A Gritty Ascent of Blencathra: My Short Break Adventure in Keswick
On September 23, 2025, I tackled a scenic 8km round trip from Threlkeld, summiting Blencathra (Saddleback), Gategill Fell Top, and Blease Fell. As a carer, with my wife looking after my non-verbal, autistic son with seizures and two stepsons on the spectrum, this hike was more than a physical challenge, it was a mental and emotional triumph. Thanks to a Short Break award from Helensburgh & Lomond Carers SCIO, I had two nights in Keswick to recharge, and this was my second hike in as many days.
After yesterday’s gruelling 19km slog up Skiddaw, my legs screamed with DOMS (delayed onset muscle soreness). Still, Blencathra—my favourite mountain—was calling. Over coffee and a breakfast bar at Gillhead Farm, I tried to shake off the stiffness. I drove to Blease Road Carpark (NY 31834 25615) in Threlkeld, a different starting point from my last visit a couple of years ago. The carpark was bustling, but I nabbed a spot and laced up my Hoka Speedgoats 6 shoes, my hydration pack ready with SIS Beta Fuel powder. Yesterday’s hike had left my gear salty and my electrolytes depleted, so I was testing my stomach’s resilience.
Today’s challenge: Hall’s Fell Ridge, a daunting ascent that had my nerves jangling. Starting up the lane, I crossed Kilnhow Beck bridge (NY 31684 25815), where a waterfall roared below, its spray catching the morning light. Through a gate at (NY 31620 26009), I broke into a short run, heading east above Gategill Farm (NY 32422 26224). A stream feeding another waterfall soaked my run shoes—cursing under my breath, I was grateful for my trusty Drymax socks.
The ascent began in earnest at (NY 32461 26255). Spotting a lone hiker ahead, my mind raced with doubts. This wasn’t the carefree cliff-climbing of my childhood at Pornaguran; Hall’s Fell Ridge felt serious. Legs stiff, trekking poles in hand, I started the slow grind, glancing at Middle Tongue to my left and Doddick Fell to my right. Doddick looked like an easier descent option, but I was set on a bigger loop to push my limits.
At Hall’s Fell (NY 32637 27049), the blue-tinged slate rock loomed like a jagged puzzle. I stowed my poles, fuelled up, and braced for the climb. It was all hands on deck—or slate. Nerves gave way to exhilaration as I scrambled up, feeling like a kid again. Paths skirted the ridge for those avoiding the climb, but I stuck to the rocks, crawling and clambering. Two crows circled overhead, and my imagination ran wild—were they eyeing me as their next meal if I slipped? Shaking off the grim thought, I pressed on.
Reaching the summit cairn at 868 meters (NY 32339 27719), I wanted to shout, “I did it!” but settled for a quiet moment, soaking in the sweeping views of the Lake District. I texted my wife, sharing the triumph, then fuelled up again. The summit was busy with hikers, their chatter a reminder I wasn’t alone in loving this place.
Stiff-legged, I headed west along the skyline, ticking off Gategill Fell Top and Blease Fell. Looking back at Hall’s Fell Ridge, its jagged outline glowed in the crisp September light. The descent down Blease Fell was steep, my quads screaming with every step. I managed a shuffle-jog, skirting past Blease Farm and picking up pace along a walled fence. Chatting to curious sheep about my adventure, I felt a surge of joy.
This hike was a gift—a rare chance to reconnect with myself, made possible by the Short Break from Helensburgh & Lomond Carers SCIO. Back at my camping pod, I showered, too exhausted to feel hungry despite the day’s exertion. That evening, I forced down a hearty meal at the Old Keswickian Fish & Chips Restaurant, knowing I needed the fuel.
This wasn’t just a hike; it was a testament to resilience—mine, and that of my family. Living with and caring for my son and step-son, I know the value of pushing through. Blencathra gave me a moment to breathe, to climb, to conquer. I’ll carry that strength back home.