Peak 7 of 25 Peaks in 2025 - Haystacks

The Lake District never fails to test your limits. And on this particular Saturday the 24/05/25, Peak 7 of my 25 Peaks in 2025 challenge proved to be one of the most dramatic and demanding climbs of the year so far.

The day started early. I parked up at the Gatesgarth car park just as the first light of morning tried to pierce through a sky already heavy with cloud. Rain lashed the windscreen as I stepped out and geared up. I performed my usual routine of letting my social media channels know my live location and that I was heading out on a charity hike.

The weather wasn’t just bad—it was relentless. Clouds sat low and thick, clinging to the peaks at just 500 metres. It was clear from the outset that this wouldn’t be a fair-weather stroll, or an easy ascent to the summit.

The trail to Haystacks begins gently enough, snaking around the flanks of the neighbouring mountains, luring you in with deceptive ease. But after the first mile, everything changed. The incline steepened sharply and I soon found myself enveloped in thick cloud. Visibility dropped to just a few metres, maybe 30 at best. The wind picked up, and the rain began to drive sideways. Every step became a negotiation.

I made my way steadily towards the ravines, where a water crossing awaited me at around 400 metres. The rain had swelled the stream into a frothing, angry flow which cascaded towards the waiting lake Buttermere, and the crossing demanded full concentration. My map was sodden, and my navigation app was struggling to find signal in the wildness of the weather. I picked my line, scrambled across slick rock and sodden ground, and carried on upward.

Haystacks isn’t the highest peak, but it demands your respect. As I continued to ascend, the path weaved across the flanks of neighbouring mountains, leading me into the hauntingly beautiful landscape near Innominate Tarn. This high-altitude lake, still and surreal in the cloud, appeared out of the gloom like a mirage. At roughly 550 metres up, it felt like another world. Despite the poor visibility, the tarn held a quiet, powerful presence. Through the mist, I spotted a few sheep gazing at me with blank confusion, as if wondering why anyone would choose to be here in weather like this.

After a few precious moments and a couple of soaked-but-worth-it photos, I pressed on. The final 20-minute push to the summit was hard going. The wind clawed at me, the rain never let up, and the path underfoot was slick and loose. But eventually, I made it. Haystacks summit—Peak 7, ticked off.

I didn’t linger. The gusts were fierce, and the cloud refused to lift. After a few quick summit shots, I began my descent. Around 25 minutes down, I paused to refuel and drink, taking a moment to reflect. There was a sense of satisfaction, a raw appreciation for the mountain and what it took to stand on its top. But as I descended further, the wind ramped up to 50mph, and the mountain reminded me who was in charge, and it most definitely wasn't me.

Originally, I had planned to climb a second peak that day—Crag Hill, Peak 8 on the list. But the conditions had turned too dangerous. It was a tough call, but the right one. I abandoned the second climb and made my way back down toward Buttermere and the safety of the car park.

Still, I wasn’t giving up on Crag Hill entirely. I was staying in the Lake District for the weekend, and I had hopes of trying again Sunday morning. But as Sunday dawned worse than Saturday. The winds howled at 60mph. Cloud dropped to just 50 metres from the ground. Visibility was near zero. It was an easy decision in the end: Crag Hill would have to wait another day.

Instead, I headed for Bowness and took on a consolation 6-mile hike. Just 30 miles away, the weather was completely different—calm, humid, and even a touch of sunshine. It was surreal how quickly the Lakes can shift their mood and why you must respect it at all times.

So, Peak 7 was complete, but Peak 8 would have to wait for another day. Sometimes the mountain says no. And when it does, you listen.

Until next time, keep walking and exploring.