To make the most of our days off in the Lake District we want to go wild camping as much as possible. So as soon as a nice weather window appeared we left work at 4pm on the dot, had a speedy shower and set off. We carried our heavy backpacks filled with tents, sleeping bags, pots and pans and enough food for two days down to the bus stop where we arrived with 8 minutes to spare. The problem was the bus didn’t show up. After twenty minutes we realised it probably wasn’t coming and we needed a plan B so we walked to another bus stop to see what other buses were available. Turns out the bus drivers make up their own rules around here and some just don’t bother coming to the designated stop we were at. The next bus we found only took us as far as Ambleside so we had to adapt our hiking route and add on a few extra kilometres. We exited the little village up a narrow lane and then joined a trail into the hills, making our way up one side of the valley. It was really windy which we hadn’t considered before deciding to camp so that added a bit of a challenge.

Our plan was to make it up to an 850m peak but we just didn’t have enough time and by 8pm we were shattered and starving so began to search for a flat spot to camp. A huge 6 foot-tall dry stone wall was running parallel to us for much of the walk and as long as we stayed on the right side of it we got a natural wind-block.

We found a flat plateau just below the ridge-line which looked like a nice enough spot so we pitched up our little green tent. We had a view of Windermere lake in the distance and it felt nice and wild where we were with just the sound of nature (mostly howling wind). Once the tent was erected Craig cracked onto dinner which was mixed grains with some pre-roasted sweet potatoes, salad and fried halloumi. It wasn’t served until about 9pm just as the sun was going down so we decided to run up the hill to take a peak at the sunset through a gap in the wall. It was just a two minute walk but by the time we took our first mouthfall of food it was already cold and the delicious soft halloumi had turned to squeaky rubber. We were in bed by 10pm, absolutely exhausted but we set our alarm for 5am to check if there happened to be a nice sunrise or hopefully a cloud inversion. Instead of those two options we woke to a rather anticlimactic sky, it was quite hazy as the sun was desperately trying to burn through.

We didn’t get a wink of sleep all night. I was tossing and turning due to my hips aching from the hard ground. The sleeping bag was so narrow it felt like I was tied up in a straight-jacket and it was freezing cold. I was wearing thermals, two pairs of thick’s socks, a hat and gloves to bed and I was still chilly.

We spent the first couple of hours hiking relentlessly uphill to the top of Fairfield peak at 873m which we laughed about because we’d wanted to reach this spot last night and not only was it ridiculously far away but the wind would of been crazy. There was still a strange, cold, chill to the air, it was a northerly wind and we joked that it was coming straight from the Arctic. Once we arrived at Fairfield we didn’t have much of a plan to our next destination but we knew we needed more water so we had to descend into a valley. There were two routes on my map and we took the most direct…but definitely not the easiest. In fact instead of sharing this trail with people we shared it with nimble footed sheep. It felt almost vertical at times and the path was made of scoria which just meant we were sliding down with arms flailing to keep our balance. Eventually we made it down to the tarn nestled in the valley where streams trickled in and out of it and we were able to fill up our limited water supply and give our legs a rest.

Looking back at our route it was a bit silly as we had a huge descent followed by an even bigger accent all the way back up the other side. To make matters worse the heavens opened, only for 5 minutes but we had a frantic dash to try and get our wet-weather gear on. The sky looked pretty menacing with dark clouds looming over the layers of mountains that filled the horizon. It was quite grim to be honest with a brutal wind lashing towards us as we hiked across a mountain plateau towards the summit of Helvellyn, the 3rd highest mountain in England. A blanket of cloud covered the 950m summit but it eventually lifted and we got a view of the dramatic ‘sharp edge’ a fun ridge-line which we hiked a couple years ago.

Below the ridge and in a natural amphitheatre were the blue waters of red tarn which we did consider camping at until a group of noisy youths turned up. We headed down anyway, along the other ridge named striding edge and continued along the hills in search of a place to camp. The wind was blustery which made it even harder to find a decent spot to pitch and in the end we had to use the stone walls again for protection. We opted for a nice spot on mossy ground with a bit of a slant to it. It was 6pm by the time we sat down and we were shattered after hiking 15km with our heavy backpacks. I wanted to sit and enjoy the view but the cold temperatures had us wrapped up in our sleeping bags for the rest of the evening. The strong wind caused the tent to flap frantically, the whole thing was suctioning in and out, hitting us on the head repeatedly.

Somehow I did manage to sleep a little better than the previous night. When we stepped out the tent we saw an invasion of black slugs which seemed to be attracted to our tent, maybe they mistook it for a giant green cabbage. We did spot a cloud inversion in the far distance but I’m dreaming of one where I wake up to a blanket of cloud right below me.

Today we were descending into a different valley, towards Ullswater lake. The weather got better and better as we made our way down into the valley with the sun hitting the lush green pastures below the rugged hills. Being so exhausted we decided to head back on the 10am bus with just enough time to run down to the shores of the lake to check it out. Hopefully our next trip will be a lot warmer and less gusty!