A very wintery day and a new discovery
28th January 2015
A very wintery day.....
The forecast for the next few days is not good. The prospect of snow and high winds seems certain as every broadcaster and weather App have been making Armageddon like predictions. Added to this, as I leave the house, I notice the needle on my old fashioned barometer, in an emphatic manner, is pointing at the word 'stormy'.
Despite my optimistic demeanour, the closer I got to the mountains more obvious it was that these predictions were true. The conditions made me wary as I did not want to get my car stuck and have no way to get home. The prospect of sleeping a night in a cold, uncomfortable car was not inviting.
Eventually I reached Elterwater, and the weather seemed to improve. The change in conditions lowered my guard, so I gaily headed off with renewed optimism. Unfortunately, as soon as I started to ascend the first mountain slope the hail and sleet came in with a vengeance. The severe velocity of the weather left me no choice but to turn my back against to the powerfully driving hail as it smashed against my eyeballs, causing a literal blind dumbing pain.
A storm was taking hold and I started to think I might have to turn back. Turning back is very tough for me as I feel like I have failed myself. I rarely do it, but when I do, I psychologically beat myself up. For some stupid reason I feel I have missed an opportunity that I may never have again, plus I have failed to exercise so I feel old and fat. I guess this is me sensing my own mortality, where I recognise the preciousness of each trip into the hills, along with a palpable understanding that age comes with an inevitable, failing physical ability.
So, in an attempt to be responsible (and I did not want to become another victim for the local mountain rescue team, this would hurt my pride even more) I set myself 'decision making' targets. These rises on the ridge, or lumps on the horizon would be places I would assess the conditions, and then make a decision to either continue or reluctantly return. As it was, I had inadvertently kept myself on an eastern ridge that blocked off the worst of the North Westerly charging storm. This meant I eventually made my way to the summit.
However, my thoughts of carrying, after the summit, along the westward pointing ridge was impossible as the winds was gusting over 50mph. At this speed it was knocking me over, plus it was causing spindrift that hit the face like needles.
Therefore, after sheltering behind the summit crag, I headed down as quick as possible. As this Fell is not full of steep rocky drops I could do this without worrying too much. Therefore, I heard off in a 'general' direction that I needed to go.
Now with my back to the wind things seemed to improve, though care was still required. This relative improvement meant I could now look around, which meant I could see an outline in the snow of a path I had never used before. It was soon obvious that this path was old as it lead past a number of disused mine workings.
I find this amazing as I have climbed this Fell many, many times over the last 30 years but never walked this path, and discovered all these antiquities. It took a snow and wind filled storm to push me off my regular path to uncover a whole new aspect of the hill. A discovery that will make me return to this part of the mountain again. A discovery that once again reaffirms my notion that we should 'get off the path' more often as these paths can constrict our overall understanding (and eventually enjoyment) of these Hills.
The forecast for the next few days is not good. The prospect of snow and high winds seems certain as every broadcaster and weather App have been making Armageddon like predictions. Added to this, as I leave the house, I notice the needle on my old fashioned barometer, in an emphatic manner, is pointing at the word 'stormy'.
Despite my optimistic demeanour, the closer I got to the mountains more obvious it was that these predictions were true. The conditions made me wary as I did not want to get my car stuck and have no way to get home. The prospect of sleeping a night in a cold, uncomfortable car was not inviting.
Eventually I reached Elterwater, and the weather seemed to improve. The change in conditions lowered my guard, so I gaily headed off with renewed optimism. Unfortunately, as soon as I started to ascend the first mountain slope the hail and sleet came in with a vengeance. The severe velocity of the weather left me no choice but to turn my back against to the powerfully driving hail as it smashed against my eyeballs, causing a literal blind dumbing pain.
A storm was taking hold and I started to think I might have to turn back. Turning back is very tough for me as I feel like I have failed myself. I rarely do it, but when I do, I psychologically beat myself up. For some stupid reason I feel I have missed an opportunity that I may never have again, plus I have failed to exercise so I feel old and fat. I guess this is me sensing my own mortality, where I recognise the preciousness of each trip into the hills, along with a palpable understanding that age comes with an inevitable, failing physical ability.
So, in an attempt to be responsible (and I did not want to become another victim for the local mountain rescue team, this would hurt my pride even more) I set myself 'decision making' targets. These rises on the ridge, or lumps on the horizon would be places I would assess the conditions, and then make a decision to either continue or reluctantly return. As it was, I had inadvertently kept myself on an eastern ridge that blocked off the worst of the North Westerly charging storm. This meant I eventually made my way to the summit.
However, my thoughts of carrying, after the summit, along the westward pointing ridge was impossible as the winds was gusting over 50mph. At this speed it was knocking me over, plus it was causing spindrift that hit the face like needles.
Therefore, after sheltering behind the summit crag, I headed down as quick as possible. As this Fell is not full of steep rocky drops I could do this without worrying too much. Therefore, I heard off in a 'general' direction that I needed to go.
Now with my back to the wind things seemed to improve, though care was still required. This relative improvement meant I could now look around, which meant I could see an outline in the snow of a path I had never used before. It was soon obvious that this path was old as it lead past a number of disused mine workings.
I find this amazing as I have climbed this Fell many, many times over the last 30 years but never walked this path, and discovered all these antiquities. It took a snow and wind filled storm to push me off my regular path to uncover a whole new aspect of the hill. A discovery that will make me return to this part of the mountain again. A discovery that once again reaffirms my notion that we should 'get off the path' more often as these paths can constrict our overall understanding (and eventually enjoyment) of these Hills.