🌫️Day 2 - The Day I Hiked Through Mordor In July

bootsandbanter
Jul 29, 2025
5 min read

Updated: Nov 19, 2025

Day 2 of 4 – Lake District Trip #6 of 2025

Date: July 25, 2025

📍Route: Old Dungeon Ghyll → Pike of Blisco → Cold Pike → Crinkle Crags → Bowfell → Esk Pike → Rossett Pike

📏Distance: 22.7 km

⬆️Ascent: 1,604 m

⛰️ Wainwrights: 6

Birketts: 11

Weather: relentless rain, wind, total whiteout

Mood: unhinged, stubborn, slightly traumatised

Time on feet: 09:40 hours

It’s July. Peak summer. And I found myself in the Lake District, stumbling blindly through what can only be described as Mordor’s British cousin.

🌞The Warm-Up (a.k.a. The Last Time I Was Dry)

The day started innocently enough.

1 hour and 45 minutes of humid stone-step hell got me to Pike of Blisco - 660 m up over 4.6 km. That’s more ascent than my entire 18 km hike the day before. There was no wind, just sweat, cloud, and me in a vest. Lovely.

At the summit, it got cold and windy. Hoodie up.

Then onward to Cold Pike. Name checks out. One guy popped up, snapped a photo, and vanished.

That’s when the rain began. I layered up at the top of the summit: gloves, windproof, waterproofs, bag cover - the whole sad ensemble.

The day started so promising. Those views of the Langdale Pikes!

🌧💦Enter Mordor

Everything was wet in minutes. I was naively hoping the rain would pass.

Oh sweet, hopeful fool.

What followed was 7 relentless hours of rain, fog, wind, and complete whiteout.

Visibility? None.

Views? Zero.

Solitude? Maxed out.

I climbed shadow after looming shadow thinking each might be Crinkle Crags.

It was fog-thick chaos.

Eventually, a monster of a summit appeared (only when I was right under it!) - the actual Crinkle.

I found the Bad Step, stared at its slippery, dripping nonsense, thought "not today," and skirted left. But in dry weather looks very doable!

Then came the lads. 6-7 young men, now popping out of the mist like confused ghosts. One asked, "Have you done Scafell Pike yet?"

Bro… we’re on Crinkle Crags!?!

What is Crinkle Crags one said? 🥴

They didn't have a clue. They were going for Scafell Pike?!

I tried to show them on my phone, but their leader-type seemed… determined. They hurried in front of me towards Bowfell.

I was trudging up a scree path on Bowfell, soaked and exhausted, when I heard voices again. I was weirdly relieved, a proof that other humans were also dumb enough to be out here.

It was them. Again. This time, they were coming down. They’d bailed on their mission.🙏 When I told them I still had over 10 km to go, they looked at me like I was unhinged (accurate). One of them asked if I’d be alright.

I just nodded, said "I hope so", smiled, and plodded upwards.

Somewhere underneath Crinkle Crags. So desolate.

😩 Soaked, Starving, Stubborn

I was soaked. Jacket was failing.

Feet squelching.

Bra? Don’t ask.

I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. It was past 2 pm. I forced down a squashed, soggy cheese sandwich next to a cairn and downed my last Boost. That would be the last thing I ate or drank. Gourmet misery.

Bowfell? I wasn't sure if I stood on it.

I climbed over some huge boulders to what was the highest point!

My app said no(?!), my soul said yes.

I turned around 100 m later to double-check the peak and it had already vanished back into the mist.

The terrain reminded me of the Welsh Glyders: massive rocks, scattered like an alien landscape, no path, just grey on grey. Except this time.

I was completely alone.

In BAD weather.

💥 Enter the Spiral of Suffering

Then came the detour to Esk Pike.

It felt cruel. I almost gave up. But I couldn’t.

I'm wired for pain, apparently.

In my head, I kept asking, “Why can’t you just let this one go?” But the idea of that single, unbagged peak looming out there alone? No. I didn’t want to repeat this torment.

So I kept walking. Of course I did. 🥴

False summits mocked me. The wind howled. Rain slapped me.

I reached the top, barely able to stand (Gales force?). Poles came out for the first time.

What followed was a blur. I just kept thinking: Don’t slip. Don’t mess up. No one’s here to help you.

Somewhere along that nightmare, I glimpsed Angle Tarn which my only view of the day. It gave me hope.

Then the final summit loomed. Others stuck to the nice, proper path. I turned into the cloud to bag one more top. Why? Because I’m unhinged. 😵‍💫

There I met a soaked mother and daughter. We chatted. It meant a lot, the first human moment in hours. They were amazed at what I’d done. So was I, though I couldn’t process it at the time.

I told them, “If my daughter was with me, I’d have turned around at peak two. I can’t do this with someone I care about. I’d worry myself sick.”

🛎️The Descent to Oblivion

Over 6 km of wet, slippery steps. Streams flowing down the path. Relentless drizzly rain. I was so ready to be done.

When I reached the bottom, I went straight to the Old Dungeon Ghyll Hotel.

I peeled off soaked layers, had a hot shower, and realised even my bra was wet.

🔍Final Thoughts

🗺️ Navigation was brutal and emotionally exhausting. It felt like 50 km.
🍼One Boost, 500 ml of water, and a squashed sandwich at 2 pm. That’s it. Who needs electrolytes when you're marinating in a cloud?
🧵 I taped all my toes like burritos, probably saved me from blisters.
📱 I changed my phone and watch settings mid-hike to make sure my stats were logged. Because obviously, that mattered.
🌧️ It was 25 July. Summer. And I was in Mordor.
💦 I ate soggy food, endured soaked layers, and climbed shadow after shadow just to be sure.
🧤Gloves: Soaked, wrung out buckets at least 5 times.. but emotionally essential?!

Would I do it again? No. (not in a weather like this)

Will I romanticise it? Also NO.

Did I survive it like a legend? Hell yes. 🤩

💀 Let’s Be Clear: This Was Type 3 “Fun” (aka Trauma)

Just to clarify: I hated this hike.

Not in a cute, “haha that was hard but I grew” way.

No.

This was Type 3 fun, not fun during, not fun after, not even funny yet.

It was damp psychological warfare with only six Wainwrights to show for it.

If I ever start to romanticise it, I want you to physically stop me.

Shove a wet sock in my face and say, “Remember the bra?”

Because this wasn’t a hike.

⚠️This was a lesson in how much I can endure before nature thinks it can break me. Spoiler: it didn’t but I think it left a dent. A very soggy, slightly traumatised dent. Let’s be honest… the dent is probably visible from space.