🏔 Blencathra and the Buzz That Vanished

bootsandbanter
Jun 23
3 min read

Updated: Oct 1

When the Ridge Doesn’t Deliver What You Thought You Needed

📍 Route Overview

Date: 17 May 2025
Route: Souther Fell → Sharp Edge → Blencathra → Mungrisdale Common → Bannerdale Crags → Bowscale Fell
Distance: 20.2 km
Ascent: 1,140 m
Duration: 6.5 hours
Wainwrights: 5

🥾 The Ridge I Had Overthought to Death

Blencathra. Sharp Edge.

One of the Lake District’s most hyped ridges — practically influencer-famous in the hiking world.

I’d been looking forward to it — and overthinking it — for weeks.

I think that’s probably normal when you do things solo. That’s probably normal when you do things solo. You’re the planner, the motivator, the one-person cheer squad.

I had planned. Imagined. Overanalysed.

From the A66, Blencathra is the first mountain you see — a two-pronged peak that stares you down like it’s daring you to come closer. And even as I walked in from Souther Fell, I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

⛰ The Crest and the Shift

I started from Souther Fell, looping clockwise.

Once I reached Sharp Edge, I kept to the crest. The polished rocks shimmered in the sun — beautiful, but I could instantly tell this would be a very different story in wet conditions.

There were bottlenecks at the Bad Step, and a few others standing around taking it all in. I paused too, chatted for a bit (because of course I did), then carried on.

And then… it was over.

Just like that.

Quick, clean, and emotionally confusing.

💨 The Rush That Didn’t Arrive

I had expected adrenaline. Drama. A sense of triumph.

But all I felt was... emptiness.

The buzz disappeared as fast as it arrived. I stood there in the aftermath, wondering if I’d done something wrong. Like I’d misread the instructions on how to feel accomplished.

I still had four more Wainwrights to bag — Blencathra , Mungrisdale Common, Bannerdale Crags, Bowscale Fell — but they felt like filler.

Just walking. No magic. No shift.

🔍 Why Didn’t It Hit Like I Thought It Would?

That emptiness surprised me. And I think it’s because I’d assigned too much weight to a single moment.

Sharp Edge was supposed to be the test. The ridge that proved I was brave, strong, alive. A checkpoint in the Solo Female Hiker Psychological Olympics.

But the thing is… no single ridge can carry all of that expectation.

Also: the conditions were ideal. The danger was low. The adrenaline had nowhere to go. And when nothing terrified me, nothing transformed me either.

Sometimes, the absence of fear doesn’t make you feel fearless — it just makes you feel… confused.

And so you’re left standing on the other side of something you thought would define you… only to realize you’re the same person you were before.

🧭 So… What Am I Chasing?

Maybe it’s clarity. That fleeting moment when everything — the noise, the pressure, the overthinking — finally shuts up. And it’s just me, the wind, and the rhythm of my feet.

Maybe it’s proof. That I’m capable. That I can do hard things alone. That I don’t need backup or cheerleaders — just a ridge, a map, and my own two legs.

Maybe it’s freedom. Not the kind you post about on Instagram. The kind you feel — when you realise you’ve chosen every step, every risk, every summit. And no one gets the credit but you.

Maybe it’s stillness — but the kind that only comes while moving. Like I can’t sit quietly, but I can walk 20 kilometres and call it peace.

Or maybe… I don’t know. Maybe I’m chasing a version of myself that only shows up at altitude. The one that’s lighter, louder, braver — the Mira who doesn’t care what anyone thinks and eats cheese sandwiches on summits like it’s a lifestyle.

Maybe I’m chasing a feeling I can’t even name.

But I do know this: I haven’t caught it yet.

And I’m not done trying.

🧗‍♀️ The Day I Decided to Go Bigger

Here’s the twist no one asked for — not even me:

That blank feeling after Sharp Edge?It’s what quietly nudged me toward the idea of doing the Welsh 15.

Not because I felt strong. Definitely not because I felt ready. But because I didn’t.

I walked away with a feeling I couldn’t name — like I’d come looking for a spark and found a very polite shrug.

So I made a quiet decision. Not bold. Not dramatic. Just… steady.

Fifteen peaks. One day. It makes me nervous just writing that.