Loughrigg Fell – Joel’s Journeys & Jaunts

In this morning’s post, I said that a mention I made of the “fells of the Lake District” unintentionally foreshadowed a future post. This is that post. The fell is the Loughrigg Fell, which I walked up this afternoon.

For the benefit of anyone who didn’t read that post and who, like me, didn’t know what a fell was in this context, it’s a hill or stretch of high moorland, especially in northern England.

Not having known what a fell was before today, seeing “Loughrigg Fell” raised a few questions in my mind:

1. Who was Loughrigg?
2. Why was his or her fall so noteworthy as to have a land feature named after it?
3. Did he or she survive the fall?
4. Considering it’s known for someone falling, am I an idiot for walking up it?
5. Am I an idiot for anything else? (But that’s something completely different.)

Having learned what a fell was, I was a little less worried about it. Except for the “high” part, that is. I do have my acrophobia to consider.

A warning before I start: This will likely be a short post. There are two reasons for that:

1. Because I didn’t get back to my hotel until later than usual today, I hadn’t finished writing and posting my morning post until after dinner. I didn’t start this until after that. It’s getting late, and I’m getting beyond tired after a wearying day.
2. There are only so many times in a single post that you can use words like beautiful, breathtaking, magnificent, spectacular, gorgeous, exquisite, etc., before it begins to wear on someone—me, for example.

Walking up Loughrigg Fell

The path I took up Loughrigg Fell started in a nice, tame, well-maintained park. At that point, the path was perfectly paved. Out of the park, it headed up a road that was still paved, although a little less perfectly. Beyond that, the ever-climbing trail became gravel, and then randomly sized, randomly spaced stones.

I climbed quite high for a man my age and came to a plateau with some spectacular views of the surrounding mountains, the vegetation on them and, in one direction, out to the lake. I thought to myself, because I had no one else to think to, “This is so breathtaking that this must surely be Loughrigg Fell.” But I looked around and saw a higher peak, with a path leading to it.

I pulled out Apple Maps, which I’d been using to get me to that point. It corroborated that I still had considerably more walking to do.

Some people were sitting on a rock on the plateau. I asked them if that peak in the distance was Loughrigg Fell. They verified that it was.

I pressed on a piece.

I reached a very steep, rock-faced path heading up. A couple were struggling to climb it, grasping for footholds and handholds. There is no way my physical ineptitude and acrophobia would let me do it. I was about to give up when I spied a gentle path heading up around the rock face in the right direction, but more bendy.

It led me to another plateau, where I paused, consulted Apple Maps and set about worrying intensely.

My worries included both whether I was physically capable of making it—there was still considerable elevation to tackle—and whether I’d be able to return to the pier in time to catch the boat I wanted to take back to Bowness/Inverness. There was a boat after that, but I’d probably be late for my dinner reservation if I got that one. Priorities, people, priorities.

While I was standing there stewing, a man outfitted with waterproof pants and two walking sticks approached me and asked if I was lost. I’m useless at guessing ages. I think he was younger than I am, but probably not by a lot. I’ll keep his identity private because we didn’t exchange names, so I have no other choice.

I told him that, no, I wasn’t lost, but I was trying to decide whether to continue or turn back. I told him I was leaning toward turning back. I also told him about my constraints.

He told me that it would only take about fifteen or so more minutes, and it’s not that bad a climb. He’s from the area and walks up frequently. He told me that the top is gorgeous and it would really give me the full sweep and feel of the Lake District in a single 360° view.

He also said that I’d get lots of fresh air and exercise if I pushed on.

I decided to push on. He said there were two paths from there. One was more direct, but you had to walk down a piece just to go back down again. He recommended the other one, which was more twisty but just continued, mostly gently, up. He led me up the second path.

The path became more rugged after that, and at some points a little muddy, but at no point did it become especially difficult, other than having to continue pushing to a higher elevation. And, finally…

I’m the king of the world. I made it to the top of Loughrigg Fell. The views of the mountains, the greenery, and the lake were truly awesome up there.

As a bonus, the summit doesn’t have any sheer cliffs. Surprisingly, at no point when I was at the summit or during the walk up was my acrophobia triggered in the least. Managing to get up that high without my usual height panic was definitely a bonus.

The walk was at times strenuous, and there were a couple of times where my traction on the stones underfoot was iffy, but it was otherwise not the least treacherous of a walk.

After spending some time at the top appreciating the gorgeous views, the guy led me back down. Partway down, we came across a couple who were lost. He led them down, too. He got us to the point where the somewhat more civilized path I walked up ended (or, coming down, began). He then went off in another direction to where he had left his car. The path down from that point was obvious and easy.

I made it back to the Ambleside pier more than half an hour before the departure time of the boat I wanted to catch.

It was an exhausting day for a man my age, but a very enjoyable and worthwhile one.

Like I said, a short post. Sorry, but this is all you’re getting. Please join me tomorrow. I haven’t the slightest idea as to what I’m going to do then.