Great Crag and the Borrowdale Valley

The walk started like so many, sat in the van waiting for a shower to pass. We had driven to the Borrowdale Valley for a walk we had wanted to do for while, but the weather was much worse than predicted. Rain pelted the metal roof of our van, clattering loudly like someone rummaging through a tin of nuts and bolts.

It’s an hour’s drive to Borrowdale, but we seriously considered driving back home.

Eventually, having already nearly drunk our day’s supply of coffee, the rain eased enough to tempt us out of our metal cocoon. We donned full waterproofs and headed for Stonethwaite bridge and the start of our walk. We have walked from here many times, always in the rain, and usually following the valley towards Eagle Crag - the name an unintentional monument to our ability to eradicate species from the uplands - but this time we planned to head up higher, through the glorious oak woods to the top of a modest crag and back in down in a circular fashion.

We veered off the Cumbria Way and headed up towards the trees. I love the woods here. Ancient remnants of the temperate rainforest that would have cloaked much more of the landscape. The clouds hung in tatters, drifting in and out of the trees. The rainforest vibes strong. The oaks trees are slender but gnarled, roots climbing and creeping over boulders, trying to engulf them. The trees dripped with lichen, moss, and epiphytic ferns. As we climbed higher we were level with the tops of the trees below us and we entered another world.

Another heavy shower approached, so we paused among the trees for a while. I strung up a tarp and we took shelter. It’s been a while since we last did this. I felt pleased that I could still remember the knots. A Siberian hitch came to me by pure muscle memory alone.

I wonder how many times I tied that knot on our workshops? Hundreds, I would guess.

The cloud broke as we emerged out of our arboreal world. Quickly we went from cold and wet to too hot and stripped off our waterproof layers as we paused to take in the views up and down the valley. Banks of dark grey loomed behind the crags, as tufts of white mist lingered below the tops - we wondered if we may have removed our waterproofs prematurely.

Following the wonderfully named Willygrass Gill along a heather lined track, we made it to Dock Tarn and sat on smooth boulders in the sun to eat lunch. The tarn was calm and reflective in mood, showing us both sky and land. Water Lillies float on the surface and a cluster of birches find a safe haven from sheep on a small island. The summit is modest at 440m but good views abound.

Wildflowers enriched the scene as we slowly made our descent. We found a whole host of favourites that are familiar to us from the chalk grasslands down south - harebells, eyebright, ladies bedstraw, knapweed and red clover with pretty pink marsh orchids and bright yellow bog asphodel in wet flushes.

The sun was warm and the whole hike had been a joy as we met the Cumbria Way again. To think that we were debating driving home earlier seemed ridiculous. One thing we have learned over the years is that we never regret having gone on the adventure or having done the thing that seemed the hardest. It’s tough sometimes to resist the easy option, the cosy over the cold, the safe over the challenging, the dry over the wet but there we were once again, back at the van, happy, energised and full of gratitude for the day’s adventures.

Thanks for reading - we’d love to hear any thoughts, feedback or tales of your own adventures!

With warmest wishes,

Andrew, Emma and Benji

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