First light over Grasmoor from Red Pike
The hills can be crowded:
There’s no denying the Lake District can get real busy even on the mountains. Buttermere is a magnet for a lot of outdoorsy folks, but you can have the hills to yourself if you so desire; even on a Saturday. Now a lot of people might shy away from heading up to the hills at night and it’s not for everyone, but I can guarantee one thing, solitude, even in a popular area.
“Keep your eyes on the stars, and your feet on the ground.”
Theodore Roosevelt
Wilderness Adventures:
Being in the mountains at night is an awesome experience. For the connoisseur of wilderness adventures, going solo will promote confidence in the ability to look after yourself; after all, even a twisted ankle can turn a little adventure into a major crisis. But with experience, a little bit of knowledge, and the right kit; you will have confidence in your own self-reliance, which leads to infinite possibilities in the realms of great outdoor adventures. I digress, however, for this wasn’t any North Pole expedition, but an adventure nonetheless.
Early Morning Glow Over The Lake District Fells from Dodd in Buttermere
Bleaberry Tarn Bivi:
The day was cold and what sunshine there had been was eliminated by a vast blanket of cloud. As I drove over to Buttermere via Newlands Pass, the sky steadily released its heavy burden. At this stage, the forecast from the mountain weather information service (mwis) looked dubious.
Nevertheless, I was confident that whatever weather would greet an overnight camp at Bleaberry Tarn, the morning light would be good. And with that optimism in mind, I set off in the rain from Gatesgarth Farm where I had parked and headed along towards Burtness Wood on the southwest shores of Buttermere lake.
It was 5pm, and being winter darkness had already set in. I passed a couple of runners at Gatesgarth, but the next person I saw was not till after 9 the next morning. Although pitch black route finding was pretty straight forward, and once on the path from the lake Buttermere to Bleaberry Tarn you couldn’t really go wrong. Nevertheless, I wouldn’t recommend route finding without a torch unless you really are hardcore!
I Don’t Believe in Ghosts:
As I progressed up towards the tarn, the night was still but for the eerie sounds of tawny owls. Now I don’t believe in ghosts, but like anyone, I can get freaked out by strange noises and shadows in the dark. As I gained the depression that holds Bleaberry Tarn, I observed a lone dark figure in the distance. I momentarily paused; and as I did so, the strange lone form to my front froze. I gazed intently, to establish just who, or what, was in my path; then the realisation came, it was no more threatening than a lone tree!
Snowy Summit of Red Pike Buttermere.
However, as I got closer, I then fathomed out exactly what it was. It was only the gill that runs into Bleaberry Tarn, silhouetted against the snowy backdrop of High Style ridge. How bizarre! The dark makes the most obvious by day, obscure by night; shaping an altogether different experience for anyone who travels the hills after dusk (Specsavers I hear you say).
Trout Tickling:
The ground surrounding Bleaberry Tarn makes for a comfortable bed of heather, and where I set up camp. The dominance of the ridge between High Style and Red Pike which overlooks the tarn, seems exaggerated at night. The buttress of Chapel Crags commands the view, and within this amphitheatre you sense the titanic powers that have created this comb. Bleaberry Tarn is only 15 feet deep and allegedly well stocked with trout. I never brought a line, however, to test this rumor out, and my tickling skills only work on the kids.
Night Photography:
Winter makes for a long night when camping. To fill in the time I wandered about testing a few twilight shots, which is a bit haphazard, as you can’t see much through the viewfinder. Nevertheless, night-time shots done well look fantastic. Personally, I am far from experienced in that genre, but if you don’t try you don’t learn. After that, as snow flurries started I settled down to my latest audiobook “Fearless”, one of the bonuses of modern technology.
Stars above Bleaberry Tarn
I awoke a couple of hours before dawn. The plan was, if stars could be seen then I was in for a decent sunrise, if not, it was back to sleep. So with that thought, I unzipped the door, and to my satisfaction, the sky was clear and full of stars. I proceeded to get my boots on and head out to get some shots. I did a bit of experimentation with a head torch to light up a large rock which was the focal point. Later I headed up to Red Pike to get some more images.
Cloud Inversion from Red Pike
Spellbinding Cloud Inversion:
As I headed off there were hints of a cloud inversion which is always pretty cool to see. And sure enough, as I ascended the ridge the mountains became islands amid a sea of cloud. I covered the ridge between Red Pike and High Stile although I never went to the top of the latter; it was just a case of looking for attractive compositions.
View of Grasmoor from Dodd, Buttermere.
Watching the clouds below me continually form, flow, and dissipate was a spellbinding experience. I was transfixed by Grasmoor as its high crags gradually turned pink, whilst clouds lapped to its lower reaches. Once the sun had risen, I headed down to Dodd where I took some more images before proceeding back to Bleaberry Tarn. This was as the first walker of the day headed up to Red Pike (well except for me that is).
The Beauty of Buttermere:
Packing away the tent I bid my farewells to what had been my humble abode for the night, and headed back down the route I had ascended the previous evening. It’s quite strange how different a route can look and feel in the day time compared to the night. The morning was crisp and beautiful.
As I descended, frost coated rock steps sparkled in the morning sunlight. Whilst for the unwary walker sporadic patches of ice stealthily lay in wait. Lake Buttermere oozed beauty, and mirror like reflections accentuated the majestic crags surrounding it.
Lake Buttermere
Buttermere had returned to its normal busy self in complete contrast to the previous evening. I headed over towards the far side of the lake taking in the views of Fleetwith Pike and Haystacks. Following the lake shore, a bright Lake Buttermere gave off blinding reflections. In combination with snow-topped summits, the place was almost alpine in sensation. The sun, however, had yet to penetrate the car park at Gatesgarth, and the car was frozen solid.
Mine Alone:
The ice fell away as I scraped the car windows. Here and there, the hustle and bustle ensued, as newly arrived walkers unpacked and repacked their kit ready for the days’ adventure. Rucksacs were adjusted and readjusted, maps were consulted, and deliberations commenced on routes, heights, and gradients. As I contemplated, it became difficult to envisage that barely hours before, Buttermere valley, its lakes, crags, and serene beauty, had been mine, and mine alone. #LakeDistrictPhotographyWalks
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