The ‘noblest’ mountain in the Lake District, Skiddaw

I have a checkered history with the great lump of a hill that is Skiddaw. At primary school I was in Skiddaw House and naturally felt I had a affinity with this northern Lake District mountain, the fourth highest in England. Skiddaw seemed to take a different view of me. Once, within sight of the cairn that marks the summit, I had to abandon the climb due to gale force winds. I was forced to crawl off the mountain agonizingly short of the top.

A few moments before making that decision, I saw someone literally blown off their feet by a vicious gust of wind. It was a surreal and disturbing sight to see a fully grown man blown about like a rag. A few years earlier another attempt had to be abandoned when an unanticipated snowstorm brought blizzard conditions and zero visibility to Skiddaw. An even earlier attempt saw me succumb to illness halfway up the climb.

In my mind, Skiddaw became my own personal White Whale, a 931m tall nemesis made of rock. On a recent sunny winter’s day, I made my fourth attempt to reach the summit. Despite the freezing temperature and icy conditions, this time I finally made it to the very top. It was magnificent. This track record is all the more surprising because the route up Skiddaw is straightforward. Some might say unchallenging.

To those people I would say, try it in a blizzard. I am not the first to jump to Skiddaw’s defence. Responding to criticisms that Skiddaw was neither interesting or entertaining to climb, the great fellwalker, Alfred Wainwright, called it “one of the noblest” mountains in the Lakes. Seen from afar that’s understandable. The highest of a group of northerly hills, it stands proudly isolated from the central and southern Lake District.

I started my walk from Latrigg. The car park was busy and there were a fair few people taking advantage of the excellent weather. Climbing up Jenkin Hill I passed a Celtic cross dedicated to a father and son, both shepherds, who died within a year of each other in the late 19th century. The route climbs steeply from here. To compensate, the views get better and better with every step upwards you take.

The next part of my route took me to the top of Little Man (an actual name for a hill). The views south to the town of Keswick and Derwentwater were gorgeous, beyond the lake the whole of the central Lakeland hills were visible. To the north were staggeringly good views to Skiddaw Forest. The name is a misnomer, instead of trees this is a dramatic and remote area of fell, bog and moorland that seems to stretch for miles.

After a short descent, the final climb to Skiddaw summit started, and this time, finally, I made it to the top. The views over Bassenthwaite lake were spectacular. I spent a few minutes drinking in the panorama and then descended down a scree slope to a small hill called Carl Side. Here I had a choice, a short route to the hamlet of Millbeck or a longer route over Longside Edge. The sun was shining so I chose the long route.

It was a decision I would live to regret. The route is a ridge walk that has some steep and tricky rock sections. In normal conditions there’s nothing to worry about. Unluckily for me, the sun hadn’t hit this side of the mountain and the path was frozen. The ice made the rock dangerously slippy. It was a slow descent and I spent much of it on my backside. It was deeply unpleasant. Skiddaw it seemed was having the last laugh.

Finally off the mountain, I found myself walking through Dodd Woods utterly exhausted. I had 6km to go until I reached the car park. The hamlets I walked through weren’t large enough to sustain a pub or cafe, and as if to emphasise my situation the sun began to sink and with it the temperature. The White Whale of Skiddaw may have been overcome, but cold, tired and aching from the descent, it felt like a hollow victory.