Saturday 9th December 2017. An ascent of four fells on the Whinfell Ridge, Borrowdale, near Tebay, Cumbria. 15.1km with 680m of ascent. 5hrs 30mins.

The hills were Whinfell Beacon 472m/75m, Castle Fell 478m/70m, Mabbin Crag 482m/97m and Ashtead Fell 471m/40m.

See also at https://www.facebook.com/andy.tomkins/media_set?set=a.10155807477008376.1073741887.657898375&type=3&pnref=story

After picking up AT from his house, we drove north in rain, sleet and snow on the M6 through Lancashire in somewhat testing conditions. On reaching the Cumbrian border, however, we left the bad weather behind and the sun began to shine - if rather weakly. We left the motorway at junction 38 (Tebay) and, after coffee in the services, took the road to Kendal (A685) down to the starting point for our walk, parking off the lane in a small car park by a gate.

Our objective for the day, hastily revised to take advantage of the better weather further north in Cumbria, was the ridge that runs along the southern flank of Borrowdale. Alfred Wainwright, in his book 'Walks on the Howgill Fells and Adjoining Fells' (pub. Westmorland Gazette) refers to this as 'the Whinfell Ridge'. This Borrowdale is not same as the more famous one in the centre of the Lake District, but a quiet and lonely valley north-east of Kendal occupied by a single farm with no other habitations (see at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borrowdale,_Westmorland).

Once over the lengthy process of getting ready for a winter walk, we set off up the valley on the lane that runs alongside the beck. This soon gave way to a track. A hard frost had made the surface treacherous, and care was needed to make safe progress. After a bridge we turned onto a boggy track that wound up the fellside to the radio repeater station on the main ridge. The snow conditions off the track were good - more than a dusting but not deep enough to impede progress. We were on the edge of contrasting weather areas. To the south and west was a scene of ominous clouds, sleet and snow showers, while to the north the whitened fells were bathed in winter sunshine. These conditions stayed in their places for most of our hike, and we were walking on the border between them.

On reaching the ridge we turned west, following a path that wound across the moor to our first objective - Whinfell Beacon. This is a shapely fell seen to good advantage as you drive north on the M6, and I had wanted to scale it for many years, never quite getting round to doing so. According to Wainwright, in less settled times, this hill was one of a string of statutory beacon points established to warn of the approach of Scottish reavers. It is mentioned in a list of beacon points dated 1468, so must have been established before that date. The summit area carries a wind-shelter and large cairn, not quite on the highest point but in a better position for observation and signalling purposes. A stiff pull brought us up to this summit, and we made sure to visit the true highest point as well as the beacon cairn.

The path continued along the ridge to our next objective - Castle Fell. This is an aptly named twin-topped hill with steep flanks, protected by outcrops of the local mud- and silt-stones, laid down in the Silurian Period about 420 MYA. We avoided the steepest ground by approaching the main (south) summit from the west, leaving the path to do so. The view west from this fell was even better than on the last, with the high Far Eastern and Eastern Lakeland fells dominating the landscape. Helvellyn was particulalry prominent, draped in ominous snow-clouds.

Our next objective was the highest of the day - Mabbin Crag, at 482m. The name is a mystery to me, but sounds Celtic. Just occasionally, in the Pennines and Lakeland fells, the original 'underlay' of Celtic names breaks through the later Viking, Saxon and English 'layers'. For example, Pen-y-ghent, the 694m fell in the Yorkshire Dales, is clearly Cumbric (on which, see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cumbric) for 'Top of the Winds', while the 512m Mellbreak ('Meall-bhreac'), in north-west Lakeland, means 'Speckled Bald Hill', similar to the names of many hills in Scotland adopting the descriptive word 'bhreac' ('speckled').

Mabbin Crag and its neighbour Ashtead Fell, unlike the rest of the fells around Borrowdale, is rather choked by fir forest plantations. Our path onwards led down to a col, after a wall-stile, then headed to a wire fence. It continued on the other side without interruption. The fence was easily negotiable - no barbed wire. Once through the boggy fir plantation we emerged onto a wide grassy rake which led steeply up to the summit. As we stood there, we witnessed a sudden change in the weather. Cloud rolled in rapidly from the south-west, soon enveloping the ridge in a blanket of hill-fog. It was also getting close to sunset, so our margin of error was rapidly decreasing. We headed down quickly through the trees on the other side in gathering murk and gloom, following the GPS to the summit of our final fell for the day - Ashtead Fell. A direct descent into Borrowdale from Mabbin Crag would have found us choked in forest, so it was safer to push on than head straight down into the valley.

A low crag blocked the direct route to the summit. The path took a route up a weakness in this crag but it was liberally caked in ice. In normal conditions this would have been a short easy scramble, but after attempting it, we retreated as we did not fancy tackling it without crampons. However, we soon turned the crag on its northern side to reach the summit. After quick summit photos we pushed on. Our original intention had been to follow the ridge on to its conclusion at the A6 road, from where the path east down Borrowdale begins. However, with gathering darkness, we decided to head 'off-piste' down the steep slopes of Combs Hollow to gain the Borrowdale track. Route-finding was a little tricky in the gathering gloom, but we made it down to the track without incident, saving almost two kilometres of additional walking. The track was very icy, so we paused to don the micro-spikes we had been carrying in our rucksacks. These proved to be of great benefit, speeding our way for the walk-out of over four kilometres down the dale back to the car. As we progressed, the last light of the day faded. Head-torches were donned. As is often the case at night, when senses are quickened, we heard more wildlife than we had seen all day - the yelp of a fox, the hoots of several tawny owls and the scurrying of rabbits.

We eventually reached my car towards 17.45, in compete darkness. At first, I thought there must have been a very hard frost, as the back window was crystalline and opaque. Then I realised it had been vandalised.