Two Nights at Skiddaw House

Two Nights at Skiddaw House: A Little Adventure That Meant a Lot

There are some walks that end up being about far more than the miles covered or the summits reached. Our two-night adventure to Skiddaw House turned out to be one of those.

The plan was fairly simple: walk from Keswick to Skiddaw House, camp in the hostel garden for two nights, climb a few hills and enjoy being somewhere wonderfully remote with Teddy and Buddy.

I also decided I was going to pack light.

I really did try.

Knowing there was food available at the hostel and a kitchen we could use should have made this easy. Unfortunately, my brain doesn’t really do “you probably won’t need that.” It does “yes, but what if…” So despite my best intentions, I still set off from Keswick carrying considerably more than somebody who was supposedly travelling light probably should.

Still, being prepared has got us this far!

Day One – Into the Middle of Nowhere

The walk from Keswick to Skiddaw House was beautiful.

As we left the busier world behind, it gradually became quieter and wilder. That’s one of the things I love about walking: there comes a point where you realise the roads, buildings and noise have disappeared and it’s just you, the dogs and the landscape.

Eventually Skiddaw House appeared.

Sitting completely on its own amongst the fells, it really does feel wonderfully isolated. At 470 metres, it’s the highest hostel in Britain, and there’s something rather special about arriving there on foot knowing that everything you need for the next couple of days is either in the building or on your back.

First priority: the honesty café.

We had something to eat and drink, gave the legs a rest and then, having established that I could safely leave my ridiculously well-prepared backpack behind, set off for Great Calva.

From Skiddaw House, Great Calva doesn’t look that bad.

This is a lie told by mountains.

Once we started climbing, it became increasingly apparent that it was considerably steeper than it had looked from the comfort of the hostel. But slowly upwards we went, and eventually the three of us reached the top.

Then it was back down to Skiddaw House, where our little green tent went up in the hostel garden. Home for the next two nights.

Dinner that evening came courtesy of the DIY kitchen and a proper old-school Fray Bentos pie. Fine dining, Lake District style.

One of my favourite things about the hostel, though, was the people. You arrive knowing nobody, yet somehow end up sitting around chatting to complete strangers about where they’ve walked, where they’re going and what adventures they’ve had.

Eventually, the three of us crawled into the tent and I slept like a log.

Day Two – Skiddaw

We were awake early the following morning and headed inside for breakfast.

There was something lovely about just sitting there watching the hostel slowly come to life. People wandering into the kitchen, making breakfast, filling water bottles, packing bags and discussing their plans for the day.

And then it was time for ours.

Skiddaw.

I was nervous.

I’d been thinking about it beforehand because, despite everything we’d already achieved, I genuinely didn’t know whether my knee would manage it. I knew there was every possibility we’d get partway up and I’d have to make the decision to turn around.

And if that happened, that was fine.

But I wanted to try.

So we set off from Skiddaw House and took it slow and steady.

No racing. No worrying about how quickly anyone else might do it. Just one foot in front of the other.

There were moments when it was hard. There were moments when I wondered whether my knee had had enough.

But we kept going.

And eventually…

we reached the summit of Skiddaw.

I sat down up there and had a couple of tears.

Not because the climb had been awful. Not even really because we’d reached the top.

It was because, sitting at 931 metres on the third-highest mountain in the Lake District, I suddenly found myself thinking about everything that had happened over the previous twelve months.

And particularly the previous six.

Six months earlier I’d had knee surgery. At that point I genuinely didn’t know what walking would look like for me afterwards. I certainly didn’t expect that, just six months later, I’d be standing on the summit of Skiddaw with Teddy and Buddy beside me.

But there we were.

After everything the previous year had thrown at me, it felt like a very physical reminder that life had kept moving forwards.

I think sometimes you become so focused on the next thing that you forget to look backwards and see how far you’ve already come.

Up there, for a few minutes, I did.

And I was bloody proud of myself.

Of course, having climbed Skiddaw, there was another summit sitting conveniently nearby.

It would have been rude not to.

So we headed across to Skiddaw Little Man before beginning the long journey back down to the hostel.

By the time we arrived, I was more than ready to stop.

The rest of the day was exactly what I wanted it to be. Dinner, sitting around in the hostel living room, chatting to another collection of random people and enjoying having absolutely nowhere else that I needed to be.

Then back to our little tent.

That night gentle rain began pattering against the flysheet.

I absolutely love that sound when I’m tucked up inside a tent. Teddy and Buddy curled up beside me, sleeping bags pulled around us, rain outside and absolutely no reason whatsoever to leave our little cocoon.

Once again, I slept like a log.

The Walk Home

The next morning we wandered back into the hostel for breakfast before packing everything away.

There is always something slightly sad about taking a tent down after an adventure. For two nights that tiny patch of grass had been home.

Soon everything was stuffed back into the backpack  including, naturally, all those things I’d carried in and never actually needed and we started the walk back towards Keswick.

No summit to chase. No particular challenge ahead. Just the three of us walking back through the fells with two brilliant days behind us.

And I felt immensely proud.

We’d walked into Skiddaw House carrying everything we needed. We’d climbed Great Calva. We’d slept beneath the fells. We’d climbed Skiddaw and Little Man. We’d shared meals and conversations with people we’d never met before. We’d listened to rain falling on the tent and woken up surrounded by mountains.

But most importantly, I’d discovered something about myself.

Six months after surgery, my knee hadn’t simply got me back to where I was.

It had taken me somewhere higher.

There will always be another mountain and another adventure. I’m already quite certain my inability to pack lightly will accompany us on all of them.

But this one will stay with me.

Two nights at Skiddaw House.

Two poodles.

One slightly overpacked rucksack.

And one very proud man walking back into Keswick. ❤️🐩🐩⛰️