3 men and a mountain.

This is the story of 3 middle aged, (well 2 middle aged and one middle aged and a bit) men climbing some of England’s highest mountains. Date June 1 2009.

Myself, Micky (on the forum) and Dave (who isn’t on the forum and therefore can’t defend himself). Planned at the beginning of 2009 to spend a couple of days in the Lakes and climb some hills. There were million of reasons for the trip, Beer, Mountains, Full English breakfasts and Sunshine among them.

We stayed at the Ambleside Backpacker’s accommodation in Ambleside. Highly recommended, cheap and cheerful and it was full of an eclectic mix of people, I shall say no more.

Plan was get to the lakes on the Sunday night about 6pm, quick blast up Wansfell to wake the legs up, a few beers, sleep, up at 4. Travel to Langdale park at the ODG. Head to Scafell Pike then Scafell via Rossett Gill - Esk Hause along the ridge Great End to Broad Crag. Drop down to Cam Spout back up Esk Hause, Bowfell, Crinkle Crags and then back to the ODG.
The following day, Tuesday – do something depending on how we felt and then back to the midlands.

Those of you that know me and have read my reports will know that I rarely achieve what’s on the plan. Its not that I don’t plan properly. I just don’t stick to them.

I digress. I set off to Dave’s on time; I couldn’t find his house even with Tom Tom.
Dave wasn’t answering his phone.
I phoned Mick, who didn’t know where Dave lived.
I phoned back home as I had written Dave’s address in my diary and had put the information in to Tom Tom. I must have been doing something else at the same time as the addresses weren’t the same. Correct address put in and an hour late and we were off to Mick’s.
I knew where Mick lived……

It was a beautiful sunny afternoon and the journey went well. Arrived at Ambleside at half six ish.
We didn’t have time to climb Wansfell so checked in and went to the pub. We then went to another one, and then another then another, had some food then went back to the first one as that had the best beer.
Ambleside was very busy for a Sunday night and we were surprised at the number of people who wear rucksacks and use walking poles on the A591. We thought a walking pole tax might help the fix the fells fund.

Bedtime was planned for 21:30.
23:00 we staggered the half a mile back to the hostel. Our room consisted of two bunk beds. I had the top bunk, being the youngest.
Dave fell asleep and snored.
I have never heard a walrus with constipation being whipped with wire and having its flippers immersed in hot coals, but I imagine it to be similar to Dave’s restful sleepy noise.
It was funny for a bit. After we had run out of things to throw at him it stopped being funny. Mick broke the sink off the wall and hit Dave on the head. That stopped him…That’s an exaggeration. We smacked him in the face with June’s edition of country walker, open at page 69, which was the Kentmere Horseshoe.
We discussed changing the plan and throwing Dave off the Fairfield horseshoe so we could sleep the next night. We decided to stick with the plan.

Just as we started to nod off the dawn chorus started. All perched on the windowsill and in the tree outside the room. I got up and went for a wash. Mick stared at Dave; I didn’t need to be Derren Brown to work out what he was thinking.

We woke Dave up by telling him it was eight o’clock and we have overslept. We were ready and he needed to hurry up.

Loaded up the car and we were on the road at 04:10 AM outrageous. Driving from Ambleside to the ODG was an absolute overload to the senses. The fields were full of wildlife, I had one emergency stop in little langdale as two young bucks were startled in the middle of the road. Deer are beautiful creatures; I think I squealed like a little child does when I saw them.

Arrived at the ODG and we were the first there.
It was warm. Micky is a member of the NT so we had free parking. We then messed about for a bit had a quick snack and set off toward Mickleden like excitable 5 year olds. We aren’t ashamed to admit it. We kept stopping to take pictures, The Langdales, Pike o Blisco, the band, Crinkle crags Pike O Stickle Gimmer Crag back down the valley to Little Langdale Bowfell all the great names all the great mountains.
If you haven’t been to Langdale then put it on a list. If you haven’t been to the Lakes put it on the top of that list. If you can walk 4 miles on the flat go to the ODG and walk along Mickleden to the big sheepfold and bouncy bridge at the end and walk back. You will then have been in the company of giants. If you aren’t impressed then I’ll give you your money back and then you can take me where you go for your "hill thrill".
This offer definitely applies to The Bear, Mr Mears, Sir Rannulph or Kenton Cool.


It’s a couple of miles to the head of Mickleden, then there’s a choice of routes all of which are up. You can carry on up the Cumbria way (that’s another one on the list) which is Stakes pass and turn left, or you can turn sort of half left and go up Rossett Gill. I think there’s a signpost/ bit of wood telling you which is which.

Heres a picture of Micky failing miserably to contain his excitement.

We had a quick breather and adjusted kit ready for the climb. We could see people coming up Mickleden behind us. I didn’t like that, it meant a race to the top…..Off we went. Again, those who walk with me know I get up the hills quickly. Micky and Dave chose their own pace, wise men indeed. here stands Dave and I just above the sheepfold which parts the ways for some. Our route is the path behind the two of us.

Micky and I halfway up Rossett Gill. notice that half my trousers have gone in the pack and Micky has his sweat rag on! Both of us used walking poles, they do help up there.

We took some pics and eventually reached the col and then it was back down to Angle tarn where we planned to have breakfast. here are Dave and I relaxing in the early morning sun.

The tarn was like glass and the reflection off Hanging Knots was just magical.

I have a saying “you can’t buy that” in reference to the sensory overload I get when faced with natures beauty. That phrase was made for places like Angle tarn on an early summer’s day. I thought about someone scattering my ashes here
The author at Angle tarn

Micky.

You remember the plan right? (Head to Scafell Pike then Scafell via Rossett Gill - Esk Hause along the ridge Great End to Broad Crag. Drop down to Cam Spout back up Esk Hause, Bowfell, Crinkle Crags and then back to the ODG.)

Well forget it now because little of the plan happened!

We carried on over Tongue Head, skirted Allen crags (no bagging today) and instead of going left at Esk Hause we carried on to Sprinkling Tarn.
Sat map, early morning sun on the screen, not double checking with the map, Micky and I not talking to each other general giddiness and over excitement led us down the hill not left and up. All mistakes rolled in to one. We also were faced head on with Great Gable and once we saw it we were going up it!!!!!


Heres why.

It’s maybe a mile and a half from Esk Hause down the dip to Sty Head. We screeched to a halt at Sprinkling Tarn as there were a few wild campers around the place. Its popular for a reason, it’s achingly beautiful. There were a few people about by now and a fell runner stopped for a quick chat as we sat on the rocks beside the tarn. He’d been running all night but was off home as he had the trots and didn’t feel very well. We nodded sagely in agreement that that was probably the right thing to do. He sped off down the hill, farting as he went.
We watched the wild campers pack up, I dipped my feet in the tarn and Micky and Dave chilled on the rocks. I’d like to come back next time as a sea lion, tossing it off on rocks all your life and eating fish, how cool is that.
We spent too long but not long enough at the Tarn. The hills were waking up, or the humans were as we could see people approaching sty head from several directions. We stopped briefly again at sty head and took photos of everywhere at this crossroads.
I joked with one or two passing walkers asking them the way to Hellvellyn. Nine thirty in the morning and it was 20 degrees according to pro trek!
Past the stretcher box and up Great Gable. It’s another 450 500M ascent from sty head and it’s another straight up the eastern flank. The views opened up and we were spread out now a bit as the different levels of fitness experience and mindset came in to play. We hadn’t told Dave we were climbing the wrong mountain.


Put Great Gable on your (now long) list. It has my favourite view across to the Scafells:









It also has a view to Wasdale (pictured)











Ennerdale, Mosedale and some more great mountains.







Micky arrived on the summit, I was still red faced and making stream train noises. He looked over at Scafell too and wondered how the hell we were going to climb that as well in the heat. We were interrupted by a local resident from Buttermere. I estimated him to be 70 years old plus. We then knew it was sweltering as he wasn’t wearing a coat or even a sweater, just a sun hat and a shirt. What I love about the lakes is the locals are so friendly. He told us all sorts of stuff, most we knew some we didn’t. He pointed out all the hills told us all the tales and how emotional it was on Remembrance Day. He said there were over a thousand people on the summit last November.
Dave arrived and we told him we weren’t on Scafell we had climbed Great Gable and Scafell Pike was over there. He called our parentage in to question and said that we were a pair of people that sexually gratify themselves.
For the second time in as many hours we nodded sagely in agreement. The informative local then chatted to Dave about the benefits of age over exuberance and blue pills and how they transform your life. They swapped stories of their respective medical conditions. Me and Micky got round the sat maps and maps with some food and made another plan. We descended the way we had come passing loads of people on the way up. I noticed that we were happier than they were. You do smile wider on the way down…….
Back to sty head and we had lunch on the valley floor near Lingmell Beck and watched lots and lots of people go up the corridor route and lots more go in all different directions. It was busy, even for a weekday. It was 32 degrees out of the breeze. Me and Micky checked water supplies and called Dave unrepeatable names as he’d eaten his lunch and gone to sleep again. People walked passed him and smirked. I guess it’s not every day you see a vagrant asleep near Sty head tarn.

Water situation wasn’t good. We had both drunk 4 litres both had 2 litres left plus a half litre of lucozade isotonic. Scafell Pike then Scafell then down and up to Bowfell then the Crinkles and maybe more was out.
The corridor route up to the Scafells is awful and brilliant in the same breath. Its awful because you just cant get any rhythm ( I don’t mean musically but you probably cant receive a radio station). Its not a straight climb. There’s a bit of a scramble then up and a bit down then more up. I would describe it as “bitty” but on a highest mountain in England type scale.
More names to mention, Round How on the left of you Piers Gill (the nasty bit where people die and get lost on the 3 peaks) is on the right of you, just before you turn up the scree slopes and climb in and around Piers gill which is the gill bit not the nasty 30 metre drop bit. Also in front is Lingmell, which doesn’t really get enough press as it’s a beast of a hill on its own. We came off the corridor route by accident, we were quite tired and getting a bit hot and bothered, Dave had gone a bit quiet and was telling us to go ahead and he’d catch up. The conversation had also stopped. I had a headache. We had been on the go for about 10 hours and it was well in the twenties, no breeze and the rocks were radiating the rays back to us. There wasn’t much shade. We stooped at the scree between what was little narrow cove on the opposite side (the col between Broad Crag and Scafell pike). there was a stunning vista of Great Gable.
I had a proper mardy on now as I was too hot so left Micky and Dave roasting on a rock and went the direct route following a couple of young lads who knew what they were doing.
I turned and saw Micky leave Dave and flank on my right up the scree slope that headed directly for the col. I tried to tell him it was easier the way I had gone but I sensed Micky was in the same mardy world as well so left him to it. I got to the ridge path halfway up the summit approach and fashioned a seat and waited.
Micky turned up shortly after. We both chastised ourselves for leaving Dave some 100m further down the mountain and set off back down.
We didn’t get far.
Dave’s head appeared accompanied by a young woman from South Africa (THATS why he wanted us to go ahead!).
He was as happy as a sand boy. We let him and his new walking companion carry on and we reached the top of England. We’d done it.

There was the small matter of getting back to the ODG. doesn't sound like too much hard work but its 8.2 miles ish with quite a bit of down and some up as theres a big col betwixt the Pike and Broad Crag.

We were down to not much liquid, we couldn't have been in a worse location to get some. It was hot, even on the roof of England and we'd been on the go for just short of ten hours. Dave had no water left. (not surprising as he only took a litre with him in the first place) We took some pictures heading back to Great End. We talked on the way down, the three of us tired but elated at our achievement. Considering the temperature and the lack of sleep we were faring very well. We reminded each other not to be complacent, a long way to go and descent is always where the accidents happen MRT tell us.

Here are me and Dave descending to Great end.

We stopped just after the Esk hause crossroads where we went straight on earlier in the day. There was a minor de-briefing as we saw why we went wrong. We'd checked the direction some 100 metres or so off the actual crossroads so both of us agreed it was straight on and we'd just got giddy seeing Great Gable. Great route none the less, a quick shoulder shrug handshake and a quick eat of the remaining food.I handed round peanuts for some salt intake (not marmite flavoured) and quaffed my last isotonic drink. Dave filled his bottle from a stream. Micky was happy with what he had left so we set off again the way we had come in the morning. there were a few ups and downs before the knee crunching ascent of Rossett Gill. The descent went without incident although my knees were on fire by the time we were back on the valley floor in mickleden. The beck looked very inviting to Micky and Dave but not to me. All I wanted was the Pub now.

I left my two companions cooling off and I trudged alone back to the ODG. Cheers Mick and Dave, an epic day i'll never forget. And we all lived happily ever after. THE END.

7 wainwrights in 7 hours.

Another 4 AM start. Day after coming off nights. I am properly tired, the twins were very poorly but recovered 6 hours before I was about to pull the plug on this trip. I got up at 4 ish, so did Deb! She wanted to see me off, not in a kill bill sort of way but a hanky waving good luck sort of style. Which was nice. trouble with that is I like silence to be able to concentrate that I have all the right kit packed and "squared away" ( a military term). What I don't do very well is square away and listen to my darling wife talking about stuff that isn't related to the days events. I think she said be careful about ten times. I'm not sure whether she was more worried about the climbing or i was travelling up the motorway in a focus RS with a twenty one year old lad who's 7" taller than me!
Granty arrives a couple of minutes early in the RS. I wasn't quite ready though so rushed around. I didn't forget anything.
Got to wakey at just before 6 and transferred in to Andy's car. A Zafira. No idea how the journey went I slept most of it. Andy and I had a chat about Ken bates and Leeds and related football stuff. We all talked about the weather, its a British thing but its obsessive with walkers.
It rained most of the way up. It was cold too.
Depending on which forecasting medium you use, the general weather consensus was rubbish at first getting better. The BBC as usual was way off and Sky take that long, you forget whats been said half way through. We did the M1, A1, A66 route. Arrived at Millbeck 20 minutes early, we missed the lay by, turned back and by that time Pete was there. We squeezed in the narrow space as the builders were in town. There is not a great deal of parking in the northern lakes villages. We got ready just off the road. The weather was mildly moist and a light drizzle permeated the sky. We get ready quickly, it was only one or two degrees above freezing, moving off straight out of the back of the lay by and into the woods.
Our plans had changed twice, once by me, as I wanted to add Skiddaw little man to the bagging list, also once at the death by Pete who threw Dodd in to the mix. I remembered Dodd as being pine woods and a bald bit on top but little else, apart from you could see Scotland from its 1600 foot elevation.
Its also part of my fave tongue twister. "ken dodds dads dogs dead."

We skirted the side of the hill, then it was a right turn and straight up. There was going to be a lot of steep ascent today and as usual, I ended up at the front early on. It was hard work but we made excellent time considering we went off the route. It was a pleasant change to walk amongst the trees and it smelt "piney". Andy kept telling Granty to mind his head which was funny as the branches were too high for us but not the giant.
Less than an hour later we were on the top.
left to right: Granty, Pete and Andy Wainwright number one of the day. Dodd.


Left to right: Me, Pete Andy.



Twas windy so we cracked on. the hard work was soon upon us and we ascended in to cloud. It got fresher by the minute and the wind increased. Soon we were above the snow line, first time this year for some of us as the white stuff had largely disappeared the previous week on Crinkle Crags and Bowfell.
It was another tough ascent, the ground was wet and uneven so it was difficult getting a rhythm going. Andy took over higher up, his new regime of commuting by northern Rail trains meant he had to run from the station and bound up 4 flights of stairs two at a time 5 days a week on top of the football he had granite legs so far and had little trouble getting up to Carlside. The three car (and sometime helicopter and boat) commuters had a bit more trouble. Granty more than anyone else, he had a Vietnamese family in his rucksack, he was in serious training for the national 3 peaks this year so had packed almost 5 litres of water and his camera gear (minus his "big" lens. No kidding he must have had been packing 15-20Kg. Plus his 6'7" frame. He'd piss selection next year if he went to Hereford! (selection is SAS training)

Carlside - in the frost. Wainwright number 2.

Pack horse protecting the cairn from the wind.

We were on the supplementary ridge on the south eastern flank. Some checks of maps and satmap pointed us on the path toward Longside. We also decided to do the ridge first as the weather wasn't brilliant and getting worse, contrary to the forecasts.
No break for drinks, it was off again in to the teeth of the wind. It started to tingle the exposed skin a little, not quite frostbite country but it told you the temperature was freezing minus wind chill.
I must remember to check with pro trek next time. Not really knowing how cold it is could have compromised safety.

Onwards and up and downwards towards Longside. No views as we were firmly ensconced in the mist/cloud/clag.
More pictures of well equipped climbers then:

Me and Pete had a chat about Geology. What he doesn't know about rocks aint worth knowing and he's forgot more than he can remember he says! I could listen to him all day. we are palnning a trip around Pike O Stickle and the Langdale pikes (Jack's Rake in particular) to find some "stuff" that blokes centuries ago made. Things like axe heads and tools for getting fur and skin off animals. Real man stuff. It took our minds off the conditions> It was increasingly windy as we approached the north west edge of the ridge. There was nothing between us and the Solway Firth(which we couldn't see unfortunately) and the wind was now ripping across. We could hear the RAF flying around though. A little disconcerting as they were close but we had no idea how close.

Pete started shouting and pointing.


Ullock pike presented itself out of the gloom as did Bassenthwaite for a fleeting second, a tantalising snapshot of what we were missing. A fleeting glimpse of Southerndale and Bassenthwaite common appeared before the clouds enveloped us again.

Bassenthwaite:


Southerndale and the Common:

Ullock pike. It was very windy and I tried to smile but best I could do was a grimace and a serious lean in to the wind.

We'd made remarkable time. It had just gone 11 and it would have been a good place to stop and eat if it wasn't blowing a hooley and there had been some shelter. I'd regretted not buying the bothy from Go outdoors when I'd gone in last. It's on the ever increasing gear list........

The route was back the way we came. Pete and Granty adjusted gear ready for the off.


We stopped on the south side of Longside as there was a lull in the wind and we could get some shelter and took on some food. It was a standing lunch, eaten quicker than anyone of us really wanted but it was plainly too cold, damp and sweaty to wait around. I certainly felt my core temperature drop as we ate. Marmite cashews, crisps, malt loaf and soup sandwiches and cheese were devoured by very hungry people. 10 minutes no longer and we prepared for the very steep climb up to Skiddaw, passing the frozen Carlside Tarn en route.

The path up is steep and it began to snow. It was treacherous in a 40 yard stretch and I stopped and thought hard about turning back, as we would struggle to descend this way.
Granty was struggling to climb as his weight (despite ditching water) was pushing the loose stones back down the hill meaning he couldn't get purchase on the scree. I couldn't help him just yet but soon the snow thickened on the ground and was able to kick steps in the snow. Its hard work but I was loving it.
Some pictures of the difficult ascent. It started off OK.





Then it gets steeper:
A respite between the hard icy section and the thigh burning final 100 feet. Andy's face says it all!

Just after this section is the summit. Whilst we weren't looking, Pete made a dash for the summit, or was he was trying to muscle in on the shot.

There was some fascinating ice patterns formed by the wind. It needed a creative photographer to do this justice, I am not one of these but this is where I pointed the camera. Yes it was as cold as it looks:



The summit plaque indicating mileages to places such as Carlisle. Useless to us today as we couldn't see.



Granty and I on the summit well wrapped up.


We hung around for a while doing what people do on summits, larking about, taking photos, looking the vie...ah no. We didnt have any of those.




That was the biggie done. Everyone was making noises about not going back down the icy path so we didn't, we were bagging Little Man anyway so there was a clear option available. Carry straight on heading south east toward the eastern tip of Keswick. I showed Pete the route and he did "stuff" with GPS to make sure we got down. GPS' are brilliant in this weather. And very easy compared to counting paces and taking bearings in the wind. GPS' don't blow away too!

Onwards to little man. Not named after Granty. There,s no pictures of anyone as it was too windy and cold to organise anything. Just the cairn:


The long descent continued and we eventually came out of cloud. The transformation was remarkable and the wind had stayed high, we were soon removing layers. Granty had taken a pole as he really was struggling with the underfoot conditions and using it to control his descent.

The views began to open up.

The sun tried very hard to break through:

We soon caught sight of Keswick. a reassuring sight after all the hard work.


With 6 wainwrights already in the bag I realised we were a ten minute walk from Latrigg, one of the shortest Wainwrights but nonetheless its one of the 214. There was enthusiasm for the suggestion so we set off some on the path some "cheating" and taking the direct route.

The view from Latrigg.



We were in good spirits and shows in these snaps. Me in a rather camp oooh we just did 7 wainwrights pose. Pete quaffing fruit pastilles and Andy looks embarrased as he's a roughy toughy Leeds fan!





That was that.
7 Wainwrights and a two(and a bit as we got "lost" when I decided to follow a sheep path) mile hike back to the car.
We couldn't find a pub in Applethwaite or Millbeck, so we sped back up the A66 to the White Horse in Scales. It was shut!!!!!
We turned back toward Keswick and went to Royston Vasey. I mean Threlkeld. We strode purposely in one pub to be told it wasnt open, despite a punter drinking a pint. Local pub for local people?
We crossed the road and went to the Horse and Farrier, a typical Lakes brasserie, well decked out for Christmas, a bonus was it's a Jennings pub. A pint of Cumberland Ale went down a treat and we chatted merrily. We then bode farewell to Pete and headed off back down to the midlands via west yorkshire leaving at around ten past 5. The traffic wasn't kind and we got home at nine.
A great day out that had everything. The truly amazing thing was nobody fell over.
I have put the boots away till next year now, its time to get merry, enjoy Christmas with the family and recharge the batteries.
Next years target. 50 Wainwrights and Snowdon.