High pressure took over after Storm Darragh passed, leaving the week dry with plenty of sunshine, which frustratingly ended come the weekend. That said, it was dry enough to arrange another High Street walk, but it wasn't the route I had intended; instead, David and I spoke at length on Thursday evening about an alternative route. I suggested a Mardale Head Round before David mentioned another Hayeswater Circuit with a twist: instead of completing on Gray Crag, why not descend into Hayeswater via Hayeswater Gill? I've only walked through the Hayeswater valley once many years ago with fellow walking buddy Ian Sharples and it hammered it down from start to finish. At least today I'll be able to experience Hayeswater on a drier level. We had arranged to meet at Hartsop at 07:00am, an hour and a half before sunrise. Back in Summer I took a leaf out of David's book starting my walks at 07:00am, this was for many reasons, the main one being I could get ahead of the crowds, park easily, and get home at a reasonable time too. As it turns out, the early starts extended through autumn and into winter whenever the forecast would allow; this morning's conditions were just perfect.

David had already parked up when I arrived, and this time I remembered to have my head torch at hand instead of rooting for it in the darkness like I did last time. This morning I was more organised, and within five minutes of arriving, I was slipping a pair of gloves on, ready to lock the car. It was pitch black in the car park, our head torches guiding us through the nearby gate which opened with a creak. Funny how your senses instantly adjust to your surroundings. After leaving the car park behind, we passed the familiar sheep pens, the sky as dark as ink with the exception of faint glow from the moon which had dipped behind the Helvellyn range its glow still visible on the underside of the clouds. Had the moon not been so low, I'm sure we could have done without the head torches. We crossed Hayeswater Gill, the white of the cascades visible and very audible as we began the ascent alongside the ravine with the night sky slowly getting lighter creating silhouettes of The Knott and Gray Crag. Our head torches shone into deep channels that had been dug out as part of drainage repairs to the path, or so we thought. The channels just looked too natural, but it was clear the drains had been worked on. Soon the steepness of the incline levelled and minutes later we had arrived at Hayeswater's outflow, its bridge still on its side after being washed away. Despite it being just under an hour away from sunrise, the sky was getting lighter by the minute, and after crossing the stepping stones, David removed his head torch, and I followed about five minutes after.

After crossing the outflow, we began the steep ascent towards the path that links Brock Crags with Rest Dodd and The Knott. It was around 07:40am and light enough to walk without head torches. I had taken a number of photos from our ascent looking back on Hartsop and over Hayeswater, but sadly none of these turned out. It was during our ascent that we looked back on St Sunday Crag and the Helvellyn range where we spotted head torches, and it took a few seconds for us to locate which mountain they were on, settling on Helvellyn but not its summit. With the path reached, Rest Dodd came into view where we spotted half a dozen Deer on its west flank.

The closer we looked, the more Deer we spotted, all of them looking back as we were in a stare-off. It was biting cold; I could feel the wind chill through the weave of my Napapijri hat. Then came the runny nose.  Continuing our ascent towards The Knott, we were forced off path by an invisible coating of frost/verglas underfoot, which slowed our ascent; that said, so did the Deer spotting. The path twists and turns until the shoulder of The Knott was reached, from where we ascended the last 120 feet by the familiar wall, arriving at the summit at exactly 08:26am, two minutes before sunrise. The wind chill was baltic, probably the coldest I've experienced so far as we edge deep into winter on the Lakeland fells. Summit time was kept brief as we spotted a pink hue over the Riggindale valley. The sunrise was here, but for the moment we were in the wrong place, we needed to ascend, and quickly.

The ruined stone wall was soon reached, where I kicked my feet into the backs of my boots the shift felt heavenly knowing there was still a good tramp of pathless walking ahead. Luckily we found a trod above the valley floor that eventually descended towards the southern end of the tarn. My feet couldn't thank me enough after side-stepping over steep ground. The wind had eased, and all the layers I'd added were by now causing a slight sweat, but nothing too uncomfortable. Weeks ago I had put much thought into a direct ascent on High Street from Hayeswater, but recent storms laid that to rest. From the valley floor we picked off several routes of ascent, all steep but 'doable' in the grand scheme of things. With the windchill confined to the tops a breeze blew across the tarn from where we could make out walkers on The Knott and The Straights of Riggindale. It was only 11:30am, and the early start had paid off, estimating we'd be back at Hartsop within the hour. We soon reached the tarn's outflow and the stone track that used to serve Hayeswater Dam until 2014, after which the reservoir was returned to its natural state.

We passed a young couple in ascent, and two more walkers dropped onto the path from their Gray Crag descent ahead of us and to be fair, for a Saturday, it felt quiet, not that we were complaining. Continuing further, we took in the views into Pasture Bottom and studied the channels that had been cut into the path as part of the drainage repairs, or at least we thought they were part of the repair. We crossed a raging Hayeswater Gill and the footbridge we'd crossed over six hours earlier, its white cascades drowning out the silence that our ears had become accustomed on what turned out to be another brilliant High Street walk.