August 9, 2002: Keswick to Dockray
Keswick from Castle Head
We each enjoyed a good night’s sleep and went down to the dining room for breakfast at 8:30. Mrs. Bulch had our packed lunches ready for us and, after paying the balance with a credit card, we were ready for a departure at 9:20. We retreated to the church, where I was now certain I could use a walkway down to the Ambleside Road. After a roundabout here we continued south until we reached woodland and took an unsigned path uphill.
After a steep climb we reached a parting of the ways. Gavan wanted to continue forward but I wanted to follow Hannon’s suggestion – with a diversion up to the top of Castle Head on our right. So we did this, climbing steeply again, the last stages over the rocky top of this hill, and thus we obtained wide views of Derwentwater below. We took off our packs and I took two pictures, one of the lake to the left and one of Keswick to the right. It was cloudy bright this morning and the sun was always threatening to make a definitive breakthrough.
After our rest we descended to our original path and continued over and down to a field path that led us to Springs Road, where tidy bungalows faced the fields at the foot of Castle Head. We turned right on the tarmac here and, in humid conditions, eventually reached Spring Farm, where a path continued to climb above neighboring Brockle Beck. The route was a popular one and numbers of kids were marching through with leaders; there were also families struggling up the path and near the top I spotted a group of college lads from Sussex – whom I had seen lounging around behind the Moot Hall the previous day.
There was a bridge over the beck at the top and the route led us to a road, which we took briefly to the left – before climbing into another field, on our right, in order to head east. There was a stone wall on our left but we could hear voices on the other side and when we had a peek we discovered a tent city on the other side. Ahead was a sheep-filled field and, behind Low Rigg, I could make out the distant slash of the coach road we would be using in the afternoon. Visibility was thus very good this morning.
At the end of the wall we turned left, encountering several strolling tourists going the other way, and continued over fields to the Keswick-Grasmere road, where I spotted one of the buses we might have had to use – if there had been a train strike. We were now heading north, with Blencathra gradually replacing Skiddaw as the dominant mountain on the horizon. We used a quiet lane to make good progress but a stone stile in a wall soon invited us to climb into the field containing the famous Castlerigg Stone Circle. It was hard to get an unobstructed shot of the monument – with all the sheep and trippers about – so we soon left by a gate on the north (gates again enjoyed a victory on this day: 23-8).
Gavan at Tewet Tarn
A ribbon of tarmac lead downhill and around a corner past Goosewell Farm and then we climbed into a field for a further descent over rough ground to the Naddle Bridge. Then we used more roads to continue to the east, finally turning south on a zig-zag path that climbed a grassy field (well, I took the zig-zags; Gavan continued stolidly forward against a stone wall.) Over the crest we found Tewet Tarn and after passing this lonely body of water we continued climbing Low Rigg, passing quite a few trippers coming down from the little pass that now introduced us to the Vale, where we could already see the famous church of St. John’s.
An easy, southerly descent on a grassy path lead to a wet crossing and a climb up to the road opposite the church – with youth groups and cars much in evidence. We had a look at the church’s interior and then headed down the road, but, at an inviting gate, Gavan made a mistake and we began a steep descent on a green lane that soon proved to be something other than the Cumberland Way. He discovered his mistake when he saw other walkers floundering around in the bracken on our left and so we had to re-climb the lane to the road, carry forward just a bit more on this surface, and begin a new descent – which was very slippery and uncomfortable.
At the bottom we used a bridge to cross St. John’s Beck and turned left along the banks of this lively stream, with more field paths putting us onto a track out to the Thirlmere Road. Here we turned left for a while, eventually finding the track up to some low-lying quarries, ones we had been observing for hours. I had been nagging Gavan for some time about stopping for lunch and we had passed the 1:00 mark and so, after a steep climb above Wanthwaite Farm, he agreed to stop at trackside. Almost immediately it began to spit on us from above.
The moisture was hardly noticeable at this stage and so we enjoyed our lunch. I finished the last half of one of Mrs. Knight’s sandwiches before beginning on Mrs. Bulch’s tuna sequel. I also had a leftover Kit-Kat bar and some crisps. Mrs. B. had even provided a carton of orange juice.
After lunch we were ready for our major challenge of the day, five miles on the old coach road, an uncomfortable rocky surface that seemed to keep rising for hours. The moisture was heavier by this time as well and we ended up in full wet gear; we now had light rain for the next few hours and I had to bury the camera once again.
Our predominant direction was east and visibility in this direction was soon restricted. There wasn’t much company, except for a party of paragliders, who rattled by us in their van to begin an afternoon of exercise on a track below White Peak. They floated above us on their descent, landing in a swampy patch and squishing back through the undergrowth with their rolled up chutes – a long and tedious return to the van that made the whole exercise rather pointless in our view. They, no doubt, would have found no comfort in the hard rocky surfaces of the track that we followed for miles.
We reached the highest point of our journey at 1450 feet and dropped down briefly to the Mariel Bridge, then climbed some more toward distant forestry plantations. Gavan was beginning to limp on his sore right knee and I could feel a toe on my right foot beginning to give me trouble – presumably because a nail needed trimming.
The Royal Hotel, Dockray
Near the forests things began to level off a bit and the rain also came to an end, though things were still rather misty. At High Row we reached a road junction, continuing steeply downhill for the last mile into Dockray. Near the village we could see a farmer on a dune buggy, his dog riding shotgun and these two soon had a flock of sheep moving toward the Ullswater Road – where we found our refuge for the night, The Royal Hotel, on our left. We had walked 13 miles and it was 5:00.
Our host, Mr. Johnson, lead us on the back, uncarpeted way to our room on the first floor – promising to put our wet gear and our boots in a dry place. It was because of this no-nonsense chap that we had begun our walk on a Tuesday, for he had told me, when I had tried to book our room in May, that he could not accommodate us on the weekend because of the Lowther Horse Trials – but that he did have a room for Friday. This local festival (in which Prince Philip was a frequent participant) hadn’t been held in 2001 because of the foot and mouth epidemic, but it was back in full force this year and we could see regulars at the hotel returning for their annual pilgrimage.
We had a nice room and each of us took a shower. I discovered that I didn’t have a nail problem but that the skin had parted at the top of a toe and that I would have to bandage it for the rest of the trip. I was also now worried about the state of my socks, all of which were either damp or befouled. (I had brought only three pair – to save weight.)
We went down to the bar and had our drinks and then Mr. Johnson came by to take our dinner orders. We both had the leek and potato soup, then Gavan had Mediterranean chicken and I had haddock and chips – though I couldn’t finish it all. We went back to our room, but I couldn’t get a signal on the mobile phone so I returned to the dining room and was directed to a pay phone next to the dartboard in the pub. Again we had our lights out pretty early, but Gavan was disturbed by the Beatles booming through hallways and got up and went to the bar, sitting down there until closing time.
To continue with our next stage you need: