Hay Stacks - Homage to AJ

Haystacks

Ascending Fleetwith Pike

Buttermere from Fleetwith Pike

Back o' Fleetwith - Honister slate workings

Innominate tarn 

Innominate tarn, where AJ's ashes were scattered

High Crag from Haystacks

Haystacks summit - paying respects

Seat and Haystacks from High Crag

Buttermere southern footpath

Thursday, 3 July 2014
Ascent:       1210 metres
Distance:    
Time:         4 hours 45minutes

Fleetwith Pike     648m            44mins
Hay Stacks          597m     1hr 41mins
Seat                     561m     2hrs  5mins
High Crag           744m     2hrs 26mins
High Stile            807m     2hrs 52mins
Red Pike             755m     3hrs 14mins

After five glorious days we decided to head for the hills and visit Hay Stacks, the hill that A.J.Wainwright really wanted to declare the best mountain in the Lake District but it wasn't high enough. He had his ashes scattered there instead, which shows you the damage that being a lifelong fan of Blackburn Rovers can do to you. It is a complex hill with rocky ramparts and glades of grazing for sheep. We made it the prime objective of our round of the Buttermere hills which overlook it during a walk from Fleetwith Pike to Red Pike.

We started in late morning from Gatesgarth, where parking charges have now risen to £4, and took the excellent but steep path up Fleetwith Edge. It is uncompromising but gives superb views back down Buttermere and, as you get higher, Great Gable and Pillar loom into view, although today they were capped in cloud. We charged up stopping only for Gregor to photograph a vole munching near the summit. We descended to the south to Dubs quarry, the greenish Honister slate lying scattered across the spoil heaps. Then the steady meandering climb through the Hay Stacks landscape stopping at Innominate Tarn before the final ramp to the jumble of rock outcrops that form the summit.

There were twenty or so others paying homage at the summit to Wainwright. I was amused by the paradox of A.J.s statement in Book Seven, 'the Western Fells': "on the tops (of Hay Stacks) one can still wander in solitude and enjoy the freedom, characteristic of the whole district before someone invented the motor car." When A.J. declared that Hay Stacks was his favourite hill he ensured that he, even more than the motor car, would be the culprit in making the solitude and freedom ever more elusive.

The descent from Hay Stacks was a further reminder of A.J.'s tendency to preach - "and don't forget - watch where you are putting your feet" with the shattered rocks putting a school party coming up in some trepidation. We went over the hillock that is Seat and crossed the Scarth gap before the sharp climb to High Crag up the well made zig zag path and into the teeth of a strong westerly wind. The fine ridge made for easy walking until we had to climb into the cloud before reaching High Stile. It is littered with cairns and we spent a few minutes going round to find the highest before heading off to Red Pike.

It too was lost in the cloud and Gregor who was a couple of minutes ahead of me disappeared into the grey stuff and was not to be found at the summit cairn. I walked to the edge and saw a figure below heading towards Lingcomb edge. I followed but by the time I had descended to the edge I realised that it was not him. Rather than ascending to take the more direct descent down to the saddle and Blaeberry tarn, I decided to head down the edge and make for Crummock Water. I was sure that he would find his way back. It was a bad decision as I dropped down from the edge and then descended steep heather clad slopes over a rock field to Far Ruddy Beck. The only redeeming feature was that I could harvest the blaeberries. I finally found a faint path down to Crummock Water and began the long trek back to Gatesgarth.

I began to run and walk back hoping not to keep Gregor waiting but he then caught me up, he had started the descent down to Blaeberry tarn and then gone back up to see where I was and concluded that I had perhaps gone down to Scale Force. We jogged back to the car hoping to get back to Keswick  where we had arranged to meet others at 4:30pm. Alas we were delayed by cows being taken to milking by two quad bikes in Newlands, slow holiday motorists and a Keswick traffic jam.  A.J. would simply have caught a Ribble bus so he could relax and smoke his pipe on the way back to Kendal.