Helvellyn forecast: cloudy, with wet rock and retreating walkers

Glenridding, Lake District Warned off by the fell top assessor, ill-prepared ramblers hurry out of the mist away from England’s third-highest mountain

View of Striding Edge and Red Tarn from Helvellyn
View of Striding Edge and Red Tarn from Helvellyn. Photograph: Jane Hallin/Alamy

I’m early for my appointment in the Helvellyn youth hostel car park, and the only sign of life is a raven croaking prukk-prukk as it dives from Edmund’s Castle crag, its black wings turning a sheeny purple. I pull down my beanie hat and zip up my jacket collar.

Rather than the crisp panorama to be expected on so chilly a day, banners of cloud wreathe me. Treading the path from Red Tarn, I cannot see the mountain above, though I know it’s shaped like an armchair, flanked by Striding Edge as one arm rest and Swirral Edge the other; the lumbar support being Helvellyn’s 950 metres. Cupped in between is Red Tarn, formed by ice age moraine damming water.

A group in trainers strides out of the mist towards me, hurrying away from the mountain, England’s third highest. “Glad we jacked it in,” says one cheerfully as they pass. “Brass monkeys.”

I follow them back towards the hostel. “Country diary, I presume,” says a voice, as I wipe my fogged-up wing mirrors. “Jon Bennett at your service, just down from Helvellyn.”

He is one of the national park’s two fell-top assessors, who check conditions on Helvellyn during the winter months, adding their high-altitude reports and photos to the daily Weatherline forecast (lakedistrictweatherline.co.uk/). “And today’s report?” I query. “Cloudy,” he says. “With old snow and wet, slippery rock.”

We sip coffee in the car as a bedraggled robin pecks at the moss-green turf, then flies inside to perch on the rear sill, fixing us with its beady eyes before flitting away. “Feathered friends!” says Jon. “Heard snow buntings on Striding Edge. That sharp chi-tick call is so distinctive.”

I mention the walkers. “I suggested they retreat,” he affirms. You can’t order them down then, I ask. “Heaven forbid! We can only advise.” All-male groups can be difficult, he adds. Because of the ego thing, I guess. He nods. “Nobody wants to be seen to chicken out. The trick is for a third party to recommend they retreat. Everyone then agrees. They all look happier.” That I can vouch for.

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