Ash
Showing posts with label scarness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label scarness. Show all posts
Saturday, 24 December 2011
Lakes Weekender 2 (Last Night At Camp)
And so it was, back to camp to put our feet up round a blazing open fire. We'd collected a fair whack of fire wood on our journey through the woods at Scarness, so once we touched base I prepared the meal while the others went in search for more wood to burn. I fetched a box of 20 Fosters from the car, which was met with approval from Carlos as he returned with a few logs. Massive portions of Pasta Bolognese were put away, in similar fashion to the lager as we sat round the fire to rest those aching muscles. Brian fell asleep at one point - I remember it well. We had a great weekend and once again I can't wait for our next trip, planned for Spring 2012 and an assault on Helvellyn via Striding Edge, check out a video clip of it here. Certainly not for the faint-hearted, and I'm shit scared of heights! Mind you, I got over Sharp Edge in one piece so I should manage this one no bother, ahem! Until then, a few more photo's of our base camp at Scarness in the Lake District. Have a Happy Christmas and a Great New Year!!!
Lakes Weekender 2 (Ullock Pike to Skiddaw Summit)
The final ascent of Skiddaw awaited us. 
We had the benefit of a 15 minute break to refuel our bodies before the final push and although this was a big help, it never felt like it once we began the final climb. This was a killer and I don't mind admitting it. We were already two hours into our fell walk/climb so there wasn't a great deal left in the tank, so to speak, but we had come this far and there was now little or no option to see the task through. Brian had confessed to Davey that he didn't think he could go any further at this point, but with those wise words of encouragement from Davey "Just get on with it man, what's a matter with ya", Brian was soon on his feet and contemplating the task ahead. Davey never did mince his words, he he. What we had endured since our walk began was nothing less than very testing terrain for even the most experienced fell walker. The majority of it was steep ascent, coupled with the odd scramble or two, but below boot was hard rock and ground, not the stuff we were about to come across. 
The last thing a fell walker wants at this point is loose slate under foot, and we were about to tackle this on our final steep push to Skiddaw summit. The first two photographs give you an idea of what I'm talking about. As I made my first few steps up this punishing slope the weak slate gave way under my boots, making the whole episode much harder than I first anticipated. I remember stopping and looking towards the summit, inwardly hoping someone could magically beam me up and plonk me at the top, escaping the ordeal that lay before me. As the lads passed me at this point I remember making a sudden surge to reclaim my slot near the front of the pack, not wanting to drift further back and finish the day as a knackered heap at the back of the pack. Looking back now, I often wonder where I generated that last burst of energy to reach the pinnacle - when the going gets tough...
Lee shouted at pointed to his right. On an adjoining path up the scree hill was what I can only describe as a nutcase. Yes, some geezer was riding down from Skiddaw summit on a monutain bike! I could have swore I was hallucinating. Yes, there he was - we marveled at his style as he flew down that hill of weak slate like his life depended on it. He was enjoying the moment, that's for sure. Who'd blame him - he must have nearly killed himself getting that bike all he way up there.
And there was little old me thinking 'I' should be the one who needed my head looking at, he he. The final push seemed to last forever and just when I thought I could see the end of the line, there was that little bit extra to go, then more, and a bit more after that. I reached the top of the hill but then there'd be another peak further on, so it was much more of the same punishment that made you laugh with hysteria eventually. When I did finally reach the summit, Lee and Carlos had already been there for ten minutes or so. They were smiling broadly but I wasn't sure whether that was due to the realisation that they'd crossed the finish line or whether it was simply cos' they were supping Carlsberg as their reward. They kept that one quiet - smuggling beer up a northern fell should be outlawed, especially as they didn't carry one for me (the pair of knackers!!!).
Davey soon followed. He'd hung back to encourage Brian, who was just about dead on his feet by this point, but job very well done nevertheless (picture 3).
I too was fust about finished by this point and the handicap of carrying a backpack of camera gear had definately hindered my progress up the mountain. I often wondered what posessed me to carry a 'Breeze block' on my back, and now it was time for a return. Out came the camera and I snapped away uncontrollably. The views were stunning, which made up for the freezing cold wind that was now hammering us at the summit. There were maybe 30-40 other fell walkers amongst us, all admiring the views at all sides. This was certainly a moment to savour - all that hard graft was well worth the end result. We sat for a few minutes behind a man made slate wall, sheltering from the wind, before getting to our feet and beginning the arduous task of returning to ground level - another hour and a half of torture for the joints!
The mountain structure of Skiddaw
can be described as a network of sloping ridges. The actual summit of Skiddaw itself is a long straight ridge running from north to south with a number of lesser summits along its route. So in addition to the main summit, Skiddaw also has a north top, middle top and south top, some with little difference in height. Wainwright notes that Skiddaw summit "... takes the form of a stony, undulating ridge exceeding 3000 ft throughout its length of almost half a mile and provides a glorious promenade high in the sky where one can enjoy a rare feeling of freedom and escape from a world far below, and, for a time, forgotten "(Wainwright 1962, Skiddaw 22). This main ridge is connected from the south east by Skiddaw Little Man, a shorter ridge with the main summit at 865 meters. From the south west there is the curving ridge that connects Ullock Pike, Longside and Carl Side.
With Skiddaw conquered,
plus Ullock Pike and the adjoining Carl Side and Long Side, that was four more peaks ticked off. This walk was my toughest yet, make no mistake. Carlos commented on the experience for him, saying 'It's one of the hardest things I've ever done.' Yet he strolled it, for me. At 48 years, and the oldest of our group, he negotiated the task very well indeed, defying his years. It was therefore ironic that the oldest geezer should reach the summit first and the youngest should show up last. It was 'Well done' to each of us, and I for one am looking forward to the next one. We had a good laugh from Friday to Sunday and for weeks beyond that, come to think of it. What, with disappearing toilet rolls, septic tanks, out of date sandwiches and speed camera's, who knows what awaits us the next time! That's half the fun though - it is what it is.
The final installment of Lakes Weekender 2 will be here shortly, with more scenic photo's taken on our descent, by yours truly, plus a few capsite shots of the lads. Until then, thanks for stopping by.
Ash
We had the benefit of a 15 minute break to refuel our bodies before the final push and although this was a big help, it never felt like it once we began the final climb. This was a killer and I don't mind admitting it. We were already two hours into our fell walk/climb so there wasn't a great deal left in the tank, so to speak, but we had come this far and there was now little or no option to see the task through. Brian had confessed to Davey that he didn't think he could go any further at this point, but with those wise words of encouragement from Davey "Just get on with it man, what's a matter with ya", Brian was soon on his feet and contemplating the task ahead. Davey never did mince his words, he he. What we had endured since our walk began was nothing less than very testing terrain for even the most experienced fell walker. The majority of it was steep ascent, coupled with the odd scramble or two, but below boot was hard rock and ground, not the stuff we were about to come across. 
The last thing a fell walker wants at this point is loose slate under foot, and we were about to tackle this on our final steep push to Skiddaw summit. The first two photographs give you an idea of what I'm talking about. As I made my first few steps up this punishing slope the weak slate gave way under my boots, making the whole episode much harder than I first anticipated. I remember stopping and looking towards the summit, inwardly hoping someone could magically beam me up and plonk me at the top, escaping the ordeal that lay before me. As the lads passed me at this point I remember making a sudden surge to reclaim my slot near the front of the pack, not wanting to drift further back and finish the day as a knackered heap at the back of the pack. Looking back now, I often wonder where I generated that last burst of energy to reach the pinnacle - when the going gets tough...Lee shouted at pointed to his right. On an adjoining path up the scree hill was what I can only describe as a nutcase. Yes, some geezer was riding down from Skiddaw summit on a monutain bike! I could have swore I was hallucinating. Yes, there he was - we marveled at his style as he flew down that hill of weak slate like his life depended on it. He was enjoying the moment, that's for sure. Who'd blame him - he must have nearly killed himself getting that bike all he way up there.
And there was little old me thinking 'I' should be the one who needed my head looking at, he he. The final push seemed to last forever and just when I thought I could see the end of the line, there was that little bit extra to go, then more, and a bit more after that. I reached the top of the hill but then there'd be another peak further on, so it was much more of the same punishment that made you laugh with hysteria eventually. When I did finally reach the summit, Lee and Carlos had already been there for ten minutes or so. They were smiling broadly but I wasn't sure whether that was due to the realisation that they'd crossed the finish line or whether it was simply cos' they were supping Carlsberg as their reward. They kept that one quiet - smuggling beer up a northern fell should be outlawed, especially as they didn't carry one for me (the pair of knackers!!!).Davey soon followed. He'd hung back to encourage Brian, who was just about dead on his feet by this point, but job very well done nevertheless (picture 3).
I too was fust about finished by this point and the handicap of carrying a backpack of camera gear had definately hindered my progress up the mountain. I often wondered what posessed me to carry a 'Breeze block' on my back, and now it was time for a return. Out came the camera and I snapped away uncontrollably. The views were stunning, which made up for the freezing cold wind that was now hammering us at the summit. There were maybe 30-40 other fell walkers amongst us, all admiring the views at all sides. This was certainly a moment to savour - all that hard graft was well worth the end result. We sat for a few minutes behind a man made slate wall, sheltering from the wind, before getting to our feet and beginning the arduous task of returning to ground level - another hour and a half of torture for the joints!The mountain structure of Skiddaw
can be described as a network of sloping ridges. The actual summit of Skiddaw itself is a long straight ridge running from north to south with a number of lesser summits along its route. So in addition to the main summit, Skiddaw also has a north top, middle top and south top, some with little difference in height. Wainwright notes that Skiddaw summit "... takes the form of a stony, undulating ridge exceeding 3000 ft throughout its length of almost half a mile and provides a glorious promenade high in the sky where one can enjoy a rare feeling of freedom and escape from a world far below, and, for a time, forgotten "(Wainwright 1962, Skiddaw 22). This main ridge is connected from the south east by Skiddaw Little Man, a shorter ridge with the main summit at 865 meters. From the south west there is the curving ridge that connects Ullock Pike, Longside and Carl Side.With Skiddaw conquered,
plus Ullock Pike and the adjoining Carl Side and Long Side, that was four more peaks ticked off. This walk was my toughest yet, make no mistake. Carlos commented on the experience for him, saying 'It's one of the hardest things I've ever done.' Yet he strolled it, for me. At 48 years, and the oldest of our group, he negotiated the task very well indeed, defying his years. It was therefore ironic that the oldest geezer should reach the summit first and the youngest should show up last. It was 'Well done' to each of us, and I for one am looking forward to the next one. We had a good laugh from Friday to Sunday and for weeks beyond that, come to think of it. What, with disappearing toilet rolls, septic tanks, out of date sandwiches and speed camera's, who knows what awaits us the next time! That's half the fun though - it is what it is.The final installment of Lakes Weekender 2 will be here shortly, with more scenic photo's taken on our descent, by yours truly, plus a few capsite shots of the lads. Until then, thanks for stopping by.
Ash
Saturday, 3 September 2011
Lakes Weekender (Blencathra) - Early Morning, Day 2
During the night the rain barely stopped - I know that because I didn't get much sleep. 
Not sure why that was - maybe a combination of a few things - never camped in a farmers field before, couldn't get comfortable, rain lashing off tent, no ear plugs, brian's constant snoring! Oh well, nowt to do but suck a lemon and get on with it, I suppose. At 5am, during a rare doze, I was awoken by more noise as Brian went to make a phone call in his car, making little attempt to close the door quietly. Then the door slammed again, and again. Surely this a wind-up! I decided to get up for a bit of fresh air at this point so off I went, grabbing my camera en route. I made my way down the embankment towards Bassenthwaite lake where I was greeted with almost still waters. The sky was overcast and it was a pretty miserable dawn all round. 
No colour to be had so I set about taking a few black and white shots at the edge of the lake. Here comes Brian with his camera, Mr Nagzy, the noisy customer! We took a few shots before heading back to base camp where Davy and Lee were just rising. The kettle was on and Davy asked 'Who the **** was making all the noise earlier'. He he, so Brian ended up on pot duty after we had breakfast, which consisted of bacon sandwiches made with eggy bread. Another cup of tea and the sun suddenly came out and the low cloud cover lifted. By the time we were ready to leave camp for our assault on Blencathra, the weather had improved dramatically and it was in with the tee-shirts. The sun was beating down and glorious weather was now on our side as we made the car journey from Scarness to Scales, where we would eventually park up and begin our climb up Blencathra. Any chance of the Sharp Edge route being cancelled had by now evaporated - looks like it's imminent! Never done anything like this before, and with only a couple of hours sleep under my belt this was scant preparation for what lay ahead. Adversity sometimes go in your favour though, so I was quietly confident I was gonna get through it unscathed.
As we made the journey along the A66 to Scales I was about to find out whether this was my thing or not. No head for heights - this was gonna be interesting!
Not sure why that was - maybe a combination of a few things - never camped in a farmers field before, couldn't get comfortable, rain lashing off tent, no ear plugs, brian's constant snoring! Oh well, nowt to do but suck a lemon and get on with it, I suppose. At 5am, during a rare doze, I was awoken by more noise as Brian went to make a phone call in his car, making little attempt to close the door quietly. Then the door slammed again, and again. Surely this a wind-up! I decided to get up for a bit of fresh air at this point so off I went, grabbing my camera en route. I made my way down the embankment towards Bassenthwaite lake where I was greeted with almost still waters. The sky was overcast and it was a pretty miserable dawn all round. 
No colour to be had so I set about taking a few black and white shots at the edge of the lake. Here comes Brian with his camera, Mr Nagzy, the noisy customer! We took a few shots before heading back to base camp where Davy and Lee were just rising. The kettle was on and Davy asked 'Who the **** was making all the noise earlier'. He he, so Brian ended up on pot duty after we had breakfast, which consisted of bacon sandwiches made with eggy bread. Another cup of tea and the sun suddenly came out and the low cloud cover lifted. By the time we were ready to leave camp for our assault on Blencathra, the weather had improved dramatically and it was in with the tee-shirts. The sun was beating down and glorious weather was now on our side as we made the car journey from Scarness to Scales, where we would eventually park up and begin our climb up Blencathra. Any chance of the Sharp Edge route being cancelled had by now evaporated - looks like it's imminent! Never done anything like this before, and with only a couple of hours sleep under my belt this was scant preparation for what lay ahead. Adversity sometimes go in your favour though, so I was quietly confident I was gonna get through it unscathed.
As we made the journey along the A66 to Scales I was about to find out whether this was my thing or not. No head for heights - this was gonna be interesting!
Ash
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