Great Mell Fell Walk: Ancient Trees & Blencathra Views

Great Mell Fell from the Matterdale road is a short Wainwright walk with more character than its size suggests. The route climbs straight from the lane, passes through fallen trees and wind-shaped woodland, then reaches a broad summit with excellent views towards Blencathra, Sharp Edge and Ullswater country. It is compact, a little rough in places, and full of strange old fellside atmosphere.

Is this walk for you?

This route suits walkers looking for a short but atmospheric Wainwright walk. It is not long, but the ground is rough enough in places to feel like a proper fell walk, especially through the woodland and lower boggy sections.

My Great Mell Fell

Great Mell Fell sits quietly to the north of Ullswater, a rounded green dome rising above Matterdale and the surrounding lanes. At 537 metres, it is not a giant by Lake District standards, but it has a character that makes it far more memorable than its height suggests. It stands apart from the bigger ridges, separate and self-contained, with a short climb, a wide summit view, and a landscape that feels older and more textured than you might expect from a modest-looking fell.

The route begins from the minor road near Brownrigg Farm, where the fell rises straight from the lane. There is no long valley approach or grand warm-up. You leave the roadside and almost immediately begin climbing. That is part of the appeal of Great Mell Fell. It gets on with the job. The path heads up through the lower slopes, gaining height quickly enough to wake the legs but not so savagely that it turns into a punishment walk.

At first, the climb has that familiar Lake District feel of grass, rough ground and widening views, but Great Mell Fell soon starts to show its more unusual side. The route cuts through the edge of a section of woodland and scattered trees, where the path twists and ducks around fallen trunks, exposed roots and old weather-beaten shapes. Some of the fallen trees have huge root plates lifted out of the earth, like the fell has turned its pockets inside out. They give the place a slightly tangled, half-wild feel, especially when the ground is damp and the branches close in around the route.

This is where Great Mell becomes properly memorable. The trees don’t just stand neatly beside the path; they seem to interrupt it, bend it, nudge it and make their own suggestions. There is a touch of Mirkwood about it, as though the woods have decided walkers are not to be trusted with a straight line and would be better sent the scenic way instead. You are still on a short Wainwright walk, but for a few minutes it feels as if the fell has swallowed the path and is quietly choosing where to let you out.

Among this section are the windswept trees Great Mell Fell is known for – contorted, flattened, bent by the prevailing weather and scattered up the fellside. Some look less like trees in the ordinary sense and more like survivors, clinging to the slope after years of weather coming at them sideways. There is a particularly striking wind-shaped tree on the way up, the sort that makes you stop not because it is pretty, but because it seems to have wrestled the weather for decades and somehow ended in a draw.

After this woodland and tree-bent section, the route opens out again. The summit comes quite quickly, one of the pleasures of the fell. Great Mell Fell is not a long expedition, but the shortness should not be mistaken for dullness. You get the feeling of a proper climb without needing to turn the day into a campaign.

The summit is broad and grassy, marked by a small cairn and a low mound. This mound is shown on Ordnance Survey mapping as a tumulus, and is generally thought to be a Bronze Age burial mound. That gives the top of Great Mell Fell a deeper note. You arrive expecting a viewpoint, then realise people may have been marking this hilltop thousands of years before Wainwright bagging, Garmin watches and summit selfies came along.

The views are excellent because Great Mell Fell stands apart from the higher ridges around it. Blencathra dominates the skyline to the west and north-west, with its ridges and edges laid out beautifully. Sharp Edge can be picked out on the mountain’s eastern side, giving a fine little reward for anyone who enjoys matching the map to the skyline. The Helvellyn range stretches away to the south-west, Ullswater country sits to the south, and to the east the land opens towards the Eden Valley and the Pennines.

I’ve often seen a group of Highland ponies grazing on the fell as I’ve ascended the southern slopes: elusive, majestic and wild. They added something special to the place: sturdy, shaggy silhouettes against a blue Lakeland sky. I’ve been up many a time keeping an eye out for Gandalf’s “friend through many dangers”, but I’ve only seen him a handful of times; don’t be making promises to the kids.

I’ve camped on the summit and down the sides, taught my sons mountain skills here, had picnics and even took a group out treasure hunting on Great Mell, having planted clues in the nooks and crevices the night before.

From the summit, the descent starts to bring the walk into its second character. Take a bearing of 18 degrees from the summit and head off over what eventually becomes rough grass, you’ll be looking at getting to the top of a blue line on the OS map, Routing Gill Beck. I remember this from the first time I went up (the night before doing my Extended Coledale Round) and after lingering so long on the fell I descended in the dark. I was determined to drop down to the east through the ancient wood, all gnarly and unpredictable.

Again the route twists and turns around lapsed pollards, ancient maiden trees and walking trees. These are trees that have grown, leaned, split, rooted and reshaped themselves over many years. They are not tidy trees. They are better than tidy. They have the look of things that have endured. The Woodland Trust also records wildlife interest here, including badgers, roe deer and nesting green woodpeckers – none of which I’ve seen here. This all makes the descent feel less like simply returning to the road and more like moving through a living, working, weathered landscape.

At the bottom of the hill you find a fence and rough boggy ground to tackle as you head south back toward the lane and your vehicle.

Add in the old local tale that the last wild cat in Cumberland was snared here in the nineteenth century, and Great Mell Fell starts to feel less like a quick Wainwright tick and more like a small hill full of oddities and old stories.

That is the real strength of Great Mell Fell. It is short, but not without enchantment. You get a direct climb from the Matterdale road, a curious passage through fallen trees and exposed roots, a wind-shaped tree that feels like a landmark in its own right, a summit with big views to Blencathra and Sharp Edge, and then a descent through woodland with real ecological and historical depth.

For anyone walking the Wainwrights, Great Mell Fell is easy to underestimate. It doesn’t have the drama of the high ridges or the fame of the central fells. But it has a distinct mood: a little mysterious on the way up, open and airy on the summit, then old and bewildering on the way down. It is a fell of roots, wind, ponies, woodpeckers, ancient trees and unexpectedly generous views.

By the time you return to the Matterdale road, it feels as though you have walked through more than a small hill. You have passed through a little pocket of Lakeland that still feels shaped by weather, animals, woodland and time. Great Mell Fell may be unassuming on paper, but on the ground it has a quiet strangeness that stays with you: modest but memorable.

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