Grisedale Pike

One of the most hiked Pikes but I had missed it. One hill, after 5 the day before it should be an easy!

Famous last words.  From the car park just west of Braithwaite the 791m begins with steps.  A veritable stairway to heaven, testing of my cardiovascular fitness.

After 10 miles the previous day no wonder my legs groaned.

But I soon forgot.  Turning  round  the village turned to miniature .

Despite a misty sky the steep ascent fell away in a satisfying curve.

Even better, the cloud started to clear.  The down side.  It was being blown away.  Soon hair, straps, walking poles and hoods were being whipped around in all directions.  We began to wonder at the sensibility of walking a ridge.  But there were people higher up, even picking their way to Hopegill Head above Hobcarton Crag.  But, no offence guys, how big were they?  Two relatively light females.  Should we put rocks in our packs?

Scrambling became a useful ploy for remaining in close contact with the hill.  Even pouring a drink was a bit of a hazard.  Wind blows liquid too!  Once we had got the hang of judging the gusts.  Stopping when it  was too bad, moving on when there was a lull.   It really was quite exhilarating and we eventually made it to the top.

Grisedale Pike

Hopegill Head looked tempting, but the track was very close to the edge and where as the slopes of Grisedale are relative cushioned and obtuse, Hobcarton Crag is not.  Discretion became the better part of valour and we struck off towards Pudding Beck.  Even here wind whipped and whirled.  Skimming off water into our faces from the most innocuous looking becks.

Pudding Beck

The wind followed us down the valley,  not dropping its intensity until we were almost out.  Yet back valley the evening was balmy and calm.

Derwent