Ascent of Scawfell, by Harriet Martineau

From Harriet Martineau's

Complete Guide to the English Lakes, London Whittaker & Co,1855; 157-160

Ascent of Scawfell.

ordnance survey 2025

The ascent of Scawfell is sometimes made from the Sty Head Pass; sometimes from Lingmell; and sometimes from Langdale, whence the path meets that from Sty Head on Esk Hause. From Esk Hause the summit of the Pike is visible; but still, care is necessary not to ascend the wrong summit. There are four summits which collectively go under the name of Scawfell; viz, the most southerly, which is called simply Scawfell; Scawfell Pike, which is sixty feet higher, and the highest mountain in England (3,160 feet:) and the lower hills, Lingmell and Great End, – the last being the northernmost, and fronting Borrowdale. The Ordnance surveyors set up a staff on a pile of stones on the highest peak; so that there need be no mistake henceforth. The two summits are about three quarters of a-mile apart, in a straight line; but the great chasm between them, called Mickledore, renders a wide circuit necessary. There have been fool-hardy persons who have passed Mickledore without losing their lives; and there are strangers, almost every season, who attempt the ascent without a guide. These last usually pay the penalty of their rashness in hours of uneasy wandering and excessive fatigue. When they think they see their way clearly enough, they are pretty sure to find themselves brought up on the verge of a chasm, and compelled to "try round" many times before they succeed. If darkness comes on, there is nothing to be done but to wait for daylight where they are. Another reason for having a guide is that the mountains around are not recognisable by their forms, – so great is the change caused by their being looked at from above. By map and compass they may be made out: but the summit is usually windy: and much time and trouble are saved by the information needed being ready at one's elbow.

The summit is bare of every thing that grows, except moss. Not a blade of grass is to be seen: and it follows that the herdsman and shepherd never have to come here after their charge. Blocks and inclined planes of slate rock, cushioned and draped with mosses, compose the peak. As for what is seen from it, – the best service to the stranger is still to copy portions of that "Letter to a friend" which Mr Wordsworth published many years ago, and which is the best account we have of the greatest mountain excursion in England. The weather was, however, unusual. The guide said, when on the summit, "I do not know that in my whole life, I was ever, at any season of the year, so high upon the mountains on so calm a day." It was the seventh of October. 

"On the summit of the Pike," says the letter, "which we gained after much toil, though without difficulty, there was not a breath of air to stir even the papers containing our refreshment, as they lay spread out upon a rock. The stillness seemed to be not of this world. We paused, and kept silence to listen, and no sound could be heard. The Scawfell cataracts were voiceless to us; and there was not an insect to hum in the air. The vales which we had seen from Esk Hause lay yet in view, and, side by side with Eskdale, we now saw the sister Vale of Donnerdale terminated by the Duddon Sands. But the majesty of the mountains below, and close to us, is not to be conceived. We now beheld the whole mass of Great Gable from its base – the Den of Wastdale at our feet – a gulf immeasurable; Grasmire, and the other mountains of Crummock; Ennerdale and its mountains; and the sea beyond!" * * * "While we were gazing around, 'Look,' I exclaimed 'at yon ship upon the glittering sea!' 'Is it a ship?' replied our shepherd guide. 'It can be nothing else,' interposed my companion. 'I cannot be mistaken; I am so accustomed to the appearance of ships at sea.' The guide dropped the argument; but, before a minute was gone, he quietly said 'Now, look at your ship – it is changed into a horse.' So it was; a horse with a gallant neck and head. We laughed heartily; and I hope, when again inclined to be positive, I may remember the ship and the horse upon the glittering sea; and the calm confidence, yet submissiveness, of our wise man of the mountain, who certainly had more knowledge of the clouds than we, whatever might be our knowledge of ships. 

"I know not how long we might have remained on the summit of the pike, without a thought of moving had not our guide warned us that we must not linger, for a storm was coming. We looked in vain to espy the signs of it. Mountains, vales and sea were touched with the clear light of the sun. 'It is there! said he pointing to the sea beyond Whitehaven' and there we perceived a light vapour, unnoticeable but by a shepherd accustomed to watch all mountain bodings. We gazed around again, and yet again, unwilling to lose the remembrance of what lay before us in that mountain solitude; and then prepared to depart. Meanwhile, the air changed to cold, and we saw that tiny vapour swelled into mighty masses of cloud, which came boiling over the mountains. Great Gable, Helvellyn and Skiddaw were wrapped in storm; yet Langdale, and the mountains in that quarter, remained all bright in sunshine. Soon the storm reached us; we sheltered under a crag; and almost as rapidly as it had come, it passed away, and left us free to observe the struggles of gloom and sunshine in other quarters. Langdale had now its share; and the Pikes of Langdale were decorated by two splendid rainbows. Before we again reached Esk Hause, every cloud had vanished from every summit." 

We cannot do better than stop at these auspicious words. May the tourist who reads this on the Pike see every cloud vanish from every summit!