There are some mountains that stay with you for years, even if you’ve never climbed them. Blencathra was one of mine. Back in 1995–1996, when I worked for the YHA in Langdale, I spent months exploring the Lake District fells. I was young, fit, and endlessly enthusiastic, and I managed to tick off most of the big peaks. But Blencathra somehow slipped through the cracks. I always thought, I’ll get to it one day.
Well — “one day” turned into thirty years. And as I headed out for the second day of my week’s holiday this October, staying in a quiet little cottage, I felt that familiar old pull. The forecast looked favourable: sunshine, patches of cloud drifting over the higher tops, and a clear enough window for a long–awaited climb. After months of training, and not being as fit as I once was, I knew this would be a real personal milestone. But I was ready.
I parked near the village hall in Mungrisdale (£4 donation, well worth it), laced up my boots, and set off toward Souther Fell — the start of a route that would take me over rolling ridges, past the dark waters of Scales Tarn, and finally to the summit I had waited decades to reach.
🌿 Nature Explorer Route Summary
Walk: Blencathra
Start/Finish: Mungrisdale Village Hall
Distance: ~9 miles / 14.5 km
Total Ascent: ~850–900m
Highest Point: 868m
Time: 5–6 hours
Grade: Moderate/Hard
Route:
- Mungrisdale → Souther Fell
- Descend to valley path
- Follow valley toward Scales Tarn
- Turn left at the tarn to ascend
- Blencathra summit
- Descent via Scales Fell
- Follow the Glenderamackin back to Mungrisdale
Notes:
- Avoids Sharp Edge
- Beautiful quiet valley approach
- £4 donation parking at village hall
The Ascent — From Mungrisdale to the Open Fells
The day began gently, following the quiet lane out of Mungrisdale with the autumn light washing over the fields. Souther Fell rose ahead, long and grassy, the kind of slope that looks friendly at first glance but soon makes your legs work for it. I took it steadily, easing into a rhythm as the views began to open up behind me.
As I gained height, I kept glancing toward Blencathra’s dramatic skyline — those unmistakable ridges, the sweep of Scales Fell, the dark bite of Sharp Edge. Cloud patches moved quickly across the scene, creating waves of light and shade that rippled across the landscape. One moment the fells were glowing gold; the next, they slipped back into moody shadow.
The walk over Souther Fell was a lovely warm-up: grassy, airy, with wide views down the valley. From there I dropped slightly and picked up the path that leads toward Scales Tarn. As I got closer, the landscape began to feel more rugged and serious. The ground steepened; the wind picked up; and the tarn itself appeared suddenly — a dark, still pool cradled beneath the crags, famous for guarding the entrance to Sharp Edge.
Sharp Edge looked magnificent in the shifting light, but I knew it wasn’t the day for it. I wasn’t here to prove anything. I was here to finally stand on a summit that meant something to me. So instead of turning right to the ridge, I turned left and began the final climb.
The Summit — Light, Shadow, and a 30-Year Promise
The last push up Blencathra’s shoulder tested me. The wind grew sharper, the slope steeper, and I found myself pausing — not out of exhaustion, but out of awe. Every few steps I had to look back. Behind me the Lake District stretched out in a spectacular tapestry: the Helvellyn range to the south, the moors rolling off toward the Pennines, and sunlight spilling across the valleys in moving patches.
When I finally stepped onto the summit ridge, a wave of emotion hit me. It wasn’t just the view — though that was incredible, with Skiddaw standing proudly across the valley and the edges of Derwentwater glinting in the distance. It was the feeling of coming full circle. Thirty years ago I was racing up mountains with the boundless energy of my twenties. Now, at sixty-two and after months of careful training, reaching this summit felt like a genuine achievement.
I found a sheltered spot, took a few photos, and just sat for a while. The clouds drifted over, revealing and hiding the world in slow, shifting patterns. It felt peaceful, triumphant, and strangely grounding — a reminder that mountains don’t care how long it takes you to get to them. They simply wait.
The Descent — Sweeping Views and a Gentle Return to the Valley
After soaking in the moment, I began my descent via Scales Fell — a broad, straightforward route that gives brilliant views the whole way down. The light kept changing as the afternoon moved on: one minute bright sunshine, the next soft grey shadow, and occasionally a streak of blue sky that lit the fell-side like a spotlight.
My legs felt tired but steady, and the descent gave me plenty of time to enjoy the sweeping vistas beneath me. It was the kind of descent that lets you unwind, where every step feels a little easier and the valley rises up to meet you. When I reached the bottom, I followed the Glenderamackin river back toward Mungrisdale — a peaceful finish along a lovely winding track.
And then, finally, there it was: my car, my boots covered in dust, and that quiet little moment of satisfaction that only comes at the end of a good day in the hills. I looked back at Blencathra, now partly in shadow again, and felt a warm surge of pride. I’d done it — not quickly, not dramatically, but with determination and a lot of joy.
Conclusion
Blencathra was worth the wait. The shifting skies, the variety of the route, the drama of Scales Tarn, and the sweeping views from the summit all came together to create one of the most satisfying walks I’ve done in years. But more than that, this climb closed a loop I started in the mid-90s, when I first fell in love with the Lake District while working for the YHA.
I may not be as fit as I was back then, but I think I appreciated the mountain more because of it. Every step meant something. Every view felt like a reward.
If you’ve been thinking about climbing Blencathra — whether you’re experienced, returning after time away from the hills, or simply drawn to its shape on the skyline — I can’t recommend it enough. Take your time, choose your route, watch the weather, and savour the journey.
Some mountains are worth waiting for.
I like the photo above the clouds