Ever since my walking career began Piers Gill has always been high on my agenda. I’ve been lucky enough to view Piers Gill which is a deep chasm that cuts through the eastern crags of Lingmell from almost every angle possible, yet until today I had never set foot on the infamous path that navigates the deep ravine. I can’t really come to any conclusion as to why I have left it so late into my career to tackle one of Lakelands finest ravines other than it was on my list & I just knew that one day I would get to it. It was well over a month ago that I decided that now was the time to conquer Piers Gill along with a direct ascent on Broad Crag Col after a brief encounter with the Corridor Route I would then head on to top out on Scafell Pike.

It wasn’t to end there as my dramatic walk would continue down to Mickledore then to go and & tackle Lord’s Rake where I would then make my last ascent of the day on Scafell via the West Wall Traverse, a bit of a tall order which required a boost of energy every now & again given the almost one hundred per cent humidity that made the walk feel that bit more brutal.

One more reason why I would find myself on Scafell Pike today was the remote chance of meeting up with Tim Oxburgh my walking partner who was partaking in the Scafell Trail Marathon which was an organised Fell Run which saw the runners start & finish back in Keswick, Tim noted that he would like to be on Scafell Pike by 11:00am although nothing had been set as the chances of both our paths crossing were as remote as finding a needle in a haystack.

It all started at Wasdale Head while under a blanket of thick fog.

Wainwright Guidebook Four

-The West Wall Traverse

The massif crags off Scafell are split asunder by the tremendous chasm of Deep Gill, which has two vertical pitches in its lower part that put the through route out of bounds for walkers, The upper half, however, although extensively stony, can be used by all and sundry without difficulty, and is linked with Lord’s Rake by a simple path across a grassy shelf.

This is the West Wall Traverse.

I arrived in Wasdale under duress which was causing me to answer some questionable issues mainly because the previous nights forecast had suddenly changed & reported that a blanket of fog would greet me which was just what I got, my reason why I had to question myself was because I knew this & should have planned accordingly, but try & tell that to the butterflies doing loop the loop in my stomach right now, there was no point in me questioning my reason for being here, after all I had the chance to not make my exit at Junction 35 & I choose not too…there decision made.

Besides the weather the forecasters also said that the fog would lift come early morning leaving long spells of sunshine, and they’re never wrong are they…

Although it was painfully foggy as I drove along the Lake road towards Wasdale Head so much so I couldn’t see Wast Water not twenty feet away, it was here my enthusiasm & eagerness to carry out my intended plans spurred me on, lets face it, it was pointless in trying to battle it.

The car park was almost full – most of which was taken up by Three Peakers & their give away mini buses, by the looks of things they had ascended Scafell Pike through the early hours & by the time I arrived they were eating breakfast. I pulled my car on the opposite side of the Village Green & parked up close to Lingmell House. Despite bursting to get boot onto fell I was in no rush to kit up, time wasting neat little piles of gear onto the roof of the car before packing them into my pack, this I called ‘giving the fog time to lift time’

It didn’t help & no sooner was I underway first heading for the little church of St Olaf to waste a bit more time to study its grounds & take a wee wander around inside.

It is said that the timber roof beams in St Olaf’s came from Viking Ships.

I closed the large wooden door to St Olaf’s before spending a few moments to read the grave stones most of which bared the form of Great Gables Napes Needle, a testament to the pioneers & soldiers who lost there lives during the turn of the century on fells & in the Great War.

I was almost euphoric when I saw that the fog was starting to lift once I got to the point where I crossed Lingmell Beck, here I finally had views across the Corridor Route & briefly onto Great End, The Band & Skew Gill, however my celebrations were short lived as the cloud quickly engulfed my surroundings which was still both brilliant & beautiful while it lasted.

Oh well…

It seemed as if I had no choice than to get accustomed to the heat & humidity that slowed my efforts a little, I think it’s fair to say that I did my fair bit of sweating while ascending & crossing the streams, it was here I took the decision to rather than use my own hydration which I was a little worried about running out of – was to use the natural water courses & take long sips from or in one situation, stick my head under.

Further up the Gill the temperature cooled going from one extreme to another where at times I could see my own breath & the vapour my sweat made as it left my body, it seemed as if mother nature was now working with me.

Subconsciously I knew I had a scramble up ahead of me & yes I will admit I was a little conscious of it having not been here before, but my mind was laid to rest as I followed a procession of small cairns which lead me to the base of the crags that required the little rock climb.

I sensibly used the arrow as seen in the photo as my starting point then made my way right crossing good foot & hand holes never once feeling that I was out of my depth, once I was close to the top of the crags I realised that even though I let my walking poles ‘dangle’ from my wrist they seemed to be hampering my last efforts to reach the top, here, I paused to un-hook the poles which I then threw to the top of the crags only to witness the right one almost topple all the way back down again, but thankfully coming to rest just before it fell the long way down.

The scramble marks just over the half way mark of Piers Gill & the point where the ravine switches its natural course.

After a quick check on my GPS I soon realised (although unseen) that I was now flanking Middleboot Knotts which meant that I was almost at the top of Piers Gill, a waterfall flowing into the ravine confirmed this when all of a sudden I found myself on the ever popular Corridor Route.

I clambered up the path to take a look back on my achievements only to see nothing but hill fog, but, it didn’t matter I had negotiated Piers Gill & although I hadn’t had the chance to take in all she has to offer I can now say that I will return sometime over the next few months to repeat my efforts hopefully, under better conditions.

I thought I’d earned myself a rest so I took five if only to see if the fog would clear slightly, from out of nowhere two fell runners run past the top of the Gill giving out a ‘how do’ as they pass.

I turn boot ninety degrees before heading for a direct ascent on Broad Crag Col where thankfully things where starting to get a little cooler.

It had started to rain by the time I reached the top of Broad Crag Col where I ummed & arred on whether to put my jacket on which was neatly tucked away in my pack. I hadn’t noticed that I was sitting down really until two fell runners took in the descent from Broad Crag & asked ‘you ok mate’ I quickly replied aye! then questioned myself on who made the decision to sit down because I don’t remember anything about it.

I think that’s old age creeping up!

From Broad Crag Col I felt redeemed, my legs felt fresh as I took in the last ascent onto Scafell Pike all in my stride, once the summit shoulder was crested I was met by a few more fell runners some of whom where running in just their shorts such the heat & humidity, I was almost compelled to give these men & woman a patronising pat on the back but I knew that just wouldn’t bode, instead they got the all-right, morning or how do, inside I could only look on with a bit of admiralty I guess.

I soon picked up conversation with a Geordie couple (guy in blue jacket) briefly, we commented on how the weather seemed to be turning & our routes & so on. With each runner that now checked in more were behind arriving in groups of two or singular, for a few moments I realised the enormity of actually seeing Tim such the presence of all the runners now arriving at the summit.

It’s going to be one in a million I tell myself. With this I grab my camera & leave my pack behind as by the looks of things, there’s a brief break in the clouds forming.

It was such a positive moment to witness the cloud break up so quickly and to see my ascent onto Broad Crag Col, the brief break up during my time at the summit gave a real uplift in my momentum & was just another highlight of the day.

I suppose I better return to the summit to collect my pack.

In the time it took me to return to the summit the cloud had started to roll in again & things had started to return to the natural grey & white that I had been walking in for much of the duration. By the time I arrived back at the summit I collected my things & threw my pack onto my back, the cold sweat pressed through my mid-layer sending a slight shiver down my spine but as always, was quickly forgotten about.

I leave the summit behind & spy the large cairn where I would make a left turn before heading towards Mickledore, I had a strange sensation overcome me that I had been walking all morning knowingly that I wouldn’t see anyone only to burst into somebody else’s party…

As I arrive at the large cairn I hear a voice shout PAUL!! I know that voice so well, it’s Tim!

We are a few yards apart unwittingly I remove the camera from my chest in preparation for the man hug I am about to receive. Tim holds his hand aloft & we high five & carry out man hug number two, I can only ask as we chat the briefest of questions the main one being how did he feel running in this heat to which Tim replies, my aim was to arrive at 11:00 & I’m only twenty minutes late…that’s only three hours to run from Keswick to Scafell Pike in 21° heat in almost one hundred per cent humidity. There was no one more prouder of Tim than me that day.

Tim’ I’ll walk back to the summit with you, if only to capture your check in as Tim takes on a slight trot as I have to take in a slightly faster one.

Once down I give myself a good dusting down where I re-tie in my boots. Down below I spot groups of walkers who seem much closer than they actually are as their voices are carried along the walls of the steep sided crags. It is here I remember to look for the Memorial Cross that was left at the foot of Scafell Pinnacle after four climbers lost there lives here back in 1903

After four previous attempts to find the Memorial Cross, today I finally found it.

After leaving the Memorial Cross behind I soon reached the base of Lord’s Rake which by now had a covering of mist which was slowly making its way down.

I wasted no time in making my ascent firstly by sticking to the left wall then moving to the right shortly after passing the large boulder in the photograph.

Progress was good despite at times my boots sinking into the tiny stone like pebbles that gave no grip whatsoever. Ascent by the right of the Rake has always proved to be much firmer offering good hand holes & places to stop if not only to get ones breath back.

I seemed to make my ascent much quicker than previous occasions where I seemed to wallow in the fact that the loose scree at times was holding me back. I felt that today’s account on Lord’s Rake was my quickest by far which made for great morale given what I had already behind me.

I soon reached the Chock Stone, only appearing as a faint outline through the mist, the Chock Stone looked menacing in these conditions & the less time spent under it the better.

My exit via Deep Gill will be remembered for just how overpowering and intimidating the place leaves you feeling, but one of excitement too knowing that now you are within the mountain itself.

The ascent is wet & very loose, each hand hole had to be tested twice, the percentage of rock that I took a hold of only for it to dislodge without much effort was pretty high – so much care & attention was needed here.

All the while my heart was thumping to the tune of adrenalin!

After topping out at the head of Deep Gill it was time for a much needed rest, I looked down at my boots which looked a little battle torn, as did the insides of my legs.

The mist was stagnant & had no movement to it at all, the air however had an ever so slight chill to it which cooled me down just nicely as I took in the stride towards Scafell with my walking poles both held in my right hand.

I soon reached the summit of Sca Fell where for one moment I had the summit all to myself, behind me, a man & his wife together with their dog are approaching. I start to undo the laces on my right boot as It feels like I’ve still got half of the West Wall Traverse in there, I empty my boots accordingly making sure every last stone drops out.

You ok the guy asked? aye fine thank you, how about yourself? He explains that he & his wife are from Eskdale & are just out for a quiet walk, where’ve you come from? I explain as I get a blimey in return.

His wife ask did I want my picture taken at the summit as I replied nah it’s ok but thanks all the same, would you mind if you take our photo to which I reply of course not.

All the same, that dog just didn’t want to have its picture taken.

They say goodbye & make a straight pathless descent for Burnmoor Tarn (I would later meet back up with them & guide them onto the path) After the couple left I took two long gulps from my Camelbak feeling instantly refreshed with tight boots I start to make my own descent via Green How.

I am still well within the cloud just below the summit when it started to rain, this was just brief & not enough for me to unpack my jacket nor go for the camera case. The path is twisted & loose yet a series of stone cairns line my route for much of my descent until the stone path gave way for a more grassy descent, here I notice that the path splits in two, I am still in low cloud so I take my GPS from a side pocket situated in the waist strap of my pack, it seems the path to the right is a short cut via the top of Rakehead Crag which afterwards re-joins the main path.

I go with the short cut & my new grassy purchase.

Soon Wast Water is revealed through a wall of cloud that still lingered 80ft above its waterline, the light has faded from white to grey & at that point I didn’t see enough reason to reach for the camera. My descent becomes much steeper as I follow Rakehead Crag’s natural course all the way down to the Corpse Road where I kick my toes back into my boots, at the same time looking back up at the steepness of my descent through gritted teeth.

I am at the end of a route that started well over three years ago, my day has been marred by low cloud for much of its duration & my feet hurt like buggery, my nails bare the dust from the rakes I have scrambled & my forehead the sweat from the summits I have visited.