I’m not quite sure where to start with this one, other than saying I think I’ve got a serious case of the Classic blues. A few weeks on and I’m still thinking about it…
The people, the laughs, the weather (all of it), the incredibly hard-working volunteers, the food, the ciders, the singing and dancing, the slightly terrifying nights in a tent and, of course, the 50km walked from Langdale to Muncaster Castle through some spectacular, and at times downright wild, Lake District countryside.
The vibe was brilliant from the off. Arriving at Oxenholm station from London ahead of the coach transfer to the campsite at Great Langdale, there were people coming from all over the world, with the international travellers probably standing out the most. Naturally, I got chatting to quite a few people on the coach. What struck me most was the number of middle-aged women doing the Classic on their own.
When we arrived at the campsite, it all started to feel very real. We checked in, collected our maps and trekking passports, picked up our cooking supplies and Firepot meals, and had a chat with the Ordnance Survey team about the route. It was around this point that the nerves started to kick in and I began thinking: OK, what exactly have I signed myself up for here?
I also felt slightly guilty that my crew (a mix of traditional media and creators) had a hotel for the first night. Surely that wasn’t very hardcore? But after chatting to one of the Fjällräven ambassadors, I was told that their advice was actually to get a hotel at the start and at the end. Well, that made me feel a whole lot better. So, first night: hotel, food, getting to know the rest of the crew and a few wines to calm the nerves. There was even some live folk music to get everyone in the mood, which was a lovely touch.
The following morning started with a hearty breakfast before heading off to the start line where we had the safety briefing and the bag weigh-in. I decided I didn’t want to know how much mine weighed. I could already feel that I had massively overpacked, and ignorance felt like bliss. Thinking about it now, I wish I had found out, just so I could tell the story!
The volunteers were handing out pancakes before we gathered for the starting line group shot. And then it was time to go. Let the fun begin.
Day one covered around 20km with approximately 500m of elevation, taking us through some absolutely beautiful Lake District countryside. We made our way towards the gorgeous Black Moss Pot before heading on towards the campsite at Rosthwaite. By this point, I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. I’d walked 20km with just one tumble down a bog which got everyone laughing and conversations started.
Then came the next challenge: putting up my tent. I’d never actually put up a Fjällräven tent before and, while it looked technical, once I got my head around it, it was actually surprisingly easy. With a little help from Dave, I was soon sorted. Tent up, house off my back and it was time for a few well-deserved ciders in the pub.
That evening was one I’ll remember for a long time. There was loads of chatting and laughing, meeting fellow hikers and swapping stories from the day. Everyone had their own little adventure, and it was lovely hearing what others had got up to. Then it was back to camp to rustle up my first-ever solo Firepot meal – chilli. It was lovely. I was full, absolutely shattered and ready for bed. I slept like a baby… well, apart from lying in what felt like a coffin, listening to the rain hitting the tent and wondering whether the whole thing was going to collapse on top of me.
The next morning, we headed off in the rain. A few of the group even braved a cold-water swim, which I decided was probably taking the whole adventure thing a little too far for me. We had another 500m climb up towards Styhead Tarn, and the scenery was absolutely epic.
Our reward at the checkpoint was a cream tea, which honestly felt like the most wonderful treat in the world at that point. The rain was coming down, the wind was howling and the terrain got increasingly tricky, with some decent climbing over slippery rocks. Thank goodness I had my walking poles with me. I was pretty scared at this point, but some of the crew helped me along the way with their encouraging words, and eventually we reached the campsite at stunning Wastwater.
After getting the tent up, and definitely improving from the previous night, we headed to the Wasdale Head Inn, nestled at the head of the remote Wasdale Valley, right at the foot of Scafell Pike and close to Wastwater.
This little corner of the Lake District is pretty special. England’s highest mountain, England’s deepest lake and England’s smallest church. Not every day you get to see all of that when you’re working!
There were a few more ciders, plenty of card games with the crew, more stories and lots of laughs before we headed back to our tents. And then came the storm… I’m pretty sure this was the worst night of weather. The wind, the rain, the noise… and me lying in my tent wondering whether it was actually going to end up in Wastwater. I genuinely didn’t sleep a wink.
We had some pretty horrendous conditions across the Classic – hard terrain, rain, wind, slippery rocks, cold mornings and very wet evenings – which gave us the perfect opportunity to properly put our Fjällräven kit through its paces. And it lived up to expectations.
Then came day three, and this was the hardest one for me. We were up early and the crew started heading out, but by now the distance was really starting to take its toll. My feet were getting sore, the crew were tired and we were all becoming slightly delirious. So naturally, we started singing. Because apparently that’s what happens when you’ve walked far enough!
There was a final checkpoint serving leek and potato soup, which honestly tasted like the best meal in the world at that point, before one final major climb towards Muncaster Castle. And then we were there. The finishing line, the final stamp in the trekking passport, the badge and, most importantly, an apple (that I’d craved for days) and cold cider. We had made it.
And just when you thought the Classic was all about the trekking, suddenly there was a finishing party with yummy dinner and a ceilidh band to celebrate! This was possibly my favourite part. Dancing with people I’d met only a few days earlier, people I’d walked with, laughed with, and swapped stories with – what an end to celebrate!
The crew didn’t just survive the Classic, they shared it. Their coverage reached 600k impressions, 7.7k engagements and more than 55k video plays. Proof that a bit of mud and a lot of heart makes for brilliant content.
I also have to mention the volunteers because, without them, the whole thing simply wouldn’t happen. They ranged from youngsters to a man in his 80s, and every single one seemed to have the same attitude: happy to help, always smiling and constantly encouraging you. They work incredibly hard, hiking up to checkpoints, setting everything up, making sure people are safe, stamping trekking passports and keeping everything moving. And then there are the little surprises along the way – sugary treats, cream teas, pancakes, soup – all those things that make a huge difference when you’re several hours into a hike and your legs are starting to complain.
There was a real sense of community around the whole thing, and I think that’s what makes the Classic so special. You’re not just walking 50km. You’re part of something, and you feel that from the very beginning.
The following morning, we had breakfast with the crew before saying our emotional goodbyes. Then it was onto the coach back to the station and somewhere on that journey, it hit me: I’d actually done it.
I’d walked 50km. I’d carried all that weight on my back, put up a tent on my own and climbed over some pretty tricky terrain. I’d walked through wind and rain, slept in a tent while wondering if it was about to blow into a lake, and somehow came out the other side still smiling. And I’d done it all with a brilliant bunch of people, with plenty of good laughs along the way.
It was just properly lovely.
And perhaps that’s what I’ll take away from the Fjällräven Classic most. You can make it as hard as you want. You can take your time. You can walk with friends, bring your family, bring the dog or turn up on your own. But you’re never really alone. There’s always someone on the trails, at the next checkpoint, in the pub, with a story to share.
So, Fjällräven UK Classic, thank you. Would I do it again? Absolutely.
Next stop… Sweden reunion?
Yes, please 🙂
