Peak 3 & 4 of 25 Peaks in 2025 - Helvellyn & Cat Bells

Peaks, Faceplants, and Fighter Jets: A Good Friday in the Lake District

There’s something oddly exhilarating about starting an adventure in the middle of the night. While most people were tucking into their Easter eggs or dozing off to a rom-com, I was leaving Worcester at 1:40am with one mission: to tick off two more peaks for my 25 Peaks in 2025 charity challenge. The targets? Helvellyn and Cat Bells — two iconic climbs in the Lake District, and a combo that promised elevation, exhaustion, and if I was lucky, maybe even a bit of enlightenment. (Spoiler: I got all three, plus a faceful of gravel.)

By 5:20am, I rolled into the Swirls Car Park, threw £8 into the machine, and pinged my live location out to the wonderful followers cheering me on from their warm beds. At 5:30am sharp, with a cool 5°C breeze and clouds rolling overhead, I laced up my boots, adjusted my pack, and set off up Helvellyn.

The trail wasted no time in telling me what kind of morning I was in for — steep. Relentless. The kind of incline that makes your thighs question your life choices. It reminded me a bit of Scafell Pike’s evil cousin. But every pause brought new reward. As the sky began to lighten, the mighty Thirlmere Lake came into view — vast, serene, and shimmering in the morning light.

The wind didn’t let up, and the rain made a brief but dramatic appearance like a diva on stage. But within half an hour, the clouds parted just enough to reveal what I’d come for: the raw, wild beauty of the fells.

Two hours in, and I finally crested the peak. Striding Edge appeared before me, glorious and jagged like nature’s very own tightrope. I was sorely tempted to take it on, but today was about the challenge — tick the peak, move on, no detours. At 930 metres, Helvellyn stood proud and defiant, and I stood beside it grinning like a maniac, grateful and completely knackered.

A few quick summit selfies later, I began the descent. I was feeling pretty good at this point, maybe a little too good. So, in an effort to make up time, I thought it would be clever to jog down a few stretches.

Let me tell you — I was wrong.

One second I was upright, the next I was airborne, and then BOOM — I hit the ground with all the grace of a sack of potatoes being hurled from a third-floor window. I lay there for a second, contemplating life and gravity, before dusting myself off and looking around for any witnesses. Thankfully, just me, the rocks, and my vanishing dignity.

After retrieving what was left of my pride, I continued down the trail, hobbling just slightly, when suddenly — ROOOAAARRR. Out of nowhere, four F-15 fighter jets came screaming through the valley below me, part of a training exercise. I sat down, poured myself some coffee, cracked open a pack of Mini Eggs, and watched the show. It was like the universe saying, “Yeah mate, you just stacked it, but here — have some Top Gun.”

Back at the car, I swapped boots for trainers and made the short 12-mile drive to the trailhead for Cat Bells. The weather had improved — blue skies with that classic Lake District wind that cuts right through you like a sarcastic comment from a teenager.

I parked up in a layby, took a deep breath, and set off again. The first section was a gentle stroll, but don’t be fooled — within ten minutes, the trail kicked up like it had something to prove. The ascent to Hause Gate was steep and surprisingly scrambly, especially on legs already softened from Helvellyn’s punishing climb.

Still, the views from the top were jaw-dropping. Derwentwater sparkled below, and I could see for miles in every direction. It was one of those “why I do this” moments that made the effort worth every burning quad.

Turning toward Cat Bells, I had one thought: That’s steeper than I was expecting. The climb was steady, and again, bits of scrambling had to be tackled. Not quite as dramatic as Tryfan a few weeks back, but with fatigue setting in, it felt like a proper test.

Eventually, I reached the summit — peak number two of the day, standing at 451 metres. I took a moment to soak it all in, knowing that between Helvellyn, Cat Bells, and the unexpected but satisfying detour over Hause Gate, I’d basically climbed the height of Ben Nevis in a single morning.

But wait, there’s more — the trail carried me further to Brandelhow Peak, an unplanned but welcome fourth summit of the day. I was cooked. My legs felt like overcooked spaghetti, and my shoulders were beginning to argue with my rucksack straps. Still, with views like that, it was hard to complain.

The final descent was steep, my legs screaming with every step. But salvation appeared in the form of something magical — an ice cream van. I staggered over, victorious, and treated myself to two scoops: mint choc chip and Biscoff. I’m not exaggerating when I say it might’ve been the best ice cream I’ve ever had. I earned every lick.

Back at the car, boots off and seat reclined, I reflected on the day. Four peaks in total. Two charity challenge summits ticked off. A fall I’ll be thinking about for weeks. Fighter jets. Scrambles. Ice cream.

As I hit the motorway for the four-hour drive back to Worcester, I was sore, satisfied, and already thinking: What peak is next?