The Wrong Mountain
Fellrunner Norman Hadley decides the Right Path is to climb the Wrong Mountain – a
A brush with enlightenment The other day , I went to see my favourite
Zen master . ‘ Master ,’ I beseeched him . ‘ Which path should I take ?’
Pulling his saffron robes tightly around him , he drew himself to full height and replied with a riddle . ‘ Consider a wide valley . On one side rises a mountain of superlative beauty and international renown . On the other is a hill of generally dumpy appearance which appears on precisely no one ’ s list of favourites . Which should you climb ?’
‘ Too easy ,’ said I . ‘ Better to be on a dumpy hill looking at a beautiful one than vice versa . It ’ d be quieter , too .’
‘ You have chosen wisely ,’ said he . ‘ To be honest , you could have figured this out without inventing me at all .’ Whereupon he vanished in a fictive cloud of incense .
A better hill than it actually is I mention this because Clough Head , the northern terminus of the Helvellyn range , is unlikely to ever be voted Lakeland ’ s bestloved hill – but Blencathra definitely is . And Clough Head could scarcely be better situated for viewing Blencathra ’ s vast , riven south face rising from the pastures of Threlkeld . When it carries a coating of snow , the effect is of a gigantic wedding cake from which hungry guests have carved mighty wedges .
For this and other reasons , this end of the Helvellyn ridge , collectively known as the Dodds , makes a superb winter outing . Reascents are small , the going generally easy , the paths well marked .
Avoiding the plague The year 2020 was stuttering to a close , and not before time . For much of the year , the hills had been placed out of bounds by the coronavirus pandemic . From my Lancashire home , they floated like some mythic island on my northern horizon , tantalisingly out of reach .
On the penultimate day of the year , I grabbed my chance . The forecast was crisp and cold , so I pointed the car over Shap to enjoy some easy , icefree motoring on the M6 and A66 . Once I reached the lanes of Matterdale , however , everything was coated in glistening sheets of snow-ice . With suspiciously light steering , I gingerly nosed the car as close as I safely could to the foot of the hills , where the Coach Road heads over to St John ’ s in the Vale . But , before I reached my intended
Blencathra from Clough Head
4 outdoor focus / spring 2024