Leaving Newbiggin-on-Lune, the approach to the Howgills begins almost gently through the narrow Weasdale Stud Nature Reserve. Dense thickets enclose the path between the Bessy Beck fishery and Sandwath, while ahead a long finger of open moorland reaches down towards the farmland. It is a quiet threshold between two landscapes — the enclosed, cultivated country around Newbiggin giving way to the increasingly wild and open slopes of the Howgills.

At Sandwath, the route emerges onto the moorland road and crosses a broad beck draining the wet ground of Tailor Mire. Only a short distance away, the water turns north towards the River Lune, but the walker is heading in the opposite direction — towards the rising Howgills. Here the landscape begins noticeably to loosen: fields and farms remain behind, while ahead the smooth, treeless slopes draw the route steadily into the open fells.

Tranmoor Farm stands at the very edge of the cultivated landscape, with the wet expanse of Tailor Mire spreading eastwards towards the open Howgills. Here the contrast is particularly clear: stone walls and enclosed pasture give way almost abruptly to rough, waterlogged moorland. For the walker, the farm feels like a last foothold in the settled valley before the long ascent carries the route into the quieter, emptier country above.

Beyond the moorland road, the route leaves the last clear boundaries of the valley and begins the steady ascent of Pinskey, rising to 291 metres. The path itself becomes less distinct as it climbs through the grass, while behind, the fields and stone walls around Newbiggin gradually shrink into the distance. Ahead lie only the smooth, rising slopes of the Howgills — the moment when the walk begins to feel unmistakably like a journey into the fells.

The climb to Stwarth, 434 metres, is long and deceptively demanding, crossing the wet ground of Pinskey Bottom or Wythe Mire before finally gaining the broad grassy height. By now the farms and stone walls of the Lune Valley have slipped behind, replaced by wind moving freely across the grass and the lonely call of a curlew. There is no dramatic rocky summit — simply the growing exhilaration of space as the walker enters the heart of the Howgills.

Looking north-west from Stwarth, Weasdale Farm sits among a sheltering belt of mature trees, a small green refuge beneath the immense open fells. From this height, its ordered fields and woodland seem almost enclosed by comparison with the bare slopes around them. The contrast is striking: behind lies the cultivated Lune Valley; ahead, the smooth grass-covered Howgills rise into a landscape increasingly governed by height, weather and sky.

Across the western skyline, Hooksey’s long whaleback ridge rises to 586 metres, its smooth outline characteristic of the Howgills. In unsettled weather, mist can race across the crest, alternately revealing and concealing the summit while Weasdale lies hidden beneath its steep eastern flank. It is a wonderfully atmospheric sight — cloud and hillside seeming to move together across an otherwise treeless landscape.

The approach to Green Bell plays a small trick on the walker. First comes Hunthoof Pike, at 524 metres, its solitary cairn standing on the smooth grassy crest. Only after gaining this subsidiary summit does Green Bell finally reveal itself to the north. Across the open ridge the objective suddenly seems close — although the last rising ground still has to be earned before the 605-metre summit is reached.

From Green Bell’s 605-metre summit, the fell rolls gracefully eastwards towards Knoutberry, at 529 metres, in one of those wonderfully smooth ridges that give the Howgills their unmistakable character. There is scarcely a rock or tree to interrupt the flowing line of the hillside. From this height, the eye simply follows the grass-covered ridge into the distance, while deep valleys fall away on either side — the landscape seeming almost sculpted from a single immense fold of green.

From Green Bell’s 605-metre summit, the Howgills unfold in a succession of smooth grassy ridges. Westwards, the crest leads towards West Grain, Stockless and Randygill Top, while other rounded heights roll away across the horizon. With no trees or rocky crags to contain the view, the sense of space is exhilarating — wind sweeping unhindered across the summit and the distinctive curves of the Howgills stretching away in almost every direction.

From Green Bell, Great Swindale sweeps away below in a great green trough towards Weasdale, its scattered farms appearing tiny beneath the surrounding fells. Behind, the broad ridge of The Common leads back towards Hunthoof Pike and Stwarth, allowing the walker to trace much of the ascent across the landscape. From here the scale of the Howgills is suddenly revealed — deep valleys enclosed by immense, smoothly rounded hills, flowing one into another beneath an open sky.

At the head of Great Swindale, Green Bell and West Grain rise together above the upper valley, but here the familiar smoothness of the Howgills suddenly breaks apart. Deep rainwater gullies score the eastern flank of West Grain, leaving steep parallel ridges between them, some narrowing to surprisingly sharp crests. It is a dramatic change in character — the seemingly soft green hills revealing how powerfully running water continues to carve and reshape them.