Walks and views are all around there, unstoppably, but if I was to re-live a number of scenes from my youth I'd get myself to the old Queen's Head just up the lane, prop myself against the bar that in those days at least was made from an old four-poster bed, and swig the night away possibly in the company (with a bit of time-licence) of John Peel - the original one, not the flipping late DJ.
Foxes were hunted on foot up there, by farmers trying to control lamb predation. No nobs on horseback out for a jolly gallop. Then after a long hard day you'd all come down off the fell to the farm that was hosting that particular day's hunt and tuck into mutton stew ladled out of a huge vessel on the stove.
Aaahh -
And the practice never wiped out foxes, it just moderated their numbers, which seems kind of equable in the circumstances.
Photos? Get a 1:25000 OS map if you don't already have one, and just improvise. Going high? Then know your compass.