DATE OF WALKS: Saturday 11 – Thursday 16 May 2019 (4 separate days walking)
DAY 1 – BUTTERMERE RIDGE (RED PIKE via Scales Force, HIGH STILE, HIGH CRAG, HAY STACKS), 11 May
- START and END of loop walk: Central Car Park, Bridge Hotel, Buttermere (my parking: National Trust Car Park, off B5289, Buttermere)
- LENGTH: 14 miles (5 hours 30 minutes plus stops)
- MAP and GUIDE: Ordnance Survey Explorer map OL4 The English Lakes – North-Western Area, combined with A. Wainwright’s Pictorial Guide to the Lakeland Fells (Frances Lincoln editions) – Book Seven: The Western Fells (fells climbed: numbers 10, 6, 11 and 22 on the rear jacket illustration).
DAY 2 – LOUGHRIGG FELL (with family), 13 May
- START: Treacle Cottage, Ambleside
- END: Café/ice-cream shop, Ambleside
- LENGTH: 6 miles (2 hours 25 minutes plus stops)
- MAP and GUIDE: OS Explorer map OL7 The English Lakes – South-Eastern Area, combined with A. Wainwright’s Pictorial Guide to the Lakeland Fells as above – Book Three: The Central Fells (fell climbed: number 27 on the rear jacket illustration).
DAY 3 – CONISTON OLD MAN; ascent via Walna Scar and Goat’s Water (incorporating Dow Crag and Brim Fell); direct descent via Low Water, 14 May
- START and END: St Andrew’s Church, Coniston
- LENGTH: 8½ miles (3 hours 30 minutes plus stops)
- MAP and GUIDE: OS Explorer map OL6 The English Lakes – South-Western Area, combined with A. Wainwright’s Pictorial Guide to the Lakeland Fells as above – Book Four: The Southern Fells (fells climbed: numbers 14, 10 and 8 on the rear jacket illustration).
DAY 4 – FAIRFIELD HORSESHOE (anti-clockwise), 16 May
- START and END: Treacle Cottage, Ambleside
- LENGTH: 13 miles (4 hours 20 minutes plus stops)
- MAP and GUIDE: OS Explorer maps OL7 as above, plus OL5 The English Lakes – North-Eastern Area, covering the areas north of Dove Crag and Great Rigg, combined with A. Wainwright’s Pictorial Guide to the Lakeland Fells as above -Book One: The Eastern Fells (fells climbed: numbers 30, 21, 12, 11, 5, 15, 25 and 33 on the rear jacket illustration).
[LEJoG progress at start of this sidetrack: Day 45, Malham]
This is the natural sequel to Lake District Classics (2018). The family was back in the Lake District for the fourth year in a row, commemorating my late grandma’s 87th birthday. I was 404 miles closer to John O’ Groats than I had been a year earlier, more familiar with Lake District geography and more ambitious about “bagging” Wainwrights while I could. This week saw 16 new peaks – the appendix at the bottom of this page will now stand as my record of Wainwrights conquered since the Coast to Coast in 2017.
Still a long way to go…
I persuaded some members of the family to join me in climbing Loughrigg Fell, the fourth lowest in the entire list of 214. They chose Monday for that one. Coniston Old Man was inked in for Tuesday (my grandma’s birthday) as it was the easiest to reach from her resting place at Tarn Hows. This meant that Saturday and Thursday, the only other days with no family activities planned, were set aside for the longest walks of the week. Which one to tackle first? As Buttermere was a long drive away, and as we were due to go out for a meal early on Thursday evening, I decided that it was best to take on the Buttermere ridge right at the start of the week.
Notes for readers:
1. With all of these walks, I’m not going to provide much detail on the routes. They’re all outlined in the Wainwright sources given above, and discernible on the OS Explorer maps.
2. Also, when it comes to waxing lyrical about the views from the fell tops, and identifying other fells in the distance, I’m not going to try to compete with the most famous fell walker who ever lived. His seven books are world-renowned and definitive for a reason. I have tried to identify some in the pictures below (e.g. Grasmoor in the first), but these are subject to challenge and you should rely on the master.
featuring, in order of appearance: Red Pike Buttermere (755m); High Stile (806m); High Crag (744m); Hay Stacks (597m).
Just as in 2018, I was very lucky with the weather this week. There was rain on the drive up Friday afternoon, but Saturday was glorious.
The family stayed at Treacle Cottage, Ambleside from 10th-17th May. It really is a long drive from there to Buttermere – just over an hour. Glad I got up earlier than everyone else and got away before 8:30. The National Trust car park had plenty of spaces on arrival – it would be rammed when I returned in mid-afternoon.
Wainwright offers four alternatives for ascending Red Pike from Buttermere (Western Fells, op. cit., Red Pike (B), pages 5-8). I went for the last and longest one, via Scale Force, Lakeland’s highest waterfall. All four routes use Scale Bridge: this one heads the furthest NW from the bridge, along a wet and stony path running close to Crummock Water. The route then heads away from the lake in order to meet Scale Beck. Initially I went too far west and had to retrace my steps before climbing alongside the beck. This isn’t too strenuous: the really tough section comes after you’ve reached the waterfall.
Scale Force is unspectacular, a bit of a drip compared to the gush of High Force. I wouldn’t say it was worth the extra mileage if you’re taking on the ridge and want a more direct route to the summit of Red Pike. There’s a very steep (if short) climb immediately after the waterfall, after which you continue to follow Scale Beck on a shallower gradient. The ground on this section is very uneven, and it’s a relief to find the footpath on the left which takes you directly to the summit.
While this is easier underfoot, it does sap the energy, and I stopped several times for water. This may of course have been due to alcohol consumed the previous night, so YMMV. The final ascent, on a gravelly path, is the steepest couple of hundred metres since Scale Force. But if you need to ask whether the views are worth the energy expended, and a bit of heavy breathing, you’re probably on the wrong blog.
Crummock Water, from the summit of Red Pike (Grasmoor in the background)
Buttermere, from the summit of Red Pike
(Robinson and the fells of the Newlands Horseshoe prominent behind)
Another view from the summit of Red Pike*
*I haven’t been able to work out for sure which direction I was looking here. Clearly away from Crummock Water and Buttermere, but I’m not sure from OL4 what the body of water just below centre would be. If I had to commit, I think that’s the distinctive shape of Blencathra in the background, and the lake is therefore Derwent Water. That would make this a zoom in on the header image, suggesting that I was probably taking an opportunity to go closer in on Blencathra (12 miles away). But should anyone read this who knows for sure, please pass on your wisdom.
Bleaberry Tarn*, from just below the summit of Red Pike
*”The most obvious and direct way to the top”, per Wainwright.
From here it’s a fairly straightforward ¾ mile ridge walk to High Stile. Although it has a higher altitude, so much of the hard work has already been done scaling Red Pike that you’ll barely notice.
View from the summit of High Stile, looking N (Western Fells, op. cit., High Stile page 11)
(Buttermere lake hidden; road is from Buttermere village to Keswick)
A similar ridge route to High Crag follows, notable for the line of fence posts which guides you almost all the way to the summit.
View from High Crag, looking towards Hay Stacks
So far, the long ascent of Red Pike aside, today’s walk has resembled a miniature version of the Newlands Horseshoe. Only now, after High Crag, do things change, and only now does that long ascent deliver its belated payload. My aim at the start of the day was to complete the four fells named above and Fleetwith Pike. Noting that Hay Stacks had the lowest elevation of all, I sat atop High Crag confident of completing my mission. But complacency is the implacable enemy of a novice fell walker, even a borderline intermediate like me.
First of all, the descent from High Crag to Seat is possibly the single most treacherous and mentally demanding I’ve completed in the Lakes. There are bad steps. There is a lot of loose scree. It is very, very steep. I passed a dozen or so walkers struggling upwards in the lunchtime heat and actually envied them, because for me every step seemed to require the highest concentration. I don’t think I needed to scramble, but there were plenty of times when I could have done so instead of risking a stride on the scree.
Then, the ground between Seat and Scarth Gap is uneven, stony and rough. And because you’ve descended so far between High Crag and Scarth Gap, there’s still a taxing climb to come. Finally, that climb to the summit of Hay Stacks includes up-and-downs, some scrambling, plenty of zigzagging and more than a couple of moments (for me, at any rate) where you can lose the obvious path and find yourself on what look like unconventional routes to higher ground.
Wainwright adores Hay Stacks, of course. I can’t honestly say it did much for me on this, my first visit. The weather was now cool, cloudy and windy on the fell tops, I was noticeably tired and full of doubt regarding the proposed assault on Fleetwith Pike. Didn’t even remember to take a photograph. My next bit of camerawork came just below the summit:
Buttermere, viewed from Green Crag (just after Blackbeck Tarn)
My pace slowed here, as I was behind a group of four on a narrow path. Overtook them just before Little Round How, where I had to decide on whether or not to tackle Fleetwith Pike. Checked the map and realised that this was the farthest point from Buttermere on the entire route, and I didn’t really have either the energy or the water supply for one more summit on top of a five-mile return trip.
It was the correct decision. Descended via the path to Warnscale Bottom – by the time I reached Gatesgarth and realised it was still very warm on lower ground, I was more tired than I had ever been on a Lake District walk (unless you count Patterdale to Shap on the Coast to Coast). The walk through Burtness Wood on the SW side of Buttermere seemed to drag, and temperature back in the village itself were over 25 degrees C.
The traffic on the road back was heavy – including a stop for an emergency ambulance, and several stops for a cycle race on Honister Pass – and it took more like 1½ hours to reach Ambleside. Arrived home, had salad, which wasn’t really enough to recover lost energy. Very quiet evening, some family members noted that I seemed subdued and I conceded I’d probably pushed things too hard today. Certainly it would have been better to work up to a walk as hard as this one rather than jumping straight in at the start of the week. It should go without saying that I recommend this walk, but whatever you do, don’t underestimate it, and if you want to add Fleetwith Pike as well I would suggest taking a shorter route to the summit of Red Pike.
PS Listening pleasure today was all Rule of Three: Kevin Eldon on the Rutles (Buttermere to Scale Beck); Ed Morrish on the Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy original radio series (Scale Force to Red Pike); Margraet Cabourn-Smith on A Bit of Fry and Laurie (Hay Stacks to Gatesgarth). I listened to Aisling Bea on Father Ted on the drive up to the Lakes.
LOUGHRIGG FELL (335m) from Ambleside
By contrast, this is one of the easiest Lakeland walks, and a popular initiation for children and new walkers. For these reasons I was able to persuade my brother, his girlfriend, my mother and auntie to join me. While staying in Ambleside for the last two years, we have all noticed from the window of Treacle Cottage a striking crag overlooking the town, standing out quite dramatically from surrounding woodland. I may have been quite economical with the truth in suggesting that this was the hill we would be climbing today. In fact, that view is almost certainly of Todd Crag.
The initial road ascent from Miller Bridge and past Browhead Farm is the steepest part of the whole walk, and this was enough to instil doubt in the older members of the party that they would not be able to reach the top of Loughrigg. Shortly after the farm is a path which takes you to the aforementioned Todd Crag. I’ll be honest: the only reason I urged us on to Loughrigg Fell is that it is one of the holy 214 and Todd Crag isn’t. Selfish…
On the easier grassland path, I was more confident that we’d all make it to the summit. But my mum and auntie were walking quite a lot slower than the rest of us, and my auntie had a very minor fall, which didn’t help her morale. Also, the key turn-off to the fell top looked so unlikely, and the land ahead so apparently flat, that I missed it and we ended up carrying on down a slight hill towards Ivy Crag before I realised. Having to climb back up to the turn-off was probably what killed the last of my auntie’s ambition. As the summit was still half an hour’s walk away, and my mum was not prepared to leave her sister alone for an hour, she opted out as well.
So, my brother, his girlfriend and I were the only ones to reach the top of Loughrigg Fell. That flat landscape proved deceptive: there was a sharp climb within a few minutes of parting from the others. There were several false summits, which pissed my brother off. His girlfriend was unhappy with her fitness, although I’ve seen many far unhealthier people of her age or younger struggling along in the Lakes. I think it’s fair to say that I have not persuaded either of them to join me as a serious walker – my brother even described it as a “boring” hobby. Which is something I’ve addressed head-on here.
But as ever (for me at least) the summit made everything worthwhile. I think they enjoyed the views, but they didn’t want to linger for too long. Which was fair enough, as we didn’t want to leave my mum and auntie just waiting around for any longer than necessary.
Looking NNW from Loughrigg Fell to Grasmere (lake/village) and Helm Crag
Looking SE from Loughrigg Fell to Windermere
The descent was straightforward for all parties. My mother enjoyed the day in spite of not reaching the summit. We were seven weeks away from ascending Snowdon, and I was more than a little concerned that she would struggle with a mountain three times higher than Loughrigg. Read the link to see if my concern was justified. Stopped for an ice-cream back in Ambleside, and that was the end of my second walk for the week. And another of the 214 crossed off.
CONISTON OLD MAN (803m) – also starring Dow Crag (778m) and Brim Fell (796m)
An early morning car journey to Tarn Hows, and our fourth birthday visit since my grandmother’s death in 2016. From there, my auntie and uncle drove me to Coniston, and I got out by the church, ready to conquer the Old Man. This one was ranked eighth in ITV’s ‘Britain’s Favourite Walks: Top 100’ a couple of years ago. I should say this in a whisper then, but I think the real star of my walk was Dow Crag… or perhaps a shout, because the master himself states that “Dow Crag offers the most impressive and rewarding mountain-walk available from Coniston.” Take that bold as a shout.
My chosen ascent was via the Walna Scar road. Wainwright does not cover this entire route as a separate ascent, but he acknowledges the initial Walna Scar path as the best-signed, and the remaining climb from the quarry road is effectively a combination of his Boo Tarn route (Southern Fells, op. cit., Coniston Old Man, page 7) and his Torver route from The Cove (page 9). Or, of course, you could use his guide for the ascent of Dow Crag from Coniston (Dow Crag page 8). To join up the two routes all you need do is, instead of ascending from Boo Tarn, proceed along the Walna Scar road for around half a mile and take a right at the path junction before Torver Bridge (left being the road from Torver). The junction is on OL6 at SD273965.
First you take the A593 from the church, turn right towards Dixon Ground and then follow the sign to the Old Man/Walna Scar. This road is very steep to start with, but after those first few hundred metres it’s much easier, and you’re soon at the quarry gate, where the road is replaced by a very good path. Boo Tarn is around a couple of bends, and then the path becomes less distinct but it should still be easy enough to recognise the key junction. The emergence of Brown Pike, Buck Pike and Dow Crag directly ahead should be a giveaway: you need to head for the latter and that means heading north sooner rather than later.
My favourite part of today’s walk was the passage from this junction, through The Cove, past Goat’s Water, to Goat’s Hause (a depression between the summits of Dow Crag and the Old Man). The stretch to Goat’s Water is simultaneously delightful for the vision and rugged underfoot. The gradual revelation of Dow Crag, previously concealed by the slopes of Coniston Old Man, is the undoubted highlight.
Approaching Goat’s Water (not yet visible), under Dow Crag
Looking across Goat’s Water to Dow Crag
This is followed by a testing ascent from the Water to the Hause. A dramatic slow burn mountain view, a tarn and a stiff climb: what more do you want from a morning in the Lake District?
Looking down at Goat’s Water from just below Goat’s Hause
By now I’d decided there was no way I was leaving Coniston without conquering three Wainwrights for the price of one, so I turned left for the summit of Dow Crag. It was reasonably straightforward to locate and clamber up to, as was quickly proven when a woman and her dog approached at speed from the western side. The views north are extensive but not wondrous, so I contented myself with this:
Looking back at Goat’s Water from the summit of Dow Crag – my path on the far side
From back at the Hause, the ascent to Coniston Old Man is the hardest walking of the day. I broke it up with a diversion to Brim Fell, which is fairly undistinguished and the very definition of something to be climbed “because it’s there” (and because it’s on the list of Wainwrights). And yet it was here, on the flattest, least imposing fell of the week, that I suffered probably my worst fall as a walker. Ain’t it always the way? It was caused by, of all things, a stone jutting maybe 1-2 inches out of the ground. I had either not seen it or assumed it was loose; I caught it with the toe of my boot and went straight down, landing hard on my right knee. I’m writing this four months later and that knee has never been completely pain-free since. It suffers more than the left from being cramped when sat down (as I was at a concert last night), from lunges or squats, from difficult steps on walks. The initial first aid wasn’t a problem: there wasn’t much blood and the scab soon cleared. But even no there is still slight tenderness on the impact point: the lower knee bone, about an inch below the patella.
I suppose I must have trod more gingerly thereafter, but I don’t remember having any particular issues, not even on the descent from the Old Man. A fellow walker watched my fall (from 100m away) and kept an eye on me for as long as it took to get to my feet. There was a fleeting moment when I wondered if the knee would bear my full weight, so I guess my relief at being able to complete the walk under my own steam outweighed any subsequent pain.
It did overshadow the triumph of reaching the summit of the Old Man of Coniston. This was the busiest summit of the week by quite some way, as indicated below. No comparison with Scafell Pike last year though.
Coniston Old Man: the summit
View of the descent path, Coniston and Coniston Water, from the summit
Same view, zooming in
Low Water (on the descent) from the summit
My descent was on Wainwright’s “direct” route from Coniston (page 8). The path to Low Water (above) is very steep, and even afterwards there are places where you should take great care. It was the hottest afternoon of the week as well, so I had sympathy for those I passed on their way up. The last mile is easy going: there are waterfalls near Miners Bridge but not ones worthy of a photograph. I’d checked the bus timetables back to Ambleside, but my auntie and uncle met me for lunch and drove us back home.
PS Listening pleasure today was Rule of Three again: John-Luke Roberts on Tom Lehrer (ascent, as far as Goat’s Water); Caroline Norris on Trevor and Simon (Goat’s Water, Dow Crag, Brim Fell); Chris Addison on the exceptional Victoria Wood: As Seen On TV (descent).
featuring, in order of appearance: Low Pike (508m), High Pike (656m), Dove Crag (792m), Hart Crag (822m), Fairfield (873m), Great Rigg (766m), Heron Pike (612m), Nab Scar (450m)
This was my favourite walk of the week. I think ridge walks with numerous peaks to chalk off are the most satisfying of my Lake District challenges to date. There’s the obvious pleasure of knowing your Wainwright “to do” list is getting smaller, the pervading sense that you’re testing yourself with each successive ascent, without the anti-climax that comes from knowing there’s only a descent to come, and the simple delight in being out in the fells for that bit longer. Today was tinged with melancholy, as I knew this would in all likelihood be my last Lakeland walk for a year. But, as I’ll come to later, on Fairfield itself I had a moment of quiet exhilaration which will sustain me for the next twelve months.
I first heard of the Fairfield Horseshoe during a boat trip on Windermere last year (2018), when the guide pointed it out in the distance. Immediately earmarked it for 2019, and luckily enough the weather was once again set fair for a long day in the mountains. The first decision is whether to tackle it clockwise or anti-clockwise. I chose the latter, if only because it made the road walking section shorter at the start, so you could get up where you belong all the sooner.
Although Low Pike lives up/down to its name, being in the bottom quartile of Wainwrights by elevation, that’s not to say it’s effortless to reach. There’s a steep walk up from Low Sweden Bridge to High Sweden Coppice, and the final assault from Low Brock Crags is quite a test. For the next kilometre you head uphill alongside a wall to the summit of High Pike. There are a few steep and rocky sections but nothing so far is comparable to the exertions of the Buttermere ridge walk. And the next mile, to Dove Crag, is arguably the most painless section of the whole Fairfield Horseshoe, being “an easy, gradual climb on grass” per Wainwright’s Eastern Fells book.
The route from Dove Crag to Hart Crag is tougher, as you first descend to a depression before ascending a steep and very stony path. This summit, the fourth of eight, is where I took my first rest and first photograph:
Looking towards the west side of the horseshoe, from Hart Crag
Great Rigg (R, shadowed) and Heron Pike (L) are visible
The ridge from Hart Crag to Fairfield is one of those walks described by Wainwright as “easy”, but by those in the earlier stages of their fell-walking careers (me) as “moderately arduous”. You descend steeply from Hart Crag to a depression at Link Hause, then there’s a short, steepish, rocky climb followed by a longer, shallower ascent on a wide path to a col. This col marks the top of the horseshoe: at this point you can continue straight ahead and left towards Great Rigg, or turn right to the summit of Fairfield. Presumably no-one on this route gets this far and ignores the summit.
I went past the summit, to the slopes on the far (northern) side), where I sat down for lunch. And here comes my moment of quiet exhilaration. Rather like Luke Skywalker on Dagobah, I knew I hadn’t been here before, and yet there was “something familiar about this place”. I looked to the north, checked my map and realised: this was a place I’d come to almost exactly two years earlier, on day 4 of the Coast to Coast, seen from above. Straight in front of me (N), a couple of miles distant, was Helvellyn:
The Helvellyn massif, seen from the northern slopes of Fairfield
Helvellyn (zooming in on the drop to Striding Edge)
Just to the right (NE), less than half the distance away, was the alternative route from Grasmere to Patterdale, St. Sunday Crag:
St. Sunday Crag, seen from the northern slopes of Fairfield
Lastly, and most movingly, there was this:
Why, it’s… it’s Grisedale Tarn and the path up Dollywaggon Pike
I remembered this so vividly: stopping at the tarn and seeing that zig-zag path which, at the time, looked like the steepest climb I’d ever had to undertake. It was only two years ago, but it seemed longer. To understand why I’m making a big deal out of this moment, you have to understand: most of the time I’m shocked by how quickly life passes by, but in this case two years seemed more like four or five. I was more than two stone heavier then. I was only three days into the LEJoG walk. I wasn’t as fit. I could never have envisaged writing thousands of words on this blog. As well as that, there was the more basic appeal of seeing something familiar from a different perspective. That’s a universal sensation I think, at least to those still curious about the world.
Anyway, during this contemplation I began to feel like some kind of power had driven me on during the last two years. I resist writing “higher power” as I couldn’t even say whether it was extrinsic or intrinsic. Perhaps it was just my soul responding, I don’t know. But, however many things in life were less than perfect, right there and then it felt absolutely right, like destiny, that I should be watching over my self of 2017 and saying “keep going, one day every step will mean something”. And I think I felt my grandmother with me too.
I’m a naturally reflective person as it is – I suspect most solo walkers probably are. However I really don’t often have moments as profound as that one.
Leaving Fairfield behind, it was back to the col and then on to Great Rigg. This is a comfortable walk on soft, springy turf, with a short, steep ascent at the very end. The descent is a little trickier, but it’s followed by more trouble-free walking to Heron Pike, 1½ miles distant. Here I took my last photo of the day (and week):
Rydal Beck, running between the two flanks of the Fairfield Horseshoe
After Heron Pike comes Lord Crag (not listed as a Wainwright) and then Nab Scar, the last official summit of the day. The descent from here to Rydal is very steep indeed, and slow going in places. It includes zig zag paths, uneven and awkward stones and one or two uncomfortable drops. Having seen people on their way up, I certainly didn’t regret my choice to walk the Fairfield Horseshoe anti-clockwise.
At Rydal, you pass Rydal Mount and the grounds of Rydal Hall, as well as two small but charming waterfalls. I have to confess that my interest in the lower-lying attractions of the Lake District’s villages is not substantial at the best of times, and after a mountain walk it’s almost imperceptible. They’re just incidentals which are covered in much more detail by tourist brochures, and by this stage the only thing I care about is getting back home. There is a fine path which takes you as far as Scandale Bridge, from where it’s roads all the way back to Ambleside.
PS Listening pleasure today was all Rule of Three once again: Neil Forsyth on Morecambe and Wise Christmas Special 1977 (Low Sweden Bridge to High Pike); Dara O’Briain on Eddie Izzard: Definite Article (High Pike to Hart Crag); Sanjeev Singh Kohli on Blue Jam (Fairfield to Heron Pike); Beardyman on Kenny Everett’s ‘The World’s Worst Record Show’ (Heron Pike to foot of Nab Scar)
Picture (taken from Red Pike on 11 May) shows the view approximating to the N/NE octant* from A. Wainwright, Western Fells, op. cit., Red Pike (Buttermere), page 11. Grasmoor is most prominent in the centre left of the picture, due north. The highest peak on the horizon, three quarters of the way along the picture and due NE, is Blencathra – note the ‘saddleback’ shape (actually Skiddaw, to its left and near the centre, is higher but not as prominent in this picture).
*Hope you don’t think that’s pretentious; I literally just had to look up what a half quadrant was called…
APPENDIX: MY WAINWRIGHTS
In order of conquest, with dates and height ranking.
Letter after ranking denotes reference on this site:
UPDATE FOR 2022!
After two postponements due to Covid, finally I was able to return to the Lake District with family from 13-18 May 2022.
The Wainwrights I conquered from 2022 onwards are numbered from 36 below. I probably won’t be writing about these separately, so no letter reference:
- Calf Crag, 18 May 2017 (154C)
- Gibson Knott, 18 May 2017 (198C)
- Helm Crag, 18 May 2017 (201C)
- Dollywaggon Pike, 19 May 2017 (18C)
- Nethermost Pike, 19 May 2017 (9C)
- Helvellyn, 19 May 2017 (3C)
- Angletarn Pikes, 20 May 2017 (143C)
- The Knott, 20 May 2017 (66C)
- Kidsty Pike, 20 May 2017 (46C)
- Skiddaw Little Man, 15 May 2018 (15L)
- Skiddaw, 15 May 2018 (4L)
- Catbells, 16 May 2018 (189L)
- Maiden Moor, 16 May 2018 (139L)
- High Spy, 16 May 2018 (113L)
- Dale Head, 16 May 2018 (63L)
- Hindscarth, 16 May 2018 (73L)
- Robinson, 16 May 2018 (67L)
- Blencathra, 17 May 2018 (14L)
- Scafell Pike, 19 May 2018 (1L)
- Red Pike (Buttermere), 11 May 2019 (62M)
- High Stile, 11 May 2019 (30M)
- High Crag, 11 May 2019 (65M)
- Haystacks, 11 May 2019 (131M)
- Loughrigg Fell, 13 May 2019 (211M)
- Dow Crag, 14 May 2019 (48M)
- Brim Fell, 14 May 2019 (37M)
- Old Man of Coniston, 14 May 2019 (31M)
- Low Pike, 16 May 2019 (172M)
- High Pike (aka Scandale Fell), 16 May 2019 (109M)
- Dove Crag, 16 May 2019 (39M)
- Hart Crag, 16 May 2019 (27M)
- Fairfield, 16 May 2019 (13M)
- Great Rigg, 16 May 2019 (54M)
- Heron Pike, 16 May 2019 (127M)
- Nab Scar, 16 May 2019 (190M)
- Catstycam, 15 May 2022 (10)
- Seat Sandal, 15 May 2022 (68)
- St Sunday Crag, 15 May 2022 (23)
- Birks, 15 May 2022 (124)
- White Side, 17 May 2022 (16)
- Raise, 17 May 2022 (12)
- Stybarrow Dodd, 17 May 2022 (21)
- Great Dodd, 17 May 2022 (19)
- Watson’s Dodd, 17 May 2022 (41)
- Sheffield Pike, 17 May 2022 (99)
- Glenridding Dodd, 17 May 2022 (193)