Helvellyn from Legburthwaite – 11.58-Mile Circular Walk

Walked 4 November 2026 · John Haslett

Helvellyn: Stunning Views, Summit Gloom and a Complaint from My Knees

I left camp just after 5.30am, arriving at Legburthwaite car park at 6.45am. After putting on my hiking gear and paying for parking, I set off at 6.55am, ready for a memorable day in the mountains. My knees, unfortunately, had not been consulted.

A short walk along the road brought me to a left turn—and what can only be described as the climb from hell.

There was no gentle introduction. For roughly the first mile, the route climbed relentlessly over a mixture of stones, grass and gravel. I stopped several times to catch my breath, and at one point felt decidedly rough: dizzy, weak and with legs resembling jelly.

Skipping breakfast certainly hadn’t helped. A couple of chocolate bars and a cup of tea halfway up seemed to settle things, and by the time I reached Sticks Pass, I felt much better. A lesson for next time: breakfast before boots.

The views were already stunning. Sunshine broke through the clouds while low mist raced across the hilltops, constantly changing the landscape. Higher up, at around 2,792 feet, the wind had strengthened and the temperature had noticeably dropped.

Ahead lay another demanding climb above Keppel Cove. The gravel path became progressively steeper, eventually giving way to a rocky final section that demanded rather more effort than my legs would have liked. By the top, I was around 3,000 feet up.

Looking to my right, I spotted someone making their way along a narrow ridge in the strong wind and drifting cloud. Rather them than me. I was quite happy with the amount of mountain underneath my own feet.

Next stop: Helvellyn summit. As I approached, the cloud lowered and visibility steadily deteriorated. At 10.05am, I reached the summit—3,169 feet above sea level on my reading.

Helvellyn conquered! The panoramic views, however, had taken the day off.

Instead, I was greeted by thick cloud and a strong, bitterly cold wind. I found some shelter and settled down with a hot cup of tea and something to eat, admiring what must have been one of the Lake District’s finest collections of grey.

A fellow walker emerged from the gloom and joined me. We got chatting and discovered that he was originally from Cornwall but had moved to the Lakes two years earlier. A small world, even when you can barely see any of it.

After around 25 minutes of conversation and enthusiastic appreciation of the invisible scenery, it was time to descend.

The long, winding path soon gave my knees plenty to complain about. Soil and gravel gave way to stretches of flat stone, which had become slippery in the light drizzle. Progress required care, and every downward step seemed to remind me of the climb that had brought me here.

Then, after losing roughly 1,000 feet of height, the cloud lifted and Thirlmere Reservoir appeared below. Wow.

Sunshine, drifting low cloud and the water below combined to create an extraordinary view. After the summit’s wall of grey, this felt like the mountain finally revealing what it had been hiding.

The descent continued for a good hour before I reached the woods and, at last, some level ground. My knees were grateful, although they were clearly considering lodging a formal complaint.

From there, the return to the car became a lengthy woodland walk. Pleasant enough, but after the drama of the higher slopes, roughly 4.5 miles of trees and paths began to feel rather repetitive. Trees, path, more trees, another path… I was becoming exceptionally familiar with the woodland theme.

Just when I thought the climbing was finally over, the route produced one last uphill stretch through narrow, root-covered paths and shrubbery. A thoughtful little farewell gift from the mountain.

Finally, with about 500 yards remaining, I crossed the road, went over a bridge and reached the car at 2pm. 11.58 miles completed—and every one of them earned.

This was a very difficult hike, with punishing climbs, steep descents and slippery sections underfoot. The summit views may have been missing, but the changing skies, dramatic scenery and magnificent glimpse of Thirlmere made it a day to remember.

Next time, I’ll bring the same enthusiasm—and eat breakfast first.

Photographs from the walk

Twenty photographs from the early climb, summit and descent.

Have you climbed Helvellyn?

Did you get the summit views, or the deluxe grey-cloud experience?

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What’s your favourite place in the Lake District?

A memorable walk, a lakeside view or somewhere for a well-earned cuppa — I’d love to hear your recommendations.