Lakes Weekender (Blencathra) - Sharp Edge Scramble

'It sounded like a good idea at the time'...

Not having a good head for heights, I anticipated a big challenge ahead of me as we arrived at Sharp Edge, the intimidating obstacle between Scales Tarn and the summit of Blencathra. Infact, to call it an obstacle is putting it very mildly - Sharp Edge looked very much the Bad Boy, even from ground level on the A66. As we arrived at the impending scramble, I was continuously weighing up my chances of getting through this ordeal in one piece. Would I scramble across the ridge safely or would I chicken out completely and walk back down the mountain in shame? We had now reached the start of the ridge. Time to scramble! Feeling scared but not willing to be beaten, I began to advance across the ridge proper. There was a gentle introduction to the ridge as the sides gradually begin to get steeper and longer. So far so good. Everything was going smoothly, then we came to crux. The part of the ridge where there was nothing to hold on to. The trouble with a hard part like this is that once you have crossed it there is no easy way of going back. After what seemed like a lifetime of indecision I made the move into no-mans land, my arse twitching as I went. Gingerly I stepped across the wobbly bit and from there onto a small flat bit from which I could grasp hold of some rock with all the strength that my hands could muster. The whole experience was down to climbing ability and making a series of decisions that could prove very costly should a wrong move be made. An elaborate chess game? Not really - not when your life is at stake!

Along the traverse we reached a gully. Davey and Lee were out of sight at this point and heading across the ridge quickly, as if someone at yon end was giving cash away! A few minutes on and I'd caught up with them as they sat on a ledge for a breather. Lee was admiring the view towards Hallsfell Top as Davey took time out to have a well-earned tab. Brian appeared behind me after a couple of minutes so we all sat for a while before continuing the scramble. At this point I thought about taking some photographs, but decided against the idea - I had no fancy for negotiating a backpack full of expensive gear on a rock ledge with 300 feet of absolute nothing below. Reflecting on the climb so far, I had doubts whether I'd make it across to this point. There was DEFINATELY no turning back! What choice did I have, apart from gritting my teeth and getting on with it. I also rembember asking myself whether I'd experienced anything as frightening as this in my entire life. I struggled to think of one example. Oh, f**k it! Let's get this over with, he he. From here we had a vertical climb of around 20 feet, with ledges to assist feet and hands. I double checked each ledge before making the decision to lend it my whole body weight before I pulled myself up and headed onto the exposed ridge top, known as Narrow Edge, for obvious reasons. This was the highest point on Sharp Edge and it took some bottle to look down from here towards Scales Tarn, as fellow climbers resembled ants from such a distance. Technical ability wasn't a problem during the climb as most of was down to common sense and awareness. Exposure was the main handicap, especially as the wind had a habit of creeping up on you every now and again.

Looking back along Sharp Edge it was clear that we were over half way, which was quite comforting and already I was becoming a lot more confident in seeing this drama through. A reminder of the perils came in the shape of dead sheep below - a statistical reminder of what could be. Once you are at the eastern end of the ridge, the excitement starts. There is an easy path to the right for the first part if anyone wishes to use it, but sticking to the crest of the ridge is far more fun. As with all slate ridges you do need to be aware of slices of loose rock. Half way along the ridge you will reach a point where a large slab of smooth and badly angled slate sits on the ridge crest. I remember seeing a couple of lads on all fours, negotiating this section and holding on for their lives. This slab is known as the Bad Step and is one of the Lake District's most dangerous and most prolific accident spots. After crossing the Bad Step I was at the end of the ridge and it was now time to scramble up the rock face, known as Foule Crag, towards Atkinson Pike. There was a wide gully slightly to the right, but by this time I was rather enjoying the whole experience and opted for the route straight ahead, offering a more challenging climb. The business end of the climb was behind me, although Davey and Lee were in front and heading towards the top of Foule Crag at some pace.

Foule Crag must have been at least fifty feet of rock face, and the last part of the climb/ scramble. At this height I could still hear the distant call of the many sheep below, plus the sound of laughter from other climbers behind me on Sharp Edge, probably trying to make light of a very scarey situation, he he. With my tee-shirt stuck to my back and sweat running down my forehead I made my way up Foule Crag, with Brian following suit behind me. To my left was a ridiculous drop to Scales Tarn - it must have been 300 feet, easily. Feeling quite pleased with myself for getting this far, I reminded myself that the job wasn't done yet. One glimpse of the Tarn told me that. It looked tiny from where I was standing. I'd made it this far with sunglasses on and although they helped to shield the bright sun, I couldn't help but think they would hinder my eyesight as I searched for the best ledges to use. A bit late for that though - I was almost home and dry! I was surprised how quickly I negotiated Foule Crag, there was obviously plenty left in the tank. My whole body, especially my legs and lower back, were on fire by this time, but there was no time to waste as I now had Davey and Lee in my sights at the top of the crag. A few minutes later I joined them, taking a very well deserved break whilst we sat admiring the view and reflecting on the drama. We sat for quite a while, chomping on snacks and drinking heavily from our bottles. I was chuffed to bits at this point, realising I'd conquered my fear of heights and even asking myself 'Did I really have a fear of heights in the first place'. I must have had, as I know exactly how uncomfortable I felt when the scramble began, yet I grew in confidence as I put more rock behind me.

We sat for quite a while yet there was still no sign of Brian, who was at the back of our group when we arrived at Sharp Edge. As we waited further a dozen or so climbers passed us, with one lady saying she'd passed Brian on the way up. At least he was safe - we were beginning to think he'd come a cropper! An elderly couple with a Golden Labrador came over the top of Foule Crag, just before Brian, who looked very uncomfortable to say the least, telling us he had a bad case of cramp in his knee's, which caused his delay. Lee and Brian were off Sharp Edge together, with me following them 15 minutes later. Brian appeared 20 minutes after me, along with another group and we exchanged some banter before taking group photographs of eachother - a friendly bunch they certainly were. Soon we off again, making our final accent to the summit of Blencathra, where at least 30 people had already gathered. A concrete ring marked the summit, but there were no signs of a cairn. The wind had picked up considerably by this time and the coats were out of the rucksacks. The panoramic views from the summit were outstanding and many of the Northern Fells could be seen, as well as Derwentwater in the distance.

I took a few shots on my mobile phone, including panoramic stitches, which turned out quite well. After 15 miuntes or so we headed back down the mountain to Scales where Brian's car was parked. It was a novelty to see a few fell runners pass us as we descended - what the hell are they on!!! The joints were taking a hammering on our way down the fells so it was a case of 'Steady Away'. I had a funny feeling we'd be heading straight to a pub, and so we did. We reflected on the whole walking, climbing & scrambling experience at the Sun Inn, Bassenthwaite Village. The sun, incidentally, was still beating down as we sat outside the pub. We had the place to ourselves and knocked back a couple of pints whilst Brian downed a coke - driving duty, you see. A big pat on the back to the four of us, who, as inexperienced 'Forty-Pluses' taking on our first real mountain (including Sharp Edge), and conquering it, it was an achievement not to be underestimated. Four went up and four came back. Maybe half the enjoyment was the whole fear factor, yet I feel like doing the whole thing again, soon!

A great experience, with a mixture of emotions - fear, trepidation, apprehension, surprise, elation, and some.

Until the next time...
Ash

Lakes Weekender (Blencathra) - Up to Scales Tarn

The time had come to begin the main event. Our Lakeland adventure was about to get serious as we took our first steps from Scales Farm onto Blencathra. The initial climb up Mousethwaite Comb was a wake-up call for the entire body, as we made a steep accent in a north-easterly direction through ferns and bracken. After only a few minutes of walking my legs were burning but this was quite normal and I expected aches and pains along the way, but not this early into the climb. We were walking for at least 20 minutes before we took our first rest, at the top of the Comb. The views from here were something else! The valley in front of us resembled a patchwork quilt and it was from this viewpoint that I took my first photographs, with the lads sat in the foreground, savouring the view (picture 1). A couple of fell walkers passed as we rested but that was all, there's were no others to be seen for a while after that. After ten minutes rest we resumed our walk, turning left and heading through Mousthwaite Comb in a northerly direction, continuing along a path that skirts the top of the crags above the old disused quarry levels that were marked on our map. Eventually we reached the ridge at the back end of Mousthwaite Comb. We now had Blencathra to the left and Souther Fell to the right. From here we had a great view down to the River Glenderamackin Valley and the quiet, desolate and grassy Back o' Skiddaw landscape. We then headed along the path above the River Glenderamackin Valley for around a kilometre until we reached Scales Beck. After turning left we followed the path that ascends the beck, firstly crossing it then ascending its route up to Scales Tarn, passing a steep, noisy waterfall on our left. This part of the route was quite busy with other fell walkers, all friendly and acknowledging as we crossed paths. During our walk through the Glenderamackin Valley the target of our fears come into view, our first sight of Sharp Edge. It looked more than intimidating, to say the least. We had rested a couple of times before we reached this point so my legs were ok, recharged, so to speak - I felt confident that by the time we actually arrived at Sharp Edge it wouldn't look as bad as it first looked, and that we'd go across it, no bother.

It wasn't long before we reached our last resting place before tackling Sharp Edge, an ideal place for a spot of lunch - this was Scales Tarn. Off went the backpack and out came the pasties. Davey took one bite and threw it away, saying it was a bit too rubbery for him. I reckon the sight of Sharp Edge right in front of us had suddenly made him lose his appetite...he he. Lee (Mezo) was hesitant about the job in front of us, saying it was now getting windy and it mightn't be a good idea to attempt the daunting ridge climb after all. Although I didn't let on, I was quite happy to go along with this as I didn't quite like the look of what I could see - tiny ant-like figures climbing an exposed ridge with a fall of atleast 300 feet to either side! Oh dear - BEAM ME UP, SCOTTY!!!!! I looked behind me as we sat, but Brian was lying on his back, eyes shut and looking very exhausted - no feedback from him. Davey brushed the wind issue aside very quickly and said 'Reet, are we all ready then'. I think our arses were twitching somewhat as we got to our feet and prepared ourselves for glory or death!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! At Scales Tarn the path to Blencathra summit splits into two - one heads up an obvious shale path (Brunt Knott) to Sharp Edge, and the other goes to the left - a much easier, although steep route to the summit and Atkinson's Pike. I overheard one walker saying to his friend 'I'm not bloody climbing that' as he pointed to Sharp Edge. They then opted for the easier route and off they went, dismissing the Edge in no time at all. I couldn't help but wish I was accompanying them as we headed up Brunt Knott towards 'The Edge', the only other route to the summit. Talk about getting 'The shit end of the stick'.
This was it - the talking had been going on since early May, eight weeks ago from todays climb. Sharp Edge was right in front of us now and there was no turning back. I looked at it in awe before looking down towards Scales Tarn (picture 3), which was glistening in the early afternoon heat. From here the Tarn looked a long way down and we weren't even on the ridge yet, which climbed a lot higher than where we now stood. My face must have been a picture, he he. I'm sure I felt the colour draining from my face as Davey and Lee disappeared over the first rocks and onto Sharp Edge. They were off and running. Brian looked at me and said 'Ready when you are'. I smiled and replied 'No problem, squire' before turning to begin the ridge climb. Talk about false smiles and all that...LOL! As I negotiated the first section of the crag (picture 4), my mind started playing tricks with me. I remembered during my research of Sharp Edge I discovered that there had been over a dozen fatalities and many other incidents at this location - the most dangerous ridge climb of all the fells in the English Lake District. Can't say I was a happy bunny at this point, but I intended to push myself and my ground level comfort zone was now a distant prospect as I grabbed the bull by the horns and threw caution to the wind. Here we go...
SHARP EDGE SCRAMBLE - Coming next!
Cheers, Ash

Lakes Weekender (Blencathra) - Arrival @ Scales

After breakfast it was time to consult the OS map to establish the route we would take from our starting point at Scales to (hopefully) our arrival at the summit of Blencathra. Davey advised, being competant in these matters, and it was agreed that we would take the route he suggested, which would indeed involve a scramble over Sharp Edge. Fully eqipped, we were soon in the car as Brian drove us to Scales where we parked up and quickly got to grips with the business end of our Lake District visit. The sun was shining brightly and there was plenty of blue sky and broken clouds - maybe I should have brought my Canon kit instead of the Sony swivel body affair. Never mind, I intended to get photographs no matter what, even with my mobile phone. The sceond shot (shown here) was taken by Davey and shows Brian, myself and Lee making final preps before we headed up Blencathra. After passing through the five bar gate at the mountain foot I paused for a short while and looked behind me, taking in the view across towards Great Mell Fell. A picture appeared at that moment and I snapped the view on my mobile phone, shown here (picture 3). I turned around and faced Blencathra once again. time had finally arrived to climb my first mountain, and what a way to start - 728 metres of ascent, covering a distance of 5 miles during an estimated time of 4 hours. Here we go - time to climb!



Ash

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!

Ash

Lakes Weekender (Blencathra) - Base Camp

Setting up base camp -

A conversation with a workmate took an interesting turn back in May 2011. Not quite sure what the original discussion was about but it quickly became something else - climbing mountains! Mr Llloyd said he liked the idea of getting away one weekend and doing something 'different'. He then went on to suggest a few of us should get our arses into gear and head off to the Lake District for a camping weekend, tackling a mountain along the way. Well, not being one for sleeping in a field I wasn't too receptive to the idea, half dismissing it at first, but then becoming more interested as the conversation progressed. Davey (Mr Lloyd), was a regular visitor to the Lake District, mainly due to his commitments with 25th Bournmoor Scout Group, so he knew the drill well as far as this game went. He often camped with the scouts on a remote farmers field at Scarness, on the edge of Lake Bassenthwaite, near the Northern Fells. After he'd sold the idea to yours truly I quickly realised an added bonus of landscape photography might just make this weekend an even better one, so I 'Signed Up' there and then. We quickly recruited two more, Lee and Brian, also known as Mezo and Nagzy. Don't ask me to explain! The plan was to camp, walk, climb, eat, drink and just basically have a good laugh. The plans were made a few weeks before we actually made the trip, which eventually took place on the weekend beginning Friday July 8th 2011. The main event over the planned weekend was to tackle a mountain and Davey suggested Blencathra, just off the A66 on the approach to Keswick. None of us apart from Davey had even heard of it, let alone climb it. To me, a mountain is a mountain, but this one had a sting in its tail. It was decided by Davey, he he, that our route to the summit would be taken via Sharp Edge. I'll not go into detail about it - click here for enlightenment!!!
Ok, so you've clicked the link and you now think we need our heads checking, he he. Ya know something...you're probably right! More on our Sharp Edge experience later, but for now I'll tell the story of our arrival at Scarness at we set up camp for the weekend ahead... Our 90 minute journey from Houghton le Spring to Scarness wasn't a pleasant one, especially when you're on driving duty - it rained quite heavily. I made the journeyin my car with Davey, while Lee travelled with Brian, as we needed two set of wheels to transport all our gear...and beer! The weather forecast for the whole weekend wasn't good at all, but I wasn't too disappointed - it looked like Sharp Edge was going to be a non-starter......YESSSS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Didn't quite fancy it for some reason, he he. Davey led us to Broadness Farm, near the edge of Bassenthwaite Lake. He knew the place like the back of his hand after spending many a time here with his scout group. It was a picturesque location, with one of the highest lakeland fells sitting alongside us - Skiddaw, the fourth highest mountain in England. As the rain eased off we quickly pitched the tent, a four berth affair with a bedroom at each end and storage room in the centre, our 'Hotel' for the weekend! Picture 2 shows Lee and Brian after the final tent pegs were sunk. No sooner was the tent up, the kettle was on the stove and it was time for a brew. Then the heavens opened again and we quickly headed inside the tent. It didn't half lash down. At that point I questioned what the hell I was doing there, in a tent, farmers field, pissing down rain, and the prospect of tackling Sharp Edge the following day...he he, you end up laughing, if ya didn't, well...

After a cuppa it was time to eat, so out came the gas stoves under a nearby tree and it was a-la carte all the way - NOT! Tasty nevertheless, and it filled that gap. The rain eased and a nice rainbow greeted us across the way (picture 1). As night time drew closer we headed off along the waters edge to stretch our forty-something legs. The place was quite desolate, give or take a handful of kids canoeing on the outskirts of the big pond. An hour later and we were back on our hotel complex, in search of firewood - time to get warmed up. We soon had a roaring fire going and we sat around it on our fold-up chairs, downing lager and cider in the process. This is the life! We chatted and joked on as the alcohol went down as the light fell. It was around 10pm by this time and we sat looking through the break in the trees across the lake. The water was almost still. Virtual silence, apart from a distant stream of cars on the A66 westbound at the far side of Bassenthwaite. Then total silence. The silence was broken when a rogue piece of wood spat from the fire and into Mezo's face...oh dear...we couldn't help but laugh...talk about impeccable timing! I do recall him sharing a four letter word with us as he rubbed his face to relieve the pain. Time for a group shot around the fire (shown here L-R, Ash, Davey, Brian and Lee). Shortly after 11pm, and after a few more 'Jars', we staggered back up the bank towards our glamourous 'Hotel'. It was time to rest those weary heads in preparation for our mountain climb the next day. I needed a good night's sleep, that was sure - didn't wanna tackle that hill without one. The rain started again as lights went out. Time for reflection before sleep. I was looking forward to the rest of our weekend although Sharp Edge was on the back of my mind. Never done anything like that before, and not having a head for heights it certainly made for an interesting and challenging time ahead. I intended to push myself, close to the edge, but not over it, he he.

Stay tuned for the next installment - Blencathra climb, via Sharp Edge!

Thanks for visiting,

Ash

Penshaw Poppies, Sunderland

The Oilseed Rape had died off near Penshaw Monument, leaving a once bright yellow field a mid shade of green, before the red carpet appeared. And appear it did, as the days turned into a week and a week turned into a fortnight, the poppies were there in abundance near one of the North-East's best known landmarks. I'd been waiting for this for three years. 2008 was the last time this particular field had a show of poppies and I remember taking a couple of shots that eventually ended up going to print, before sitting in a frame. A steady supply adorned the walls of Penshaw Tea Rooms, at the foot of Penshaw Hill. They sold well but I wasn't that impressed with the shots to be honest. I knew the re-appearance of the poppies would give me ample opportunity to put that right, so now I was armed with a Canon 7D it was time to cause some 'Damage'. I'd spoken to Tony, manager of the Tea Rooms and he was in the mood for a new batch of poppy frames, saying I was lucky the poppies were there this year, adding that the owner of the field had told him he intended to apply a chemical to the plants that would kill the poppies as they emerged, but the chemical in question had recently been banned from agricultural use, preventing him from using it. What a pity eh (wink).
As the poppies started to bloom around the edges of the field I decided to wait until the whole field was awash with red, which would really make a picture. A slight worry arose when my trip to Venice was only a few days away. Would my return be too late - would the poppies have died off after ten days? Well ten days later I returned to the UK and the first sign of good weather coincided with my ten minute car journey to Penshaw where I saw the field in great nick. Picture perfect - poppies everywhere. Time to set those idle hands to work. I photographed from the outkirts of the poppy field before making my way through the tangled mess and into the heart of the field where I photographed my best work. A small selection is shown here. This part of the field was the best location to shoot from - an ideal vantage point. Weather was warm, a slight breeze, broken clouds - happy days. I just knew these shots were going to light up my portfolio. I would like to think I got there. Sold a few already and more to go through the channels shortly. I don't know, there's something that attracts folk to photo's like these. All the better if you can include an iconic landmark alongside the red carpet. Say what you want about 'Life Up North', but I love this place. It's all here - the photographs go some way to reinforcing that statement. That is all. The world through my eyes, in photographic form...

Thanks for visiting.

Ashley Corr

Penshaw Countryside

April 2011 saw the Spring weather take a firm hold in Houghton le Spring. It was a mild season in many respects - overcast skies and rain were evident most weeks but we had our fair share of sunshine too. One place I was drawn to, yet again, was Penshaw Hill, a ten minute drive from my home. I supply quite a lot of my work to Penshaw Tea Rooms & Nursery, who in turn sell it on their premises. The Tea Rooms look out onto Penshaw Hill and its dominating Monument, making it an obvious attraction and customers are surrounded by a selection of framed prints, by yours truly. Over the past two and a half years they've sold dozens of frames, including my mounted prints, canvases and postcards. Sales continue to do well as I write, so hopefully that will continue for some time to come. Naturally I'm always on the hunt for new photographs of Penshaw Monument so I tend to visit the National Trust site every few weeks to update my collection. My best selling images up to 2011 were of the nearby poppy fields which I shot during Spring 2008. Since then the oilseed rape hadn't been planted so I didn't get the opportunity to update my poppy shots, which by my own admission, weren't that good. That all changed however in Spring 2011 when I drove past Penshaw Hill towards the A19 dual carraigeway. I noticed to my left that the oilseed rape was in bloom and this signalled the arrival of the poppies once again, although that would follow the yellow carpet once it died off, probably in early May.

My first shot (shown here) was taken on an embankment next to a busy road near Penshaw Hill. I wanted a variation of shots from different points near the field, although the location of Penshaw Monument and the field itself meant I was shooting towards the Monument from similar angles. Situated on the edge of the field I included the wooden fence in the foreground, rather than have little or no interest in this part of the shot, as in my second effort shown below (shot 2).
Again I chose a day when there was plenty of broken cloud - something I prefer to add to landscape shots, as opposed to a clear blue sky or even an overcast one. I like those picture-postcard type shots and I've tried to capture that kind of Spring scene here. In ful bloom I'd say the oilseed rape only lasts a couple of weeks at most. As it begins to die off you begin to see the emergence of the poppies, usually scattered around the outskirts of the field, which was again the case in 2011 as red began to replace yellow. This shot was taken from a position right in the middle of the farmers field. No poppies in these shots though as I knew they'd be getting plenty of attention during the next few weeks, once the yellow had gone. As you can see in my third and final shot, the rapeseed was by now few and far between, but that was ok - I'd got what I wanted and that was that. All I needed now was the poppies, and plenty of them. It was time to update my collection of images and I knew a good batch would sit well in frames too. It wasn't long before the fields were in full bloom - but did I get what I wanted?
Results shortly...

Cheers, Ash