15 October 2021
This was the real adventure that I had been waiting for all week. It’s only a route to attempt in conditions where visibility is good and it isn’t windy. Friday had looked to be the most likely day and I was elated to wake up to a blue and virtually cloud free sky with lower wind strength than any of the previous days. Of course at this time of year, the clear skies meant it was colder – but fortunately not icy.
We parked in the ample Lake District National Park car park in Glenridding, having driven over the Kirkstone Pass. We walked together as far as the stile at Hole in the Wall, where my husband turned off to Red Tarn and I pushed on upwards, keeping to the north of the top of the ridge. There were a fair number of people heading the same way – undoubtedly most like me had waited all week for the right weather.
I was excited to be on this ridge after anticipating the adventure for a long time. However my excitement was tinged with nervousness about managing the climb – in particular the clamber down the “bad step” partway along the ridge. There is apparently a way round this but I think it’s quite difficult to find.
I followed the less popular lower path until I arrived at a large slab of rock where there appeared to be little choice but to clamber up on to the ridge. I stowed my poles in my rucksack and scrambled upwards. I arrived at a place on the top of the ridge where it appeared to be necessary to make a big step across a gap with a huge drop. I definitely wasn’t up for that but a man told me that the only other possibility was to retrace my steps and find the path on the north below the one I had followed initially. Fortunately though I managed to find a way round this big step on the south side of the main ridge.
The next challenge was to lower myself down the fifteen foot rock chimney that still stood between me and the final summit climb. This is the most tricky section of the entire walk. I was fortunate that a very good climber from Washington D.C. had just descended and was happy to guide me down. There are only a few foot and handholds but they all felt secure once my feet and hands found them – the hard bit is finding them and of course I had plenty of help with that.
The hardest part of the scramble was over and it just remained to climb upwards on a rocky poorly defined path to reach the summit area. Near the top there is a salutary reminder of the risks in the form of a memorial to the artist Charles Gough, who slipped and fell from Striding Edge in April 1805. There is apparently at least one further memorial but I didn’t see it. The view of Striding Edge from the top looks impressive.
I was elated to have conquered Striding Edge. Many people were around the summit, but clearly most had climbed the easier routes from the west, just as I have done in the past. In the sun it felt warm so I sat near the top of the Swirral Edge ridge to eat lunch.
Swirral Edge is a steep descent but there is no rock chimney to scale and there are plenty of handholds. Having reached walking territory again, I retrieved my trekking poles from my rucksack, commenting to a man standing close by that we seemed to have completed the scramble. He turned out to be a recently retired GP from Lancaster, his partner still working and we had a couple of acquaintances in common. I left the couple as I had decided to make the short detour to Catstye Cam.
Catstye Cam is a very understated summit, nestling as it does in the shadow of the mighty Helvellyn. In fact the views from the summit are second to none in all directions. The top is actually the tenth highest of the 214 Wainwrights and the twelfth highest mountain in England. If it was not so near its dominant neighbour it would surely receive more attention.
I returned to the main descent, meeting my husband at the footbridge over the lower end of Red Tarn Beck. He had climbed Catstye Cam as well as visiting Red Tarn so was happy with his day out too, having already conquered Striding Edge forty years ago with no ambition to repeat the scramble. We were soon on the minor Greenside Road and it was an easy return to Glenridding.
Completion of this walk was a magical end to our few days away, celebrated over a gin and tonic before our final evening meal at the hotel. We had been so fortunate – on Saturday we woke to scenes of low cloud down to lake level with rain; much worse weather than any we had encountered all week, but it was time to drive home.
Where's Kathryn? 