On 17th October I went north to reconnoitre Scafell Pike,
the highest mountain in England, to fill one of two gaps in my professional repertoire,
the other being Ben Nevis. I was supposed to have reconnoitred both of these
mountains during the summer, but the summer lurgy of which I have written previously
prevented this, which was quite a nuisance. Actually, I had to turn down some
Three Peaks work in the late summer because of not knowing Scafell Pike and Ben
Nevis, which was very annoying.
My friend of two or three years standing, Sheena, came with
me, for her first hike in her new boots. It was also my first hike in my new
Mountain Equipment Lhotse mountain jacket, my old faithful Mountain Morpheus
jacket having seen better days.
On the morning of 18th October, a Saturday, we made a deliberately
late start from YHA Wasdale Hall, a rather fine building, and drove to the
shops and café at Wasdale Head for some last-minute supplies and kit, and
warming cups of hot chocolate, then started at the gate at just south of the loos
and followed the established footpath around the ridge and up beside Lingmell
Gil, then up Brown Tongue to the interesting area around the Hollow Stones,
then forked left to take the more commonly-used route to the left (north) of
Pikes Crag. By this point we were in fog. We swung round to the right for the
final stretch to the summit, and arrived there in a strong wind with poor
visibility. It wasn’t actually cold, but it certainly felt it.
We huddled at the summit with the other twenty or so
walkers there, chomping on our flapjacks, then headed down via the
south-westerly path rather than the path by which we had arrived, and reached
the emergency kit depôt at Scafell Crag, then deciding against a descent via
the short way to Hollow Stones, retraced our steps until the north-west path
from the summit was in sight through the fog, then made our way carefully over,
and resumed our descent the way we had come up.
Back in the valley conditions were warm and gentle again,
very mild, in fact, for the time of year.
The purpose of the walk was to have a reconnaissance for
future Three Peaks work, and to that extent the objective was achieved.
However, I was really not in the mood to be up a mountain that day, and would
have much preferred to have been curled up under my duvet at home with a good
book and a large teddy bear. My companion Sheena, however, was full of beans,
and for most of the day had been bounding ahead of me as I trudged behind: I am
glad one of us had had a good walk, at least.
Back at the hostel, I was dog tired, and after a hearty
supper and pint of local real ale, I went to bed early and slept very soundly
for a good eleven hours. It wasn’t the best weekend’s walking I have ever had,
but as they say in Bristol, “Job’s a good ‘un!”.
The remaining gap in my repertoire is Ben Nevis, but now
it is winter and the days are short, so I will leave my reconnaissance until the
Spring.
