Lakeland Haute Route One step is what made all the difference. Somewhere between lifting my right foot, swinging it forward and placing it back down in front of me the world changed. The erratic sounds and smells of the towns were replaced by a calming breeze, the rich green views of pastures and the refreshing aroma of the countryside. That one step was on the Walna Scar Road, a man-made bridleway linking the Coniston valley to the Dunnerdale valley in the Lake District. It was the moment we stepped out from day walking into long distance paths; the moment we started to sense the magic of Trail’s Lakeland Haute Route. A month earlier I had been in a pub with Trail’s Jeremy Ashcroft and Matt Swaine, reminiscing about great days on the hills while trying to work out how to celebrate the magazine’s 20th birthday. “When Trail started back in 1990 we definitely did more multi- day backpacking routes,” I said. “Drawing the maps, the challenge was trying to fit on the page because they were so long!” said Jeremy. “Europe’s haute routes are some of the finest,” I said. “Why don’t we create one for the Lake District?” Haute route means ’high route’, and in the Alps they take in the high mountain passes between valleys and give walkers stupendous views of the major peaks. Our Lakeland Haute Route would need to do the same thing, taking advantage of Youth Hostels rather than mountain huts, offering ascents of the big-name Lakeland peaks for those who wanted to tailor their route, and making sure that every night would bring us back to great food and public transport links. It would be a celebration of the Lakes: a way to see the area at its very best. But before we could take our first step we would have to spend months studying maps, working on route options to make sure that our Lakeland Haute Route would meet our expectations. “We should start this route from an easily accessible town with good public transport and plenty of accommodation,” I suggested. “That means either Ambleside or Keswick as the obvious choices,” replied Jeremy. The circular nature of this route allows you to start it from anywhere, but we’ve based this description on beginning from Ambleside as it is a natural starting point. It offers the most picturesque introduction to the Lakes, and it’s also where I’ve lived since 1989 – with just a 12 month break when I worked at Trail’s offices in Peterborough. Windermere, England’s largest natural lake, laps the doorsteps of the tea shops and gear stores of Ambleside. Lofty Loughrigg Fell entices the walker from the town, while the Coniston Fells to the west hint at where you could be by the end of the day. “The bridleway that climbs Loughrigg Fell and leads into Langdale is the perfect start for this walk,” I said. As the zigzags were drawing us up and out of the town, our lungs gasped for air and the chance to turn and take in the view over the rooftops of Ambleside was an opportunity not to be missed. As we traversed Loughrigg Fell Jeremy reminded us that this was a popular route for walkers and mountain bikers. “Before mountain biking starting back in the late Eighties, you’d never see a mountain bike up here, but now it’s a classic route.” “Thanks in part to your books!” I said. Jeremy’s mountain bike guide came out in 1989, when I was working at Ambleside Youth Hostel, having fled my engineering career. It was what landed him his job on the first issue of Trail (then Trail Walker) under its then editor Keith Nelson. Mountain biking and climbing were my afternoon activities, between the morning and evening shift working at the hostel. Meanwhile weekends were the time for longer trips, which involved camping wild, staying in youth hostels and backpacking. As we reached the high point of the bridleway over Loughrigg Fell, the Coniston Fells emerged in full splendour before us. The curtain of rock and fell known as Wetherlam dominated the scene ahead. In typical haute route style we then began our descent towards Loughrigg Tarn in the mouth of the Langdale valley. “This is what makes this route special and unique,” said Jeremy. “We aren’t taking in the summits, we are linking the high passes – and that brings a very different feel of journeying to a route like this.” Jeremy was right: there was already a great sense of exploration – but there was nothing stopping us from taking in some peaks if we wanted to as well. We could have stepped away from the bridleway and bagged Loughrigg Fell summit easily enough and then returned to the main route. The following morning we could stroll up to the summit of Coniston Old Man and all of the Lakeland 3,000ft peaks were within striking distance of the path we had planned. In fact we would be able to vary the route and tailor it to our own requirements by adding in as many peaks as we fancied. The footpaths ended for a short distance as we traced the country lanes to Skelwith Bridge, from where a footpath leads to Elterwater. “This is where we join the Cumbria Way,” I said. This is the long distance path that travels some 80 miles through the Lakes from Ulverston to Carlisle. There are plenty of linear routes like the Cumbria Way through the Lakes, but our circular route was something rather ground breaking. It was a route that could be started and finished using public transport, didn’t encourage the use of two cars and gave a much broader geographical sweep of the Lake District. As we followed the Cumbria Way to Elterwater we had gently exposed ourselves to another aspect of Lakeland exploration that neither of us were used to. We were walking along the valley rather than clambering up a rocky ridge high in the mountains. We picked our way from Elterwater through to Little Langdale and Tilberthwaite. “There are some great climbs here,” said Jeremy. We both climbed here a lot during the early Nineties, before the boom in climbing walls. The tone of the walk was morphing from comfortable valley stroll into mountain adventure. The lower slopes of Wetherlam dominated as we headed out of Tilberthwaite to Coniston – the first overnight stop on our six-day route. Another day, another first step. Coniston is more industrial than Ambleside, less cappuccino and more hard-won beer. It is this gradual shift of emphasis within the landscape that I notice on long distance walks and something that is harder to experience on a day trip. Our route followed the ancient Walna Scar Road around the Coniston range of fells. We were encircling the Coniston massif in the way that the Tour du Mont Blanc encircles the highest peak in the Alps. “Just before Trail was launched I walked the GR5, which is a 400-mile route linking Geneva to Nice and it takes in part of the Tour du Mont Blanc,” I told Jeremy. “That was a four week route and I remember that I was knackered on day two, but day three was great and after that I felt fitter every day. I’ve noticed this on other routes too.” “That might be why I feel like a bit more kip then,” said Jeremy. “Probably, but that may also be why people are less inclined to follow multi-day routes these days. If you never experience the joy of day three and then gradual immersion into the trip, then you don’t know what you are missing either!” As we walked up the Walna Scar Road the temperature was rising and the views were expanding. The coastline of Cumbria came into view to the south, and the call of a skylark filled the air. A sudden break in the milky cloud put us in the spotlight while Dow Crag looked moody in the shadows. “We used to come here all the time with school,” Jeremy said “I’ve spent years climbing on Dow Crag.” The path climbed high above the plains and the wind began to increase as we reached the top of the Walna Scar Road. Within the next stride there was green fell and pasture ahead, then Scafell Pike, the tallest peak in England, appeared. “Yee-ha! There she blows!” I shouted. It’s always a magical moment when you reach the top of a pass, but it is better still when a stunning view of a magical mountain like this opens up before you. “It feels like a new beginning, doesn’t it?” said Jeremy. “As we go from one valley to the next this really feels like an epic journey.” “Yes, it’s that feeling of wondering what is just around the corner,” I replied, “and that is something that you rarely get on day walks”. As we descended into the Duddon Valley, stone walls, remote farm buildings and the never-ending accompaniment of birdsong were our companions. We did not see many walkers through the Duddon Valley as we followed the path up beside Low Crag above Wallowbarrow. Occasional calls of ‘Take in!” echoed around the crags from the climbers that were hard to spot but were clearly there. The path emerged into the open and suddenly the view exploded across the Duddon Valley to the Coniston Fells, and we could see the Walna Scar Road that we had descended earlier in the day snaking down into the valley.