Stone Arthur

Stone Arthur Summit

Grasmere from the Stone Arthur Path

Michael Nook Beck

High Close Youth Hostel

Sunday, 30 June 2024

Ascent:     432 metres

Distance.  4 kilometres 

Time:       1 hour 3 minutes

Stone Arthur      504m    39mins

A grey day with rain probable meant we had a lazy start as we had breakfast and watched Laura Kuensberg unleash her overinflated journalistic ego whilst interviewing Rishi Sunak. It was his last chance saloon as he slithers into a less traumatised existence. He was as belligerent and defensive as ever, unable to accept the facts of his government's mistakes that he was taunted with. Accountability and Integrity were never his strong suits. He rolled out his usual fact-checked lies about his opponents with the venom of a teenage miscreant, never failing to pour scorn on Keir Starmer when challenged about his own policies. 

We decided to go out and get some exercise, Gregor was starting his training for the Berlin marathon and I was keen to climb a Wainwright hill. Most of the tops were in the cloud so we set off for Tarn Crag above Easedale Tarn. Parking proved impossible, so we headed for Stone Arthur above Grasmere. We found some parking at Michael’s Nook and we were soon enjoying the walk alongside the gurgling beck that runs alongside the beautiful Lakeland houses that snuggle the hillside.

As soon as we reached the steep well-built stone path, Gregor disappeared into higher altitudes as I kept what I thought was a decent steady pace. After 150 metres of ascent, the path traverses at a more gentle gradient until it reaches a sharp left turn before climbing the final 169 metres to the summit. The soundtrack today was of Meadow Pipits. Just before I reached the summit Gregor began the descent, he would run back to Langdale in what would be a 22-kilometre run. 

I overtook a Geordie couple helping their 17-year-old blind Jack Russell up the final stony section of the climb. The dog was struggling but had always enjoyed the hills and its indomitable spirit was evident as it topped out a few minutes later. The descent was fairly quick, there were several groups of young people struggling up the steep stone path and asking how much further. Maps are too much bother and they had probably not discovered OSMaps online. The rain had held off and it had been a fine outing. 

On the drive back over Red Bank I stopped at the High Close Youth Hostel. We always came this way on arriving for our Langdale week to capture the views of the Langdale Pikes before descending to our holiday destination. I had always wanted to revisit this special place but the family were more anxious to get to Langdale for a swim. I had stayed at the hostel during my first teenage holiday with 5 friends. 

We had ten days of youth hostelling in the Lake District with mountains, beer and girls as our objectives. The highlight was a late afternoon in glorious sunshine on the west-facing terrace of the Youth Hostel. A record player was playing Bach, the Langdale Pikes looked perfect, and about 40 teenagers were chatting each other up and checking each other's itineraries for the week ahead. I wandered around the gardens but the sunshine and excitement of the 1960s were missing. The then pristine lawn was less well cared for, ruined by a fire pit, and the hostel looked less well maintained. It reinforced the sense that I was part of the lucky generation that was able to book affordable holidays, taste real ale, climb unspoiled mountains and start an analogue romance on the west terrace of High Close Hostel.