How to fail gloriously

Cover photograph from Wikipedia

“I’m sorry, Mum and Dad, we can’t go any further. The path peters out with a sheer drop below it. Sam? Sam? Are you alright?”

“Yes, Daddy,” replied our 7-year-old grandson, unaware of the perils below, from his perch about 15 feet up on the wooded cliff ahead.  

“You need to come down straightaway!” commanded our son Martin.

Yes, the conquest of the easiest of all the fells on Wainwright’s famous list, would have to wait.

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But earlier in the weekend, there had been much success to savour. On Friday, before Jane and I arrived, Sam and Martin had climbed Grisedale Pike (2,595 feet). Then on Saturday morning we’d all scaled Catbells, which overlooks Derwentwater on the western side. We didn’t all scale Catbells at the same pace, Sam racing ahead whilst we two oldies pulled our stiff limbs over the rocks, Martin trying to keep us all in touch from somewhere in the middle. On our descent, we rewarded ourselves with an ice cream followed by lunch at the Lingholm Kitchen and Walled Garden near the lakeshore.

For supper we bought fish and chips, eaten at a table in Keswick’s Fitz park. It was a peaceful, sundrenched evening. On the stroke of 7:30 p.m I joked, “Well, if you’ve any energy left, you can always climb Latrigg” (the small 1,200 ft fell below Skiddaw that overlooks the town) “before it gets dark”. And, believe it or not, that’s exactly what we three men did!  Jane enjoyed a long read back at our guest house.

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Sunday morning had started with so much promise; a beautiful, blue sky; at about 17 degrees, an optimum temperature for walking. Borrowdale is so rewarding at this time of year. The path meandered alongside the softly flowing River Derwent, at intervals leading amongst oaks and birches. We’d chosen a nice, easy route, climbing the 950 ft Castle Crag that stands like a sentry guarding the top of the valley.

The instructions in our book of walks weren’t unambiguous. “When you reach a clearing…passing a slate quarry…the gap in the wall…a small copse…” All these could have referred to several places. And then the path forked. The better defined path led away from the river, promising a more direct route uphill. But 200 yards later it became much less distinct. Nevertheless, here was a clear route upwards and we took a ‘group decision’ to carry on rather than to retrace our steps.

With every turn it got steeper and harder to negotiate, over loose rocks and fallen tree roots. Finally we emerged onto level ground covered in bracken where Jane is photographed, with a clear path to the right and the left. Martin’s phone told him we had only 150 feet remaining to climb. But the paths in both directions led to the bottom of cliffs! We later concluded these were used not by walkers but by rock climbers to scramble to the summit, which all the trails will tell you is accessed from the south west.  

On the way down, wise Sam told us, “I always said we shouldn’t follow that path uphill.” And better still, when we passed other walkers, he warned them,

“Don’t go up Castle Crag. It’s a dead end!” They all smiled kindly, but I don’t think anyone followed his advice…they were no doubt following the official path alongside the Derwent…

We all agreed it had been a good walk, quite exhilarating despite our non-achievement. Martin had to leave for London, so left us in Keswick’s Hope Park. At the café, Sam hadn’t quite the appetite to finish his pizza, baked beans and chips. We wrapped up the pizza and he ate the beans, announcing with importance that they weren’t “transportable in tissue.”

Our final act before leaving Keswick was to sample the park’s 18-hole crazy golf course. This is designed for non-golfers. The ball runs less true than on any course I have previously played on, following the perverse contours of its uneven concrete base. You aim for the hole; it just misses, then gradually trickles its way back down to where you started.

Just like our attempt to climb Castle Crag…