I was woken at 1 am by the first alarm, an alarm that woke the whole room… except of course, the bloke who had set it! We all quietly grumbled in true British passive aggressive style hoping the force of our irritation would rouse him… It didn’t and as the alarm continued to sound one of the guys went over and jabbed him. “Mate, you’re alarm is ringing, get up!!” We were all awake now, I took the opportunity to drain the main vein, gave the alarm guy a funny look as he took a phone call on the landing and then settled down to go back to sleep. An hour later I was woken by very loud snoring, my neighbour on the top bunk was sleep roaring and shaking the foundations with his deep, guttural demon summoning spell… I found my ear plugs and shoved them in and nodded back off… The night wasn’t done with me yet…. another hour or so went by and somehow my ear plug was dislodged and the snorer decided to talk in his sleep, none of it could be understood, it was just mindless sleep induced mumbling and even more disturbing… laughing! I replaced the ear plug firmly and eventually fell back to sleep.
Inevitably morning arrived, I wasn’t anywhere near ready for it, but Fells needed hiking. I swung my legs round and jumped off the top bunk, the lad beneath me was reading his big book again, I mumbled morning and went for a tinkle. Chucking my clothes on I glanced at the window which was foggy from condensation, six sweaty blokes breathing will do that I guess, I padded over to it and wiped at the glass with my sleeve, nothing changed, the view remained white and foggy… Great! No epic views for me today I thought, I slipped on my shoes and made my way down for breaky. I stuck my head out the door and took a big deep breath of fresh morning air, very moist air that it was. It was hammering it down! I sighed, turned and went for breakfast.
YHA breakfasts are banging!! Cheap as chips and bloody good, the beans are probably the best ever, over cooked and congealed, sorry for the description but it’s how I like them. I washed it down with plenty of coffee and orange Juice and finished with breakfast pudding (a pain au chocolat). I took another coffee and sat on the front porch and watched the rain come down, you could see the wind blowing the cloud and mist through the valley, I thought I’d rather see the paragliders coming in but hey-ho, you can’t always get what you want.
I returned to the bunk room where the lad was STILL reading his big book, packed up the last of my things, joked with another bloke about the alarm guy and said my goodbyes. The plan for today was simple, get up to Red Pike and work my way along to Haystacks and then back to the car which would take me to Keswick for the night.
Standing at the door I slipped on my bag cover, pulled my hood up and took my first step out, the rain had thankfully eased slightly but was still pretty bad, I carried on down through the village to the lake, over the river and started the ascent next to another Sour Milk Ghyll… quite tough climbing with a belly full of sausages, beans, bacon and egg, but this is what we train for! The tree’s offered nice cover from the wind and rain and I could pull back my hood and take in all the sounds of the woods, these sounds are natures real relaxant, these sounds help ground me and remind me that there’s more to life than deadlines and keeping customers happy. Hearing the wind in the trees and the rushing water grounded me and allowed me to think about what we as a family were going through.
I pressed on and eventually reached the tree line, I wasn’t sheltered any longer, Hood up and buff on, we were battling the elements today. I reached Bleaberry Tarn and added an extra layer before scrambling up the winding steep loose scree path to the summit. Once at the summit the wind was turned up a notch or two and I had to hold on while I checked the map to get my bearings. I pressed on along the ridge with very poor visibility, strong wind and stinging rain. Using my maps, trial and error and my sense of direction I managed to navigate my way, the harsh wind was whipping the rain sideways at me, I stumbled over rocks made invisible by the thick clag, stumbling along what I prayed was the correct path. ‘this is miserable’ I thought. ‘Why am I doing this?’ I immediately heard myself… then had a word:
“This is adventure! This is what you dream of doing, you plan for these moments, and you work hard keeping fit to handle them, you’re here, you’re alive and it’s a test! Press on and get to the end!!”
With these words ringing in my head, I put my best foot forward and made my way through the cloud to High Stile, no view here, keep going man! Onto the next! Reaching High Crag there was a change in the air, the wind dropped a bit and I was beginning to make out colours that weren’t white, ‘It’s about time I thought!’ eventually I made the summit and there was a clear change, I thought I’m going to sit here and watch it change, I don’t often get the time in life to just sit and watch, I’m always a million miles an hour, so to get the opportunity to just sit and watch is a blessing. I found a sheltered spot and watch the clouds whip in and around Fleetwith Pike and Haystacks, Buttermere appeared and disappeared more times than I could count. I made a plan to have lunch with Big AW at Innominate Tarn which was just the other side of Haystacks.
Theres a lot of coming down to come up again, but it’s worth it to get to Haystacks, one of my favourite fells, it just has a soul to it, it’s no giant, it sits amongst giants with it’s wild unevenness of craggy rocks and little tarns, you scramble up to it and scramble down from it, the views out to Pillar and Great Gable are some of the best in the Lakes. You can totally understand why Wainwright wanted to be scattered up here.
As planned I had lunch on the banks of Innominate Tarn, I toasted AW with my hip flask and enjoyed another moment of peace, another moment to reflect and gather my thoughts.
“The answers you are looking for are in the silence you are avoiding”
My belly full of sandwiches prepared the morning before and squashed in my bad for thirty six hours I then left to get to the truck, the day was getting on and I was a little over half way, I followed the path down and around, this particular path wouldn’t look out of place in The Lord of The Rings. I worked my way over Warnscale Beck and up to the quarry, I passed Dubs Hut Bothy on the way, unfortunately reeking of weed, each to their own and all that. I found the main track and stuck to it, I then got a phone call, it was the owner of the B&B, unfortunately he had to cancel my booking as the previous guest had destroyed the macerator in the toilet… What had she eaten!?!?! He had made a reservation at another B&B for me so I didn’t have to worry.
I was on the home straight, I passed the stone carved with Rudyard Kipling’s poem IF, through the quarry shop to the truck, I sat there feeling tested and accomplished, I fired up the wagon and went in search of a celebratory pint. I found one at the Royal Oak Hotel, I sat outside and reflected on the walk.
Sitting there with a lovely pint of Windermere IPA the aches and stiffness setting in, I felt that quiet shift that only the fells can give you. The weather had thrown everything at me, bogs, wind, rain and thick clag but somewhere between the slog up Red Pike and lunch on Haystacks, my head had cleared that little bit. Out there, away from the noise, there’s no inbox, no to-do list, no expectations… Just you and the hills. It’s not about escaping life, it’s about tuning back into it. A reminder of what’s actually important, and how small the rest of it really is when you’re stood on a ridge with the wind pelting you in the face.
I’ll never forget this little trip despite all the beer I had in Keswick that night, but jokes aside, it really helped. Grief might walk beside me, but in the Fells, it walks a little lighter.
Happy wandering.
TM
