By a Mossy Gnome

Colour on the Lakeland mountains

Holme Fell, originally uploaded by byamossygnome.com.

This is probably the most colourful time of year on the Lake District mountain tops - at least the lower ones. The highest summits have little except rock on them, although some of that is more colourful than you might expect. Great Gable has some grass and dense moss growing on its largely barren surface, possibly as a result of so many people’s ashes being scattered there. I remember once hearing a walker on Coniston Old Man, calmly telling his companion, “When I die, I want my ashes scattered on Great Gable.” His friend, quite unfazed, agreed to do this, as though it was the most ordinary request to make while strolling along.

Smaller mountains, with plenty of vegetation (unaided by the ashes of mountaineers), are at their best just now. The purple of heather is added to the green of the grass and the different shades of lichen on grey rock.

Summer on a mountain top

Wetherlam from Holme Fell, originally uploaded by byamossygnome.com.

Time to sit down for a rest and get the flask of tea out again. Just find a comfortable spot amidst the heather - this one will do. What a pity I can only provide a picture of one small corner of the view - in this case of Wetherlam, overlooking Holme Fell. You will just have to imagine the warm air, the sound of humming insects and the faint perfume of heather. You can also, if you like, imagine reaching out to pick an occasional blueberry, hiding under their leaves among the heather. If it helps, turn the heating up, hum to yourself and eat a few blueberries from the supermarket while looking at the picture. It’s just not the same, though, is it?

Heather on Holme Fell

Heather in the Lake District, originally uploaded by byamossygnome.com.

You have to take the weather forecast with a pinch of salt sometimes. We had been threatened first with rain, then with drizzle at the weekend, plus poor visibility. The weather symbol showed a dark cloud with a big blob of water emerging from it. Not a drop of rain fell, however. It was hot, even humid, and the visibility was fine. The heather is out on the hills, in this case on Holme Fell, looking out over Coniston water.

Wastwater from Great Gable

Wastwater from Great Gable, originally uploaded by byamossygnome.com.

Another view of Wastwater from the mountainous end, looking out towards the sea. This one is from the summit of Great Gable. The first time I climbed that mountain, via Green Gable on that occasion, it was covered in snow, and occasional snowmen decorated the route up and on the top. My first view of Wastwater from this point had a jolly miniature snowman smiling in the foreground. It was years ago, but whenever I climb Great Gable and look out over the lake, I still remember the little snowman.

A reminder to be careful in the mountains

Styhead Pass, originally uploaded by byamossygnome.com.

You leave the last cafe and ice cream outlet behind in the tiny hamlet of Seathwaite, and take an easy walk to a pretty bridge over some small waterfalls, then begin to climb to Styhead Pass.  The word “Sty” is from the Old Norse stigr, or steep path, and it certainly is.   The country starts to look wilder, and steep, grey, stony hills begin to appear.  Reach the top of the pass and this object, looking like a large, fat coffin, greets your eyes.  It is the mountain rescue service stretcher box.  Suddenly, life seems much more serious here. 
 
It appears that too many walkers are climbing the fells with too little knowledge, equipment or, indeed, common sense.   They think that if they get into difficulty, they simply get out their mobile phones and summon a Mountain Rescue Team as though it were a taxi service. The now over-stretched Rescue Teams have brought out a useful book to try and remedy this, and you might just be in time to win a free copy (final date 26 July).  Otherwise, unless you are a very experienced hill walker, it would be wise to buy one.

Waiting for a haircut

Herdwick sheep, Seathwaite, originally uploaded by byamossygnome.com.

There we are, up on the mountainside, just minding our own business and eating grass. Suddenly, the dreaded dogs appear and we are rounded up and chased down here.  There is a loud, scary noise coming from nearby - I think you humans call it rap music.  And there's a group of men chatting and laughing.  They're listening to the music and doing something mysterious, which makes a buzzing noise.  We've seen our brothers and sisters go in there and they are changed sheep - thin, only half the sheep they were.   All their wool has gone.  We're scared. What are they going to do with us?  What's that? Shearing? What's shearing?  (shudder). Don't like the sound of that at all.   What do you mean, we'll feel better after we've been sheared?  It sounds ba-a-ad to me.

Scafell Pike, or Baldy

Scafell Pike , originally uploaded by byamossygnome.com.

After the view of Great Gable from Scafell Pike, here is Scafell Pike from Great Gable.  The name Scafell probably means Bare Mountain, or even Baldy, from the Old Norse word Skalli.  Great Gable means what it says, as it resembles the gable of a giant house.  From Wasdale it also reminds me of a child’s drawing of a mountain – a tall, triangular shape. 
 
The best route up Great Gable is from Seathwaite in Borrowdale, following some fine waterfalls up the hillside and climbing over Green Gable first.  Yesterday, though, I took the more direct route.  From the top of Styhead Pass a well-constructed stone path leads relentlessly straight up the steep mountainside, to deposit the walker, with aching legs and badly in need of a cup of tea, on the windy summit.  The views are worth it, and this is probably the best side of the Scafell range’s craggy face, deeply grooved with gullies.

Looking down on Great Gable

Lingmell and Great Gable from Scafell Pike, originally uploaded by byamossygnome.com.

If the sun shines on Extreme Cello when they play on the summit of Scafell Pike, which is extremely rocky - or perhaps I should say Extremely Rocky - then this is the view they can hope to enjoy as they begin to descend. There are not many places from which you can look down on Great Gable - the conical one on the right - normally it looks loftily down on you.

High Notes on Scafell Pike

Bowfell from Scafell Pike, originally uploaded by byamossygnome.com.

I hope the cellists will be able to enjoy the view from the summit of Scafell Pike when they play there next Thursday, 24 July.  Often a big, grey cloud sits on top of the mountain or rain pours down on it.  And I only hope their bows, or indeed the cellists themselves and their instruments, are not carried away into Borrowdale, Wasdale or Eskdale by the strong winds that often blow up there.   Perhaps the sun will shine on them and only gentle breezes play around them as Extreme Cello performs on the four highest peaks of Britain and Ireland.  Then they will be able to enjoy this view of Bowfell.  If it is clear enough they will also be able to see some of the Scottish hills and the Isle of Man.  If it is very clear indeed, they may even see the peaks of Snowdon, which is another of their venues.

Eskdale from Mickledore

Eskdale & Coniston Fells from Mickledore, originally uploaded by byamossygnome.com.

After scrambling up onto Mickledore, a rocky bridge joining Scafell Pike, the highest summit in England, and it’s slightly smaller brother, Scafell, this is the view over Eskdale. It appears a wild and trackless waste, but there is some good walking there. If you look closely, you might just see a footpath straggling up the hillside towards you. There is a fine walk (take map and compass and know how to use them) from Eskdale, up to the summit of Scafell via Fox’s Tarn, then back down the broad back of the mountain to the starting point.

Those are the Coniston Fells on the horizon.