Words & Photos Ronald Turnbull

March 01 2010

Winter means sunlight on the high blue ridges and firm snow where your crampons crunch into the ice with a sound like a holepuncher punching through stiff card. The air is cold in the nose, the ice axe swings as a happy extension of the arm, and the eye wanders across six golden ranges towards the setting sun and the sea.

Except sometimes, it just doesn’t. With the Met Office promising gales, drifting snow and avalanches, we fled south before the gathering storm. Maybe there’d be some winter conditions in England? Indeed it turned out that, even in bad snow, the eastern combes of Helvellyn were the place to be. After a sandwich by Ruthwaite Lodge, we headed up the broken ground towards Dollywaggon Pike, reaching through soggy snow for scrambling handholds. As the ridge eased, we squeezed the water out of our gloves, and admired the silvery-grey of Ullswater as it faded into the mist. Above us, St Sunday Crag loomed like the blade of a snowplough.

The ridge narrows above: a grassy ramble in summer, but requiring care in winter when some of the slush lies on top of rock slabs. But all too soon, it levelled off to that perfect arrival on Dollywaggon summit. As we walked the eastern rim, crags surged towards us through holes in the mist, then faded and disappeared again.

At Helvellyn’s summit, a solitary raven clung to the stones, hopping nervously inwards for a windblown scrap of chocolate or fragment of pie carried on the wind. It held wings out half-deployed, in case it suddenly found itself whirled back up into the clouds.

A long day onwards over the Dodds did not invite us. Indeed, there was only one line down in any of our three minds. The chance of an unpeopled, snowy Striding Edge was not to be missed. Crampons pierced the slush to find earth or hard rock below. Ice axes waggled in the air for balance. The difficult bit, where it steepens and you grab for handholds, was the easy bit today. The simple walk along the crest was what was tough. We took it slowly, enjoying the efforts of the wind to fling us down into Red Tarn.

At the ridge end, we uncramponed and romped like happy puppies down the 
knee-deep slush to Red Tarn. Falling over in the shallow drifts was painless, and didn’t get anybody any wetter. Meltwater drained from inside the legs of the waterproofs as we descended towards grey Glenridding. From the youth hostel, golden lamplight emanated like a warm halo. We checked it for beds, then tossed coins for who went on to Patterdale to get the car.

Distance: 11 miles/18 km Ascent: 3500ft/1050m Time: 6-7 hours Start/finish: Patterdale, pay-and-display car park east of road (GR: NY 396160) Map: Ordnance Survey 1:50,000 Landranger sheet 90 (Penrith, Keswick); Harvey Maps 1:25,000 Superwalker, Lakeland Central Information: Penrith, 01768 867466; Glenridding, 017684 82414 Travel: 108 bus runs between Penrith and Patterdale

Technical Spec
From N end of village, take lane up Grisedale. Ahead on track then path to Ruthwaite Lodge. SW up broken ground to ascend the Tongue to Dollywaggon Pike. Follow crag tops to Helvellyn. Descend Striding Edge; at end of rocks, down fun slope L to Red Tarn. Big path leads down Red Tarn Beck, to Glenridding. Take lane on right just after bridge and cross Keldas to Patterdale.