Day five of our UK coast to coast hike was the day we would walk our way out of the Lake District with its pointy fells and knee-tingling terrain, and towards the slightly less gnarly looking hills of the Yorkshire Dales.
The Trailblazer guidebook we were using said, quite clearly, that the 15.5 miles between Patterdale and Shap should not be underestimated. In fact, it notes it is possibly one of the hardest days of the whole coast to coast expedition. And the lady running that evening’s accommodation had commented when we booked that she very often greeted upset hikers who decided they’d had enough and got off trail at that point. This particular section seemed to break people, so we knew we were in for a day of it.
I have to say, though, that day five was a pretty good day. Long, yes. Hard, certainly. But good none-the-less.
UK COAST TO COAST HIKE ADVENTURE JOURNAL
Day 5 | Thursday 14 October | Patterdale to Shap
It was a dark and windy start to the morning at Side Farm in Patterdale, but the cloud base was much higher than the day before, and it wasn’t raining. Win. After our weather-enforced shorter and easier-than-expected hike the previous day, along with an excellent sleep in my little tent thanks to the comfortable long grass of the camping field, I woke up feeling refreshed and ready to tackle the incredible looking Kidsty Pike.
There wasn’t anyone to pay to make us breakfast, so we had to fend for ourselves for a change. I fired up the Jetboil for a cup of tea (well, two), and munched on rehydrated instant porridge with added Brazil nuts and cranberries. Brazil nuts really are the best of all the nuts, don’t you think? Even when they’re not dipped in chocolate. In fact, I think I’ll go and grab some as my snack of choice while writing this journal post. Be right back…
Tent to Hill
A combination of waiting until after breakfast to break camp, and the fact it was quite a windy morning, meant my little Vango Banshee dried out fully for the first time that week – an excellent start to the day.
Once camp was stuffed back into my trusty red duffel bag, the first real challenge of the day was to walk it the quarter-mile or so back to the barn, still having not considered the wheelbarrow idea (see my day four post). My body creaked under the weight, but it did mean I was nicely warmed up by the time we left the site and started our hike up hill.
The path went upwards immediately. Tent to hill is not my favourite, I much prefer a gentler start to the day. If you’re one of those strange people who can leap out of bed in the morning and get going straightaway then I salute you, I need at least an hour pottering and faffing for my body and brain to realise that it’s daytime. But we’d been warned about this climb, and we were happy to get it over and done with before lunch.
Dave the Missionary
On our way up to Boredale Hause, a grassy platform which seemed to be the meeting point of five, six or seven different trails, we caught up with Dave. Dave was the guy we met in the drying room at YHA Grasmere a couple of nights before, who had got caught in the rain shower we’d avoided by stopping for tea and cake (read about our day three hike). He was section hiking Wainwright’s coast to coast, and this was his second three-day stint.
It turned out we’d got the same accommodation booked for that evening, so we decided to walk together, at least for a few miles. As we did so, we chatted about life and loves and adventure.
Dave told us stories of his life as a builder, as a school teacher, and about doing missionary work in India and Pakistan with his wife. And in return we chatted about One Hour Outside, my upbringing as a minister’s daughter, Jenni’s marketing agency business, our previous hiking adventures, the kit we were carrying, and lots more besides.
Tell Your Story
The opportunity to happen upon other people and learn something of their story is surely one of the most meaningful parts of hiking long-distance. When out for a Sunday afternoon amble, or even a full day hike in the fells, you might say hello as you wander by, or have a quick chat over a packed lunch taken in the same spot. But I find that it’s only when I’m completely immersed in the outdoors life that these deeper conversations can take place.
It’s fair to say I’d never have met Dave – let alone spoken to him about such topics – if it hadn’t been for our paths crossing on this particular adventure. And, let’s be super honest here, if I hadn’t have been walking with Jenni I probably wouldn’t have chatted to Dave at all… she brings out my social side when we hike together. We all had a lot in common, it turned out, and Jenni and I both enjoyed having the company that day.
Dave was treating his coast to coast hike as a completely different beast to mine. He had split his up into several three or four-day sections so he wasn’t away from home for too long at a time, travelling very light and with few luxuries (just a small bag with a few extra essentials in his pockets), and staying in B&Bs to make sure he had good food and sleep each night. But as I mentioned in my day four post, hiking is a very individual thing – the way we choose to plan and structure our adventures is very personal.
I should add here that we’ve since heard from Dave, and he’s now finished the whole coast to coast route. I’m so pleased – both that he completed his hike, and that he thought to drop us a line to let us know. Nice one, Dave!
Angle Tarn
From Boredale Hause, we made our way to Angle Tarn, a beautiful, sheltered mountain lake, popular with wild campers. There are three little islands in the tarn, and unsurprisingly there were a couple of people camped on the first one. Not exactly stealthy thanks to the luminous green tent, but I guess the bright colour would make finding camp much easier in any bad weather!
Maybe one day I’ll come back here for a wild camp of my own, although I expect there are few nights of the year where you could camp alone in this particular spot.
The path along this section was easy to follow, felt good underfoot, and allowed us to move quite quickly, more-or-less following the contour of the hill without struggle. We could see The Knott ahead, which would be our next climb.
It was along this stretch that Dave realised he’d dropped his glasses out of his back pocket, so we had a look around for a bit before he decided to back track to try and find them. Jenni and I carried on a short distance, except in the confusion we managed to go the wrong way, distracted by the more obvious path up Satura Crag to Rest Dodd.
When we realised our error, having walked only half a mile or so along the wrong fork in the road, we turned back to wait where we’d split from Dave, not wanting him to make the same mistake when he returned from his hunt. Unfortunately, he never found his glasses, and hadn’t packed spares. We decided to stick together for the remainder of the day, so Dave didn’t have to try and read a now very fuzzy-looking map.
Fell Runners and Wildlife
This time we had the correct path, the one that followed the boundary wall, which took us up and around The Knott. Standing at 739m above sea level, this lump in the fell felt very high. Given it was windy in the valley, it was most definitely windy up on the top.
We watched as a fell runner came off the summit straight down the hill, had the briefest of chats about where we were all heading that day, before they continued on a very indistinct path. Fell runners really are a different breed – a pair of brightly coloured trainers on their feet and a camelback over their shoulders, and they can bound effortlessly for miles and miles in the remotest of areas. He made me feel rather heavy and cumbersome as I trudged up the hill into the wind, whilst at the same time reminding me that the outdoors can be all things to all people – we each find our own way to enjoy nature.
Fell runners and wild campers aside, the wildlife was also on top form on the hills above Patterdale and Haweswater. We’d seen red squirrels before we were too far out of the valley, my first sightings for many years, and were surrounded by rutting red deer making all the noise up in the hills.
A bit later we would watch a pair of peregrine falcons hunt for lunch as we descended Kidsty Pike. It felt like the Lake District was giving us a leaving day to remember, and I was grateful that Jenni chose to bring binoculars with her so we could each take a turn in seeing the wildlife a little closer.
The Very Pointy Kidsty Pike
An obvious painted sign had us turn left off the Straights of Riggindale and over to Kidsty Pike. Having never heard of this peak until I hiked the UK coast to coast, I would now say it’s one of the most distinct hills I have ever climbed, highly recognisable from quite some distance thanks to its particularly pointy shape on the landscape. It would be in our look-behind-you view for at least the next two days, maybe longer, and I think has found a place in the favourite-places wall of fame in my mind.
At 784m above sea level, Kidsty Pike is the highest point on the original coast to coast route, and it commands some amazing views. It was lean-into-it windy, but the cloud base was high enough for us to enjoy almost-open scenes all around – Ennerdale Water, Scafell Pike, Helvellyn (one day!), and St Sunday Crag were all easy to spot. Being windy, it was also cold, so we didn’t hang around on the summit longer than it took to take a few deep breaths and some quick photos.
It’s fair to say that you feel right on top of Haweswater at the top of Kidsty Pike, which puts into context the words in the guidebook that say it’s the biggest descent of the whole walk. Starting off gently, by the time you reach Kidsty Howes, the way down to the water feels pretty-well vertical.
Poles safely stowed on my pack, I used my hands – and my butt – to get down the worst of the descent. I don’t mind a scramble, and at least we were down at the reservoir quickly. It certainly tested my knees and my stamina, but the three of us were at the water’s edge in no time at all.
What’s for Lunch?
We took a decent length lunch break with our backs leaning on a stone wall close to the bank of the reservoir. While we knew we still had many miles left to hike, it felt good to have the big hill of the day done and to be out of the wind for a bit.
I’ve been trying to remember what I had for lunch. For some reason that’s information I feel like I ought to hold in my brain somewhere. Weirdly, I can remember that Jenni had bought a sandwich to go from the Patterdale Hotel where we stopped for our soup lunch the previous day. I also remember that I had gotten lunch supplies from the Happy Shopper or whatever it was in Glenridding. But I can’t remember if it was pork pies, a Dairylea Lunch-able, or something else. It really shouldn’t bother me, but for some reason it does. Sometimes even I’m surprised at my weirdness.
I do know that I made a cup of tea and that it was quite simply blissful to sit at the bottom of that humungous hill sipping my favourite beverage. Having space for my Jetboil, mug and extra water was pretty much the only reason I used my 40-litre hiking day pack rather than my 20-litre one; 100% the right decision, no doubt about that.
Haweswater Reservoir
Haweswater Reservoir was created to provide water for Manchester back in the 1930s. The decision to raise the level of the natural lake by damning the valley at one end was a controversial one, as it meant the farming villages of Measand and Mardale Green would be flooded.
While the church and various farm buildings were dismantled, and the stone used in the construction of the damn, the remains of Mardale Green, including stone walls and the village bridge, can still be seen clearly when the water level is low enough. I imagine that’s more than a little eerie at twilight.
The route along the north side of the reservoir started as a couple of miles of undulating and narrow rocky footpath that was very tough going in places. I liken it in part to the path along Loch Lomond on the West Highland Way, although it probably shouldn’t be described as quite as hard as that was.
Having felt strong that morning getting up and down Kidsty Pike, I now struggled to keep my legs moving over the uneven ground in a post-lunchtime slump, needing a sit down after a couple of miles because I was worn out.
It was gorgeous, though, different to anything we’d walked through so far. Wooded areas, views of the reservoir, fords and bridges, and the reasonably impressive The Force waterfalls where Measand Beck cascaded into the reservoir.
A Challenging Afternoon
At the end of the reservoir was the small settlement of Burnbanks, where we had another short sit-down, perched on a bench made from a large fallen tree. A very small and quiet village of only 18 houses, built for the families of those who built the damn at the end of Haweswater.
From there we wandered through a small but beautiful fairy-like woodland, which would have been carpeted in bluebells had we been hiking the coast to coast in May – but it was still pretty special in mid-October.
We followed the beck for a short while, passing by Thornthwaite Force, a noisy white-water waterfall set in a narrow ravine, before spending the rest of the afternoon crossing farmland and meadow. Coast to coast finger posts had returned now we were out of the Lake District National Park, so navigation was simple in the main, apart from a couple of places where farmers had been a little unhelpful.
I admit wasn’t quite prepared for the amount of up and down during the last four or five miles of the day, and I was very slow indeed. My legs, especially my knees, were taking a real beating, and I really struggled when I had to get up and over stiles. Don’t even ask how it felt to squat for a wild wee!
It was the continued three-way chatter about life that kept me going, along with the random selection of sweets and treats we had between us. Eating my way through the miles is a coping mechanism I’m more than happy to make use of.
Shap Abbey
Eventually, it felt like, we came to the ruins of Shap Abbey. Built in 1199, and now looked after by English Heritage, it’s free to mooch around the grounds. It was getting towards sunset, but we took the opportunity to spend a bit of time wandering through what’s left of this once massive and Canon-filled Abbey. It’s quite an impressive set of ruins, beautiful in its worn-out state, and well worth half an hour of our time.
From there we had a very straight forward one-mile 20-minute road walk into Shap. The last mile of the day always feels the longest, much longer than any other mile we’d walked that day, and I was definitely ready to be horizontal by the time we got to New Ing Lodge.
New Ing Lodge
In our pre-hike planning, we’d booked to camp at New Ing Lodge, which would have suited us just fine. But we’d been watching the forecast, and had noticed that we were due a particularly cold snap lasting just a couple of nights. We could have camped still, but sometimes it’s okay to choose comfort, and New Ing Lodge gave us that opportunity. Jenni had called ahead to see if there was any space in one of the bunk rooms for us, and we were pleased to be able to switch to an inside room and leave the tents packed away for the night.
We had such a great welcome, and knew straight away we’d made the right decision. The bunk room was lovely, with four large beds and plenty of space for us to spread out. We had the room to ourselves, with a shower room just for us next door, paying £25 per person for the luxury. In all honesty, it was the nicest hostel I’ve ever stayed in.
The best bit? Not having to put our tents up meant we could get warm, showered, and get on with the relaxation and recovery in double quick time. An absolute result.
We walked down the main street to pick up a chippie tea, which we ate in the comfortable and cosy lodge common room. After dinner we went to the co-op for the random selection of supplies we hoped would get us through the next couple of days, before retiring to our bunk room for the all important sleep.
Reflections on Coast to Coast Day 5
The guidebook described the difficulty of this 15.5-mile day very well, and I was living the author’s words, for sure. The Lake District did not let me leave without a battle; I don’t mind admitting that.
I mean, anyone would look at the ascent and descent associated with Kidsty Pike as challenging, surely. In all there was just a little over 1,150m of elevation through the day, and most of that came before lunch. And while the hike up to The Knott and Kidsty Pike, followed by the scramble down Kidsty Howes, did the most damage, the route along Haweswater and over to Shap did not make for an easy afternoon.
While it was a challenging day out, and I went to bed with properly aching knees, it was also a fantastic one. The scenery was stunning, the terrain varied, the wildlife on top form, and the weather decent enough. Add to that the extra company, with the associated conversation, and even a history lesson thanks to Shap Abbey, and all was well on this particular Thursday. A genuinely happy day out hiking – more like this, please!
Kidsty Pike with its classic peaked profile is now right up there as one of my favourite hills of all time. If you’ve not been up, I highly recommend adding it to your to-hike list.
What do you think? Comment below...