🌧️🫣🥾Bogs, Bracken & Berry Bars: A 3-Wainwright Wetland Special

Route: Rosthwaite → Rosthwaite Fell (Birkett) → Bessyboot → Eagle Crag → Sergeant’s Crag → Lining Crag → valley walk back to Rosthwaite

☀️ The Optimistic Start

The day began deceptively well.

Sunshine mingled with cloud, no wind, and for once, the Lake District played nice. I set off from Rosthwaite in my vest, full of hope, legs fresh, mood high.

My new Rab jacket was packed (just in case, naively I believed I would never need it), and gaiters were already on because, well, I'm not new here.

🧗 The Vertical Ambush

Heading toward Rosthwaite Fell — a Birkett that, in retrospect, was completely unnecessary, the real fun began. The sheep path quickly turned into a vertical grassy slide littered with stones. At one point, I was on all fours. It was the kind of incline that makes you question your hobbies.

Two fellow walkers trailed behind, clearly baffled, and I ended up pointing at the "path" with thumbs up like some sort of bewildered mountain oracle. There was no visible path! Just vertical grass slope, and mutual confusion.

Rosthwaite Fell eventually rewarded me with views.

Then came Bessyboot - again nice views with sun and clouds, but the wind picked up. Out came the jacket. That was the last time the weather was even remotely cooperative.

🌧️ Into the Drizzle Zone

The descent from Bessyboot was steep and wet underfoot — a recurring theme for the day. I pushed on into the climb up Eagle Crag, which I now consider the Fell of Existential Dread. I think this is also due to the fact I just descended to go up again! It was soul-crushing. Steep, covered in bracken, and completely deserted. It felt remote in a way that wasn’t liberating — it was intimidating.

Then the drizzle started. And it never stopped.

There was a scramble near the top of Eagle Crag, and every rock was soaked. First time I scrambled in such sogginess. Navigation was constant. And yet... I enjoyed the scrambly bits. That sort of problem-solving suits me. What didn’t suit me? The bog.

🥾 The Bog of Eternal Regret

Between Eagle Crag and Sergeant’s Crag, it was a soggy mess. I got to Sergeant’s Crag and didn’t linger.

Then came the real bog horror.

Wet underfoot turned into wet up-to-the-ankles between Sergeant’s Crag and towards Ullscarf. I finally gave in and put on my over-trousers — gaiters already doing their best. But it was the kind of wet that isn’t just inconvenient. It’s demoralising.

No clear path. No views. Just endless bog and mist.

I had to keep checking my map and watch to stay on course.

My heart jumped a few times as either foot sank far deeper than I liked.  And I was on my own. In terrain that felt more like a warning than a challenge.

There was nothing to see and a growing realisation that the hardest decision of the day was coming: should I attempt the final three peaks?

🔋 Gut Over Glory

According to OS Maps, I had done 16 km and had another 16 km to go!(?). And it also warned me that Ullscarf was going to be bog central. My phone was at 40%, my watch probably the same. Yes, I had chargers, but they charge slowly. And I hadn’t sat down once. Not even to eat.

Speaking of which, here was my entire food intake up to that point:

• One Go Ahead apple fruit & oat bar

• One Quaker "Very Very Berry" granola bar

• One litre of water

• One Boost Orange (500 ml)

No lunch. No music either, because I was conserving battery. I missed it. Badly.

So, I made the call: I descended from Lining Crag. Skipped the last three. And I’m genuinely proud of that.

Because there was no visibility. Because the paths were streams. Because my feet were soaked and my soul was next. Because hiking is about strength, yes — but also about knowing when to turn back.

🚶 The Long Walk Out

The descent from Lining Crag was long and slippery. The path was indistinguishable from the river — I kept checking, "Is this the route, or a water feature?" It was both.

All the while, the clouds sat stubbornly on every surrounding peak. I knew with complete certainty I had made the right decision. And yet I walked another 6 km or so alongside the river, no less tired than I would have been had I done those peaks. But at least I wasn’t lost in bog hell in a fog.

🚗 The Aftermath

I never sat down during the hike. Not once.

I finished at 17:30, after 8.5 hours, and immediately got in the car to eat my John West tuna pasta pot like a protein-deprived warrior. Gourmet parking lot dining at its finest.

Then cranked up the music for the 200-mile drive back to Nottingham and sang all the way down the M6 like someone who hadn’t just battled half the Central Fells with oat dust and blind optimism. I didn’t stop. I didn’t need to. Home in 3 hours and 20 minutes.

💬 Final Thoughts

This wasn’t the hike I planned. But it was absolutely the hike I needed.

A reminder that I can trust myself. That I don’t need to prove anything to anyone. That turning back isn’t weakness.

I’ll take drizzle over regret. And I’ll take scrambles over bogs any day.

And next time? I might even pack lunch.

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📚 Lessons Learned

• Scrambles = character building.

  Bog = character breaking.

• Don’t trust sunshine in the Lakes.

  It’s the Lake District’s idea of a practical joke.

• Turning back is not failure.

  It’s just refusing to audition for a survival documentary.

• Some fells test your legs, some test your mindset.

  And some try to drown both in a bog.

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📋 Quick Stats

🗓️ Date: 15 June 2025

🥾 Distance: 21.8 km

⛰️ Ascent: 1,292 m

⏱️ Duration: 8.5 hours

📍 Peaks Bagged:

• Wainwrights (3): Rosthwaite Fell (Bessyboot), Eagle Crag, Sergeant's Crag

• Birkett (5): includes Lining Crag

  🥶 Conditions: drizzle, clouds, bogs, and no visibility

  🍏 Fuel: two snacks + 1 Boost + 1L water

  🚫 Lunch & sitting down: Non-existent