If you spend enough time in the Lake District, you eventually realize that the landscape is managed by two different types of people: those who follow the crowds and those who know where the crowds aren't.

For the last seventy years, the "Wainwrights" have been the standard. Alfred Wainwright’s seven volumes of hills are beautiful, hand-drawn, and deeply personal. But they are also a curated list. Wainwright picked the 214 hills he liked the look of, and in doing so, he inadvertently funneled millions of people onto the same few paths.

Bill Birkett saw things differently. He didn't want to replace Wainwright’s work, but he did want to provide a more objective, complete picture of the Cumbrian fells. In 1994, he published Complete Lakeland Fells, which identified 541 distinct peaks. These are now known simply as "The Birketts." To do all 541 is a completely different undertaking than doing the 214 Wainwrights. It’s more of a map-reading exercise, a test of stamina, and a lesson in what the Lakes actually look like when you step off the gravel paths.

A Life Built on Rock and Iron

Bill Birkett didn't come to the Lakes as a visitor; he is part of the furniture. He was raised in a family where the fells were a place of work as much as leisure. His father, Jim Birkett, was a blacksmith from Little Langdale and one of the most significant climbers of the 1930s and 40s. Jim was a man of the "old school"—he climbed some of the hardest routes in the country wearing hobnailed boots and tweed, often after a full day’s work at the forge.

Growing up near the Langdale Pikes, Bill was raised with a very practical, unsentimental understanding of the mountains. He learned that a hill isn't just a view; it’s a physical challenge of turf, scree, and weather. He became an expert climber and a professional photographer, but his most enduring work came from his desire to document every single top in the Lake District that met a specific, logical set of criteria.

Beyond climbing and guidebook writing, Bill built a successful freelance career as a writer and photographer from the late 1970s onward. After early contributions to climbing magazines, he went full-time in 1985, producing over 30 books on the Lake District, mountains, walking, and wild places—published by houses like Cicerone, HarperCollins, and his own Bill Birkett Publishing imprint. His award-winning work (including twice receiving Excellence awards from the Outdoor Writers and Photographers Guild) blends evocative photography with practical, no-nonsense prose, capturing the raw beauty and challenges of the fells for a wide audience.

Bill’s approach was grounded in the reality of the terrain. He wasn't looking for "pictorial" fells; he was looking for every peak over 1,000 feet within the National Park boundary that had a bit of its own identity. This required an immense amount of legwork.

The Logic of the 541

The number 541 wasn't pulled out of thin air. Bill applied a simple rule: a peak had to be at least 1,000 feet (304 meters) high, and it had to have a "distinct" summit. In mountaineering terms, this usually involves a measure of re-ascent—meaning you have to drop down a certain distance from a neighboring peak before climbing back up to the new one.

Because Wainwright’s list was subjective, he left out 327 tops that Bill included. Some of these are major peaks that just didn't fit Wainwright's personal aesthetic, while others are small, rocky outcrops or high points on a long ridge. By including these "neglected" hills, Bill opened up areas of the Lakes that most people simply walked past.

When you look at the 541 peaks in Bill Birkett's list of Lake District hills over 1,000 feet, you start to appreciate the intricate and varied topography of the Cumbrian fells. Someone completing the Wainwrights might tackle a classic ridge like the one across the Coniston Fells—from Wetherlam to Swirl How, Brim Fell, and the Old Man of Coniston—ticking off four major summits in a rewarding day out. On the same ground, someone pursuing the Birkett list might aim for ten or more by detouring to minor tops like Black Sails, Great How, and Hell Gill Pike. It makes the outing slower, tougher, and far more granular. Yet it also makes it far more rewarding seeing new views from a different perspective.

The Effort of the Search

Creating the guide in the early 1990s was a massive physical effort. This was before the era of consumer GPS or high-resolution digital mapping. Bill had to spend years out on the fells with Ordnance Survey maps, verifying heights and, more importantly, finding practical ways to reach these summits.

Many of the 541 fells have no paths. They are covered in thick bracken, hidden by plantations, or protected by miles of "miring" peat bog. Bill’s writing in Complete Lakeland Fells reflects this. He isn't interested in flowery descriptions; he gives you the facts. He tells you where the wall ends, which side of the stream to stay on, and where the ground becomes dangerous. It is a guide written by a walker, for walkers. It’s about the reality of wet feet, sore knees, and the satisfaction of finding a summit cairn that hasn't been touched in weeks.

The book itself is a heavy, 500-page volume. It covers every corner of the park, from the well-known central fells to the lonely, quiet outliers in the East and South that rarely see a tourist.

The 541 vs. The 214: A Different Kind of Walking

There is a distinct difference in the "heart" of a Birkett walk compared to a Wainwright walk. Because Wainwright’s fells are popular, they are often heavily eroded. You are usually following a clear, brown line of dirt or a pitched stone path.

The Birketts are different. Of the 541 tops, hundreds of them are rarely visited. If you decide to go for a Birkett like Great Lingy Hill, Hare Stones or Cocklaw Fell, you might be the only person there all day. You have to be comfortable navigating by GPS or compass when the "clag" (thick mist) rolls in, and you have to be okay with "fell-bashing"—the exhausting process of walking through pathless heather and tussocks.

For Bill, this was the point. He realized that by pointing people toward these 541 peaks, he was spreading the "load" of tourism. He was giving people a reason to visit the Far Eastern fells near Shap or the southern hills around the Duddon Estuary. It’s a way of seeing the Lake District as it was before it became a UNESCO World Heritage site—quiet, wild, and a bit unforgiving.

Records and Completionists

Doing all 541 Birketts is a serious undertaking. For most people, it takes a lifetime of weekends and holidays. However, as with any mountain list, there are those who want to see how fast it can be done.

The first person to complete the Birketts was obviously Bill himself, followed closely by a small group of dedicated local walkers. But in recent years, the challenge has attracted "ultra-runners" and professional hikers. In 2021, a hiker named James Forrest set a record for the fastest self-supported round of the Birketts, completing all 541 in just under 21 days. He walked over 500 miles and climbed the equivalent height of four Mount Everests.

To put that in perspective, Steve Birkinshaw—one of the greatest fell runners of all time—holds a legendary record for the 214 Wainwrights at about 6 days and 13 hours. The fact that the Birkett record is three times longer tells you everything you need to know about the scale of the task. It isn't just more peaks; it’s the lack of paths and the sheer logistical difficulty of connecting 541 points across such rugged terrain.

Why Some are "Birketts" and Others Aren't

Bill was very careful with naming. While the community calls them "The Birketts," Bill used the local names whenever possible. If a hill was known to local shepherds or appeared on old parish maps, that’s the name he used. He only used the term "Birkett" to describe the list as a whole.

The distinction of what made the cut often came down to that "Birkett Eye" for re-ascent. He wanted to make sure that a peak felt like its own place. If you can walk from one top to another without ever losing height, it’s probably one mountain. If you have to work for it—if you have to drop down into a "syke" (a small stream) and climb back out again—Bill felt that second top deserved its own name and its own recognition.

This makes the list very "practical." It rewards the effort of climbing. It acknowledges that in the Lakes, the "little" hills are often just as hard to summit as the big ones. Sometimes even harder.

A Legacy of Grit and Practicality

Bill Birkett is still a well-known figure in the Cumbrian climbing world. His legacy isn't built on being a "celebrity" walker, but on being someone who truly knows the ground. His guides don't sound like a travel agent wrote them; they sound like a conversation with a local in a pub who is warning you about a boggy patch near the summit.

He gave us a way to escape the crowds of Bowness and Ambleside. He showed us that there are 327 other places to stand where you can have the mountains to yourself. It’s a more honest way of looking at the Lake District—not as a series of viewpoints for a camera, but as a vast, interconnected landscape of rock, water, and grass.

Bill has long been an active campaigner for the protection of the Lake District's wild landscapes and access rights. He has spoken out against threats like off-road 4x4 damage to green lanes, working with groups such as the Lake District Green Lanes Alliance to preserve quiet, unspoiled areas from overuse and erosion. His advocacy stems from a deep-rooted belief that the fells should remain wild and accessible to all, not just the well-trodden paths—echoing the practical, hands-on conservation he learned from his father’s generation.

The Birkett passion for the mountains endures through the generations. Bill's son, Will Birkett, carries on the family tradition as a dedicated climber, runner, and outdoor enthusiast based in the Lakes. Growing up in Little Langdale, Will has pursued bold ascents, multi-pitch routes, and fell running while sharing his love for the crags and fells—ensuring the family's deep connection to Cumbrian rock remains alive for the next chapter.

So if you ever find yourself on a lonely, unnamed top in the middle of a plateau, with nothing but a rusted fence post and a spectacular, silent view of the fells, you’ve probably found a Birkett. And in that moment, you’ll understand why he bothered to write them all down. He wasn't trying to make the Lakes smaller by categorizing them; he was trying to show us how much more there is to love. Bill Birkett didn't just map the fells. He gave the forgotten ones a voice. And for those of us who prefer our mountains quiet and our boots muddy, we couldn't be more grateful.

View The Birketts

Hills Mentioned in This Article

For more information on his work and photography visit billbirkett.com