soaking, and relentless. The fell was reduced to a sodden plateau, every step squelching, every horizon blurred by water. Between the rain from above and the bog from below our boots were soon overwhelmed, which made it quite uncomfortable going despite not being cold.
On the way down we caught up with a group of teenagers doing their Gold Duke of Edinburgh expedition. One of them had taken a tumble and hurt his elbow, so we offered to carry some of his kit to ease the load. His colleagues were actively spreading the contents of his backpack amongst themselves. Between us all we shouldered a share of his backpack and made our way down together. By the time we reached the cars me and Ami were drenched and more than ready to call it a day. The boys had to suffer another three days of it yet though.
Back to Keswick
The drive back down from Watendlath was testing. Quite a few cars squeezed past in the narrowest sections, but soon enough we were back in Keswick. After drying out, snoozing, and cleaning up, we rounded off the day with dinner at Merienda — a solid choice once again, and a well-earned reward after a soaking tramp over the central fells.
Wainwrights Completed on This Day
