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

bootsandbanter
Jul 29
5 min read

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 — 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 — 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 — 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.