Words & Photos Roy Clayton

September 20 2011

It was a cruel twist of fate that sent Pete sprawling to the ground, landing on his back as helpless as an upturned tortoise in a school yard. “I think it’s broken” he grimaced, firmly clutching his lower leg. I helped him to his feet and he hobbled painfully towards the trig point, desperately lunging at it for support. It was one of those moments every walker dreads. Do we suffer the indignity of calling the Mountain Rescue or risk further injury to his leg by attempting to make it down by our own steam? A female walker on her way to Fairfield was passing and offered to help me get Pete back to the Kirkstone Pass. Never one to turn down the arms of a young lady, Pete agreed to give it a go, and we gingerly lowered him down the grass and rocky ledges back to the car park. The wisdom of our decision was endorsed by the prognosis of a passing doctor. “It’s definitely not broken,” he confidently proclaimed. The doctor later confessed to being a gynaecologist and a couple of hours later Pete’s cleanly broken leg was in plaster at South Kendal hospital.

Nine months later, Pete and I were back at the Kirkstone Pass Inn. “You just have to get back on that horse,” Pete stated rather unconvincingly. “Nay lad, it’s only Red Screes from Kirkstone, more of a Shetland pony”, I joked. But the omens were not good: mountain rescue dogs were in attendance for a fundraiser and worse still, on the lower slopes of the path a helicopter had dropped off huge shopping bags full of rocks ready to fill in the big holes in the newly excavated track.

Dirty grey clouds gripped the higher hills, the gloomiest of them over High Street and Helvellyn, but the sun’s rays pierced the grey, lighting up emerald patches on the slopes of Red Screes ahead of us. The whitewashed Kirkstone Pass Inn, the highest pub in the Lake District, was soon a distant speck swallowed up in the green baize and dwarfed by the expanse of Caudale Moor and Stony Cove Pike. We traced the toy-like cars as they weaved along the lane towards Ambleside, beyond which a twisted Lake Windermere reflected the sun.

Soon we sat in the summit shelter enjoying our sandwiches while the dogs swum in the small tarn, strangely oblivious to our lunch. The weather had improved greatly. Helvellyn, St Sunday Crag and High Street had shaken off their cloud cover and blue sky reigned over the Kirkstone Pass and Place Fell. Along with the sunshine we gained a conscience and decided that the height we had saved driving to the Kirkstone Pass Inn would have to be atoned for. We decided to drop down the arm of Middle Dodd and extend the walk towards Brotherswater. That pint would have to be earned with a tough climb back along the delightful riverside path back to the inn. The change from the beer went into the buckets for those wonderful mountain rescue dogs that had been on standby, in case Pete fell off his horse!

Distance: 5.7km/3.5 miles Ascent: 580m/1900ft Time: 3-4 hours Start/Finish: Kirkstone Pass Inn (GR: NY 401080) Maps: Ordnance Survey 1:25,000 Explorer sheet OL7 (The English Lakes – South Eastern area); BMC/Harveys 1:40,000 British Mountain Map, Lake District Tourist Information: Ambleside, 015394 32582 Public Transport: The Kirkstone Rambler (Stagecoach service 517) connects the Kirkstone Pass Inn with Windermere and Glenridding. Timetable information from Traveline: 0871 200 22 33, www.traveline.info.

Technical Spec
Leave Kirkstone Pass Inn car park by gate in north-west corner. Head north-west on obvious path weaving to the summit. Watch for arrows on rocks higher up. From Red Screes (trig & shelter) continue north along ridge of Middle Dodd and descend towards Brotherswater. At path junction (NY 399107) turn south-east to climb Kirkstone Pass either by road or the path on the right, back to the start.