Mallowdale Pike unconquered: Walking in Roeburndale

The waters from the remote uplands at the heart of Bowland flow, usually merrily, sometimes savagely, down secluded Roeburndale to the pretty stone houses of Wray. I never tire of the classic journey from homeliness to wilderness and back. The valley lacks the blazed trails of Lakeland valleys. In Roeburndale, knowing one’s patch is as useful as the Ordnance Survey in navigating the steep woodlands and, higher up, boggy pastures.

Having at last joined up the puzzle pieces of an approach, I thought the shrinking daylight might yet permit climbing the alluring cone of Mallowdale Pike, the object most resembling a mountain hereabouts.

The final, as yet untried link was between the right of way along the private road to Mallowdale Farm and the open moor rising to the summits. I thought to follow the river bank south-eastwards from Mallowdale Bridge along the edge of the enclosed farmland for a few hundred metres until the access land opened up fully to the south-west. This narrow corridor turned out to be pathless, steep, and bracken-choked. The combined effects of this and earlier photographic dallyings led to it being nearly sunset when I reached the foot of Mallowdale Pike. With Ingleborough catching the final glow I turned my back on the elusive peaklet.

I do like a challenge, so I’ll be back – but not this way, as I’ve no wish to pioneer an outlaw path on this vulnerable river bank.

An endearing characteristic of the Forest of Bowland is its freedom from mass leisure exploitation, so I don’t complain of the need to work at solutions, rather as a climber worries away at a new rock route. And, just as in climbing, there are ethics to respect. Only rights of way and proper access links are acceptable, allowing the wild corners to remain undisturbed. I only wish the instigators of the shooting tracks that now compromise the remoteness of the tops were similarly respectful of what they will argue is their, but I believe is our, wilderness.