Fjällräven Classic UK 2024
A celebration photo at the finish. We walked for three days; starting in the Langdale Valley, heading westwards towards the Castle, back to where we began.
This Classic was my third, I completed Denmark in 2022 and Germany in 2023. This time Dad came with me to trek in Cumbria, a long drive away but definitely easier than flying with a 60L rucksack.
We drove from South Oxfordshire to Muncaster Castle in Ravenglass. Dad knew the route well, having driven most of it many times for work. We checked in at the castle and were greeted by friendly volunteers who take care of the participants during the event. The people who ran this trek were an incredibly enthusiastic group who helped us have an amazing experience, they supported us every step of the way. I’d told Dad how kind people are at these events but he didn’t quite believe me until we arrived. He was blown away by how inviting everyone was.
Muncaster Castle is run by the family who live there and have owned the place for at least 800 years. Ewan, the eldest son, gave us an introduction to the history of the estate during the evening participant briefing. I’d like to visit Muncaster again in the future, it’s a beautiful place with family friendly gardens and a great history going back to 1208. The family run the estate using eco friendly, sustainable practices, hosting weddings and other events there. I hope Fjällräven come back again as it seems a wonderful place to support.
Our Event Briefing the night we arrived at Muncaster Castle. Image by @mattbuckleyphoto
After the briefing Dad and I drove 5 minutes to our hotel in Ravenglass village. Much of which was filled with hikers, we saw lots of people dressed for adventure. Some people were camping at the castle but given that it was Dad’s first expedition I thought it best we had warm beds to sleep in before and afterwards. We sorted our gear a final time, adding in the dehydrated food and supplies we’d collected at check in. After a final charge of electronics it was time to sleep. The night before each trek, I go to bed feeling horribly homesick. Given that I was with Dad, and still in the UK, I didn’t expect to feel that same sadness and wish to be safely at home. Perhaps it’s a mix of excitement and nervousness but I felt thoroughly rotten settling down that night.
We set off bright and early Wednesday morning, driving back to the castle for a group buffet breakfast in the stable yard. I managed a small bowl of my own granola with MYOM oat milk and Dad got his promised cooked breakfast with all the good stuff. We felt as ready as we could be given we both had our fears about the next few days.
I was particularly concerned that Dad was okay given my previous experience of these treks. Each Classic is slightly different, the coordinators have their own styles but once you’re at the start it’s always well organised. The responsibility of Dad’s experience weighed on my mind at the beginning. As we made our way through the days; hiking, cooking our meals and setting up camp, my worries receded. We both had an amazing time. It was a great challenge.
Dad and I ready and raring to set off
After a windy, sickening bus journey from Muncaster to Sticklebarn in Great Langdale, we set out on the beginning of our three day journey. Within a few moments of shouldering our bags and taking the first few steps, my nerves left and I felt a wave of excitement I'd been fostering since getting my ticket many months before.
Day One started from Lanty Slee’s Langdale @ Sticklebarn and took us through Mickleden Valley along the Cumbria Way (left photo above). We then climbed up Stake Gill (right photo above).
By the time we reached the peak of Stake pass at 478m it was nearly 2pm. I enjoy a lack of regular hunger when I’m hiking. Snacking on nuts and raisins throughout the day kept me going. Dad and I were both feeling good after the climb and found a beautiful spot for lunch in the sunshine. I filled and filtered our water bottles at the stream and set the stove up to boil water for chilli con carne with rice. We had an enjoyable rest chatting with Karl from Fjällräven HQ.
I realised a great achievement for myself on our first day. My struggle hiking ascents in the pre alps and the Coastal Path last year made me determined to improve my hill walking. I dislike being out of breath as soon as the gradient of terrain elevates. I repeated Wera’s advice from our German Classic as I took each step and it transformed my trek. Make yourself walk more slowly than you want to and you’ll not get out of breath. Slowly and steadily traversing upwards I reached the top feeling relaxed and triumphant, confident in the knowledge that I could keep on going for the rest of the day. This was a personal highlight for me.
Fresh faces in the morning after camping in Rosthwaite
I woke up a lot on the first night, I remember turning over and around trying to feel warm. I forgot the trick of getting out of your tent to do star jumps until you warm up, instead I put my waterproofs on and that helped. I describe myself as a lizard because if I’m moving around I can keep warm in short sleeves but as soon as I’m still, or sitting at a desk, I need copious layers, a down jacket and a hot water bottle just to feel comfortable. Dad and I both used all our layers the next night and had much better sleep.
On Day Two we started along a solid path heading south through a valley towards our checkpoint at Styhead Tarn. We walked through the valley basin following the river Derwent. To the left side of the path stood Glaramara and on our right stood the impending Green Gable and Great Gable mountains. At Stockley Bridge we followed the footpath up a steep climb to the Styhead tarn sitting at 433m and a beautiful rest spot. The sun was shining but a slight breeze made for a fantastic day.
The left photo shows the impeding view of Glaramara behind me, and the right is the even taller prospect of Great Gable mountain behind Dad.
The view looking back on our route up out of the Valley and the main river Derwent. We climbed a 250m ascent from the valley base.
The path levelled out, winding tightly beside Styhead Gill as we approached the Tarn.
Looking back down on Styhead Tarn. Just beside the top shore you can see a blue Fjällräven tent, used to mark each camp and checkpoint during the Classic.
This is us at the highest point of the day, Styhead Pass 479m. For the first time I felt uneasy looking down the steep edges of the fell beneath us. These photos don’t do justice to the incredible view surrounding us. It’s at times like this I wish I’d lugged my big DSLR along.
I took this on my old 35mm Jessop Quickshot, Dad and I descending the pass towards Wasdale Valley.
A number of us were held on our descent into Wasdale because an air ambulance needed to collect an injured day hiker further below us on the path.
It was a scree track with steep sides requiring focused walking. I felt the weight of my large rucksack when it shifted my balance on the descent. Luckily the patient was okay and being cared for by mountain rescue teams scrambled to the area. We got to watch the air crew and ground team process the scene and safely manoeuvre the casualty to hospital. Walking this descent made me consider using walking poles in the future.
Above, arriving in the valley to friendly Highland locals. My patience wore thin when we finally arrived at our campsite beside the bank of Wast Water to find the ground too shallow for tent pegs. Dad cheered me up with a solution and helped others peg their tents sturdily into the ground too.
Camping on the banks of Wast Water after a long day on trail
The start of Day Three
Dad and I both had a warm night in our tents on the second night. I made us mugs of hot chocolate which helped with the chilly start. Neither of us enjoyed the FirePot meals we were given. My advice; hands down choose Real Turmat over other brands if you want dehydrated food on trail.
Day Three broke bright and crisp and we left Wast Water in sunshine and took to the trail once more for the last day. We retraced our steps away from camp, rejoining a path that led south.
We quickly started climbing upwards away from the lake, the assent was more gentle than previous days but the path was much less defined. I found Day Three to be the hardest to navigate. By mid morning I’d led us astray whilst looking for our route mark at Burnmoor Tarn.
Above is a photo of Dad surveying the view at Burnmoor Tarn.
Each day of our holiday in the lakes we were greeted with loud crack sounds in the sky and a great whooshing over head as fighter jets streaked in and over the valleys around us. It was quite a spectacle and I managed to capture one with my phone. I read that these pilots may have been from Ukraine, training with the RAF.
By the end of the second day both Dad and my Apple Watches had given up so there was no digital elevation and distance checking but he had our route plotted on his phone in OSMaps.
By the middle of the third day we were both ready to reach Muncaster Castle and relax. The path seemed more ambiguous than before and we were both ready for a rest.
I was really proud of my gear choices this trip; my boots didn’t rub, my rucksack was comfortable. I think just the repetitiveness of walking all day was beginning to wear us down.
Dad taking a breather during the final stretch between our checkpoint at Stanley Ghyll and Muncaster Castle.
The afternoon of Day Three took us through beautiful villages, where we waited for passing shepherds to wrangle their flocks of sheep through quiet lanes, and then in and out of thick woodland full of lichen and ferns. The temperature was perfect, sun shining and bright and everyone we passed was astounded at our good weather fortune. Three days of the most beautiful Cumbrian sunshine!
By the end of the afternoon Dad and I and a few other hikers were joined by the volunteers who sweep the route behind each checkpoint to ensure no one is left behind.
They accompanied us along the last few kilometres as we strode upwards and onwards towards our destination.
The last assent felt much longer than 2km. It was a solid path but I struggled to resist the pressure to rush given our committee accompaniment. But the volunteers made no attempt to hurry us, they were nothing but professional and supportive.
Standing at the finish, back in front of the castle. Dad and I, pleased as punch. We were greeted with a tremendous applause as almost everyone stayed to cheer those behind them across the finish.
A scrumptious buffet and catch up with friends before the event culminated in music and Ceilidh dancing under the marquee.
I was thrilled to finish the Classic with Dad. We challenged ourselves on this and came home weary but elated.