Yesterday the road to climb Mellbreak became a cul-de-sac at Low Park with two or three cottages. I thought there was no way I would be allowed to park in this private enclosure, nor for a considerable way back up the very narrow lane I had driven down. An elderly gent appeared and I asked humbly and politely if I may park, and there was no hesitation in his affirmative reply.
On returning after my ascent I was offered tea and sat in the cottage with the gent, who is a retired clergyman, and his wife. They are both in their eighties, and they were a delight of interesting conversation making me feel so comfortable and welcomed. I was reminded of the early pioneers staying at the post office in Glenbrittle in an an atmosphere of gentility, and similar accounts of the old days at Wasdale Head and The Old Dungeon Ghyll. I lingered half an hour or so before driving off to take in Blake Fell, my second Marilyn for the day.
Mellbreak proved to be a real mountainy mountain. I ascended by the steep northern ridge with much loose rock and scree and scrambly bits, and I lost the path finding myself ascending by a scree filled gully which was, albeit inadvertent, a more interesting route. In retrospect I wish I had continued from the summit down the southern end to return by Mosedale but I returned by the same way I had come.
Blake Fell was approached from Lamplugh by the Cogra Moss reservoir which is an attractive trout fishing venue. Further on I met a guy trailing a sack on a rope along the ground laying a hound trail. If you have never been to one I recommend it highly. Below is a description I wrote way back.
The photos show a glorious day, but the wind was overpowering. I tried to find a geocache on the summit, but when I followed the clue: "25 metres NW from the summit under a small rock", GPS was showing a different location SE of the summit, and there was no small rock, and I could hardly stand up or prevent the paper notes and map being ripped from my hands by the ferocious wind, so I aborted to complete the horseshoe of the Lamplugh Fell area returning by the south western shores of Cogra Moss.
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On a family holiday with the caravan at Consiton we saw an advert in a shop window for a hound trail.
We found the location at the end of a track up in the hills above the village. A collection of ramshackle cars, vans and pick-ups used by farmers and shepherds to transport the hounds, and the lack of tourist cars indicated this is predominantly a local pursuit.
Bags soaked in aniseed are dragged cross-country for several miles for the hounds to follow as a race.
There was an air of tension around the starting area and an informal system of betting was under way. Chatting to onlookers we learned that hounds are starved before the race, but get a meal at the finish – they only have to compete once for that knowledge to be embedded, so they are all barking and straining at the leash and the clamour combined with the excitement of the betting creates a lively atmosphere before the hounds are released.
The course is laid out so that action can be seen for a large part of the race. As the return of the hounds is anticipated the biggest drama unfolds. All the owners gather at the finishing line with bowls of food which they bang and rattle, at the same time shouting and bawling encouragement to their hounds who, as they approach, are making even more noise in full cry. The food is consumed in a matter of seconds with frightening voraciousness.
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| Low Park. My host's cottage on right and Mellbreak above |
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| Mellbreak |
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| The scree filled gully of my ascent and distant Loweswater |
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| Loweswater from Mellbreak summit |
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| Northern end of Buttermere with Grassmoor. The steepness of the descent can be seen from the foreground |
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| Blake Fell. Taken from south western shore of Cogra Moss on my return |
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| South from Blake Fell summit |
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| Zoom from same view as previous pic. Head of Buttermere and Fleetwith Pike |
