I’d arranged to meet a friend at the youth hostel in Ambleside, but somehow managed to miss him. Alone, I picked up some groceries and headed up the road to Stock Ghyll, passing several farmhouses high on the hillsides as I left the valley behind. There was tremendous crisp clear visibility. My feet were sore: I had in fact walked from the station in Windermere, all the way to Waterhead, wearing socks with holes in them. Whilst in Ambleside I sourced some new socks, and while doing so, happened to miss the arrival and departure of my friend.

I pitched camp around 7 o’clock, probably near the ruins of High grove (NY 400065) – my notes have “near a stream, not far from a clump of trees with some ruins”. I had a chicken supreme and a small but cheerful open fire. I slept for more than 12 hours and was on my way again in the morning at 9.30a.m, without my morning tea. Onwards, past the top of Kirkstone Pass, onto St Raven’s Edge. There was early morning mist swirling about, though there was the promise of better weather later. Deep in the mist, I progressed uphill to Pike How, where I discovered that all the oil had leaked out of my Silva compass, rendering it completely useless.

By the time I reached the summit of Stoneycove Pike (2502′) the mists had burnt off. Below, a deep and perfect col; in front, Thornthwaite Crag (2569′) with its beacon on top. On the left, a text-book U-shaped glacial valley swept down to the emerald green woods of Patterdale. On the right, a similar vale gave onto a glorious view of Windermere. I went down to the col, and started back up the other side as clouds drifted across the sun. I heard my first voices of the day.

From Thornthwaite Crag, a gentle stroll onto the summit of High Street (2719′). The summit is flat, straight and a stone wall runs along it. A Roman road runs along it – the clue of course, is in the name of the mountain. You can see Haweswater, and today, the Vale of Eden and the distant Pennines were clearly visible. Here, one has a very strong sense of being at the edge of the Lake District. Onwards to Rampsgill Head and Kidsty Pike, from which can be seen the startling Riggindale Crags, (ostensibly at the time – 1986) the home of a pair of Golden Eagles. Today, in early Autumn, the hill scenery and visibility were first class. I could see Helvellyn, and even Blencathra, far away in the distance.

The way home leads down to what I have always called “the other Angle Tarn”, to distinguish it from the tarn of the same name snuggled under Bow Fell. I bathed my feet here in this tarn, which is one of only a few with islands. From here, down into the green and fertile Ullswater valley. At Patterdale I was unsure as to whether or not to continue up Helvellyn. It was 4pm. I reckoned I could get over the top and make Grizedale Tarn bv nightfall. However, I chanced to ring home, and discovered that I had a job interview to go to. So I scrapped my plans for Helvellyn and hitched out.

At 4.30 pm I was picked up by an old fellow on a tour of the Lakes, who took me from Patterdale to Penrith. In a queue of three others I waited at Junction 40 M6 for only fifteen minutes, before being picked up by an RAF technician in a 5-series BMW. [The inference is that he took the A66 to Scotch Corner and then down the A1.] He dropped me off at Newark at 8.10pm, from whence a train to Derby was no matter.

Saturday 20th September 1986. Uploaded to the web 6/2/26.