Helvellyn — the mountain that has seen it all
Introduction
There are few better ways of seeing the effects of climate change than standing atop a Lake District mountain. I had chosen Helvellyn, which at 950 metres tall, is the third highest mountain in England, and was once chosen as the second most popular to climb in the United Kingdom. On a clear day, there is little to beat the views from its summit.
The meaning of the mountain’s name is shrouded in mystery. My favourite is “yellow moorland” from the Cumbric language that was spoken in the Early Middle Ages (Dark Ages: 5th to 10th centuries). In Cumbric, halis moorland while velin means yellow. The earliest known record of the name comes from 1577, but even then, it was Helvillon, Helvelon, or even Hell Belyn. The meaning is wide open for disagreement.
There are many routes to the summit. Some are easier than others and even today not everyone makes it. I have climbed it plenty of times, but only a few days before this, my latest attempt, mountain rescue had been summoned to retrieve a dead climber. Helvellyn deserves respect. There is no such thing as an easy day. As I puffed and struggled up the mountain’s northern slopes from The Swirls below, and Thirlmere nearby, I made the error of relaxing. My guard was down. Around me was gusting wind, limited visibility, and slushy snow. I had no inkling of what would follow.
Helvellyn’s Geological History
Helvellyn knows a thing or two about snow and ice, as its form today has largely been created by glaciation. Had the view been crystal clear as I walked, the mountain’s features would have been simple to see. Its rocky mass was fashioned from the caldera of an ancient volcano, approximately 450 million years ago. A caldera is a depression created when a volcano partially collapses after releasing most of its magma chamber in an explosive eruption.
When Helvellyn was being formed, ocean temperatures averaged 35°C to 40°C, more than 20°C warmer than today. Volcanic eruptions at that time released sufficient carbon dioxide to heat up the planet and deoxygenate the oceans, resulting in the asphyxiation of species that lived there. This was an era of several mass extinctions and around 85% of all marine-based species died out. Helvellyn has seen climate change before. What is new to mankind is certainly not new to the mountain, which was why I had chosen to climb it.
Mankind as we now understand it — Homo sapiens — is much younger than Helvellyn, of the order of 300,000 years. Humans are primates, and before Homo sapiens existed were other human-like species. One of the earliest defining human traits was the ability to walk on two legs — bipedalism — a feature that evolved approximately 4 million years ago. Yet however old this may be, it does not come close to the age of Helvellyn, the mountain that has seen so much.
Many of the mountain’s classic features — Striding Edge, Swirral Edge, Red Tarn, and more — are more recent developments and were created during the last Ice Age, only 20,000 years ago. At that time, large glaciers dominated the landscape and through their erosive power, carved out classic glaciated landforms such as arêtes, corries, and glacial troughs. Striding Edge and Swirral Edge are arêtes, Red Tarn is a corrie, while the general area of Helvellyn is a glacial trough.
An ice age is a period of colder-than-usual global temperatures and bigger-than-usual glaciers and ice sheets. Ice ages do not bring unrelenting cold. Instead, relatively warm periods intervene, so ice ages are a mix of advancing glaciers (glacials) and retreating glaciers (interglacials). Though relatively warm, interglacials are still part of a glacial era. The global temperature at the peak of the last Ice Age was only 6°C cooler than today. For context, the average global temperature of the 20th century was 14°C. An Ice Age may have been cold, sometimes very cold, but was eminently survivable.
Mountain Environments and Climate Change
Because of the way they look, or are located, mountainous regions are often thought to be little impacted by mankind, and free of pollution. Sadly, that is untrue. Human activities such mining, livestock farming, forestry, energy production, and tourism can have significant effects on mountainous regions. All mountain ecosystems worldwide have been affected to varying degrees. Pollutants can be transported to mountains by the orographic effect and may concentrate in lake sediments, peat bogs, or mountain wetlands. High altitude areas are even more sensitive and can experience intensified climate-induced warming and weather extremes. Meanwhile mountain freshwater is also being polluted with manmade chemical compounds. With mountains, what you see is not what you get.
Climate change today is about becoming warmer, not helped by the El Niño effect that is presently underway. Helvellyn shows this well. Mountain regions warm at a faster rate than sea level areas, a phenomenon that is easily seen in higher altitude mountain areas such as the Pyrenees. There, for example, a warming of 0.57°C/decade has been identified, as compared with 0.18°C/decade in lowland France.
Helvellyn: A Barometer for Climate Change
In the past 50 years the summit of Helvellyn has shown real evidence of climate change. Its average annual temperature has risen from 6.9°C in 1979 to 9.5°C in 2023, while its annual precipitation has gone from 1399.2mm to 1621.2mm during the same period. Helvellyn is becoming warmer and wetter, which was why, as I puffed up an eroded mountain footpath, it was slushy underfoot. The snow was not lying, as the ground was so warm. During this first month of the year, I would have expected the mountain to have a good covering of snow and ice so that I would have had an ice axe in my hand and crampons on my boots. Not so on this occasion. My ice axe and crampons were with me but hidden inside my rucksack. Please do not ask me why.
After much puffing, leaning against the wind, and slithering through slushy snow, I made it to the mountain’s summit. On this occasion there was no view, other than the misty outline of the summit cairn. I stayed there for barely a minute, as it was not a time to linger. Next came what, for me, is a Helvellyn ritual, a visit to the hard-to-find Brownrigg Well. Few know of the existence of this water source, five hundred metres due west of the mountain’s summit. It is not a classic well, but a spot where fresh water emerges from deep within Helvellyn. Some have said its water is the purest in the land. Whatever the weather, the well’s water continues to flow and appears never to freeze over. I reached Brownrigg Well in less than ten minutes. As ever, it was bubbling happily, and the slushy snow stayed clear.
Brownrigg Well highlights a climate problem, that of the purity of mountain water. I once thought all mountain water was pure and would glug happily from most streams I passed. At times I even glugged from Brownrigg Well. These days I feel differently, as I did on this occasion. Climate change challenges downstream ecosystems. If something alters upstream, the effects can be seen further down. For example, fish have been introduced into certain mountain lakes, which results in eutrophication. This is when the balance of nutrients upstream, in this case created by the fish, can lead to changes lower down. When added to increasing temperatures, algae can bloom in greater numbers in lower watercourses, reduce the level of oxygen in valley waterways, and lead to illness in both animals and humans. Blue-green algae have certainly been found in Windermere, and more recently in Thirlmere, directly beneath Helvellyn. Brownrigg Well may be different, as its water comes directly from Helvellyn and there is not a single fish to see, but I cannot be certain. For the moment I will steer clear. Water purity on the mountains is becoming worse, not better, and all sources of water should be questioned. That includes Brownrigg Well.
A Personal Encounter with Climate Effects
It was during the next phase of my mountain journey that I ran into trouble. After leaving Brownrigg Well, I was still surrounded by mist, wind, and slushy snow. Had I been wise I would have held my ice axe and donned crampons. Yet I did not. I was foolish, as I felt I had sufficient grip through the slushy snow. I was wrong, and soon tumbled thanks to a layer of slippery verglas on a small rock. The result was a dislocated left shoulder. Believe me, it hurts. Three hours later I was in a local hospital, but I had been stupid and deserve what consequences might follow. Yet the paradox, as I lay on Helvellyn screaming, and during the snail-like descent that followed, was that somewhere in my agonised brain I realised that climate change may have caused my fall. Had the snow been icy, crampons would have been on my feet, and I would likely have remained vertical. The increase in temperature had made the snow slushy, and down I had gone. I should have acted differently.
The Global Health Impact of Climate Change
I am not alone. Changes to our environment may have hurt me but are certainly damaging billions of others throughout the world. Its impacts are already harming health through air pollution, disease, extreme weather events, forced displacement, food insecurity and pressures on mental health.
Every year, environmental factors take the lives of around 13 million people. Over 90% of us breathe unhealthy levels of air pollution, created largely by the burning of fossil fuels. In 2018, air pollution from fossil fuels caused US$2.9 trillion in health and economic costs, which is about US$8 billion/day. Despite these figures, new oil and gas licences are still being granted, not a finding with which all would agree.
The deleterious effects of climate change on human health have been widely researched globally through at least 100 comprehensive studies since 2015. The numbers are almost unimaginable. Take 2019 as an example, when there were 396 acknowledged global disasters that resulted in the deaths of 11,755 people. These events affected 95 million others and cost nearly US$130 billion. Asia was the most affected continent and experienced 40% of the events, 45% of the deaths, as well as 74% of all the people affected. Events influenced by climate change, particularly wildfires, are also increasing and with these come still more health effects. With such evident damage to human health, I find it astonishing so little is being done about climate change. For economists, and assuming the world remains driven by human greed, the costs of not tackling climate change are far higher than the costs of taking action.
The Urgent Need for Climate Action
Had the world done what it promised and reached the goals of the 2015 Paris Agreement, it would have saved about a million lives each year worldwide by 2050, through reductions in air pollution alone. In addition, avoiding the worst climate impacts can help prevent 250,000 additional climate-related deaths every year, mainly from malnutrition, malaria, diarrhoea, and heat stress. Heat causes more reported deaths each year in the USA than any other weather hazard and there is a general understanding that deaths from heat are presently grossly underreported. Sadly, there is not a single G20 country that is in line with the Paris Agreement, which to all intents and purposes is dead, a casualty of procrastination and indecision.
The Challenge of Ecological Overshoot
Occasionally I think this inaction is intentional. Climate change is a symptom not a diagnosis and a feature of the clear ecological overshoot that the world is now experiencing. We inhabit a planet that is finite, and mankind is using Earth’s resources faster than they can be made. We are also producing more waste than the planet can handle. Put simply, there are too many human beings for the space available and the only real solution is depopulation. A mathematician might say that reducing birth rates is the way forward. If a basin is overflowing, the first action is to turn off the tap.
Imagine the chaos if a politician was to stand up and say such words. There would be rioting in the streets. Nonetheless, ecological overshoot is the reality. Into the mix comes the selfishness of mankind, clearly highlighted by the words of Mahatma Gandhi:
“The world has enough for everyone’s need but not enough for everyone’s greed.”
Mahatma Gandhi was assassinated in 1948, a year when the Earth’s population was approximately two billion souls. Now the population is four times that, at approximately eight billion. I wonder if Mahatma Gandhi would have said the same if he was alive today? I am uncertain he would. Today’s Earth is struggling.
The Legacy of Environmental Advocates
The fact that our Earth is in trouble has been highlighted by so many, and over a very long time. This observation is not new, although the effects of environmental damage and climate change are more evident in the mountains than in many other places. One loud voice in this area, and someone I have long admired, was the Scottish-born environmentalist, naturalist, author, and glaciologist John Muir (1838–1914). Although he perhaps did more for California than the UK, he was accredited as saying:
“The mountains are calling and I must go. In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks. The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.”
Perhaps that is why, many years ago, I took to the mountains. John Muir became an ardent environmentalist and was saying in the late 19th century much the same as is being said now. The emigrant Scot, for that was what he was, founded the Sierra Club in 1892 and served as its first president until his death in 1914 at the age of 76 years. The Club’s role is clear, as it is the most enduring and influential grassroots environmental organisation in the United States. It has many millions of members and vigorously defends everyone’s right to a healthy world.
John Muir was alive in an era when mankind began to mobilise to protect the environment. At that time the primary issue was air pollution thanks to industrialisation. In the UK there was the Commons Preservation Society (1865), the Lake District Defence Society (1883), the National Trust (1895), and so many more. Slowly the world was awakening to realise that something had to be done. Without action there would be catastrophe. Yet despite mankind hollering, yelling, and protesting for at least 150 years, little action has been taken. As best I can tell, short termism prevails and those who protest are swiftly side-lined. With this approach, there is only one possible endpoint for mankind, and it is not a happy one.
One Starfish at a Time
Are individual, personal efforts too tiny to make a global difference? Certainly, after a lengthy period of renaturing my Lakeland land, I sense I remain a lone voice. Yet I also know that my written words are seen by many. These readers may also write, talk, share, repost, blog, and communicate with the wider world in diverse ways. The much cited and adapted starfish story from Loren Eiseley says everything. It goes something like this:
Once upon a time, there was a wise man who used to go to the ocean to do his writing. He had a habit of walking on the beach before he began his work. One day, as he was walking along the shore, he looked down the beach and saw a human figure moving like a dancer. He smiled to himself and walked faster to catch up. As he got closer, he noticed that the figure was that of a young man, and that he was not dancing at all. The young man was reaching down to the shore, picking up small objects, and throwing them into the ocean.
The wise man came closer still and called out, “Good morning! May I ask what you are doing?”
The young man paused, looked up, and replied, “Throwing starfish into the ocean.”
“I must ask why you are throwing starfish into the ocean?”
To this, the young man replied, “The sun is up, and the tide is going out. If I don’t throw them in, they’ll die.”
Upon hearing this, the wise man commented, “Young man, do you not realise there are many miles of beach and there are starfish throughout that distance? You can’t possibly make a difference!”
At this, the young man bent down, picked up yet another starfish, and threw it into the ocean. As it met the water, he said, “I made a difference to that one!”
On this basis, I continue.
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Published on The Bit Outside (www.thebitoutside.com) on 14 January 2024, where a full list of references may be found.
