The Small Water Naming Problem: When Four Tarns Share the Same Name in Different Valleys

There are at least four tarns called Small Water on Ordnance Survey maps, plus two more that go by the rather defensive name of "More Small Water," because fell farmers in the 18th and 19th centuries were giving names to geographical features for their own practical purposes, not building a searchable database for confused walkers two centuries later.

The result is a naming system that makes perfect sense if you're a shepherd who never leaves your valley, and absolutely none if you're reading a walk description on the internet that casually mentions passing "Small Water" without specifying which bloody one they mean.

Why This Keeps Happening

Before we start blaming anyone, it's worth understanding that most of these names emerged organically over generations. A small body of water in your valley was, quite reasonably, called "the small water" to distinguish it from "the large water" or just "the water." Nobody was thinking about the chap three valleys over who was doing exactly the same thing with his small water.

These names served their purpose beautifully in a time when most people's geographical knowledge extended about five miles from their front door. If you said you were heading up to Small Water, everyone knew which one you meant because there was only one Small Water in your world. The fact that there were three other Small Waters having exactly the same conversation in parallel valleys was entirely irrelevant.

The trouble started when we got the radical idea that we might want to walk in more than one valley, and that we might want to write things down for other people to follow. Suddenly, specificity mattered.

The Four Main Culprits

So where exactly are these Small Waters? I'm glad you asked, because this is the information that really ought to appear in every single guide that mentions them.

The most famous Small Water sits in the Mardale valley above Haweswater, beneath Harter Fell. This is the one that appears in proper walk guides most often, probably because the Nan Bield Pass route is rather good. If someone's written a walk description and failed to specify which Small Water they mean, it's probably this one. Probably.

Then there's Small Water in Swindale, which is actually just over the ridge from the Mardale one. These two are close enough that you could theoretically visit both on the same walk, which really highlights how hyperlocal these naming conventions were. They're practically neighbours and nobody thought to give them distinguishing names.

Moving north, there's a Small Water in the valley of Bannerdale, tucked beneath Bowscale Fell. This one is smaller and less frequently visited than its southern namesakes, which does at least mean you're less likely to end up here by accident when you meant to go somewhere else.

The fourth shows up near Buttermere, because apparently the western fells wanted in on the fun too. This demonstrates quite nicely that the Small Water phenomenon wasn't just a quirk of one particular area – it's a Lake District-wide symptom of distributed naming systems that never got merged.

The "More Small Water" Defense

In at least two locations, someone at some point clearly realised there was an ambiguity problem and decided to solve it with the linguistic equivalent of a shrug: "More Small Water." Not "Additional Small Water" or "Second Small Water" or anything that might actually prevent confusion. Just... more of it.

There's a More Small Water near Crinkle Crags in the Langdale area, and another in the Kentmere valley. One can only imagine the conversation: "What shall we call this tarn?" "Well, there's already a Small Water over the fell." "Right. Let's call it More Small Water then." "Brilliant. Job done."

The logic presumably was that these tarns are somehow supplementary to their respective Small Waters – perhaps they're higher up the same stream system, or just further up the same valley. But from a navigational clarity perspective, it's not hugely helpful. If anything, it confirms that people definitely knew there was already a Small Water about, and just decided that was fine.

The Real-World Consequences

This wouldn't matter much if we all carried detailed Ordnance Survey maps and actually looked at them, but we live in an age of GPX files, phone apps, and hastily photographed route descriptions from websites of varying quality. I've lost count of the number of forum posts that start with some variation of "We followed the directions but ended up at completely the wrong tarn..."

The problem compounds when people share routes verbally. "It's a lovely walk up to Small Water" is useless information unless you also mention Haweswater, or Swindale, or whichever valley you're actually talking about. But people don't, because in their heads there's only one Small Water – the one they've just walked to.

Even guidebooks sometimes fall into this trap, particularly older ones written with the assumption that you're reading the whole book sequentially and therefore obviously remember that we're still talking about the Mardale area from three chapters ago.

Other Repeat Offenders

Small Water isn't even the worst offender, honestly. There are numerous Sour Milks (because naming your waterfall after milk that's gone off is apparently irresistible), multiple High Raises, several Black Crags, and enough Red Tarns to suggest that whoever saw them first wasn't blessed with an expansive colour vocabulary.

At least "High Raise" makes some attempt at description – it's a high bit that's raised up. But when you've got three of them within ten miles of each other, the descriptive value diminishes somewhat. You end up having to say "the High Raise that's north of High Street" or "the High Raise in the Langdale Pikes," which rather defeats the point of having a name at all.

The fell names at least usually have some additional geographical qualifier if you look at the full OS map – they're in different parishes or historic estates. But tarns frequently don't. They're just Small Water, full stop, take it or leave it.

What's the Solution?

There isn't one, really, beyond being specific when you write or talk about these places. If you're creating a route guide, always include the valley name or the nearest distinctive fell. If you're telling someone about a walk, mention Haweswater or Bannerdale or wherever you actually went.

The Ordnance Survey isn't going to rename them all – these are historic names with centuries of use behind them, and there are probably preservation orders or heritage listings or at least strongly worded letters from local history societies preventing any such thing. Nor should they, really. The names work perfectly well as long as people provide proper context.

It's also worth remembering that this is only a problem because we're now walking all over the place rather than sticking to our own valleys like sensible people. The naming system isn't broken – we've just changed how we use the landscape. The fell farmers who called their local tarn "Small Water" weren't wrong. They just weren't anticipating the internet.

The Charm of It All

Despite the occasional navigational irritation, there's something rather lovely about these duplicate names. They're a reminder that the Lake District wasn't designed as a recreational amenity – it was a working landscape where people lived and farmed and needed names for things that made sense to them and their neighbours.

Every Small Water represents generations of people who knew that tarn intimately, who probably had sheep scattered around it, who could tell you whether it was likely to freeze in winter or hold water through a dry summer. The name might be generic, but the knowledge embedded in it wasn't.

So the next time you're reading a walk description that mentions Small Water without qualification, don't get too frustrated. Just check the map, work out which valley you're actually supposed to be in, and appreciate that you're following in the footsteps of people who knew these hills so well they didn't need to specify which Small Water they meant.

Then go and walk to the right one, obviously. Getting the correct Small Water is still moderately important.

Frequently Asked Questions

How many tarns are called Small Water in the Lake District?

There are at least four tarns called Small Water on Ordnance Survey maps, plus two more called 'More Small Water.' They're spread across different valleys including Mardale, Swindale, Bannerdale, and near Buttermere.

Why do so many Lake District tarns have the same name?

Fell farmers in the 18th and 19th centuries named features for their own practical use within their valley, not for hikers centuries later. If you only knew one valley, calling your small tarn 'Small Water' made perfect sense—nobody was thinking about the identical name three valleys over.

What does More Small Water mean?

It means there was already a Small Water nearby and someone decided to call another tarn 'More Small Water' rather than come up with a distinct name. There's one near Crinkle Crags in Langdale and another in Kentmere—it's not particularly helpful for navigation.