The Lake District has become ground zero for an acrimonious debate in hiking circles about how far tolerance should be extended for what some may regard as anti-social behaviour. The benefits of nature are now so well understood that doctors can prescribe outdoor activity for well-being, but there is a balance to be struck between wanting people to enjoy the environment and also treat it and other hikers with respect.
First, the anti-social behaviour. Leading up to the bank holiday weekend in August, Wasdale Head was busy: hikers, climbers, family ramblers, Wainwright baggers, first timers. Everyone looks that kind of happy you only get when you’re outdoors and the weather is good. It’s like we’ve won the lottery. After a circuit of Scafell Pike, I’m washed and clothes rinsed in the six minutes that £1 in the coin operated hot water system will give me, leaving me with ample time to find a nook in the pub for reading, chat to a few others, recharge electrics, and have some soup and chips.
But at some point between the shower and the chips, a large group of men pitched up in the camping field, with a gazebo, slabs of beer and whisky, and a sound system requiring earplugs until the receptionist from the Inn had to come over to tell them to can it. There are ‘Ibiza’ campsites throughout the Lakes; fields that farmers open during the season, sometimes with no facilities other than port-a-loos. They are full of massive tents, BBQs, sound systems, and canvas barriers demarcating territory. Humans just love a wall. It’s great that there is so much camping kit now that we can bring all the ‘comforts’ of home. Not so great though if it’s excluding everyone else (human and non-human).
Personally, I head for the camp sites that have a moratorium on gazebos and zero tolerance for noise at night.
Secondly, the Icarus effect, otherwise known as the human aversion to realistic risk assessments. Ascending Scafell Pike, England’s highest peak at 978m, it’s cold and windy, rocky and steep, even on the tourist trail. I pass several not-having-a-good timers on the way up. Not the right clothes, shoes or fitness. I hope they make it. Humans generally under-estimate risk so I feel for the Mountain Rescue crews who volunteer to haul unprepared people off peaks. Having made this mistake myself some 17 years ago in the Dolomites, I’m in no place to judge others, except the two women trying to walk their dachshund up to High Street when a storm front was forecast and clearly visible. Or the couple trying to carry their chihuahua with them along Striding Edge. That is just obviously silly.
After Scafell, I ran into two lads at Angle Tarn who, having lost connection on their phone and therefore lost their only map, had wandered well off their path (the Cumbrian Way). I gave them my spare map and showed them the route, but in the end it was easier to point out landmarks in three dimensions for them to follow down to the valley floor to eventually get back on track. At several points, particularly near popular routes or landmarks, more lost souls needed a hand with directions. Map reading is a dying skill.
At a minimum, let’s leave the hubris and the sound systems at home. Check the weather. And thank Mountain Rescue by donating to their services.
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