A couple of weekends ago, a friend and I took to the trails to reclaim Red Pike from a somewhat difficult and emotionally draining memory I’ve had since my coast to coast hike last autumn.
Red Pike is a fell in the High Stile range in the western Lake District, separating Ennerdale from the valley of Buttermere and Crummock Water. At 755m high, it’s called Red Pike because of the rust-red screes on its northeast side, coloured by the syenite in the ground. The summit provides views of many Lake District fells, including down into Ennerdale on one side and Buttermere on the other, and even to southern Scotland.
The Original Memory
I came to hike Red Pike the first time back in October 2021. Jenni and I had chosen to take the optional high routes where possible on our coast to coast hike from St Bees to Robin Hood’s Bay. You can read all about my experience in my UK Coast to Coast Adventure Journal series (the last few posts are coming soon), with Red Pike featuring in my day two post.
The short version is that Red Pike made me doubt everything about my love of hiking and my ability to climb up hills. It depleted my energy reserves, stole my self-confidence (I don’t say that lightly, but it’s true), and left me with a scarred memory I’ve just not been able to shake. If it wasn’t for Jenni doing her utmost to keep things positive, I’d have turned around and gone home. Not just back to my tent or onto the next overnight stop, but back on the train and home to my own bed. You get the picture.
A little over a month later I found out I had a bit of a problem with my iron and B12 levels, which will absolutely have caused some of the issues I experienced during that hike. While I was able to put some of the feelings I had on Red Pike into my “I was severely anaemic” box, I still felt like I needed – really needed – to have a rematch.
A Deep Need
Look, I know that there was no genuine need to hike this mountain again. I mean, it wasn’t like I didn’t get to the top last time. It might have taken an absolute age, and caused me to become a ridiculous emotional mess (who shouts at sheep?!), but I reached the summit, mustered a smile for a photo, and continued hiking. And there are other methods I could have tried to help reduce the mental scarring and rebuild my hiking-related self-confidence other than returning to this mountain.
I am also well aware that there are so many other hills to hike in the Lake District. My friend Fiona, who now lives in Cumbria, has heaps of them she wants to take me up. As I have limited time to come to the Lake District for walking, it’s important to prioritise the ones that will provide the best highlights.
However, there is something about Red Pike that gave me anxiety every time I thought about hiking it. In fact, any time I thought about hiking up ANY hill, I was taken back to the feelings I had that day. This might have been a bit of a vanity exercise to prove something to myself, but Fiona was very willing to take me back to that summit. And with that I hoped to break the cycle of this bad memory. That was the idea, anyway.
Winter in the Lake District
In some weird way, I think it helped my plight that winter had arrived in the Lake District when it was time for this hike. We should have done this in October (I included the hike in my Autumn bucket list), but illness struck me, and then Fiona, and this was the next available opportunity. So, winter conditions it was.
But that meant that any idea of forcing myself to the summit regardless of how I felt or what was going on around me was off the table. The pressure was off; summit or not, we were out to experience the Lake District in winter, how exciting!
I’m an experienced hiker (even if I have low self-confidence), and I know about the dangers and risks associated with my pastime of choice. Especially in winter when snow and ice can make the terrain far more complicated than it might otherwise be.
We were dressed and prepared for weather and conditions, but very conscious that this might not be a summit kind of day – the fells were in charge, as they should always be, and we weren’t going to argue with them. Winter on the fells is no joke. Thankfully we had great weather in the main; a couple of snow showers rolled through, but the views stayed open for us.
Conditions were slippery in places but reasonable. We did have to concentrate on our footing a little more than we might have done in the summer, and take a couple of beeline detours around footpaths that had turned into ice-climbs. Importantly, we were ready – and willing – to turn back at any time, and would not push our limits beyond a positive answer to “can we successfully turn back here?”. But, as you will read, we didn’t need to.
Uphill from Buttermere
Fiona chose our route based on one she’s hiked before, which is always handy. The coast to coast route heads up the (ridiculously long and steep) grassy hill up Gillflinter Beck from Ennerdale, but we would take the route up the northeastern side from Buttermere.
We parked up at the National Trust car park in Buttermere, made use of the public toilets there (contactless payments at toilets is very handy, although when did the price increase to 50p?!), took a bunch of photos at the partially frozen Buttermere itself, and immediately started going uphill.
The path through Burtness Wood was made up of steep manmade stone steps. The woodland wasn’t overly thick, but it provided shelter meaning the ground was not frozen until we got through the gate at Old Burtness.
Once the path met Sourmilk Gill, things were much more interesting underfoot. The stone steps continued in places, but it was predominantly standard Lake District footpath, which on any normal day would be a bit muddy and lovely and soft for the boots – but today it was frozen solid. It was fine, really, just required a bit extra attentiveness, especially when the snow started to fall as well.
We were also treated to low flying military fast jets zooming through the valley. Two pairs passed below us three times, the noise announcing their arrival before we saw them zoom through our scene. Spectacular. I wonder if they spotted us walking up the snow-covered mountain as they flew by?! We did wave!
Tea at Bleaberry Tarn
We faffed around a bit sorting poles, swapping puffy coats for waterproof coats, and giving in and putting our waterproof over trousers on. It was along this section that we needed to make a couple of beeline detours to avoid short sections of the main footpath, working our way through the heather to avoid areas of thin but solid ice. Thankfully these bits were where the path was more on the level, so it was easy to pick our way around, and we remained confident we could get back down the same way if we needed to.
On reaching Bleaberry Tarn we both made audible sounds of awe. We really were treated to some stunning scenery on this hike. The originally glacial mountain lake was completely frozen over, and it was like we stepped into a black and white movie. Lying in a corrie below Red Pike, Chapel Crags and High Stile, it was probably formed when the area was volcanic, and was just the most beautiful sight.
Looking at the whiteness of the hills around us, we thought this might be the end of our hike, and to be honest were completely fine with that – we’d already had the most excellent morning, and would rather get down safely than end up in difficulty. But, before we made a decision, we took the opportunity to make use of some shelter by a stone wall to drink our tea and eat homemade banana loaf. Definitely one of the most beautiful places I’ve had a sit down for a cup of tea. Just incredible.
Up to Red Pike
After our tea stop in the shelter of the tarn, we decided to have a look at the path up to the top, to see what it was like. We were content to turn around and head back down, but we couldn’t not at least check the conditions, the mountain top was right there!
It was slow going, for sure, but if anything, the path here was in much better condition than the one we’d been following up alongside Sourmilk Gill. The stony stepped track was steep, but well defined, and easily hikeable. Well, I say easily, my legs and lungs had to work extra hard, but the path itself was good!
Once at The Saddle, the obvious stony and stepped track was replaced with the famous scree slope that makes Red Pike what it is. Everything was white apart from where we stepped; the unmistakeable redness showing through with each footprint. If anything, the frozen ground and covering of snow made this ascent slightly easier than it might have been, the normally loose terrain staying put in the most part, although know that we didn’t take that for granted.
Even with the apparent extra grip of the snow I found the final ascent a challenge, I didn’t need to look at the map to know those contour lines are very close together! But even at my careful snail’s pace, I made it to the top, with enough energy left to feel the good things you feel when standing on top of a mountain. Not the drained emotional mess I was the last time I stood here, but a very happy hiker, in awe of the geography and views around me.
Windy and cold, we didn’t hang around on the summit for long, just enough time for a few photographs and a chat with the only other hiker we saw all day – which, weirdly, was someone that Fiona had met before (on her winter skills course, no less).
Dodd and Ling Crag
Downhill in the snow and ice is always slower than up, because you don’t have the benefit of the gravity pulling you into the hill as you walk, making everything a little less, er, stable. And while going up makes the lungs work hard, going down makes the thighs and knees burn. It was therefore a very slow and cautious descent back down Red Pike’s scree-covered side, back to the crossroads at The Saddle.
We took the short detour up to summit Dodd, as it looked like the views from there would be rather excellent – and they were. A subsidiary peak of Red Pike, the grassy and stony flat top sits at 641m, and provides views over Buttermere and Crummock Water, as well as back up to Red Pike and Chapel Crags. After a few photos to hopefully show the vastness, we went back to The Saddle for the third time, and started our descent proper.
Navigation wasn’t quite as easy around the side of Dodd and along Ling Comb as it had been when we followed Sourmilk Gill. This path is less used and so less defined, and we struggled a bit to pick out the path that should have been between between Near Ruddy Beck and Far Ruddy Beck, ending up following something that was probably not it but did the job before passing through the wall in the right place.
Fairy Tale Woodland
We sat behind said wall to eat what can only be described as a doorstop cheese sandwich – mine with ketchup, Fiona’s with pickle (which would you have?). It was here I discovered the problem with carrying my water in a metal water bottle in what was still -5 Celsius even in the middle of the day. So cold!!!
Our rapid descent back to water level continued as we walked through the most wonderful fairy tale woodland at Scales. Iced-over tree roots were the most treacherous terrain of the day, so it was slowly does it through the trees. No complaints though, it was like a little wonderland, completely the opposite to the scree-covered mountain we had been at the top of just an hour earlier. I loved it, it was just gorgeous.
Once down at the edge of Crummock Water, we picked up a bridleway which followed Buttermere Dubbs to Scale Bridge. This was almost certainly the iciest part of the whole hike – completely flat and very thick with ice, much more difficult to stay upright here than the climb had been! The poles, which had gone away because we thought we wouldn’t possibly need them anymore, came back out, and we did our best not to do ourselves a mischief on the final half mile.
Our final task of the morning was to head along a farm track to Buttermere for a rather excellent hot chocolate, which we consumed sitting in front of a wood burning stove in Croft House Farm Café. The perfect way to end our winter hike.
New Memories Unlocked
Our hike from Buttermere up to Red Pike and back was just shy of five miles, albeit a very steep five miles, which we did in around four hours (including stops). I have since plotted the route in OS Maps (not including our wandering around Bleaberry Tarn, or our probable mistake coming down Ling Comb), in case you want to follow something similar yourself some time.
I’m not going to lie to you, it was a very challenging day out. Reclaiming Red Pike was not a walk in the park. I might be healthier now, without the iron and B12 issues I had a year ago, but my fitness could still be vastly improved (and you know I’m working on that). My legs took a beating, my body ached for days, and I ate and slept very well that evening.
But, even with the challenge and difficulty, all that’s left to say is… Red Pike? Completed it, mate. With an actual smile. It was gnarly, demanding, icy (!), steep, and very slow – but quite simply a glorious day out in the fells.
I was asking a lot of Red Pike, and not only did it deliver, but it did it in a beautiful wintery style. The weather knew to take the pressure off, and allowed me to enjoy hiking in the hills for what it’s meant to be – all about the scenery.
There is no doubt in my mind that this is a memory replaced, a positive from a negative. And, most importantly, a salvaging of my hiking self-confidence. Where next?!
See a few more photos from my weekend in the Lake District over in my Instagram story highlight.