Lake-hopping to Shap

A variety of water reservoirs approached via rising and descending scrambles colored our remaining days of the Lakes District segment. A sunny morning climb out of Grasmere provided a gorgeous farewell shot of that favorite town of ours. We were able to ascend the steep trail along fern-lined Little Tongue Gill just behind our fondest band of travelers  – the party of seven who always seemed to show up at junctions where Laurel and I were set to trot off in the wrong direction! We love the many trail angels who’ve guided us along the way. In national parks such as the Lakes, there are no Coast to Coast markers, as it is not considered an official national trail.

Armed with a progressively deteriorating guide book, a ziploc of detailed map leaves and a more comprehensive waterproof map, we still required on several occasions focused attention, and the well-timed kindness of others to keep our orientation. Once, I swear to you, we were trekking diagonally through a sheep pasture where we should have tracked straight ahead… and the entire field of sheep Baaaa’d a cacophony of warning, until – sure enough – we wheeled around to find that the damn bridge was behind us. So, here’s to you, trail angels (and sheep). Cheers.

We arrived Patterdale on our shortest day – 8 miles – on the deceptively named valley route – a ramble that brought us down from Grisedale Tarn high above and through the valley between two alternate ridge walks. Both St Sunday Crag and Hellvellyn are said to afford spectacular views, but the clouds were dropping in and Laurel’s caution of heights made the choice clear: Grisedale Valley route it was to be.

At Patterdale we strolled right in to the White Lion pub and for my most gluttonous dinner yet – a plate piled to the ceiling with mash and an enormous coil of the highly acclaimed regional delicacy, Cumberland sausage. We were re-joined by fellow walker, Steve – whose informational narrative on certain segments of the trail have educated us on topics ranging from the uses of peat for heating homes as we slogged through bogs full of it, to the delights of Sarah Nelson’s Grasmere Gingerbread. After comparing notes with the other walkers on the day’s events, we found our lodging for the night at Noran Bank Farm, a beautiful 16th century farmhouse. 

A great night’s sleep had us ready for the next day’s long and very enjoyable walk out of the lakes to the more industrial town of Shap. The views were beautiful thanks to a variably clear day as we looked back to the farmhouse from the hillside and made our way up to Angle Tarn and then on up to the highest point on our entire coast to coast walk: Kidsty Pike at 784 meters (2572 ft). The mists had rolled in by this point so views weren’t visible beyond an arm’s length, but the steep ramble down opened the skies to bright, warming sunshine along the vast Haweswater Reservoir all the way to Shap.