You are standing on the highest ground of the entire journey. The wind pulls at your jacket, the little cairn crouches beside you, and the land drops away on every side — fell beyond fell, ridge beyond ridge, valley behind valley, the whole eastern Lake District spread out below you like a great rumpled map.
This is Kidsty Pike, seven hundred and eighty metres, some two and a half thousand feet above the distant sea, and from here, in every direction, the only way is down. The summit is reached along a broad, grassy whaleback of high moorland — the flank of the mountain called High Street, an ancient upland once crossed by a Roman road.
From the wide rounded heights near Rampsgill Head, the ridge begins to narrow and sharpen, drawing to the neat little peak on which you stand. That distinctive pointed summit is what makes Kidsty Pike so easy to pick out from far away — a small, clean triangle riding above the deep trough of Riggindale below.
And it marks a threshold: from this cairn the Coast to Coast leaves the high Lakeland fells behind for the last time, dropping steeply down the rocky staircase of Kidsty Howes toward the water waiting far below. Take a slow turn on the summit and look. First, the cairn at your feet and the sharp fall of ground just beyond it — this is a real peak, not a broad plateau, and its edges are abrupt.
Second, gaze west and north over the crowded central fells you have crossed, ridge folding into ridge, and pick out High Street's long green back running away behind you. Third, look down into Riggindale, the deep valley immediately below, a wild and lonely place enclosed by steep flanks.
Fourth, follow the line of your descent — the steep ground of Kidsty Howes tumbling down toward the long steel-blue gleam of Haweswater, the reservoir that marks the true end of the mountains. And fifth, if the air is clear, let your eye travel eastward, beyond the last fells, toward the gentler, rolling country that the walk is about to enter — a whole new landscape opening ahead.
There is a wild story that belongs to the ground beneath you. In the valley of Riggindale, just below this summit, England's last resident golden eagle made its home. For years a magnificent bird soared over these crags, the only wild golden eagle in the whole of England, and walkers would pause on ridges like this one, binoculars raised, hoping to catch sight of it wheeling far below on broad, fingered wings.
Volunteers even kept watch through the seasons, protecting the lonely nest. The eagle is gone now, but the memory clings to Riggindale, and something of its wildness remains in the empty air above the valley. Stand quietly, watch the sky over those crags, and imagine the shadow of great wings crossing the fellside. A word of respect before you move on.
These are serious high fells, open and exposed, where cloud can close in without warning and the descent ahead is steep and rough. Go carefully, take your time on the loose ground, and treat the mountain's weather with the seriousness it deserves — map, compass and good judgement belong in every pack up here.
From Kidsty Pike the Coast to Coast plunges down Kidsty Howes to the shore of Haweswater, the long reservoir that fills a drowned valley — and, with that descent, you say farewell to the Lake District's mountains and step into the next chapter of the walk. Take one last look at the ridges you have crossed, feel the whole country falling away beneath you, and begin your descent. Walk safe.
