I camped at Sykeside campsite, its expensive, a bit damp underfoot and the ground is rock hard. Its next to a pub and the views are to die for. This was the view from the tent.
After faffing about for far too long on went the rucksack and off i went. the route was along low wood then almost double back on myself. An ascent of Hartsop above How then Dove Crag and Hart Crag, over to the Kirkstone pass and bag a few tops before falling off the end of High hartsop dodd (seen here from the tent, told you views to die for)
Weather was nice and calm when I set off, a bit breezy and cool but it was October. A couple of miles later a quick left turn and it was off up the hill.
It started to rain and the wind got up. I started the rigmarole that i hate, layering up. We hikers have so much to put up with in this country, an outfit for any and every occasion. Off went the windproof and water resistant jacket, on went the fleece jacket and over the top the waterproof and windproof jacket that's breathable which lets all the sweat out, but never quite does. If you have a jacket that does that then let me know. Oh and gloves. Not nice thinsulate ones today but cumbersome thick leather ones. The wind was cold and so was the rain thinking back. I was glad of the gloves. I took my walking poles off my rucksack and strapped them to my hands. I feel a bit safer with them in my hands. I was on my own and the conditions were to put it mildly a little bit shit! Onwards and upwards. i got to a decent height and wandered off the path to look down in to the valley and right below me was the campsite with the poor lonely tent. It was blowing a hooley and persisting it down and I had a quick chat with a Mum and Dad and two boys who looked entirely miserable. They were at least two miles from the nearest PlayStation 3. They were also the only people I had seen since the valley floor.
I pressed on, conditions were quite bad now. The rain was straight in my face and stinging as it was blown by the wind, i turned and took a picture looking back the way i had come. Theres nothing wrong with the camera. The greyness is due to the rain.
I turned round, as I was putting the camera away a gust took me sideways about 6 or 7 foot. I carried on the wind taking me all over the ridge, I was enjoying this, little old me against the wind funneling down kirkstone pass and racing up the hill. The clouds was also coming down over Dove Crag and the Fairfield horseshoe fells.
I was "crabbing" sideways now as it was almost impossible to walk straight in to the wind. It was tearing at my rucksack cover and making a hell of a din, much like when a parachute deploys. It was then the wind knocked me off my feet and i fell over and banged my shin on a rock. I wasn't enjoying it any more, it was difficult to look up as the rain was incessant and the cloud was getting closer and closer. I took a final picture and stowed the camera inside my coat. It couldn't live on a strap on my bag anymore.
I was about 400 metres from the top of Hart Crag on the edge of link cove which I couldn't see the bottom of. I'd already decided it was time to bale out. Problem was i couldn't go back the way I came, the wind would have then been at my back and there is some tricky descent with lots of sharp rocks. I needed to get down off the ridges. I couldn't really see more than 100 yards.
I found some shelter behind some rocks and with trepidation took out the map. If this gets blown away I may be in for an uncomfortable time. I got the coffee out too. Brilliant in a crisis is caffeine. I'm good with maps and compasses. Anyone who gets lost as often as I tends to be above average. All that was needed was a perpendicular track across to where Dove Crag was, find the source of Dovedale back and follow the water down. There will be a path some 300 meters (height) below my present position. Double checking the casio pro trek (my watch) confirmed I was 780 metres give or take a metre or so (a great investment). I still needed to be careful, there were some nasty drops going down and the place was deserted, I had no mobile signal so a banged head could be serious. I also didn't know the ground. I haven't baled out too often in the past and was bit fed up about doing it now. I'd used up all my favours in getting a pass whilst Debs sat at home alone. I also thought how bad it would be if I hurt myself or worse. Off down the hill then, overly cautious. Ten minutes later after a sort of sweeping zig zag i found the beck. Twenty minutes later the path was found a sigh of relief and now it was full speed ahead to get back, get changed and off to Blackpool for some fish and chips and to watch the blades. That didn't go well either, Got a puncture somewhere between the lakes and the M6 didn't know till I hit a bump in the road on the motorway, limped to a service station put some air in and got to the game. Had the fish and chips (lovely). the Blades were absolutely woeful and got whupped by the Tangerines 3 to nil, we were lucky to get nil. Stephen Quinn nearly had a fight with some supporters who weren't happy with him. he was one of maybe four trying it looked to me. the final whistle couldn't come soon enough and i raced to the car. because of the puncture I never made the supermarket and food was needed for Hellvelyn tomorrow. well it was me that needed the food, not the 3rd highest hill in England.....
Got to the car and the tyre was as flat as the proverbial pancake. I wondered if Paul Whitehouse and Harry Enfield had based unlucky Alf on me. Oh bugger.
proceeded to change the tyre whilst half the population of Blackpool completely ignored me. I knew it was a mistake to have personalised number plates, basically advertising the fact I support Sheff Utd. I'd have done the same, completely ignored me that is. Thanks to the couple in the house though who saw me and offered to help. It restored some of my faith in humanity. It wouldn't last as there is always some arsehole to put it right back. The latest was that prick who pissed all over the war memorial in barkers Pool in Sheffield. You make me proud to be British.................
Got back to the lakes at the wrong side of midnight. the Brotherswater Arms was in darkness, but I'd found a tesco express so was all set for Hellvellyn and its neighbours the following day. I brewed up a hot chocolate and collapsed in to bed, listening to the wind howling and the rain lashing down. Roll on tomorrow. Thank goodness for earplugs. I slept like a baby.
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