Latterbarrow walk, Lake District: route, length and guide

The air was cold and dank by Windermere, but there were hints of brightness as we climbed the western side of Latterbarrow. Fresh snow carpeted slopes which only yesterday glowed an angry russet when the setting sun poured across the Hawkshead valley. Latterbarrow is a famous viewpoint, but by the tall summit cairn all we could do was keep our fingers crossed.

Looking for something to keep off the wind? Check out our gear guide to windshells.

We waited, and as we built a plump little snowman, Coniston Old Man made a first glistening appearance above banks of billowing cloud. When Windermere briefly came and went it seemed like the murk was still likely to win, but gut instincts continued to say the sun would shine. We waited and shivered, patience at stretching point, until, quite suddenly, there was that magical moment when we knew blue sky was going to prevail.

A patch of violet haze now hovered somewhere over Grizedale, but the wind insisted on filling it with fresh cotton wool. Then, just a few seconds later, a shimmering Morecambe Bay emerged from the mist. It all happened so quickly: one by one the Coniston Fells were revealed, followed by the Langdale Pikes and the freshly plastered peaks around Fairfield and Red Screes. Wansfell, High Street and the distant Howgills majestically swept into view. Cloud boiled below Wetherlam, but soon the 360º panorama was fully complete. Cameras whirred into action and Claire thought we should have risked the roads: “Look at Fairfield now!” It didn’t last. Forty minutes later dark clouds had drawn a curtain from the north and the Fairfield Horseshoe was the first to vanish. It wasn’t long before all the summits had disappeared and our earlier decision was fully vindicated. We descended south into a mix of forest, marsh and meadow and followed a network of paths uncovered during recent tree-felling.

The forestry led into an interesting and undulating landscape dotted with pools, tarns and walled enclosures. By now snow had arrived and thick flakes were falling silently onto our track as we strode down to Far Sawrey. A couple of hours later, back by the lake’s reedy shore, we watched a pair of goosanders and skimmed stones between the lichen-draped trees. The water lapped under their roots and we pretended this was Windermere’s long lost mangrove swamp.