Fed up of rain, snow and wind?
TBH, I'm not. I like such conditions.
That said, I'm aware that there are folk out there that don't like the wintry weather. They sit around moaning about it, wishing that it could be changed.
Well, I've found the answer to all of their prayers. Now they can do something about their local weather conditions!
According to LFTO/Trail, all they need is a pair of these new Mountain Hardwear OutDry gloves:
Click the pic to open the original article.
🙂
So there I was, in the kitchen, standing proud in front of a stack of well-washed crockery. After a bit of to-ing and fro-ing I was contemplating the drying stage when I noticed a small pool of blood on the worktop. I mopped it up and then noticed more on the floor, forming a trail that led into the lounge.
I duly cleaned all that too, and returned to the sink to rinse my hands. On the worktop was more blood...
Absolutely convinced that I'd already mopped it up, I did the job again, only to notice another trail back to the lounge. Off I went again, cloth in hand, in clean-up mode.
Back in the kitchen there was yet more blood. On worktops, appliances, towels, door-handles... Hmm...
While cleaning up the mess and trying to suss the mystery, I saw red-brown streaks all over the recently-washed crockery, so I washed it again. Standing there, I noticed that my Raichles were starting to stick to the floor, so I looked down to find that I was standing in a puddle of the red stuff. Moreover, the stuff was on my trousers and cuffs. And it was p155ing out of my finger. A neat, deep, clean cut, no doubt accidentally self-inflicted during the washing-up process.
Only then did I realise that I'd been tracking and recreating my own trails, in a bizarre Robinson-Crusoe-footprints-on-the-beach sort of way.
What a pillock.
But what about the first trail to the lounge?
Just after finishing the initial load of washing-up, I'd emptied the tumble-drying contraption and carried the clean/dry clothes to the ironing-basket in the lounge. Needless to say, I'm now doing the laundry... again...
Arse.
The overnight snow here wasn't as apocalyptic as predicted. At the moment it's snowing very lightly, it's quite mild and the accumulated snow-depth is a measly 15mm at the most. Yes, that's mm not cm. The cars have a light dusting of snow, but they're not iced-up, there having been no overnight freeze.
Even this piddly-farty amount of the fabled white-stuff is enough for the local junior and infant schools to announce that they won't be open today. Less that a mile away from them, however, the local high school is open. How does that work, then?
Saturday night was a warm night in the hostel, I would have been colder sleeping in the car. In the morning we found out that the warden had remembered to turn on the heating. Fantastic.
Sunday’s breakfast was yet another downer - it seems that the standard YHA breakfast still no longer features bacon. It does, however, feature an even sloppier yellow mulch that is still reputed to be scrambled egg. It still wasn’t. It was even worse shite. Fan-bloody-tastic.
We changed, packed and checked out. The singleton hill for the morning was chosen - Great Mell Fell.
We parked up to the south-east of the fell, and I got ready to go forth. It's a one-hour-up-and-down hill, so I went off armed with minimal gear (the camera). Ella was feeling a bit delicate (no doubt due to the lack of bacon), so she stayed in the car and iPodded while I plodded.
The day was such a contrast to the previous one - flat light, much wetness, not so much snow underfoot.
I tackled the wooded lee-slope head-on, in an effort to gain height fast to beat the incoming bad weather. It was a mad thing to do, as the slope was wet/muddy/icy/mossy/covered with wet leaves, and the slope averaged 40 degrees, so there was much slippage and even more swearing. Step-kicking was the only way to conquer the terrain and maintain any semblance of dignity, so it was a good job that I'd elected to wear the Scarpa Freney Pros, which edge well and so are excellent for such stuff.
Some minutes later I emerged from the calm of the trees into a biting head-wind laced with hailstones. I took refuge under the roots of a fallen tree while the worst of the flying ice passed by, then I hooded up and made a break for the top just a few hundred metres away.
As predicted, the views eastwards and northwards were good, with the Pennines visible under fairly blue skies, but in all other directions the land was beneath overbearing cloud or obscured by airborne wetness, as per the following pic:
The top of Great Mell Fell
I left the top just as another hailstorm hit and a party of Sunday Ramblers arrived - I was in no mood to stand chatting while being eroded by the weather. I stopped just twice on the way back to the car - once to get a rushed photo of Little Mell Fell...
Little Mell Fell
and once to get a snapshot of this unfortunate ex-fellwanderer:
There's no "i" in sheep
Back at the car Ella was safe and well, so we set off for home. More feckwits were encountered on the M6 and the A5, but that's a story for another day.
So, another weekend of fun was over. Two more Wainwrights visited, Ella reintroduced to the delights of winter-walking, and a resolution to check the breakfast menu before booking the next stay in a hostel.
Friday saw us battling the traffic on the A5 & M6 to reach Patterdale Youth Hostel at a reasonable time. After skirmishes with feckwit drivers who have somehow achieved "Highway Code Not Applicable" status, and hold-ups due to temporary road-closures (due to accidents, no doubt caused by more feckwits in the aforementioned category), we managed to miss the evening meal. Fan-bloody-tastic.
Friday night was a cold night in the hostel, I would have been warmer sleeping in the car. In the morning we found out that the warden had forgotten to turn on the heating. Fan-bloody-tastic again.
Saturday's breakfast was a downer - it seems that the standard YHA breakfast no longer features bacon. It does, however, feature a strange yellow mulch that is reputed to be scrambled egg. It wasn't. It was shite. Fan-bloody-tastic yet again.
The weekend was beginning to turn sour. We dressed for action and made our way to the quarry car-park just outside Dockray. A final check of the gear before heading off revealed that Ella had forgotten to fill her water-bottle... Fan-bloody-tastic in spades.
It wasn't going well, but we made peace and set off up the track towards Hart Side...
Ella on the stepless stile
Looking up towards Common Fell and beyond
Looking back towards Great Mell Fell
Just beyond Round How we found a source of clean unfrozen water. While Ella repacked her filled bottle, the clouds over Glenridding started to break, allowing the sun to reach the ripples on Ullswater:
The head of Ullswater
Ullswater panorama
We pushed on through the deepening snow at a good pace until we reached the section between Swineside Knott and the wall, where the the snow was waist-deep in places. Care was needed to avoid breaking through the slab into the soft stuff beneath:
Slow progress below Swineside Knott
At the corner of the wall we made snow-seats and took a snack-break. The view over the wall merited a few more pics:
Place Fell
The head of Ullswater again
We trudged up to the small top of Brown Hills where we deployed the Bothy4 and sat in the snow to make a brew and cook lunch. While we were there, the clouds cleared and the sun lit up the landscape:
Sheffield Pike
The approach to Hart Side
Glenridding Fells panorama
After lunch we made our way over to the summit of Hart Side. Ella managed to find most of the snow-covered pits:
Ninja Lemming
A helping hand
Lengthening shadows from Hart Side summit
We stopped at the top to play in the snow and to chat to a family who had arrived a while before us, but before long it was time to leave:
Far Eastern Fells panorama
Leaving the top of Hart Side
Our return route took us over the tops of the hills that we had skirted on the way up. On the way, we found some impressive areas of wind-sculpted snow:
After that, the clouds returned and the view back towards Helvellyn was a tad gloomy:
Looking back towards Helvellyn
but there was still some clear sky about on the way to Common Fell:
Ella on the route to Common Fell
and the sunlight on Blencathra was a stunning sight:
Blencathra
That was the last time I used the camera that day, but the fun didn't stop there. After crossing Common Fell we decided to leave the ridge-path and take a more direct route back to the car. We found many steep iced-over drifts which were perfect for self-arrest practice, glissading or just rolling down the slopes. Some of the cornices were fun - quite low and safe, so we just jumped through them and slid down to the bottom. When we reached the car we were frosted-up, but we were happy.
Back at base we found that the heating was on, so I didn't have to "sort out" the warden. We dried our kit, made ourselves presentable, and booked an evening meal at the hostel. A tad expensive, but it was good food. Ella was too knackered to go to the pub, so we dossed in the common-room, warmed by the open log-fire and by hot chocolate, before having an early night in preparation for Sunday's walk...
Just back from a great weekend in the Lake District snow. It'll take me a while to write up the report and sort all the pics, but here's a taster of what the weather had to offer:
Sheffield Pike
