Tag Archives: Wasdale

Great Door, revisited

Wednesday 6th October 2021, 10.15am (day 3,695)

Great Door, revisited, 6/10/21

A long time ago, in the first few days of this blog on day 8, I was halfway up the southern butt end of the mountain of Yewbarrow, in Wasdale in the Lake District, in quite foul weather, wondering what the hell I was doing there. The view I posted there, of the dramatic rocky gash of Great Door, gives an indication of the conditions I faced.

Today, ten years, one month and four days later, I returned. The weather was much nicer. But the climb up to this point is still an absolute arse. For its height I would say Yewbarrow is the toughest of all the fells in the Lake District — but as it’s now done twice, I never, ever, have to haul myself up it again. And that’s a very good thing. (See my Wainwrights blog for more.)

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Wasdale, from a precarious point

Saturday 24th July 2021, 12 noon (day 3,621)

View down Gavel Neese, 24/7/21

Gave myself an adventurous walking task today — the South Traverse of Great Gable, a climbers’ path that inches its way across the face of this hulk of a mountain. For more details see my walking blog. This view of Wasdale was captured while somewhat precariously balanced above the drop; anyone going down the slope in an uncontrolled manner is probably not going to stop until hitting the fields at the bottom. But I survived it, and felt quite proud of myself in fact. See the other pictures on my walking blog, if interested.

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Wasdale and Ennerdale walk – Thursday 1st and Friday 2nd September 2011

Great Door, Yewbarrow (2nd Sept, 9.10am – day 8)

Great Door, 2/9/11

I left Wasdale Head in grey but dry and tolerable weather. As far as Dropping Crag the way was steep but unproblematic. Then everything changed. The cloud came down and the rain started, making the rocks slippery, and the climb just got steeper and harder. It was an unpleasant 90 minutes to say the least. But there was this one dramatic moment, as this huge crack opened up in the world ahead, mist rising up through it like something out of Tolkein. For a moment I did not have to worry about getting down again and could just wonder at the sublime nature of it all. Did it make the horizontal hail on the summit worthwhile? That’s an open question.

Frog on the Dore Head scree-run (1st Sept, 5.45pm – day 7)

Frog, 1/9/11

Halfway down the torrent of scree which drops a thousand feet from Dore Head to Wasdale, descending by a mixture of precarious clambering and simply sliding down on my butt, this frog hops across the ‘path’ and just sits there, waiting for me to do something. Whatever it was doing up there, only it knew for sure. Perhaps it spends its days hopping up a couple of hundred feet then climbing on a little flat piece of rock and schussing down to the bottom again when no one is watching.

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