An out-and-back to Low Fell summit this time with one eye on the weather and another on the petrol gauge.

Loes and I drove to Thackthwaite, admittedly only a short way, but decided to return to the car rather than make a special journey to fetch it later.

Low Fell is a delightful top and the views from this sub-1400ft summit far outweighs it's lowly height.

There's usually plenty of parking space at the lower end of the village, that is on the Lorton Road that approaches from the north.

As a result  the walk starts with a couple of hundred yards stroll through the village, admiring its old farms and houses.

The track becomes overgrown through lack of vehicles use and the profusion of summer growth on the vegetation that flanks the lane.

However there are sufficient people using it to keep the path clear.

Views across to Whinlatter and Lorton's Kirk Fell from a gap in the trees.

To be fair, the old track hasn't been used by vehicles for decades, and obstacles like this don't help !

Full marks to the oak tree however, as it is still growing despite being knocked horizontal in the 2005 storms.

Our of the woodland and into the serenity of the open farmland.

The wooly maggots of spring grow a-pace on the rich summer grass.

Perhaps the human pace up the hill was a little too enthusiastic, as Loes appears to stop for a rest.

It could be that or maybe it's just exasperation at me taking another photo and asking for some colour in the foreground !

The old track that climbs Low fell is often referred to as a Coffin Road, connecting Lorton Valley with Mosser Church.

If so this could be a resting stone for those carrying a coffin, held high to stop it touching the ground.

The skeptic in me says Mosser Church doesn't have a churchyard and this is more likely to be a glacial erratic boulder at the side of the track.

So much for romanticism !

The view from the track, across the bracken covered slopes to Fellbarrow.

Turning round a short while later to enjoy the view back down to the Vale of Lorton.

In the old days we would have opened the gate . . . but nowadays it seems hardly worth it as the fence has rusted away.

As we climb the vegetation changes

and we now come across some beautiful late summer heather with its tiny purple blooms.

A rather hazy photo of the hairpin bends on the track at the head of the valley.

Perhaps the warmth of the climb has fogged the lens as I held the camera in my hand.

Once we cleared the gate at the head of the climb the going became easier.

Over to the left the view improves as we walked, so we drift off the path and head over to Watching Crag.

The view up the Crummock and Buttermere Valley with the high central fells in the distance.

Crummock water in fact goes on around the corner created by the intrusion of Rannerdale Knotts.

Some say that the origins of the  word Crummock comes from "the crooked Lake", a name given due to its shape.

The historian Nicholas Size suggested that Watching Crag was named after its use as a lookout point.

Here the locals would watching out for the invading Norman Troops, post the 1066 AD invasion of Britain.

You can chose what to believe and what to look at, made easier I hope by a larger version of the view from Watching Crag

Click here or on the photo above for a larger annotated panorama.

The ridge of Low Fell stretches out ahead.

The seemingly long and level ridge has several major undulations, none greater that the climb ahead of us now.

Relax . . . we've made the top . . . but then the summit is just that little bit further on than you remember.

This can be quite a windy summit as westerly winds, partially blocked by the high fells, whistle around the northern edge of the high ground.

Each time I re-visit the summit the cairn has changed shape . . . today was no exception.

I don't give the current balancing stones much chance in the next strong blow.

Looking down on the part of Lorton Vale known as Brackenthwaite . . . the "clearing in the bracken".

Down below us here is the Water Board complex mixed in with Corn How Farm, Oak Bank Farm (with the pond) recently converted to five new homes

and the old Scale Hill Hotel, converted many years back into self catering.  Life never stays the same and the valley is no exception.

Up near the summit two guys were packing up after a night on the fell.

With chairs like that it looks more like glamping than camping !

We headed on a short distance from the top but then noticed a change in the weather.

The skies were darkening and a rain shower was cascading over the High Stile Ridge and filling Buttermere with even more water.

We decided to turn for home.

Back down the zig-zags . . . the better weather to the north, the rain behind us.

Back through the gate . . . or should I say the non-gate.

By the time we turned the corner to join the Thackthwaite path we realised that the rain had passed us by and we could be home and dry.