What's in my Sack?

Again, due to being unable to dash down the A66 to bag a peak or two cos of shifts etc I'm unable to do a blog about a walk, but I wanna keep it running so I thought I'd write about something related, and not depressing like my last one.

I've noticed whilst Kel and me have been clambering up the elusive 214 and also on our days out on the Teesdale and Weardale ways, I carry what looks like a heck of amount of kit. On the 'Dale' ways I really think I could ditch a few items from my day sack, but I feel the need to keep it packed as for the lakes.  My theory is if I take a tumble and the weather closes in, I might have to spend a night on the hills before I get casivaced off. So I carry the kit to keep me warm and fed/watered until at least mid day the next day. Call me paranoid but if I've learnt something in my time in the forces, it's to always expect the unexpected.  It boils my pee when I see families up the higher fells with just one day sack between them with only their bait in.  I'm sure some people think "mountain rescue we'll be there if we need them" so let's walk light!!

So this blog is simply, What's in my sack!" The title is meant to be an attention grabber and I do know that most of you will go "oooo errr missus" but it is important to know what's in my sack (oh pack it in, sniggering at the back!).

Ok, let's start with my sack ( I said pack it in).  I didn't scrimp with the cost, I've only ever had two others before so I think quality is the way ahead when it comes to day sacks. Mine is The North Face 'Terra 30' which is not the lightest but it's like a Tardis and the back system is good for me. I've not had it too long but it's a great piece of kit and should last. Pockets and storage everywhere and the waterproof cover easy to hand and a colour which would be excellent if you ever want to be found in bad weather. 

Starting form the top, the flip lid is accommodating,  I don't like the zip across tops as I feel you lose valuable, easy to reach storage without the lid to hide away the smaller items I carry.

In the lid, I've got the first aid kit (you have to have), two hand warmers, my faithful compass, mini torch and a multi function knife which I've had since joining the army, over twenty years ago. I also have the waterproof cover for my mobile. A lot of people think that's over the top but out of all your kit, the mobile phone Is your life line, plus you can tweet on route, he he!

The side pouches have my Berghaus hat and gloves which are excellent for taking the chill off my head and hands, also my buff. Please note it of the camouflage variety as I cannot seem to get rid of my forces past, sad git I know.

In the front pocket is always my Multimat used for sitting on when stuffing my face with the fine fair Kel always knocks up for our walks. Also in that pouch goes the map of the day, plus the relevant AW book so I can identify the surrounding peaks once at the summit.

The main compartment is reserved for the following:

Quilted 'softy' jacket which I've had for ever.

A 'Rab' fleece to take the chill of the start of a walk.

A 'Rab' wind proof jacket that is invaluable for bait stops to take the chill off a sweaty back and the lining is really cosy.

Petzl head torch, I've had this forever and really should get a new one as this one needs the old big square battery at the back of my head (maybe Xmas list?!).

At the bottom area which is sectioned off I keep my waterproofs for ease. And as winter has arrived I've added big skiing gloves, boot spikes and a balaclava to rob the nearest 'Deli' when Kel gets peckish.

So to sum up, I carry a lot, but I won't be the daft halfwit which wastes much needed money calling the mountain rescue because they've 'got tired, or hurt my ankle'. I can survive a night on the hill, maybe two, but I wont look like a bell end end I call the emergency services cos I'm cold up a hill!!

PS.  Ive got a whistle and a safety blanket in amongst everything else for the worse case scenario!!

The other side to Northern Hiker & the Next Job.....

Generally I blog about the hills or something related to the outdoors, but as I woke this morning, after finishing a varied 5pm till 4am shift, I nestled my cup of coffee and sat and switched the TV on. Sky news (as always) was on and I was greeted with the news that four cops in the south had been involved in a serious incident leaving three badly hurt with stab wounds. It made me think that could've been me!
I know a lot of people, especially on social networking sites, who would probably have a small smile on their faces when hearing a cop being hurt and I guess it's their right. But I would like to share a story of a wet foggy night in the summer of 2009, where I would think my colleagues and my efforts didn't go unrecognised and maybe even the more hardened cop haters would appreciate.
Light was fading and my crew mate and I were sat in the canteen bolting food down our necks before our rare break was yet again interrupted by our radio's. It wasn't long before the familiar voice crackled over our pocket sets, "any unit free to attend a RTC on the A19 south bound?"
One last mouth full as we stood up and headed to the patrol vehicle, I wacked the 'blues and twos' on and headed towards the busy 'A' road that is the main artery through the North East. About two minutes later we parked at the bottom of the flyover and headed up the grass embankment to meet what I can only describe as carnage. Hollywood would have had a job recreating the scene which met my mate and me.
Immediately a female came running towards me screaming "my boyfriends stuck, he's stuck in that car". She pointed to a Corsa which had another car on its roof, squashing it flat. I looked up the road and saw my mate running with another male to the rear of the mixture of cars, tankers wagons and buses which were now inside, on top, underneath and squashing each other. I could here vehicles still skidding and colliding into each other in the distant fog further up the flyover.
"Please get my boyfriend out", the girl stood screaming at me as I was still taking in the extent of the damage, and what might lie in the mangled wreckage.
I ran over to the Corsa and thought, "this isn't good", the car was crushed beyond recognition and I was amazed how the girl got out. The drivers side was flat as I jumped over the bonnet and looked into the drivers seat. I saw a male with the top half of his body slumped over the dash board and legs jammed under the steering column which had been squashed, basically in a bad way. The girl looked at me from cross the bonnet with a "is he ok?" look. I thought there is now way he's survived this, I put my hand into the smashed mess and grabbed his right shoulder. "You ok mate?", no response, "mate, you ok?". I gasped when, and I still don't know how, he turned his head which I thought was pinned onto the dash and gave me a 'thumbs up'. I said "yes!!" and told his girlfriend to keep talking to him and I'd send a medic. I looked up the trail of destruction and the only other uniform I saw was my crew mate running from vehicle to vehicle finding people still breathing.
I then heard screaming coming from the wagon which had hit the rear of a car, forcing it onto the roof of another pushing the car through the windscreen of said wagon. I ran passed the cars and the occupants were miraculously only slightly hurt and climbing out of their vehicles. I looked up into the cab and saw a bloke covered in blood screaming, which I was glad about, as everyone knows, it's the quiet ones you worry about. I saw through the blood the cause of all the bleeding, his forehead was sliced open and hanging down over his face. I also saw his shins were now the shape of a 'W' as they were forced under his seat smashing both. I'll tell you something, I was never so pleased to see a fireman. I turned around and saw his blue uniform and said, "I reckon he needs cutting out mate", yep, I'd stated the obvious but I think I was allowed this one occasion. A male then tapped me on the shoulder and said, "can I help mate?", I turned and saw a well built lad with a green T-shirt, with a familiar badge on his chest '23 Para" and the wings, I was pleased he would know what to do as the casualties greatly outweighed the small number of paramedics who were running round like headless chickens.
"Keep him chatting while I get a paramedic" pointing to the wagon driver. Eventually, and it seemed to take an eternity, a full compliment of emergency services were in attendance and I could help the fire lads get the wagon driver out. Boy did that poor bloke scream when we moved him.
I spend the next hour moving wreckage and people from the best part of 35 vehicles involved. I did have to smile when I came across a Mini lodged entirely under a tanker thinking no one could've got out of that alive, only to find the driver sat on the barrier to the side of the road unhurt.
Some people were not so fortunate and it would be unprofessional and heartless to tell the account if full, but as I was reunited with my crew mate, both blood soaked and sweating like we'd just finished a marathon, we did what everyone who is thrown into incidents like this, that is to make light of it and not talk about it.
The incident was taken over by 'specialists' and we had a quick wash and change of clothes and onto the next job.
The 'next job', could be anything, and I mean anything! I've been kicked, punched, bitten, hair pulled, attacked with knife and an axe. I've been pushed downstairs, attacked by dogs, driven at and spat at, twice the offending saliva has landed in my mouth and I've had to spend the next six weeks wondering if I'd caught Hepatitis.
I apologise for the lack of pictures for this blog but as you can probably guess, I didn't have my camera with me.
The incident on the A19 that summer night made me think, I might not have the most popular job in the country & the police service spends a lot of time in the bad press, but it's a thankless job & I enjoy it (most of the time).
Spare a thought the next time you see a patrol car hurtling through the traffic, or when the siren breaks your sleep in the middle of the night. That cop is alone mostly, at the end of his/her journey, there may be an infant death, suicide, a gun, a knife, a broken bottle, twenty people fighting with weapons or a fatal domestic incident. To some people that's a way of life which is only in the papers or on the TV. To the fatigued but adrenaline filled body wearing the uniform sat behind the wheel, it's the 'next job!'

Thanks Kel...

Being brought up in Sheffield, I often had chance to go into the Peak district at the weekends with my parents and have a few nice walks around Froggatt Edge and adventurous walks down the Derwent around a place my parents (and many others) called 'The Surprise'.
I joined the army and spent a lot of time hiking in the Cotswolds and South Wales. I would say I have put some miles in and seen some gorgeous countryside. I've even had the pleasure of taking part in an expedition in The Rocky mountains, hiking in the Oman, Italy, Norway, the list goes on.
Then I met my girlfriend Kelly and we shared the love of the outdoors. However, she found it hard to believe I'd never set foot in the Lake District.
"All this adventure in your life and you've never been to Keswick" she would ask and seemed bemused by my negative answers.
So about 2 and a half years ago we set off for Keswick,apparently a place I'd "never want to leave". As we drove along the A66 I caught my first ever sight of Blencathra and nearly crashed the car.
" I think I better drive" were Kelly's words as we pulled over and swapped seats. I could not take my eyes of these majestic mountains and hills I was encountering for the first time. As we got closer to Keswick, the words "ohhh look at that one" must have left my mouth about a dozen times as I jumped around the car pointing at different peaks.
Then it happened, just before we took a left off the A66, Kelly pointed at the most beautiful mountain ever, she announced with a cheeky smile, "that's my favourite, that ones called Skiddaw!"
My chin hit the floor, I looked at her and she said, already knowing my answer, "so, do you like it here??"
Two and half years, 30 Wainwrights and probably the same amount of visits later answered her question.
I will never be able to thank her enough for introducing me to the Lake District, we have been known to drive there and back in a day to get my 'fix' of this beautiful part of the country.
And you were right, I never want to leave the place, thanks Kel!

Hallin Fell

Friday, 28th October 2011 and our visit to the Lakes was nearly over, tomorrow we would be driving the depressing direction on the A66 back to reality and work.  We decided, Kel & I, to have a little wander up Hallin Fell.  Not the biggest in the area but we decided to not pick a big hill and have an easy day.

The weather was quite fine and the sun was shining as we drove through Pooley Bridge and down the east side of Ullswater to Howtown and parked about 25 metres up from the cattle grid.  Our plan was to quickly scale the tiny hill then have a relaxing walk around it and hopefully get some good photos.

I looked up the hill side and saw a few routes, as well as the paths marked on the map. We walked a bit further up the road to the brow of the raise in the road and took a right up the grass. We had chosen a different route than any on the map, normally a 'no no' but it was well used so we thought what the hell.  It was quite steep up the grassy slope and hearts were racing almost immediately.  The grass was fairly dry so Kel managed to stay on her feet, which was good, as I don't think she could take another day on her backside which had its fair share of bruising after Dale Head.

So we headed up the east side gained height quite quickly, to be honest it was a bit uneventful and I didn't even have the added entertainment of Bambi on Ice landing on her face every five minutes, so I decided we'd have a little scramble. 

 There’s a small crag just before it levels out on the east, so I told Kel to head up towards it.  The 'path' levelled out slightly first and it had a bit of a drop, well, a lot of a drop to the right which made Kel stop. "Are you sure this is the route?" were uttered a few times as Kel held her arms out to balance and seemed a bit nervous. I reassured her if she fell, it wasn't a sheer drop and she'd bounce a bit if she did stumble off. I'm getting quite used to the names I get called now when we have a bit of a scramble, or have to negotiate anything less than a metre wide, the air around Sharp Edge is still blue from our last visit. 

 Anyway, we shuffled to the top of the rocks and set off towards the summit.  The view was stunning as we looked north east up towards Pooley Bridge.  It wasn't long before we were at the top and joining a couple of families around the Obelisk. 

The weather was sunny and Kel got her camera out of my day sack and happily snapped away. Ten minutes was enough for us at the top and decided to go down the 'family route' and came off the hill and joined the road passing Hause Farm.  The small road had a couple of holiday cottages with cracking views up Howe Grain and we met the bridge that crossed Howegrain Beck, very picturesque.  We took the path to the right and were soon climbing again as we followed the farm fence line.  About half way up we spotted a gate in the fence, "Thought you said there wasn't a path through the field" echoed down the valley from her, as I remembered her pointing to another gate as we came down the road.  I had said there was no right of way through the farm which would have cut out half of the ascent we were now negotiating.  A cheeky scowly smile met my "ooooh yeah" as we walked past the gate, which clearly shows a path leading to the first gate.

We levelled out and kept to the path heading west, hugging the fell heading towards Hallinhag wood. Half way there we spotted the Great North Air Ambulance hovering above Ullswater, it made a couple of swoops then disappeared. A few more steps and we heard a familiar sound to Kel & me, a siren!  It seemed to be coming from Howtown but was getting closer.  Then it appeared, Mountain rescue hurtling down the road on the other side of the valley heading to Sandwick. We turned and looked at each other, looked into the sky at the clear blue, and said, "ehhh?!". Our looks would have confused any onlookers but we both thought the same, the weather was gorgeous and we were confused as to what could've happened. The vehicle went out of sight and the siren stopped. We shrugged our shoulders and hoped everyone was ok, then entered the Oak dominated Hallinhag wood and was met by a slippery descent to the lake side. I grinned as I thought "this is it, she's bound to go on her arse here". Then, just as I'd finished saying the words in my head, I heard the immortal words "whooooosh ya f**ker!" as Kel's right boot swung up waist height and her left leg was just about to join it.  I had noticed a couple of wires running down the wall, on the edge of the woods, one normal and the other, 'barbed'.

It was like slow motion, as my clumsy fiancée headed for an almost certain bounce of the muddy slope with her 'portable cushion', her left arm instinctively went to grab one of the wires to stop her fall. I watched as her hand stretch out and thankfully found a tight grip on the smooth wire, not the rusted barbed inches above it.  She swung from the wire but managed not to hit the mud with her already sore rear. After checking to see if she was ok before I laughed, we got to the lake side without incident and decided to have dinner on the shores in Sandwick Bay. 

 To our suprise, the Great North Air Ambulance was on the grassed area in the bay.  The pilot was on his phone but no sign of any crew. We put two and two together having seeing Mountain Rescue a few minutes ago and thought someone was in trouble. We sat on the grass and ate our sandwiches wondering what had happened. Moments later the rest of the crew came down the route we had taken through the woods laughing & joking, with some other rescue guys and no casualty in sight.  They had a quick chat with the pilot and then jumped in the copter and flew off up Ullswater, not before doing a cheeky fly past everyone sat at the bay.

So we set off back to the woods and carried on with our walk, "must just have been an exercise" Kel said as we went through the gate.

The lake was quite still with only the ripples created by the Steamer to disturb its surface. The route was quite populated due to the nice weather and we must have done the usual hikers 'nod' followed by 'hiya' about 20 times before we reached the exit of the woods. Before that, we both stood on Kailpot Crag and took in the scenery wishing we had another week here and not heading back to Durham the next day.

The half hour walk back to the car was only marred by me slipping on a rock and bending my bad knee backwards, which tickled to say the least.  As I had been bird spotting all week, Kel turned to me and shouted "Look, at that in the tree" I was amazed to be that close to a Kingfisher (which we had seen earlier in the week flying by) "is it?" i asked as Kel was killing herself laughing.  I got closer and realised it was a blue glove someone had left on a branch! By then I could really taste the mandatory pint after a walk,today was to be at one of our favourites, Pooley Bridge Inn.

We reached the pub, sat down and withthe usual mixture of quaffing nuts, having a pint, people watching  and chatting as Kel carried on with her relentless quest of finding an internet signal on her phone.

Not the biggest or exciting of hills, but it's another Wainwright crossed off the list.

Dale Head Via Hindscarth

Wednesday, 26th October 2011 We parked up at the small car park just outside Little Town near Chapel Bridge.  As we put on our boots my focus was on the clouds gathering above Dale Head and wondering whether to put my waterproofs on straight away or chance it.  Kel was deciding which 'Rab' product to wear today and would her purple body warmer clash with heather on Hindscarth. 

The five of us set off up past the very white church with its very neat grave stones after crossing the bridge over Newlands Beck.  About 500 metres up the road we took a left over a field towards Low House Farm and then headed for the base of Hindscarth, turning right behind the farm at Low Snab.

Just before the farm the heavens opened and out came the waterproofs, totally messing up Kel's colour scheme, what would the sheep think!?

The ascent of Hindscarth was under way and I'll admit, I was a wee bit out of breath, it's quite a steep start and all five of us were sucking in air from Swindon.  The route has a few cheeky surprises in the form of a few little scrambles, which generally I embrace but the rain had made the rock a tad slippery and the air started to get a bit blue with some delightful expletives from all parties, except Richard who is too young to swear.  We battled through the occasional showers and made it past Scope End and hit High Crags.

It was then where nature though she'd have a laugh in the form of horizontally blown sleet, and it was bitterly cold.  All five heads went down and the chat stopped as the only way to see was looking at the floor and occasionally looking at the water dripping off the person in front.  Luckily the scrambles had finished and it was just the towering figure of Hindscarth to think about, plus the sleet.  A good 30 minutes icy rain and a patch of blue sky appeared and so did some smiles. Now, I love wintry weather as much as the next bloke, but I was glad to see the sleet stop and feel a bit of warmth on my face. 

  

Be warned, the top of Hindscarth has a sense of humour too, this comes in the form of the old false summit trick. Which Sue was finding hilarious, not!!   Kel had learned from climbing Carlside last year that 'you're not at the top, until you're at the top'. So, after about 3 or 4 "ya jokin me's” from Sue we reached the sheltered Cairn at the top.  My ham, cheese and salad sarnies were well and truly on my mind now but Dicko, who was on point, decided the next sheltered Cairn was more suitable.  The sun was now beating down but still quite chilly, so I decided to leave on my windproof Rab jacket, which I usually only put on at prolonged breaks, with my waterproof on top just in case nature got bored again and decided to soak us through. 

The short walk to the top of Dale Head was pleasant but boggy, but I had my gaiters on so I just plodded through the countless bogs and puddles until we hit Hindscarth Edge, where I looked right and saw an old friend, Fleetwith Pike which I'd met a couple of days earlier. 

The top was pleasant and it was handshakes all round.  A few piccys were taken and a clothing rethink for some. A lonely photographer was perched against the pile of stones and looked very wet. He looked like he'd been there sometime waiting for the 'money shot' of the Newlands Valley with Skiddaw in the distance. The next point was Dalehaed Tarn which we couldn't see, but a steep descent down towards the top of Dalehead Crags and a right turn revealed the Tarn.

Now at this point I’d realised Kel had gone from being a normal (ish) female human to a famous baby deer on ice. The route to the Tarn now has a couple of arse shaped dents in the descent, not big dents (she's sat next to me as I type).  We had a break at the Tarn while Sue caught up as she was taking it slow after watching 'Bambi' hit the deck on the way down.

There is a nice green sheltered area with a wall round for a nice wild camp which is good to know for the summer. 

So the descent was on and this time I made sure Kel was in front of me so I could see any more falls instead of just hearing the now familiar 'thump' followed by the unmistakeable laugh which now seems to be the norm for the way down, maybe get a few piccys of her tumbles for my blog. 

The water falls on the way down are gorgeous will be revisited probably next year for some closer shots, but now the aim was to descend and find hit the Swinside pub. However, the mood was good and got even better when I had the pleasure of witnessing a triple back flip pirouette followed by a bit of Greek dancing that would make Michael Flatley envious.  Yep, Kel had gone again, the outcome could've been A&E worthy but she managed to pull it off with getting only one hand muddy....amazing ha!!  

We began to level off and spirits were high, we even had pleasure of witnessing Kel slip, again, on the smallest rock in Cumbria and fall flat on her face.  As I started to Google the air ambulance emergency number she went again near Barnes Gill.  But as the last few tumbles were followed by the echoing sound of "I need new boots", I started to feel a bit of a scam was unfolding. We finished the walk relatively fall free but entered the car park with smiling faces and the wanting of a beer.   The Swinside Inn has cracking views for a few good beers and the landlord has good craic.

AW compares this peak with Eel Crag for their craggy northern fronts and views of Skiddaw. I really enjoyed the walk and it may be worth the new boots Kel wants for Christmas. 

Lingmoor Fell

Tuesday, 25th October 2011 and after a 'rest day' at Ingelton Waterfalls we decided to meet up with our friends Ian (Dicko) and his missus Sue, with their son Richard.  They're staying at Dicko's brothers cottage in Bassenthwaite for the week and are keen hikers.  The objective was Lingmoor Fell.  We met them in the car park of a pub near Thirlmere (can't remember the name, how shocking is that?) and followed them to a car park Walthwaite Bottom to park up.  However, on route we took an unplanned detour round about Huntingstile Crag on the smallest road known to man with passing places.  I was following Dicko in his Yaris and we came to a halt to let another car through using a passing place.  The car passed safely and it was Dicko's turn to set off.  We were on a decent incline and he put his foot down, however the road was covered with fallen leaves and the front left wheel on the Yaris started to spin, but instead of taking his foot off the accelerator, the wheel stared to smoke and me and Kel were choking on the fumes of the burning tyre.  The passing car went on its merry way but Dicko was still struggling to get grip, we had to reverse twenty metres before he could get traction. 

We parked up at Walthwaite, took the piss out of Dicko and headed off.  We had to cross the bridge in the very nice village of Elterwater and took a right.  This is quite a navigational minefield and it took some thinking about what route was where etc.  But we selected a route passed the quarry and headed off towards Elterwater Hall. Took a right and headed towards Baysbrown Wood where it's climbs to a nice sheltered dry stone wall for a well deserved brew and another piss take of the spinning smoking wheel incident.  We hopped across the farm, gate which the farmer had kindly welded steps onto the bars to help our passing.  Took a sharp right towards the summit.  The route is fairly easy with a dry stone wall leading you near enough to the top where the there's a very good view.  Windermere, Elterwater Water and even the Irish Sea was in clear view.   

  The ascent was  quite blustery and even the gloves had to come out for everyone.  We passed Brown How and crossed the stile with the summit in sight. As we sat and admired the Langdales and countless fells to the north west, including Scafell, I couldn't help feeling envious for the occupants of the few farms and cottages that lay in the Great Langdales valley whose every waking moment is my current view.  Bastards!!!

Anyway Blea Tarn looked lovely in the sun and reflecting the ripples were quite prominent as we dropped dramatically then headed right over a brand spanking new gate to meet the Cumbrian Way just before the Great Langdale Beck. We then followed the a very boggy Cumbrian Way to the a crossing at the beck, chance for a boot wash, then headed off to the Wainwrights Inn.  Chance for a cheeky pint then back to the car, we did get a fairly good shot of a Heron on the Beck before turning to the car park.

Done and a fairly good walk, had a few good laughs on route mainly due to Kel's slippery boots but a belting hike.  Highly recommended and great views.

Hay Stacks via Fleetwith Pike

Sunday 23rd October 2011 and we were awake in the Eden Valley once more with clouds covering the Pennies.  It wasn't raining yet but you could see it was in the post, but the weather forecast had said it was going to be a fine(ish) day so the car was packed and we headed to the south east corner of Buttermere Water (which i'll refer it too as to distinguish it from the village) with the intention of setting off up Fleetwith Edge towards Haystacks. 

 

It didn't look good, the entire journey was slowed down by driving rain and travelling down Honnister Pass revealed peak after peak of cloud covered fells.  We caught our first glimpse of Buttermere and decided to drive into the the town of Bittermere to see if the rain would ease at least.  We did see the pub we would have a swift pint in at the end of which ever walk we did, the Fish Inn.  But we turned around and headed back towards Gatesgarth Farm to park up and commence our walk.  The rain still bouncing down we found a spot in the car park and thought we'd have to change our route.  Then, and by the grace of AW himself I swear, the rain miraculously stopped and there was a even a opening in the clouds with light blue sky peaking through.  So with massive smiles and eager anticipation to get up a mountain, we jumped out of the car and quickly put on our waterproofs and headed up Fleetwith Edge.  First to catch your eye is a brilliant white cross about hundred metres up.  It's a good twenty metres off the route and off course, it was my job to see why it was there.  A quick but slippery scoot across revealed it was of in the cause Cockermouth mountain rescue.

I rejoined the route and we pegged it up the well cut path.  We reached a grassy patch and both decided the waterproofs had to come off as even though over cast, it was still quite mild and we both were feeling the heat from the extra layer.  The ascent looked quite steep and rocky but we carried on as we both love a good scramble.  We weren't disappointed and were met with some hands on stuff, the rock wasn't very slippery and even though not technically a hard scramble, made you think about where you had keep your 'three points of contact' on route.  A good majority was good rock and we were smiling, being climbers as well as hikers.

At the top the wind started to dampen out the roar of the numerous waterfalls which populate the valley between Fleetwith and Haystacks.  A Cairn marks your goal and you are also met by excellent views of Buttermere Water and the surrounding Fells.

We headed south east across what can only be described as 'bog land' heading towards Hopper Quarry.  The route is littered with small off shoots were previous hikers have thought " where's the route? Sod it, I'm going this way" paths but we managed to stick to the map and stumbled upon the working quarry with all it's heavy plant.  Again there appeared to be quite a few routes to the path to Haystacks but we headed off to the Dismantled Tramway and turned right towards Little Round How.  You have to cross a bit of a stream which is ideal to clean all the peat off your boots picked up from the  bogs ready to tackle the rock on Haystacks.

We passed the tempting Little Round How, who was begging for us to climb it, and headed off towards Haystacks. The wind was getting up and the light was getting worse as we drifted passed Blackbeck Tarn. The breaking ripples on the tarn emulated the gusts coming from the direction of  Great Gable whose presence was with us since the summit off Fleetwith.  Another scramble greeted us before we clasped eyes on Innominate Tarn, secretly our goal!

We both stood and took in the view of the final resting place of Alfred Wainwright, poet and the inspiration of many a hiker before me.  To me, even in the blasting winds which were making our passage difficult, an eerie salvation to all whom pass.   Even though twenty years had passed I still watched my footing, making sure not to mix my once again peat saturated boots with any grey particles of AW's cremated remains. Although I did have chance to secretly smile at a passing hiker who slipped off a rock and managed to drop his glasses and Sat Nav into Alfred's beloved Tarn. Probably AW's way of saying that maps are better even from the grave?!

With all that in mind we took a few piccys and headed towards the summit of Haystacks.  It was a short push to the Cairn which two other hikers were clinging onto for dear life with the wind.  In between gusts we managed to take pics and admire a cloud covered High Crag, Pillar & The Gables peeking passed Kirk Fell.

I haven't referred to Kelly much before this, however, the decent has to have her name written on it.  Just for reference, at 17 years of age she fell from her attic and badly broke her ankle.  She now has the the equivalent scrap value of £100 in the form of pins and screws in her ankle. The climb down from Haystacks did not bode well with her metal ridden joint.  To start, from the top there's no clear way down off the top, the decent until the clear path is strewn with lose rocks. This does not bode well with dodgy ankles, and dodgy Knees come to think of that, which made the decent as always (never the ascent) a pain in the butt.  After numerous slips, turns and twists we reached the bottom leaving the air blue on Scarth Gap Pass and Kel in a lot of pain.  Peggy's bridge was crossed with glee and the we headed off to the car.  Kel left her boots on in fear of a swollen ankle which would over fill her approach shoes. 

We drove to the fish Inn (or is it hotel) and had a pint.  No dogs allowed at the Fish which makes it unusually unfriendly to many hikers but a nice atmosphere.  I loved the walk and so did Kel, but the descent played havoc with old injuries.

Just a quick one before our week in The Lakes...

So, my last shift done and what a long old slog?!  1700hrs just never seemed to arrive and it seemed more like 24hrs rather than just eleven.  Anyway, quickly saw Kelly at work as she started at 1400hrs but I managed to get to ASDA before I came home.  To my delight, Smirnoff litre bottles on offer for £13 so I got a couple, plus Kelly's normal vat of Pinot and headed home.  I had two jobs when I got in, clean rabbit and fish tank.  Both jobs executed in text book fashion then time to chill and #FF on Twitter and read up on the Gadaffi carry on.

OK we're setting off tomorrow (saturday) and get to the static about teatime and chill, plan a route up Haystacks, most probably with X factor as noise in the background.  We've decided for Haystacks on Sunday as Kelly's been going on about it for ages and it will be a nice leg stretcher for the week ahead.  We still haven't confirmed the next few walks but we will be visiting Ingleton Water Falls for some photo's for Kelly (Just realised our boots are upside down) but I also think we'll be in the Dog & Gun more than once.
As I said just a quicky and if you see us in the next week be it on a Fell or in a pub, give us a wave.  Signing off now to find my Smirnoff! 

Blencathra via Sharp edge

Friday comes and it's time to pack the Aygo and head off to Kel's sisters static caravan in Morland with an intention of putting Blencathra in the slow filling Wainwright bag on Saturday.  Heading down the A66 the clouds were looking pretty grim.  The North Pennines were cloud covered which generally means our first sight of Blencathra will be even more grim and the prospect of scaling it impossible.  Detours to Keswick and Pooley Bridge were also a disappointment as they were grey and miserable on both the photo side of life and culinary options.  We had a quick sarnie in the Oddfellows and sped off back to our accommodation.  With the words " if you think I'm going up Sharp Edge in this weather you've got no chance marra" jingling round in my head, I settled down to an earlish night, with a little prayer for sunshine the next day.  Kel's sister and brother in law had by then joined us at the caravan with Bruce, the largest German Shepherd known to man.

Early start due to the donkeys in the field next door giving it six nowt on the 'ee oorr' front about 7am or Bruce storming around like a mad dog since death o'clock.  Anyway my sleepy eyes were greeted by the most stunning sunshine and the prospect of tackling Sharp Edge with the summit of Blencathra as a reward.  However, because the sun was shining and it was the weekend, parking at Scales was always going to be a problem... and it was... for a normal sized car, but not for the Aygo.  Parked in the smallest space ever we got our boots on.  We started heading off to towards Mousthwaite Comb but took a sharp left between Scales Fell and White Horse Bent with a cheeky beck sneaking its way between the pair.  As the beck replaces the noise of the A66 with the gentle trickle of the numerous inlets from the top of Scales Fell, we see our first sight of Sharp Edge.  It looks very, very nice.  There's still about a km and a half before we reach the bottom of Sharp Edge and at the moment it's blocked by Brunt Knott, which in itself is quite a decent chunk of rock and I had the urge to scramble it, apparently there is a route but no one wants to do it. 

Anyway, Kel was more interested by the little Scales Beck creeping down the between Scales Fell and the Knott, I could hear shutter speeds getting slower and slower.  We evetually reached Scales Tarn and the sun was beating down, because of this the world and his wife were having their bait, all sat looking at the sun reflecting of the gentle ripples on the water.  So, to my right was the reason I'd trekked the relativley short approach along the side of Scales Fell... Sharp Edge!!  It didn't look too bad but there appeared to be a couple of people on all fours?!  We walked the last few meters to the base and decided to have a choccy fix and stow the camera in my day sack.  I can take Kel falling off but that bloody camera cost chuffing loads.  We set off and almost immediately a guy came storming past us and stopped at the Cairn which had been errected at the base.  He began to dissmantle the Cairn with what only I can describe as a 'frenzzie'.  He ran up the Edge and sat at the top shouting instructions at hikers, "Don't use that path (the wuss path up the side)".  He then began to, in a humourous way, question the equipment people were wearing as they passed.  Kel and I were laughing at the craic but he seemed happy.  I then saw his ID card, which explained his behaviour, 'Lake District Volunteer Warden'.  Ha, a passion of which I concur.  Anyway, I'm glad the enviromental agency were not in attendence as the air was 'blue' as Kel scaled her way across the edge, apparently even the notion of me asking if she was 'ok' produced a reaction that could only be replicated if I asked her for a 'twosome' with the rabbit.  But I should've known after Striding Edge, the phrase "will ya f**k off" is not the reply I'd have expected from someone holding their hand out for help.  So, we clumber up the edge and are closely followed by the warden who threw occassional jibes at anyone who veered off the Edge or was wearing any clothing of which he disapproved.  We leave the Edge with a few of Kel's nails lodged in the rock and think about bait at the top. 

The summit (shown with Alfred chilling out) was quite populated and, even though I love dogs, it was like Crufts.  I normally expect Springers, terriers and the the Labs, but there was a sausage dog which looked knackered.  We pecked away at our sarnies looking over towards the back of Skiddaw then headed off towards Scales Fell with the intention of a swift right turn down Doddick Fell.  The right turn brought a lovely view of Derwentwater and Thirlmere, I've never experienecd such a clear day in the Lakes, every peak was clear.  We headed off down Doddick and I decided to take a look back at the top and heard a 'thump', I turned round to witness Kel sat on the grass saying, " I'm here now I think I'll stay for a bit".  Ha, she'd slipped on her bum and couldn't be bothered to get up!  Anyway we reached the bottom and hit the dry stone wall, which was our indicaion to turn left and head for Scales Farm, where the car was parked.  We met a couple of hikers heading in from the Blenacathra Centre towards Scales so let them past. 

After a few hundred metres we we joined a 'queue' at Scaley Beck.  Now for all you people thinking of completeing this route, you have to bear this little hazzard in mind  There's a cheeky little slab of very slippery rock to negotiate before the crossing of the beck (left).  It is very wet and even though not very high, it could give you a few bruises if you slip off it.  I got myself down and waited at the bottom for miss potty mouth to slivver her way down.  We  eventually reached the bottom and spent another couple of minutes trying to catch the water fall in its essence.  We got to the car and headed off to the Royal Oak in Braithwaite for a well deserved pint and pork scratching, which Kel felt the need to burp back at me.  Cracking day with cracking weather, I want to to do Sharp Edge in the snow, any offers?! 

Out with Kelly's camera

A day off and Kelly at work so I thought I'd venture out for a little walk.  Kelly had tried to explain to me how her Lumix works but in the end she set it for an idiot to operate and said, "Just point and press!"  So I ventured out in the Autumn sunshine and wind and headed to a few spots to see what I could shoot.  There's a back lane called Fillpoke Lane at a tiny village called High Hesleden on the way to the east Durham coast.  As you can see (right), it's a fairly wooded area and as you get about half way down there's a clearing where I think a Hen Harrier hangs out in the Autumn and Winter.  At least I think it's a Hen Harrier but can never get close enough to 100% identify it, but it looks like one?!  Anyway, I parked up at the top of the lane and walked about half mile down to the clearing hoping to see the 'Hen Harrier'.  I couldn't see it so had a look about and thought I'd practice with the camera.  So lined up a nice shot of a tree with some pretty good cloud behind it, pressed the button and "NO MEMORY CARD INSTALLED" flashed up on the screen.  My thoughts went back to the other night when Kelly turned the lap top off and said, "damn I've left the memory card in the lappy".  So I walked back to the car and went back home to get the card.  Text Kelly about what had happened and she text back saying "I did tell you!"  Not quite a consolation as I trudged back up the lane.
I returned to the spot about half hour later but didn't get a sighting of my Harrier.  I'm so frustrated because a work colleague thinks it's a Red Kite but you cannot get close enough to tell before it flies off.  I know there's a difference but it's a tough call.  It seems to be looking for prey, which isn't really a Kite characteristic.  I need a good telescopic lens and a good hide for the day, armed with a flask and some butties for the best shot.

Anyway I walked back to the car which was parked outside the farm yard in High Hesleden.  As I approached my bright red Aygo I saw a black and white cat in the little paddock to the front of the yard.  It looked very alert and jumping around, as I got closer I saw the reason for it's excitement.  To my surprise it had cornered a Wood Mouse, the cat appeared to be playing with the rodent but equally the mouse was rearing up to the cats advances.  Both seemed totally oblivious to my presence and I was within inches of the encounter as you can see (left).  After a minute or so I thought I would mess with nature as I was fully aware of the cats intentions and I'm not the biggest of cat lovers so I tried to separate the mouse, which was now tiring and the playful Feline.  Unfortunately for me, and the Wood Mouse the cat was much to fast and with a blink of an eye the cat was off into the woods adjacent with the doomed rodent in it's mouth.  Sorry Jerry I did try!

I jumped in the car and headed to the coast to see what I could see and maybe catch the last of the Little Terns before they headed south for the winter.  I parked up at Crimdon and headed off towards the fenced off site which is manned by volunteers to keep an eye on the rare Little Terns.  I wasn't having much luck, they had gone and so had the Ringed Plovers who colonise with the Terns.  So the only photo I got was the wooden sculpture symbolising the tiny seabirds annual visit to breed and rear their young amongst the pebbled beach.  Which by the way you can get a £2,500 fine if you get to close.  Apparently this years nesting season was very successful with up to sixty pairs breeding, unlike the year before where only 22 pairs were successful.  This is probably due to the demise of the female Kestrel which I saw at the side of the road on Fillpoke Lane in early March, she had hammered the site in 2010.  Unfortunately leaving only a male to bother the Terns, which he never had much luck as I witnessed in June.  His attempts were countered by the Little Terns and he was sent on his way to patrol the A1086 for his prey. 

So, with the weather closing in and icy rain driving in from the North West I headed home and tried to download my piccys onto the lap top.  I was quite surprised, especially with the shots of the cat and the mouse RIP.  I will never be as good as Kelly and the Lumix is far to complicated for this thick Yorkshireman but I enjoyed playing.

Overwater Hall

A rare weekend off together, Kelly and I head off to The Lakes, well I say The Lakes but we have now become quite attached to Kel's sister's static home which is just outside Penrith so technically, it's the Eden Valley but it's still only a stones throw from the lake district national park.  Anyway we landed too late to really go out but we had some tea with Alison (Kel's sister) and Stuart her husband.  We were met by a still very hyper puppy, Bruce.  Now, when I say the word 'puppy', you picture a cute little bundle of fluff that you can pick up and sit on your lap to watch the TV.  Nope, this puppy is about 7 stone and has teeth like a shark.  His greeting is to be welcomed with joy, and a certain degree of caution as he, like a puppy, communicates with his mouth with is full of skin piercing teeth.  But he's growing up and learning not to 'tickle' you with his teeth. 

Anyway Bruce calmed down and it was a quite drink with Ali and Stuart and planning the next day.  Unusually, we weren't planning a ascent of a Wainwright, we were planning our wedding.  Our main objective was the venue of the wedding of the year 2012, Overwater Hall.  We had originally been 'pencilled in' ages ago when we went to the Lakes looking for a venue.  The hall had captured our hearts and it was in our most favourite part of the country, what could be better!  We did have a bit of a nervous laugh when we were sat having a coffee and one of the owners came up and said, "Did you say you'd booked us for next year?"  her confused face gave me a lump in my throat.  She then looked through the diary and quite confidently said we haven't got you in the book but it's OK as we have no one booked for that day.  The day had been organised but not put in the diary, I guess that's what happens when you book so far in advance.  Anyway we're are definitely 'penned' in now and life's good.  As you can see the hall and the grounds are gorgeous and an ideal setting for the wedding, the owners can't do enough for you and the day looks like it will be a cracking occasion.  The hall is well out of the way set right back behind Skiddaw (our favourite peak), but we're having the ceremony and function all in the same place so no need to worry about transport.  I still think the free drink offer is going to be a big mistake by the staff but that's in the package.  The hall is welcoming and the owners are friendly and do as little or as much as you want to accommodate, which is ideal.  I can recommend the hall as they cater for anything, and are very reasonable.                                                

The rest of the Sunday was spent looking around the area and trying to get a few photo's taken, which eventually came to a halt when the clouds closed in and the light changed.  As usual we retreated to the Dog & Gun in Keswick for Goulash and a pint and a look around the dreaded chocolate shop which has Christmas treats on show.  Also we had to run the gauntlet of outdoor shops which we did well, actually convinced Kel that we do have enough kit (Kel could be sponsored by Rab) and headed off back to the caravan.  We had a bit of rain that night but the pitta patta of the drops is quite comforting when you're laid in bed.  Surfacing from bed the next morning was hard and was under a cloud as I knew I'd be in work in a matter of hours.  Kel was OK as she had the day off and it showed in her pretty smile.  The drive down the A66 was as always with a damp heart and the combination of Kel screaming at bad drivers (even though she was in the passenger seat) and channel surfing the radio, which is normally a mixture of the words 'FFS' and aggressive button pressing on our innocent radio.  But that's one of the things I love about her, passion, plus who likes Michael Jackson and ABBA anyway??!!

Forty-four years on....

As Engelbert Humperdinck crooned 'Please release me', my mom was probably screaming "please get out of me!"  Yep, 2 days into spring 1967 at a hospital in Sheffield, a poor working class woman gave birth to the last of four children (not all at once).  I say 'poor' in the monetary sense, not because she was having me, although I think out of the four, I was the biggest hand full.
So that's me for the next 21 years, growing up on a council estate with a cracking view of Bramall Lane and holidays under canvass in Wales and the Norfolk Broads.  Not too bright and didn't really enjoy school, so with that in mind I decided to stop going at 15 years old.  Apart from the odd Biology class, for which I achieved my one and only O Level.

However, come the official last day of school I went and said farewell to all the people and teachers I didn't like and the next day I popped on my best StayPress trousers, best 3 buttoned jacket with black and red stripes (swish) and headed off down town to set my stall out.  I must have been in every shop, garage and pub in and around the town centre for a month with only an offer to do door to door sales on commission to show for my effort.  Then, after visiting the job centre twice a day I was offered a Youth Training Scheme at Yorkshire Water  and snapped their hand off.  That was me for the first year slogging my guts out for £25  a week.  Which after paying my mom £12.50 board and buying a brand new Vespa on tick for a tenner a week, I had £2.50 left to buy fuel.  But I did whatever I could to get extra money, guvvy jobs and various other things kept my head above water until they offered me a full time job a year later and I was on a wacking £60 a week, the world was my oyster.  However, back breaking stuff was this work.  No JCB's but dig dig dig to get those much needed new water mains in the road.  I did actually fall asleep in my soup at teatime a good few times and saw the old boys with bad backs and knackered hands, still digging at 55 years old, it wasn't a good advertisement for later life.  I also was falling in with a bad bunch, we had a scooter club which was a good laugh, but one by one, my mates started to go on holidays at her majesty's pleasure and I didn't really want to join them.  On a sunny Saturday afternoon I was at a open day at one of the parks in Rotherham, I wandered past the Army careers tent and was jumped upon by a Staff Sergeant from Royal Engineers.  Don't ask me how or why, and with no thought ever before of joining up, I signed on the dotted line. I went for my tests and interview at the main careers office and after being told I was not allowed to go  into the Infantry (too bright, ha me?) and being slightly colour blind I wasn't the best helicopter technician in the making, I joined the Royal Engineers and before I knew it (March 1989) I was on a train to Surrey for 6 months of pure hell.  Gibraltar Barracks will stick in my mind for ever.  Torn knee ligaments, two half decent kickings by the instructors and no sleep made me think every night, as I slept in a sleeping bag as not to crease my ironed bed, what the bloody hell had I let myself in for.  Anyway I passed basic training and headed to my unit in North London.  I did well and was promoted after 18 months after coming top of my cadre course.  Plus running and Orienteering for unit and army I had made a good name for myself.  But in January 1991 I broke the news to my family I was going to Iraq.  Six months in the desert and a bout of dysentery I came back to 12 years of travelling the world and meeting different people.  I decided to sign off in 2002 and settle in the North East.  Tried another stint at the local water board but after two years realised why I'd left YWA in the first place.  I then had a weird thought about joining the police, so I did!  Never thought I'd get in due to my lack of qualifications but they welcomed me with open arms, I think my forces background helped.  The basic training was mentally exhausting, I was up against college grads who knew all the buzz words and how to impress the top brass.  However, coming from a working class back ground I knew how to speak to people, especially the ones you come across in this line of work, which I think amused the instructors in the endless role plays you grind through during the course of the 10 weeks.  So I took up my office on the East coast of Durham and have never looked back.  I have a beautiful girlfriend and a wonderful 5 year son, who both keep me on my toes.

Due to shift work we (Kelly & I) make most of the time we have together, walking and climbing, visiting the lakes and the local area.  Kelly has started taking photo's and to be honest they're very very good.  I see my son Oliver when shifts allow but he seems to have taken a liking to the indoor climbing wall and unlike me, has no fear.  We are still continuing with our quest of completing the Lakeland Wainwrights and are hacking away at them slowly but surly.  Check out Kelly's website and keep an eye on Twitter for our tweets blogs etc.