Catsty-’cam’: playing Peeping Tom above Glenridding
Aim of the experiment
To observe our own behaviour (what we say and what we do) while out on the fells, and to use this as the basis for self-reflection, during a visit to one of the ‘hotspots’ in the Lake District fells.
Background
In the countryside you go wildlife spotting, and in urban environments you do some people watching (like in a cafe, or an airport, for example). Right? This experiment turns this on its head by sending you out to play the role of a Peeping Tom on the slopes of Helvellyn. My idea for the experiment arose while visiting a friend who works as caretaker of Glenridding Village Hall. It was high summer 2020, and the flow of people walking past constant. ‘Is that normal?’ I asked, watching a group pass by, music blaring from an old-skool ghetto blaster, on their way up Helvellyn. I admit that I’m not averse myself to listening to music through my headphones while out fellrunning, but I don’t see the need to share it with others. And I didn’t understand. This experiment goes some way towards seeking to better understand, and the summit of Catstycam, set apart from, and with fabulous views of the Helvellyn ridges, is an ideal place to do so.
In truth, a day out people-spotting is likely to be far more productive than a day out wildlife spotting in any case. An incidental discovery of this experiment was fully realising how denuded of wildlife the Lake District has become. During my own two route recces, I saw some a sum total of some pigeons, sheep, crows / ravens and a few bunting. Even if Catstycam’s name originates from the Old English / Old Norse for ‘ridge with wild cat’s path’, I’d bet my favourite road bike on your chances of seeing one!
Route instructions
Click on the image above to open an interactive version of the map on Viewranger,
or you can download the GPX file of my route here (© OpenStreetMap contributors)
Route: medium / difficult (7.1 miles, 2,670 feet of ascent)
Starting point: the main car park in Glenridding village (see here on Google Maps), or the cricket ground car park (slightly further along the road towards Patterdale).
Accessible alternative: this route is not accessible, although it’s easily possible to complete it by watching people set out on and return from the approach road along the banks of Glenridding Beck (where there is also outdoor cafe seating to turn it into a more traditional people-watching exercise!) Alternatively, the people-watching / eaves-dropping exercises can easily be replicated in any of the Lake District’s other hotspots (eg Windermere Lake, or Grasmere, or indeed along some stretches of the Ullswater shoreline). See the National Park Authority’s Miles Without Stiles website for accessible route ideas.
Writing & Art Ideas, & Virtual alternatives
There are a wide range of directions in which this experiment could be taken, and I encourage you to make it your own! The following notes are provided as just one example of an approach which might be taken.
During the walk, note down as much of what you overhear of other people’s conversations as possible, and take some photographs / sketch some people you see en route.
Back home, reflect upon your experience of the day out, and write a reflective piece which explores what it provoked for you (see my own blog piece here).
Use your reflections, images and notes as the basis for a new poem or work of visual art.
In my own response, I’ve written a poem which collages together the fragments of conversation I overheard. On this occasion I was fairly strict with myself: the words in the poem are entirely what I overheard, with no fabrication at all. The accompanying slideshow of stick figures on Striding Edge attempts to capture the follow-my-leader experience of the route (and a significant number of people taking selfies!)
Alternative responses to this experiment could include: (a) setting up a videocam at the col between Catstycam and Helvellyn and recording people’s movements from sunrise to sunset (to be played on a speeded up loop); (b) having fun with wordplay, by playing around with the saying ‘there wasn’t even room to swing a cat(stycam)’; or (c) choosing a (busy) spot from which to take photographs and write down notes, and superimposing the images and words over each other to gain a sense of the incessant passing traffic.
Otherwise, please feel free to use your own imagination about how to best play the part of a creative Peeping Tom!
Virtual alternative
This image of four young men walking down from Helvellyn reminds me of the Beatles’ Abbey Road cover. Might there be potential in re-writing the lyrics of one of the album’s songs to suit this ‘rural’ scene? I can already imagine a ‘Here Comes the Sun’ edit! Start with the actual lyrics, and replace key words as you go so as to retain an identifiable shadow of the original, while simultaneously making it new!
Route adaptation for walk-from-home
Where can you think of near to your own home that is a visitor (or local) hotspot, where you could do this experiment? Ideally this will involve a green space, and be somewhere people like to go walking. Alternatively, if where you live is determinedly urban, why not adapt your usual people-watching habits by observing people as if they were animals. How do we preen ourselves? Do any other habits remind you of other animals? How would the conversation sound, translated into birdsong?!
My own poetry & photography
Shall we do Helvellyn?
So my friend Jenny and her friend Eilidh
and her boyfriend Johnny and I
went for food in Keswick and it was rad –
do you know how Lebanese food works?
If we were in Patagonia then… but I’m not quite
sure how that would be in Kazakhstan.
And I said, shall we do Helvellyn?
Come on girlies, you’re much faster than me.
I’m lockdown unfit. Haven’t been for ages,
but now the pubs are open?
It’s a bit of a scramble to the top.
It’s the second highest point in the whole UK.
There’s lots of people going that way
and not that many people going this way.
The lake remains above our heads so we can’t
yet see it. I say: I’m surprised that you like
swimming (*cue singing* do it do it do it
is that from Frozen or something?)
Jenny says, Do you remember last time?
Wasn’t it awful? And what are all those things
at the top of the mountain that look like people?
(Rocks or something.) Look at all that snow
up there! We’re going to get so cold. Eilidh says,
the water would be frozen were it zero degrees -
I’m going back to shore. We’re following the big wall.
I’ve done 26 times the number of stairs I usually do
in a day already. Johnny says, the bike to Melbourne
was an extra £1500 but it was worth it. How long
does it take from here? We’ll miss the Grand National!
Man City, Norwich, Chelsea, one nil up already.
I point out the salt mines in the nearby valley
when we reach the summit. Tell them about
the junipers they’re regenerating on those slopes
across the way. Some other people are discussing
hard-core wrestling in the woods in the middle of
the night as if it were a sex thing.
Whereabouts? Scotland or somewhere.
Jenny calls back home. I hear a crying baby
down the line. Hello rainbow…let her see me…
leave her in the kitchen…look! I turn to Eilidh,
ask her, how many have you done, and which
is going to be the final one? A magnum of
champagne at Cat Bells summit, and we’ll stumble
down from there! The descent is ankle-breaking
territory. Shall we get our poles out now?
Imagine having a broken leg up here –
that must be the scariest job in the world.
Johnny says, I’m kind of over going downhill now.
I zone out, and overhear some people debate
the pros and cons of raising a flag on Scafell Pike
and how people just don’t talk like that no more.
Jenny says, I don’t get mountain biking. Eilidh points
out that you can’t recycle tree protectors. Johnny
agrees that he’s a funny kind of a guy. He says:
I hate people saying that they’re parched
and wearing tweed suits for hiking would have
killed me. Didn’t they realise this was a sub-
optimum thing to wear? Back of a limo chat.
Not my idea of a day out. Another one ticked
off. He’s nice, a bit like you really, I observe.
And me? What am I shooting now? That one, just
down there. I’m trying to get my shadow in it too.
I didn’t see if the helicopter removed the casualty
or not. Did you? Yes? That’s some lens / that’s just grim.
Are you on Instagram? Let’s get a photo of the lake!
And if it has a problem with it? Oh, you know –
basically, I think that you should try a little harder.
Down off the bottom, then follow the river all the way.
The thing is… I don’t know actually. I kind of feel
in hindsight that I should have. The quickest way
but we don’t have to. Is everyone still drinking enough?
You miss out lots, but it sounds good to me bubs.
Click on the silhouetted image below to open a slideshow of photographs with accompanying sound recording of the above poem.
