Climbing Scafell Pike
When visiting England’s largest national park, the Lake District, I needed to conquer its tremendous mountains, with one in particular at the top of my bucket list.
Scafell Pike is officially England’s tallest mountain, measuring 978 meters. Although it is commonly known to be a strenuous hike, the rewards of the timeless landscapes and radiant lakes below were the foremost motivation to climb.
After thoroughly planning a mapped route for the hike, deciding on the perfect starting point, and driving to the destination, I began the trek. The base of the mountain was breathtaking, glaring up to the very tip of the peak, which was smothered by clouds and beams of sunlight.
Trickles of the gentle stream followed along the hiker’s footpath, with the crystal-clear water shimmering and reflections on the surface mirrored back onto the landscape. The streams gradually grew into small lakes, which then heightened into the most spectacular, delicate waterfalls. The water gracefully gushed down the vertical walls of rocks and was carried into the pools below. The elongated footpath that was parallel to the river led for miles and dissolved into the fog in the far distance.
After reaching the summit of the waterfall, I could see an infinite trail of boulders scattered across the path ahead. These mammoth rocks were perpetually dispersed across the paths for miles. As I began to clamber over them, the dangers of this route became evident. Between many of the rocks were substantial gaps that were meters wide, and with one slip of the foot, anyone could slip down and trap their legs. As I observed the many dogs darting across these rocks, running miles from their owners, anxiety hijacked my body; I hesitatingly proceeded further. Cautious of the potential slipperiness beneath me, I steadily continued to step from boulder to boulder, my eyes fixated on my feet, strategically planning every step I made.
After what felt like forever, the boulders began to disappear, and a grassy path gradually emerged. Without even realising it, I had climbed an immense yet gradual height, and the journey was nearly over. As I took a few minutes to rest after the lengthy rock climb, I processed the scenery around me. Surrounding me was the most picturesque, panoramic views — real-life heaven. Whilst scanning the panorama smothering me, I glanced below to the sea of mountains blanketing the valleys. Overwhelmed by its beauty, I seized the opportunity to snap some photographs and catch my breath.
Ahead of me, the final portion of the journey was presented — a direct vertical path that followed to the very peak of the mountain. Although not a great distance, to describe this track as ‘steep’ would be an understatement. My dumbfounded body refused to let me move, as I breathed in the shock of the forthcoming route. I had never experienced such a steep pathway before, and I began to question its safety.
As I began walking up the precipitous trail, I subconsciously resorted to crawling on my hands and knees instead, because one wrong step could result in a disastrous fall from the peak of the mountain. The wet mud coating the rocks engendered penetrating anxiety as I edged up the summit, avoiding any sight of what was beneath me. I persisted at a steady pace until the ground flattened, and as I stopped, I noticed that the scenery had faded. The entirety of my vision was now tarnished by what seemed like fog, but in reality, was a gigantic cloud. As I processed the exceptional height at which I was standing, and thus standing in the clouds, I noticed the concrete sign a metre ahead of me, stating that I was at the very peak.
My eyes glistened lightly from the slight trickle of tears brewing. I was in complete awe that I had completed the hike. Surrounded by many other people who were also beaming with pride, everyone was flabbergasted by their success in climbing the tallest mountain in England.
After spending some time appreciating that this is the highest point I could ever reach in the country, the return journey began. Following the same path back down the mountain as the ascent, this time, completing the route was a lot less suspenseful, and the knowledge of what to expect healed most of my anxiety; however, it became more of an emotional toll from the underlying exhaustion and physical pain that the hike had caused me.
After six long hours, a few tears, countless breathtaking views, and the biggest sense of achievement I have ever felt, the climb to Scafell Pike was complete.
