A Northern Coast to Coast Walk
A Northern Coast to Coast Walk
Price
£12.95
Grasmere (Goody Bridge) to Patterdale
Distance: 11km (7 miles)
Height Gain: 505m (1655 feet)
Walkers who stayed overnight in Grasmere will need to retreat the short distance to Goody Bridge to resume the journey eastwards from the point at which it was left. It is perfectly feasible simply to walk up the main A591, but the quiet back road from Goody Bridge has much charm and provides a fine prospect of the onward route.
Between Grasmere and Patterdale there is little to tax walkers who have accomplished the crossing thus far without difficulty – a simple, high-level mountain pass lies in wait, beyond which a long and invigorating descent leads to the valley of Patterdale.
At Goody Bridge leave Easedale Road by turning onto the narrow and scenic road running past Thorney How Youth Hostel. The beauty of this road, in preference to walking up the A591 from Grasmere, lies in its elevation above the Vale of Grasmere, and the view it affords of the western flanks of the Fairfield Horseshoe, Seat Sandal, and the waterfalls just below Grisedale Hause that flag the onward route. However, it is a narrow road and you should take care against approaching traffic.
The road leads to Low Mill Bridge, spanning the River Rothay. Turn right at a T-junction to cross the bridge and ascend to the main valley road at Mill Bridge. Cross the busy road and take a bridleway (signposted ‘Patterdale’) running alongside attractive cottages, becoming enclosed between walls and climbing to a gate.
Beyond the gate the path continues to climb for a while, then levels as it approaches a group of sheep enclosures at the tip of Great Tongue. Two possibilities here present themselves: one to take a path climbing left, via Little Tongue Gill, the other opting for a path going right, across Tongue Gill.
The green path of Little Tongue Gill is a route by which Victorian visitors would travel on ponies to the summit of Helvellyn. This climbs rather tediously until it levels to cross the flank of Seat Sandal. The ascent by Tongue Gill, generally regarded as the line of the Coast to Coast Walk, is much more entertaining – it crosses Little Tongue Gill first, by a footbridge or a ford, and then Tongue Gill itself, rising then in easy stages. Gradually the path approaches the waterfalls near the head of the gill and arrives at a rock step, climbed by a series of ledges and a rough path.
Throughout much of this ascent there is an ever-improving retrospective view to Crinkle Crags and the Langdale Pikes, Wetherlam and the Old Man of Coniston.
Cross the stream ahead, and climb a constructed pathway across rough ground to a false col, beyond which lies a shallow hollow that probably once held a lake. Continue rockily around its left edge and climb easily to Grisedale Hause.
Grisedale Hause
At Grisedale Hause a vastly different prospect opens up. Hitherto the views have all been retrospective, but now it is time to look forward across the great bowl that houses Grisedale Tarn to what lies ahead, as we slowly (there is no hurry just yet!) start to leave behind the great rugged heights of central Lakeland and head for the sublime traverse of limestone country and the dales of Yorkshire.
Grisedale Tarn is an ideal place for a pause, deep set beneath the fellsides of Dollywaggon Pike, Fairfield and Seat Sandal, a setting wild and grand, with a true mountain atmosphere, though none of the surrounding heights presents its best profile to the lonely lake. T S Tschiffeley, in his Bridle Paths Through England, said of Grisedale Tarn that it ‘brought back memories of the highlands of Bolivia and Peru’. Perhaps it did, for it is a fine jewel in a fine crown, on a still evening faithfully mirroring the surrounding hills.
There is a legend about Grisedale Tarn that into it Duvenald (corrupted to Dunmail), King of Strathclyde, of which north Cumbria was a part, cast his crown, ceremoniously rejecting his insignia of royalty before taking to the pilgrim's staff. Some claim that Dunmail lies buried, slain by Saxons, beneath the cairn at the head of the nearby pass that bears his name. Alas, reality, as ever, destroys the myth, for it is known he died peacefully in bed in Rome. Around this legend Graham Sutton, author of a number of novels about Lakeland, spun a chilling short story entitled 'Dusk below Helvellyn'.
From Grisedale Hause descend a stony path to cross the outflow of the tarn and traverse half-left to begin the descent into the long reaches of Grisedale.
A number of paths lead away from the outflow of the tarn to a large cairn at the start of the descent. Make for this and then pursue the downward trail, rocky underfoot but never in doubt, as far as the ruins of Ruthwaite Lodge.
Ruthwaite Lodge
After only a few minutes descent it is possible to deviate right for a moment to visit 'Brothers Parting', where one of Wordsworth's poems (all but illegible now) is carved in a rock tablet, commemorating the Lakeland parting of Wordsworth from his brother John, captain of the Earl of Abergavenny, in which he perished in 1805.
Ruthwaite Lodge, once a shooting hut and later the property of the Sheffield University Climbing Club, for a long time lay in fire-razed ruins on a sheltered plateau beneath Nethermost Cove. Now, however, it has been restored and dedicated to the memory of two instructors from Outward Bound Ullswater, who perished on the slopes of Mount Cook in New Zealand in 1988.
Press on beyond the lodge, descending a little abruptly for a while until the path forks. Either path will now take you to Grisedale. The one on the right is the conventional and rather speedier route down the valley, but sometimes suffers from the gloom cast upon it by the towering bulk of St Sunday Crag. The path heads down to cross Grisedale Beck, beyond which a clear, and later, broad track leads all the way down the valley.
But, by going left at the fork and across a wooden bridge spanning the stream flowing from Ruthwaite Cove instead, a more satisfying descent may be made keeping to the north side of the valley, twisting and turning, and undulating from time to time until, finally, the path meets that descending (on the left) from Striding Edge, at a wall corner. Take the right-hand gate of two, dropping across a steep pasture to another gate, beyond which an access track leads to a bridge spanning Grisedale Beck, and the main valley route.
Here a metalled road is reached, and followed easily to meet the A592 at Grisedale Bridge, there turning right into Patterdale village. This is the easier option. Part way down the metalled road, however, a gate and footpath sign on the right mark a minor variant finish to Patterdale village, through delightful Glenamara Park, as follows.
Go up through the gate to a step-stile above, and over it bear left on a clear path that curves round to cross Hag Beck. Beyond, the path continues clearly to a kissing-gate at the edge of a small birch woodland, after which it divides. Branch right through the woodland, and finally go right again at the rear of properties in Patterdale to emerge on the valley road near the White Horse pub.
Patterdale
The dale that we today call Patterdale is named after St Patrick, one of three famous missionaries (the others were St Ninian and St Kentigern) thought to have travelled in this region on evangelical missions during the early years of the fifth century. Little is clear about the growth of Christianity at this time, for it was a troubled era. The Roman Empire, preoccupied with problems at home, was withdrawing all Roman units from its Cumbrian forts, and an intense period of tribal strife was to follow.
Patrick, thought to have been born in the Solway region around the year 389, was raised in the Christian faith. At the age of 16 he had the misfortune, along with ‘male and female slaves of his father's house’, to be captured by Irish pirates. He was taken to Ireland where he was obliged to work as a cattle herd. During his time in captivity his faith deepened until, after six years of slavery, he experienced visions and heard angelic voices urging him to return to his own country to spread the word of Christ, a calling which on his escape and return to England he dutifully obeyed, travelling far into the mountains to convert the natives. Patterdale, St Patrick's Dale, is known to have been an area of a well-established, if scattered, British settlement, and an obvious target for the young man's task, though there remains even today a strongly held view that he never came near the place!
The modern village, described in Baddeley's Guide to the English Lake District as ‘one of the most charmingly situated in Britain, and in itself clean and comely’, lies at the southern end of Ullswater. Unspoiled by the livelier atmosphere that draws non-walking day-trippers to nearby Glenridding, Patterdale maintains a serene aloofness, content to cater for those who come to enjoy the relative peace and quiet of its surroundings. Little has changed here over the years. Encircled by rugged heights, and with the beauty of arguably Lakeland's finest lake close by, the village pursues life placidly, keeping sacrosanct its typical Lakeland characteristics. One such characteristic, as Frank Singleton, author of The English Lakes, put it, is that it ‘establishes a great hold on the affections of those who visit it...there is everything here from the silence of the lake and the lonely places among the hills to the busy humanity of the village.’
Many of these remote villages were often presided over by one family. In Patterdale it was the Mounseys, described as the 'kings' of Patterdale, who lived at Patterdale Hall, now extensively rebuilt, but dating from around 1677. Even among such local 'royalty' all was not sweetness and light, however, for Dorothy Wordsworth, in her journal for 21 December 1801, gives a little insight into life at Patterdale Hall, writing, ‘When we were at Thomas Ashburner's on Sunday Peggy talked about the Queen of Patterdale. She had been brought to drinking by her husband's unkindness and avarice. She was formerly a very nice tidy woman. She had taken to drinking but that was better than if she had taken to something worse (by this I suppose she meant killing herself). She said that her husband used to be out all night with other women and she used to hear him come in the morning, for they never slept together...’.
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