Striding Edge and Swirral EdgeThe classic Helvellyn round, a great family adventure.
11th April 2021My two sons have been keen to climb Helvellyn via Striding Edge, and with the weather being so clear and bright lately, we decided to go for it last Sunday. The MWIS forecast was for clouds ‘bubbling up’ as the day wore on, with wintery showers and the chance of thunder later, so an early start was planned, alarm set for Six.
We managed to get away just after Seven, and enjoyed some fantastic views on our drive along the east side of Windermere and over Kirkstone Pass. A beautiful morning, but cold – the car thermometer registered minus five at Newby Bridge. There were clouds on the higher fells too, but I suspected that they would burn away in the sunshine as the forecast predicted cloud free tops.
We parked at the Patterdale Cricket Club (the price has gone up to £5 for the day) and were on our way just after Eight. An amusing incident occurred just as we were leaving. I dutifully pushed my coins through the slot, but two men neglected to do so, intending to pay later. As they walked past the honesty box and out of the car park, a man popped out of a nearby van and collared them – the ultimate humiliation!
The road up Grisedale takes a sharp right turn up a steel hill, the scene of past navigational uncertainty, but I strode on ahead, ably assisted by Tess, our Springer Spaniel, tethered to me by a bungee. The road levelled off and traversed across the wooded hillside, with lovely views down to the bouldery beck below.
The country opened out, and we were treated to breathtakingly beautiful views of Nethermost Pike and Dollywaggon Pike at the head of the valley, sprinkled with snow and wreathed in patches of cloud. The path to Helvellyn is well signposted, along a track to the right, over a bridge, and then up through a field of sheep before the start of the long rising traverse to the Hole in the Wall, with the start of the Striding Edge ridge beyond.
Snow dusted Dollywaggon Pike and Nethermost Pike looked stunning in the morning sunshineA closer view of Dollywaggon Pike and Nethermost Pike. I had camped by Hard Tarn high up in Ruthwaite Cove (centre) last summerNow the hard work began. The path is not too steep, but just goes on and on. I took the lead, helped by Tess, who had to stay on the lead for now as there were sheep about on the lower slopes. We stopped about half way to the Hole in the Wall to have a snack in the sunshine, some delicious Parkin to nibble on whilst we admired the views. Across the valley, St Sunday Crag was capped by cloud and in shadow, and looked quite forbidding compared to the sunlit hills at the head of the valley.
I made the mistake of relinquishing Tess to one of my sons, and suddenly I was the tail-ender, plodding along in their wake. We gradually climbed above the height of Birks, the modest hill across the valley, and the view to the south east opened out, a welcome distraction from the climb. But we were nearly there – we rounded a grassy rib and the famous Hole in the Wall came into view, still some work to do but it wasn’t too long before we reached the gap. My sons shot on ahead, spoiling my plans for a family photo!
And what a view – Helvellyn and Catstycam appear quite suddenly, a stunning panorama.
A first look at Helvellyn and Catstycam, cloud boiling up from Nethermost Cove onto Striding Edge. Please excuse the unseemly animal writhing on the wiry grass in the foreground.Red Tarn comes into view, cradled between Striding Edge and Swirral EdgeAs we climbed the broad ridge towards the start of Striding Edge, I started to get a bit anxious about how Tess would behave with big drops on either side of her, and I put her back on the bungee lead. We soon made our first contact with the rock, and I quickly realised that being tethered to an energetic spaniel just wasn’t going to work, so I had to unclip her and just see how things worked out. My fears were unfounded – Tess does seem to have some respect for heights, enough to make her stop and wait when we came to a steep drop.
We worked our way along the crest of the ridge, helping Tess down the occasional short descent, and taking care as there were some patches of ice on the northern side of the crest – slow and steady does it. My youngest son was in his element, forging ahead like a mountain goat, closely followed by Tess, and we had to ask him to wait once or twice. We soon came to the Robert Dixon memorial – he plunged to his death in 1858 whilst following the Patterdale Foxhounds. Unfortunately the memorial plaque is so rusty that it is very difficult to read.
Striding Edge – we stuck to the crest most of the way, ignoring the icy path that bypasses the difficulties on the right.My family tackling Striding Edge, my youngest son leading the wayI started to relax and enjoy myself once I realised that Tess was managing just fine, it was great to get my hands on the rock, and our position was nothing short of magnificent. We took our time though, careful because of the ice and slowed down when we had to help the dog over a tricky bit. Consequently we were caught up by a few parties of younger adults – my wife later pointed out that we were probably the oldest couple on the ridge. She also pointed out that most accidents seemed to involve older people! I was quite happy to let people pass, I was enjoying myself far too much to rush the experience.
Descending the final hump of the ridge proved tricky – this is the infamous Chimney, the crux of the scramble, a steep rocky descent of maybe 6 metres at which queues form in the summer. We were held up for a few minutes whilst the party ahead of us descended, and then it was our turn. Tess was not happy, and to get her down we had to form a human chain, my wife passing the struggling dog down to my eldest son, who in turn had to pass her on to me. He then had to downclimb to join me on my stance (I had to warn him not to tread on my fingers), before I descended again so that he could pass her down the final section. We held a few people up, and I was glad to reach the bottom (as was Tess, I suspect). I was also glad that we had chosen to do Striding Edge before lockdown has fully ended – it must be an absolute nightmare on a busy day!
The route that we took was slightly to the left, on the south side of the crest. There is some exposure, but the holds are massive and plentiful, and the scramble down should be easy for anyone with a head for heights. There is a narrow path that bypasses this part of ridge on the south side, but I do not know what it is like.
The infamous Chimney. You can just make people out about half way up in the shadows to the right – this was our descent route.The rest of the ridge was easy, and the arete merged with the east face of Helvellyn, a steep climb up over rock and scree, with some loose rocks to beware of. We emerged onto the summit plateau quite abruptly, feeling very pleased with ourselves.
Looking down upon Striding Edge from the upper slopes of HelvellynThere were a lot of people around, the stone shelter appeared to be packed – there was even a mountain bike propped up against it. We wandered along the edge of the plateau, which was lined with the remains of cornices, admiring the expansive panorama of fells all around us, and Red Tarn far below. We could even see Criffel across the Solway Firth, but we could also see a nasty shower advancing along the northern part of the Eden Valley. There were more people milling around the trig point, including a young woman posing in front of a tripod that held her phone, so we continued on to the start of Swirral Edge, the ground dropping away steeply in a slightly intimidating manner.
I descended carefully to the edge of the cliffs to get this shot of Red Tarn, with Ullswater and the Northern Pennines in the distancePeople clustered around the Trig Point, the Grasmoor hills to the left, Skiddaw to the rightThe Western Fells – Bowfell, Scafell Pike, Great Gable, Pillar, High Stile, amongst many othersA panoramic shot of the view west from HelvellynI have been defeated on Swirral Edge in the past – many years ago, I had taken my mother over Striding Edge one spring; she would have been in her fifties, me in my twenties. She managed just fine, but when we approached the top of Swirral Edge to descend, we were confronted by a bank of steep snow, no place for us to be, so we descended by the longer but easy Keppel Cove path to the north. No such worries this time, and we descended quickly, my youngest son again taking the lead, myself bringing up the rear. Swirral Edge is significantly easier than Striding Edge, much shorter and without anything so challenging as The Chimney, but there is still a bit of exposure, especially in descent.
My family descending Swirral Edge towards CatstycamRather than descend down the broad path to Red Tarn, we continued along the ridge to the summit of Catstycam, a bit of a climb but easy going in comparison to what we had already done. Excellent views again, but the clouds were bubbling up as forecast, and the steep east face of Helvellyn was irritatingly in shade. A man had a tripod set up for some serious photography, so we didn’t linger. We didn't fancy the steep loose looking path down the eastern slopes of Catstycam, instead we retraced our steps along the ridge to the main path down, enjoying the now sunlit view of Helvellyn and Swirral Edge.
Red Tarn from the Catstycam ridgeHelvellyn and Swirral EdgeWe dropped down to the shores of Red Tarn and sat down on some convenient rocks for lunch. We could see quite a procession of people tackling Striding Edge to the south, stick men silhouetted on the skyline. And noisy people they were too, quite a hubbub spoiling the almost musical sound of the waves gently lapping on the shores of the tarn. No matter – we no doubt contributed to the hubbub ourselves, but again I wondered what it would be like in summer, with no Lockdown.
Red Tarn and Helvellyn from our lunch stopRather than just traverse across the hillside to the Hole in the Wall, which would have been the simplest way down, we followed the path down towards Glenridding - this descended above the beck issuing from Red Tarn, with the towering slopes of Catstycam above. There were more clouds now, and we were heading into a cold northerly wind – so cold that I put gloves on for a while. There were some impressive icicles on a bank of peat that we passed, these seemed to emphasise the cold.
Catstycam broods over the upper reaches of the Glenridding valleyLower down, it warmed up, and the path crossed two footbridges before levelling off, following the south bank of the tumbling Glenridding Beck. We spotted some lovely swimming holes, but far too cold to contemplate that today!
We were now entering an industrial area, passing the remains of structures associated with Greenside Mine, once Britain’s largest lead mine. I passed this mine on my way down from my Hard Tarn wild camp last year, so I will not repeat myself.
As we approached the mine workings, we were faced with a choice – cross over the footbridge and continue on down the valley to Glenridding, or take the path that traverses across the hillside to Lanty’s Tarn. I’m afraid to say that the lure of an easy walk down to Glenridding proved too tempting – Lanty’s Tarn will have to wait.
My family waiting for me on the footbridge over Glenridding BeckThe view from the mine workings down the Glenridding valley. Place Fell is the hill centre left.We thoroughly enjoyed the easy walk down the track though – the sun was out, and the valley was beautiful in an austere way, the old mine workings adding to the interest. The mines are every bit as much of the Lake District’s heritage as the sheep shorn fells, in my opinion, and I do enjoy poking around given half a chance.
Part of Greenside Mine on the steep hillside aboveLower down, we passed some of the old mineworker’s cottages, stone terraces with south facing garden walls draped in purple Aubretia – we even saw a Welsh Poppy in bloom. All too soon, we entered the flesh pots of Glenridding, people queuing for ice creams, and the weather turned – we were chased by a wintery shower as we walked the short distance back beside the road to our car at Patterdale.
Caught by the weather
Being caught by the shower didn’t dampen our spirits – we had experienced a quality mountain day, if ever there was one, and my sons are keen to do more!
It had taken us six and a half hours to do the classic 9 mile circuit, a scramble along airy ridges that is unsurpassed in the Lake District
https://wildaboutwalking.wordpress.com/lake-district/striding-edge-and-swirral-edge/