The Synges: The Search for the 670

If you spend enough time in the Lake District, the 214 Wainwrights eventually start to feel like a crowded room. You find yourself standing on a busy summit like Helvellyn, looking across at a smaller, unnamed rise or a rugged shoulder of rock, and wondering why nobody is over there. That curiosity is exactly what led Tim Synge to sit down in the early 90s and rethink how we define a Lakeland hill.

In 1995, he published The Lakeland Summits, a survey that effectively blew the map wide open. Instead of 214 fells, we suddenly had 670. The Synges are for the people who want the silence that the popular lists can’t provide. This isn't about following a worn-out groove in the turf; it’s about navigating by the shape of the land, often to a summit that has no cairn, no path, and no name on a standard OS map. It’s a classification for the obsessed, the navigator, and those who find beauty in the "in-between" spaces of the National Park.

The Numbers Behind the Hills

Statistic	Detail
Total Count	670 Distinct Summits and Tops
The 300m Rule	Every hill is at least 300m (984ft) high, except for one.
The Drop Requirement	Generally a 30m (98ft) "re-ascent" on all sides.
The Highest Point	Scafell Pike (978m / 3,209ft)
The Lowest Entry	Castle Crag (290m / 951ft)
Registry Keeper	The Long Distance Walkers Association (LDWA) maintains the official completion list.
First to Finish	Paul Shorrock (Completed 2007)
The "Author’s Tops"	117 summits included purely because Tim Synge felt they deserved to be there.

Understanding the Logic: What is a "Synge"?

When we talk about the "authority" or "keeper" of a list like this, we aren't talking about a government body. In the world of UK hills, groups like the Long Distance Walkers Association act as the unofficial historians. They are the ones who verify if someone has actually stood on all 670 points. It’s a community-led record of effort.

The "mathematical logic" people talk about is really just a way to settle arguments about what counts as a mountain. If you walk down from a peak and then have to walk back up 30m (98ft) to reach the next peak, that second peak is usually considered a separate "top." Tim Synge used this 30m rule to create a list that was more consistent than Wainwright’s. Wainwright chose his fells based on what he liked; Synge chose his based on the physical reality of the ground.

However, Synge knew that math isn't everything. He included 117 "subjective" tops—points that don’t quite have that 30m drop but are so iconic or rugged that leaving them off would feel wrong. This mix of strict topography and human intuition is why the list feels so authentic to the Lakeland experience.

The Pathless Identity

The most striking thing about completing the Synges is how quickly the paths disappear. On a standard fell, you’re usually walking on a "highway" maintained by conservation teams. On a lesser-known Synges, like Great Cockup (526m / 1,726ft) or the remote shoulders of the Uldale Fells, you are on your own.

You’ll spend hours in "unimproved" terrain—thick heather that pulls at your boots, hidden bogs (or "mosses" as they’re known locally), and fields of scree that haven't been stabilized by stone pitching. Many of these 670 tops are just a slightly higher bump on a marshy plateau. Finding them requires you to actually use a compass and read the contours of the land, rather than just following the person in front of you.

The reward isn't a café at the bottom or a photo at a famous cairn; it’s the fact that you can spend an entire day in one of the most popular National Parks in the world and not see a single other soul.

Linguistic Roots: Reading the Names

The names of these hills aren't random. They are a mixture of Old Norse (from the Vikings) and Cumbrian (the local Celtic dialect). They tell you exactly what kind of struggle you’re in for.

Glaramara (783m / 2,569ft): This is one of the more musical names, likely meaning "Hill of the mountain hut." It’s a rugged, complex summit that perfectly represents the Synge spirit—lots of little rocky tops that all feel like they could be the highest point.
Great Cockup (526m / 1,726ft): From the Old Norse kok, meaning a secluded valley or a "cock" (bird). It’s a smooth, steep hill in the northern fells that offers a complete contrast to the rocky pikes of the south.
Steel Fell (553m / 1,814ft): "Steel" comes from the Old Norse steyl, meaning a steep ridge. If you’ve ever walked up it from Dunmail Raise, you’ll know the name is a literal description.
Lingmell (807m / 2,648ft): Ling is the local word for heather, and mell comes from the Norse muli, meaning a prominent "snout" or shoulder of a mountain.

Beginner Entry Points: Getting the Feel

If you want to understand why people get obsessed with this list, don't start with the highest peaks. Start with the ones that show off the variety of the classification.

Castle Crag (290m / 951ft)
This is the "gateway" Synge. It’s the only one on the list under 300m, included because it’s a perfect miniature mountain. Standing in the middle of the Jaws of Borrowdale, it was an ancient hillfort. The climb through the old slate spoil heaps is steep and atmospheric. It’s a reminder that a hill doesn’t have to be tall to be significant.

Troutbeck Tongue (364m / 1,194ft)
This is a classic "in-between" hill. It sits in the middle of a valley, surrounded by the much higher peaks of the Ill Bell ridge. Most people walk past it on their way to something bigger, but as a Synge, it’s a standalone objective. It’s grassy, steep at the front, and offers a unique perspective on the surrounding "giants."

Little Mell Fell (505m / 1,657ft)
A strange, isolated mound of ancient conglomerate rock on the eastern edge of the park. It feels completely different from the volcanic rock of the central fells. It’s a quick walk, but it shows how the geology of the Synges changes as you move across the county.

Grange Fell (416m / 1,365ft)
Specifically, the top known as King’s How. This is part of the "subjective" side of the Synges. It’s a rugged, wooded, and rocky summit that requires a bit of nimble footwork. It feels much more wild and "mountainous" than many hills twice its height.

Beyond the Big Peaks: The Real Challenges

When you move away from the famous pikes, the challenges become more about the terrain than the technicality of the rock.

The Complexity of Glaramara
Glaramara is a nightmare for the "tick-list" walker because it has so many secondary tops. To truly complete the Synges in this area, you have to visit several rocky outcrops, including Combe Head (735m / 2,411ft) and Looking Stead (c. 630m / 2,067ft). There is no clear path between them; you are hopping over rocky steps and navigating through "hags"—deep channels cut into the peat that can be waist-deep after rain.

The Roughness of Hard Knott (549m / 1,801ft)
Most people know the Roman Fort at the bottom, but the hill itself is a classic Synge. It is incredibly rugged, covered in "knolls" and hidden marshy hollows. It’s the kind of place where you can lose your bearings in a matter of minutes if the mist comes down. There is no single, obvious path to the top, and the terrain is relentless on the ankles.

The Warning: Pillar Rock (c. 780m / 2,559ft)
We have to mention the "Hardest to Summit." Pillar Rock is a massive detached tower of rock on the side of Pillar mountain. It is a Synge, but it is not a walk. To stand on the top of "High Man" (the highest point of the rock), you have to climb. Even the easiest route involves Moderate-grade rock climbing with significant exposure. Many experienced walkers have found themselves stuck here after underestimating the descent. If you aren't a rock climber with the right gear, this is a Synge you view from the side.

The Evolution of the List

The Synges list is a living thing, but unlike other classifications that change based on 10cm height disputes, the evolution here has been driven by the author himself. Tim Synge took the time to revisit and rewrite his work, producing a second edition that refined the original list.

This rewrite was crucial because it allowed for the correction of earlier surveying errors and the inclusion of tops that had been overlooked. For the walker, this means that the 670 isn't a static museum piece; it's a list that has been polished by time and repeat visits. The fact that the author felt the need to return to the data and re-evaluate his own criteria shows the level of care that went into the classification. It reinforces the idea that these hills aren't just points on a grid—they are part of a constantly shifting understanding of the Lakeland landscape.

The Synges aren't for everyone. They are for the walker who is tired of the crowds and who finds more satisfaction in a difficult, pathless 400m hill than a busy 900m one. It is a classification that demands you learn to read the land, respect the weather, and appreciate the Lake District in its rawest, most granular form.

View The Synge Database

Essential Resources

To truly engage with the Synges, you need to go back to the original thinking and the community that keeps the records.

The Lakeland Summits: Survey of the Fells of the Lake District National Park by Tim Synge. This is the "bible" for the list. It’s where the 117 subjective tops are explained and where the original 670 were first laid out.
The Long Distance Walkers Association (LDWA): They maintain the "Long Distance Path" and hill lists registers. They are the group that officially recognizes your completion of the 670.
Fix the Fells: While they don't maintain paths on most Synges (which is a good thing for those seeking solitude), supporting them is vital for the conservation of the main access routes that get you into the high country.

Hills Featured in this Guide

Hill Name	Metric Height	Imperial Height	Character
Scafell Pike	978m	3,209ft	The highest point.
Lingmell	807m	2,648ft	A rugged shoulder of the Scafell range.
Glaramara	783m	2,569ft	A complex, rocky ridge with multiple tops.
High Pike (Caldbeck)	658m	2,159ft	A smooth, northern outlier with an old stone bench.
Steel Fell	553m	1,814ft	A steep, grassy ridge overlooking Dunmail Raise.
Hard Knott	549m	1,801ft	Rugged, knobbly, and pathless terrain.
Great Cockup	526m	1,726ft	A steep, secluded hill in the northern fells.
Little Mell Fell	505m	1,657ft	An isolated, rounded conglomerate mound.
Grange Fell	416m	1,365ft	A rocky, wooded summit (King's How).
Troutbeck Tongue	364m	1,194ft	A distinct, small fell in the middle of a large valley.
Castle Crag	290m	951ft	The only Synge below the 300m threshold.