Twilight over Wastwater

The Western fells are beautiful. Everywhere you look there's sheer grandeur. And the urge not just to look at it but be part of it is, for me, overwhelming. That means scaling the heights to get those massive views that the trippers who park their cars and wander just a few hundred yards never get to see. Well, that's the theory. Today we were beaten by the shortening days so that we never made the top of Scafell Pike.

Strictly it was my fault for choosing the Mickledore route then taking us prematurely out of the valley and up a narrow scree-filled gully. It was basically too dangerous, with rock walls that crumbled away every time we tried to haul ourselves up a few more precarious inches. Having wasted a good 45 minutes on this fruitless ascent and equally precarious descent, I made the call that there would be insufficient daylight to then make it all the way to the Pike and back down into Wasdale. I have a good headtorch but with such a rocky path down it would have been foolish to risk. Good call, because as the picture shows, the light was failing fast as we neared the valley floor.

Next time though. Next time ...