COLD CUMBRIA

HIKING

COLD CUMBRIA

Hiking the Lake District in winter holds a magic of its own, as James Forrest discovers.

Am I being brave or just utterly idiotic? Is this whole thing an intrepid escapade or a schoolboy error? I’m struck by how fine the line is between inspirationally pushing your limits and naively walking head first into disaster. Doubts trouble my mind, as I lie cocooned in my sleeping bag. It’s -5°C and I’m shivering, despite wearing every item of clothing I have with me. The water in my bottle has frozen solid and I’m exhaling like a cloud-breathing dragon. Maybe wild camping the Cumbria Way in winter wasn’t such a good idea?

Photos James Forrest

At 5.30am I fi nally muster the courage to get up – and immediately my doubts dissipate. I emerge from my tent into a wintry utopia that is simultaneously eerie and enchanting. It is like nothing I’ve witnessed before in the Lake District. The brooding silhouette of the surrounding fells is lined with an electric blue hue and backed by a thousand beaming stars. Herdwick eyes glow a demonic green in the glare of my head-torch and a calm Coniston Water shimmers in the moonlight. Thick frost has enveloped everything, coating the world with its icy crystals and transforming the landscape into a sparkling white overnight.

INTO THE WILD

Rewind 24 hours and I’m in Ulverston raring to kick off my challenge. The Cumbria Way is a 73-mile walk through (obviously) Cumbria and the heart of the Lake District. It journeys the length of the county, starting from the quirky market town of Ulverston in the south to the city of Carlisle in the north, via Coniston, Great Langdale, Keswick and Caldbeck. Most walkers take fi ve or more days to complete the trail, staying in homely B&Bs and eating in rustic country pubs. But I’ve opted for a wilder, and more economical, approach. I only have four days available – so I’ll hike

Wild camping in the Langstrath Valley

18 miles a day and sleep wherever I can pitch my one-man tent. I hope I don’t regret this strategy.

My mission, however, is clear. I’m taking on the hike for a number of reasons: to escape the commercialised madness of pre-Christmas; to lose my winter wild camping virginity – putting my gear (and body) to the test in sub-zero temperatures; and to experience a broader spectrum of Cumbria’s landscapes, rather than visiting the same old Lake District honey-pots time and time again. There are questions I need to answer. Will I be bored out of my mind when it’s pitch-black from 4pm to 7am? How will I cope with the cold? And is winter wild camping all about hardship and survival, or will I fi nd a perverse pleasure in this extreme case of hotel avoidance?

It only takes two enthralling days on the trail for me to make up my mind – I love wild camping in winter. How could you not? Every corner I turn I enter the unknown. Every mile brings new surprises, shocks and inspiration. Every stage provides memorable experiences.

“I emerge from my tent into a wintry utopia that is simultaneously eerie and enchanting”

A fellow hiker taking a moment to savour Elterwater

Hiking at Beacon Tarn

“Every corner I turn I enter the unknown”

In Gawthwaite on day one, as I battle a bitter wind and intermittent snowy showers, I bump into an eccentric old timer who tells me, “This is God’s country – you won’t fi nd a better view anywhere in Britain.” We look out over the distant Yorkshire Dales to our right and the enticing, snow-capped trio of Dow Crag, Coniston Old Man and Wetherlam ahead. He is biased, obviously, but I can see the appeal.

On day two I wake pre-dawn and hike in the dark up to Tarn Hows, an estate partly bequeathed to the National Trust by Beatrix Potter. I can almost sense the icy landscape slowly coming to life. The frozen tarn begins to glimmer. Sunlight catches the frosty dusting clinging to the trees’ bare branches. I’m alone, except for a stag I spot bolting through woodland and the amazingly confi dent, red-breasted robin that comes to say hello – and share the peanuts I’m tucking into. I know Narnia is fi ctional, but it feels like I’m walking through it.

I reach River Brathay at midday, a renowned beauty spot with arresting views across reed beds to the lumpy, craggy tops of the Langdale Pikes. It is a clear, crisp, sunny winter’s day. The river is a mirror. Half-mesmerised by the fl awless refl ections of the snowy peaks, I can’t tell where reality starts and the mirror-image ends.

As darkness descends, I set up camp. I have the rugged, vast hollow of Langstrath – Lakeland’s longest uninhabited valley -

to myself. Pitch tent. Check. Boil pasta. Check. Infl ate sleeping mat. Check. Collect water from nearby beck. Check. Watch in bewilderment as the sky swirls a million shades of pink and brushes the mountainside with ever-changing colours. Check.

FLAPJACKS TO THE FINISH LINE

I think about the previous 48 hours and re-live some of the tougher moments. At Beacon Tarn I can barely enjoy the panoramas because my fi ngers and toes are so painfully cold. On the near 500m ascent of Stake Pass I hit the deck a few times, unable to cope with the icy, treacherous path, and overnight at Coniston I repeatedly curse myself for not splashing out on a sleeping bag with a higher density of down fi lling. But, I quickly conclude, these drawbacks are merely trivial. I’m alive, I’m safe, I’m surviving – and still have 42 miles of this wintry adventure left to enjoy.

Bacon sandwiches, crunchy fl apjacks and two lattes are my reward for reaching the cafe at Grange the following morning. I need the energy for the miles ahead along the western shores of Derwentwater to Keswick. I’m feeling fatigued and am grateful for the lack of gradient. Devised by local ramblers groups in the 1970s, the offi cial Cumbria Way route is predominantly a lowlevel, fl at walk. Some guidebooks off er mountain alternatives for those who prefer summits to the valleys, but there’s no chance I’m volunteering for any additional uphill graft.

The walk’s biggest climb is still ahead of me too. It’s pitch-dark by the time I’m at Grainsgill Beck at the foot of the ascent. I can see the profi le of Lingy Hut – a small, wooden bothy that will be my home for the night – on the skyline. 30 minutes later and I’m hopelessly lost. Where on earth is the hut? I’m boot deep in crunchy snow and totally disorientated by a white-out. To make matters worse, my phone battery is dead, so I can’t check my navigation app, and I left my tent with a friend in Keswick in a foolish bid to reduce the weight of my backpack. Oh God, I’m going to have to survive the night out in the open! Panic descends and, in a frenzy, I start rushing around in all directions. And then – fi nally, joyously, luckily – I stumble across the shed. Disaster averted. Phew.

As I start my fi nal push for the fi nish line, I’m fi lled with the happiness of a man who dodged a bullet the night before. I gaze back over Lakeland from the 658m summit of High Pike before saying goodbye to the fells and descending slowly to Caldbeck. The rest is a weary, blister-antagonising tramp through woodland, across farmland and alongside the River Caldew, but I enter a robotic, mindless hiking mode and power through the miles quickly enough.

Before I really realise it, I’m in Carlisle, standing in the majestic Cathedral Quarter. No-one notices the relief on my face. No-one congratulates me on the accomplishment. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve fi nished, I’ve broken my winter wild camping duck, I’ve survived – and it has been a Lakeland experience to rival the best summer can off er. Perhaps this whole thing was a good idea, after all?

“I can almost sense the icy landscape slowly coming to life”

Camping in the Langstrath Valley

Derwentwater on a crisp, clear winter’s morning

GEAR GURU

THE KIT YOU NEED

SAM PLANT, BRISTOL

TENT

If you’re camping during winter then reliable shelter is a must. Solo hikers should explore a lightweight one-person tent like the MSR Elixir 1, which features solid fabric panels to help retain warmth when the temperature drops.

£250

SLEEPING BAG

Any winter adventurer worth their salt will invest in a proper four-season sleeping bag. The Rab Neutrino Pro 700 is fi lled with premium goose down that’s toasty warm, light and compressible.

MAT

A good night’s sleep starts beneath your body. Therm-a-Rest’s NeoAir XTherm provides crucial insulation from chilly ground and a good amount of cushioning. It also packs right down for maximum portability.

STOVE

Top of the list at the end of a day’s hiking is a good brew and a warm meal. The compact and stable MSR WhisperLite International is a remote fuel stove that off ers better winter performance and more pot choices.

PACK

Tackling a multi-day trek like the Cumbria Way requires a comfortable, spacious backpack. Osprey’s durable Aether series is a classic choice; this 65-litre version will hold all you need and spreads the load perfectly.

HEAD TORCH

With minimal daylight to play with during winter, you’ll come to rely on your head torch. Petzl make some of the best in the business – like this Actik Core model boasting 600 lumens and a USB-rechargeable battery.