Lake District Wild Camp 30-31-1-2/8-9/17

I'd been gifted with 5 days off and a decent forecast so it was time to tick off some Wainwrights and try a bit of bothying. Dubs Hut had recently been renovated so would be nice to check out and stay there if needs be.

A parking space was found near my starting point below Fleetwith Pike. A short backtrack along the road and I was soon yomping along a quad track taking in the excellent scenery.

Cloud clung to the top of the imposing looking High Stile ridge as I made my way around the base of Fleetwith Pike.

Haystacks looking quite menacing from below.

From down below the surrounding mountains (albeit some being quite small mountains) look pretty damn rugged.

As my first ascent began, the weight and bulk of my pack meant progress was almost a crawl. The addition of some wood for the bothy stove later needed to be earned on the rather steep section below Striddle Crag on Fleetwith Pike.

The famous view to Buttermere.

The steep incline of the path gradually eased and despite a few stand offs with sheep along the way, most of the hard work was now done.

It was around 10:00 when I arrived at the bothy and for some strange reason I knocked on the door before entering. Two sleeping bags with barely conscious figures began to move and I made an about turn leaving them to their slumber.

Warnscale Head bothy.

I continued upwards and Dubs Hut soon came into view. Unfortunately it was surrounded by scaffolding (due to some roof renovation work) which ruined any chance of decent photographs taken from outside.
Last night's occupants were about to depart and we chatted briefly before they headed off up towards Fleetwith Pike.

After a short time checking out the bothy, I also headed up Fleetwith Pike to bag my first Wainwright of the trip. I took a route straight up the hillside as the going wasn't too tough.

Low cloud still bugged the tops of the surrounding 800m peaks as I stood and surveyed from my vantage point.
Flowering heather graced the hillsides with a subtle pink colour as I meandered back down from the summit.

I spent a lazy afternoon sunning myself, eating and some last minute map checking for tomorrow's onward journey.

Some bothy snacks enjoyed in the sunshine.

High Crag.

The odd interested walker came to check out the bothy as I made the most of a very peaceful afternoon.

Fantastic view of the High Stile ridge from Dubs Hut window.

The afternoon drew on and I boiled some water for tea, Paella, which would need to rehydrate. The bothy offered a multitude of pots, pans and cutlery but these were not needed on this occasion.

Wood was plentiful (due to the renovation work) and the new wood burner was put through its paces to take the chill off of this rather large bothy.

As the evening drew to a close I decided to head to Fleetwith Pike summit again to hopefully capture sunset. Nearing the summit some fabulous light hit Robinson and I snapped away eagerly, this opportunity only lasted a couple of minutes but was definitely worth the walk up.

Sunset was clearly going to be a non-starter and I headed back down to the comfort of the bothy, I expected I'd have company when I got back.

Some gorgeous light from Fleetwith Pike summit.

The bothy was still empty when I returned. I began to sort my sleeping kit and unfortunately the stone benches weren't wide enough for my sleeping mat so I chose to sleep on the floor in front of the wood burner.

It rained during the night and I was grateful for not having to contend with breaking a sodden and miserable camp.
I smugly packed away my gear and then swept and tidied the bothy. After signing the visitors book I departed around 11:00 to slowly improving conditions.

Once across Warnscale Beck I followed the path without looking at the map and made a swift about turn when I realised I was actually heading towards Haystacks.
More woeful navigation followed and I mistakenly followed sheep tracks for a short while, it felt like a two steps forward and one step backwards kind of day!
Some off piste walking got me back on track and when I eventually arrived at Grey Knotts I stopped for lunch atop one of the many rocks away from the main path.

The walk to Brandreth was (thankfully) uneventful but ominous clouds were starting to gather.
As I arrived at Brandreth summit, rain started to fall so out came the bothy bag and I snacked whilst avoiding a drenching.

The shower didn't last long and I was soon on my way towards Base Brown via Green Gable. As Base Brown required an "out and back" I stashed my pack before the ascent and strode on with just my camera. It really is a joy to be free of a heavy pack and make brisk progress.

Rather than reascending Green Gable I contoured round instead of going over the same ground twice. Very rough ground made the going slow and even painful at times. I pondered about camping beside Styhead Tarn but quickly dismissed it as it can attract a certain type of camper.

A Great Gable summit camp appealed to me and I made my way up the flagstones without any hesitation.

Further up the path a glance back down to Styhead Tarn revealed a small group of people pitching their tent and I was glad for continuing onward.
I met a young chap called Lucas descending with his dog and we chatted for a good 30 minutes about camping and outdoorsy stuff.
We wished each other a good camp and a glance towards the summit revealed it had now clagged in.
It was pointless continuing all the way to the summit if I wouldn't have a view so I began to look for a spot to pitch nearby.

Some level ground was spotted away from the path but a multitude of rocks made most of the ground off limits, eventually a clear patch was found just big enough to house the small footprint of the Hubba.

A memorable pitch on the flanks of Great Gable.

The tent was up in no time and my tea was soon hydrating in its pouch. The feeling of finding the perfect pitch after a hard slog is one of utter contentment and relaxation.

When darkness had fallen I nipped out to take some star shots noting the summit was still clagged in.

Milky Way with a shooting star.

I woke to a fairly dull morning but due to having signal I could see it was forecast to brighten up before lunch time.

I delayed breaking camp as I was messaging a friend who fancied joining me for a camp on Lingmell that evening.
Clag swirled around camp and although I could hear voices making their way up the path, I was hidden from view.

At 11:00 the news came through that he couldn't make it so I packed up, by now the day had brightened considerably.

Taking in the scenery during breakfast.

I decided to head up to Great End and then head along Ill Crag, Broad Crag and Scafell Pike before descending down to Lingmell as I hadn't been that way before.
The trot down to Styhead Tarn is superb, a nice rhythm can be had descending the flagstones of the Great Gable path.

The lovely descent soon gave way to the fairly steep pull on the way up to Sprinkling Tarn.

Esk Pike from near Esk Hause.

I made a detour to the tops of Broad Crag, Ill Crag because they look quite spectacular from down below. They provide excellent vantage points of the cracking view down to Eskdale.

As predicted Scafell Pike summit was awash with a throng of people so I took a pleasant and quiet short-cut following Piers Gill.

The steep scree path required concentration to stay upright but very little effort otherwise. I saw two other people on this route compared to the crowds up on Scafell Pike.

The Scafell bypassing path beside Piers Gill.

Quite possibly my favourite viewpoint of Great Gable.

I reached the top of Lingmell mid afternoon and apart from the two people making their way down I had it all to myself. I took a casual stroll around looking for a quiet spot to camp.
Despite a good look around there were no decent spots to be had, except in an obvious location back near the summit.

I conceded and pitched in the only level and rock free spot that I'd found. The tent was orientated so that the door gave a grand view of Scafell.

As it was my third night on the Fells I decided to head down and wash at a stream. Two walkers made their way slowly by on the path below, when they'd disappeared from view I stripped off, filled up my stove pot from the stream and tipped a good few litres over myself.
In summertime on the Fells there is no refreshment like it!

My bathing spot.

Despite it being a peaceful evening some noisy sods broke the silence as they made their way up and then down Scafell Pike, why they feel the need to scream and shout in such a tranquil place is beyond me.

Some beautiful evening light on Scafell.

Low cloud scooted around The Scafells making things a little more atmospheric. After a flurry of photographic activity I ate tea heartily whilst taking in the views.

Looking down to Wastwater.

I was woken by some voices at midnight and I assumed they were doing some night navigation. It soon became clear that they weren't, a peek out of the tent revealed the noisy swines were pitching not too far away.
The loud chatting continued and I could feel my temper starting to boil, I would be up to take some night shots in an hour or so and I struggle to sleep at the best of times.
In the end I settled for ear plugs and did actually manage to nod off again.

My alarm woke me and I looked out to a beautifully clear sky. As I quietly strolled around taking some shots, the snoring of my noisy neighbours stopped abruptly as I wandered about nearly and a wry smile washed over my face.

Stars over Lingmell summit.

I woke nice and early as the forecast looked rather good for sunrise. A quick gaze out of my tent revealed the forecast was spot on, gentle orange hues were starting to appear from the east.

Distant inversions beyond Styhead Tarn.

Despite concerns about my noisy neighbours they were packed up and gone a few minutes before me as I tried my best to shake the morning dew off an absolutely sodden flysheet.

Pillar in the background.

It was a stunning morning but I knew I had to pack up get going before the first of the walkers arrived.

I set off towards the corridor route, in the back of my mind remembering one of tricky bits from a previous trip.

Great Gable summit in cloud.

I kept wondering where the tricky bit was only to realise I'd actually passed it when Styhead Tarn came into view. I couldn't believe how easy it had been.

I chose to make the steep gruelling ascent of Aaron Slack instead of a dubious route contouring around Great Gable. I knew ground was steep around there as I'd eerily heard scree moving from a camp on Kirk Fell a couple of years previous.

The ascent was as slow and tough as I remembered and I treated myself to a sit down and a few squares of chocolate at the top. Continuing on it was now an equally steep descent on very similar terrain.

This evening's camp was to be right on the summit of High Stile and having been there previously I knew it was all set to be awesome. The views up there are cracking in every direction.

As I was crossing Haystacks a brief bit of signal allowed me to check the forecast and it didn't look good, the winds were due to gust beyond 40mph and the thought of camping on High Stile in a single pole tent was asking for trouble. I immediately changed tack and headed back across Haystacks.
From here I had a choice of cutting the trip short and heading back to the car or spending a night at Warnscale Head bothy. The decision was made very quickly that I'd stay at the rather quaint and characterful bothy that I'd passed on my first day.

Two guys were stood out in front of the bothy as I wandered in for a look around. There were camping mattresses and sleeping bags laid out on the platforms so I assumed they were also going to stay the night. I went back out a few minutes later and they'd disappeared! The bothy now had its first guest booked in. After nosing around inside I pitched the tent outside to dry off in the breeze as they soon go mouldy if left damp.

As the evening drew on the wind began to whistle around the bothy which made it extra cosy.
I read the guest book whilst sipping a brew and noticed I'd have the company of the bothy mouse later.

The sky was mostly clear and the Moon lit up nearby Fells, photographic angles were limited from this secluded little spot and I didn't fancy clambering around on loose slate and steep ground at this hour.

The wind persisted all through the night and it was nice to snuggle down and know I was safe and sound no matter how crazy the weather got.

The wind was still very potent the following morning as I left the quaint little shelter behind. I was incredibly grateful for this useful and potentially life saving bothy.

The walk back down was brilliant, a delightful view of Buttermere and no more ascents to contend with,.

My thoughts on bothying had completely changed, or rather, I knew what to expect to make bothying a much more enjoyable experience.
If you choose to stay at one of these fantastic bothy's, please respect them by following the bothy code:
http://www.mountainbothies.org.uk/bothies/bothy-code/