Moving Mountain – Roving Road
Bill Todd
How a self styled Lakeland expert got his come-uppance.
Waking up in Eskdale on a sunny January morning it seemed a natural thing to go for Harter Fell. The day would be too short for the Scafell Group but Harter should be manageable even with a 4 pm dusk. I had been up twice before, albeit from the other side, so did not expect any route-finding difficulty. A glance at the map, a super duper waterproof, tear resistant 1-25,000 showed a track running south east past the fell then a branch going left to the summit. All we had to do was to get onto this track from Boot. I had to turn the map over to see Boot, where we were staying, but it looked reasonably straightforward.
This impression was confirmed when Tony Foster, our host, said “Oh yes, go down to the Church then up river to Doctor Bridge and you’ll be alright. You’ve been around a long time and not got lost yet.”
So from Doctor Bridge we turned right for Low Birker then found a path uphill past a wood with spectacular Birker Force over on the right. As we rose Juliet noticed what was coming into view. “What’s that Billy?” “That’ll be Scafell”. “What’s that?”. “That’s Bow Fell, a perfect cone from this dale” cetera and cetera me showing off my knowledge for all I’m worth. The path developed into a wonderful set of zigzags climbing the fell side relatively easily as Ill Crag, Esk Pike and the Crinkles came into view, all with just a sprinkling of snow.
In due course, as expected, the track turned south and before long a rocky eminence was noticed on our left front. “That’ll be Harter Fell” I said. “Let’s go straight to it and cut off a corner.” This we did but as we gained height another hill came into view some distance away to our left. “It must be Grey Friar, the only thing it can be”.
So ignoring ‘Grey Friar’ we continued toward the rocky height and to my joy soon joined a cairned track coming in from our left. This confirmed my opinion that we were really heading for Harter Fell. The trouble was that everything we topped had another, higher thing behind it and at the third disappointment I looked at my watch and the weather. It was 1.15, the mist seemed to be creeping towards us from Bow Fell, and I remembered my duty to get the party off the hill safely. So we turned and followed the cairned path back, I was hoping it would go to Hard Knott Pass. The mystery hill was on our right now, but I gave it no further thought and followed the path till we got to a field gate with a ‘No Access’ notice. A diversion left brought us to Penny Hill Farm, Doctor Bridge and home. Funny enough the mystery mountain was still visible from Boot and Tony’s answer, when I asked him about it was “Harter Fell”.
When I had wiped the egg off my face, I realised that I had been three fifths of a mile, a line on the map, out in my map reading. I had been looking at vertical line 19 on the top fold and gone straight to line 20 after turning the map over.
The next day I would sort thing out properly. Juliet fancied a trip to Illgill Head to see some of the Wasdale fells we had been up in the last four years. No problems there, no folds on the map, indeed no map required, there was only the old Corpse Road going over Burn Moor to Wasdale and hadn’t I been over it in 1951 when the world was young?
The day was dry and clear as we crossed the bridge and toiled up the zigzags of the old drove road out of Boot. On the open moor were the stone circles I had photographed forty six years before. This time they got colour photography. Further on the path got unpleasant and icy so we left it and skirted Boat How till we could see Burnmoor Tarn.
After coffee a gruelling ascent brought us to Illgill Head with fine views of Wasdale to go with lunch. The straight line on the map leading to the col between Illgill Head and Scafell is misleading. The way turns and twists but you do get there and we turned right for Eskdale. The track goes past Burnmoor Tarn and Lodge then eases down toward the valley. Juliet said “We didn’t come this way”. “Of course we did” said I “There is only one route over this moor and this is it”. “Well, where are the stone circles?” “Over on the right here”. But they weren’t.
Suddenly the ambience changed. The evening chill became colder and the gathering dusk became sinister. The hitherto friendly landscape took on a menace. Had we been translated to 2000 BC? Should we have made a sacrifice at the sacred circles? There was nothing for it but to continue on the path which got narrower and closer to the valley on our left. “When we came up we were not so near to that farm”, said Juliet, rightly, I kept quiet.
We were nearly at the village when I realised how I had been wrong. We debauched through an insignificant looking gate onto the zigzagging drove road we had gone up in the morning. There was no sign post or other indication that it was the Corpse Road. In the event we enjoyed a better day than if we had gone up the Corpse Road. Perhaps there is a providence that looks after conceited old hill goers provided their love of the hills is genuine.
Our short break finished with a walk through the rain via Stanley Gill Force to Devoke Water and back by Forge Bridge. At eleven miles this was our longest walk and longest day. Even then we had a small hiatus before finding the footbridge at Gill Force. It was a good job it was still light enough to cast around a bit as the stepping stones by the Church were well under water.
