"Hills", "Fells", "Mountains" and Blog Addresses

You may have noticed for a short time I had changed my blog URL to 'ethans exploits' rather than 'fell feet'. I was a bit worried about calling my Blog URL 'fellfeet' as I thought it was becoming irrelevant, as I wanted to write about my climbing and running just as much. I was also concerned that when I go climbing and mountaineering in other countries, the term 'fell' is a typically English term for hill. In fact it is a bit of a strange term isn't it?
            Many English outdoorsy types would call smaller hills a 'hill' and larger hills a 'fell'. Then you get people who say that hills in Britain are to small to be called a 'mountain' even though there is not a specific height where a 'hill' becomes a 'mountain'. On the total opposite end of the spectrum you get people who would give all 'mountains' the term 'hill' even Everest.
           For a time I wondered what to call the hills in Britain. Speaking to some people I would sometimes feel I was over exaggerating if I called a British hill a 'mountain'. Yet on the other hand the experiences I have had, in the hills of Britain (mostly in England), have never seemed small or insignificant. I think there becomes a point when a British hillwalker or runner starts to lose interest in the height of the hill they stand on. I know I am not as fussed anymore. When I stand on the summit of a mountain in the Lake District, I don't think "Well how high's this one then". I don't get the map out just to see what the altitude is. I look at the views and I see the distant peaks. I name the fells I know and love and get pleasure in knowing that there are still plenty, sitting above or below where I am standing, that I do not know and have yet to summit. And sometimes  I'm overwhelmed simply by the silence. Where else in this country can you hear absolutely nothing at all other than the sound of the wind and your own breath? It makes me feel like an accomplished human being. No matter what height the summit is I stand on I know that there are plenty of people my age and older, sitting at ground level in a sofa playing on a games console or watching TV.  I think that is the pleasure of the British hills. Yes, it's true, by international standards our mountains are nowhere near the biggest. I look at some mountains in parts of the world, like ones in the Himalayas and the Alps and they scream the word "challenge" at me even just by looking at the photographs. Perhaps, to the eyes of a sherpa or an alpine guide, a Lake District fell shows little challenge. Our typical mountain is round and covered in grass and bracken, while their mountains are pointy and covered in ice, snow and rock. But there is certainly at lot of challenge to be had in the hills of Britain, it sometimes just has to be discovered. The challenge can be just as big to one person, who is walking up one hill on a clear day, to someone else who is running over many tops in a complete whiteout. And even if sometimes a small walk in the hills doesn't seem particularly energetic, is it ever without adventure?
        There is something for everyone in the hills of Britain. And I call them "fells". This isn't because I think they are too small to be called a "mountain" or because they're too big to be called a "hill", it's because they are unique and they deserve their own name. So I decided there is no reason at all not to call my blog address 'fell feet'. And if I am in a different country and if the question somehow pops up "why did you call your blog 'fellfeet'?" Then I shall say "because that is what the mountains in England are called and they're where I found my feet for adventure."

Thanks for reading,
Ethan

P.S it did also occur to me that when 'Ethan's Exploits' is written as one "ethansexploits" it could well be interpreted as 'Ethan Sexploits". I looked the term 'sexploit' up in a dictionary and here is what I found...........

Sexploitation
noun informalthe commercial exploitation of sex, sexual attractiveness, or sexually explicit material.

Arguably the wrong word to use in the address of a blog about outdoor activities?

Climbing at Coudy Rock - Appleby

The sky was one of mixed messages. Every so often we would feel the sun beam down on our face, we would look up and find an amazing blue sky directly above us. Instantly I would find myself envisaging a great day out at the crag. But it wasn't long before I caught sight of a nasty looking cloud gracefully drifting over towards, like a lioness sneaking up on an gazelle. Perhaps this wasn't the best day to go out, on what was after all a sandstone crag. It would be dirty enough as it was, even if it did remain dry. However we were only going to Appleby so it wasn't going to matter too much if it did start chucking it down. I had heard a lot about Coudy rock, a crag just by the river eden with various sports routes bolted up it, and I was quite excited about the thought of finally going to it.

Sports climbing is a relatively modern style of climbing, where bolts are already drilled into the rock, ready for the climber to attach the rope to via quickdraws. It is becoming increasingly popular in the UK and is considered the main style of climbing in many areas of europe. Climbers don't need to worry the same about the safety of the route as they would in trad climbing, where climbers place the protection themselves by jamming gear into the rocks. In sports climbing, climbers can concentrate on the technicality of the climb, without concern for how well protected they are.

We arrived at about 11:30. I uncoiled the rope and lay it out on the ground in front of what appeared to be an easy route. I was going first and I seemed quite calm about the whole thing. The route can't have been more than 7 metres high and looked like it had many nice big jugs to hold onto. I tied in, stuck my ipod on and headed straight up. It would seem I didn't even take into account that it was sandstone and it was covered in dirt and lacked many jugs, in fact most the holds seemed to be slopers and to make things worse small overhangs (although not having to much effect on the difficulty of the climb) obstructed my view of the holds above and it wasn't long before I was heading back down to take my ipod off and start treating the climb more seriously. After about 10 minutes battling with the route, I finally made it to the top. I descended quickly and we soon move on to the next route along, this time Adam climbed. We continued to work our way left along the crag, until we finally got onto the main wall. Here the climbing suddenly got interesting. The main challenge was in the actual route, instead of it being in the dirt layering the rock or grabbing a handhold that wouldn't brake away. These routes had been climbed a few time and chalk marks were all over it from where other climbers had been.

The day continued in this fashion, we lounged around on the grass looking at the river, in between climbs and then would head up the odd route. The rain didn't come and the sun would occasionally come out from the clouds and warm up our backs. Dad came along later with the camera and took some photos. I thought about teaching him how to belay on a top rope, but then remembered that he goes loose at the knees when people are in high up places, and thought it was best to teach him another day. After all I thought he was doing well taking photos without panicking about how strong the rope was or any of the other things that could possibly happen.

Thanks for reading.

Climbing with a Cold

I was running fast, as I veered away from my house and set of down the track, but not quite fast enough. I finally got onto the road and continued to run, it was suddenly starting to feel much harder. I had only just begun the run. A mere 2 miles of running on the flats and then downhill had slowed my pace dramatically. As ventured along the road and into the village, it almost felt like I was running up a long, steep hill. I was trying to think of any other reason why I was feeling like this. "Perhaps I had started to fast" or "Perhaps I didn't drink enough before setting off?". But it was no use searching for any other answers. I knew why and I would have to except. I had yet another cold, despite having only recently recovered from my 4th cold of the winter. I had been trying to tell myself it had just been a sore throat or something. I had just had a great few weeks of running after school. Runs ranging from 2-13 miles and on all of them I had been pleased with my performance beating my regular 1 hour run by a further 2 mins.
Now I would have to rest and hope I would be fit again in a few days. I ran back up to my house at what felt like a snail's speed.

Jackdaw Scar

                I decided that if I couldn't run I would climb. After all that is what I really love doing, but I just don't get the opportunity as much. There is a lot to be said for leaving your house and running out through the fields as the sun sets on the distant fells, but for me nothing quite competes with climbing, when it comes to focusing on the task ahead and keeping a clear head. The nearest crag is 'Jackdaw Scar' I have been there a few times, hoping to find some boulder problems to create. But the Sandstone base of the crag doesn't provide anything of particular interest when it comes to bouldering and I find myself often gazing up at the higher limestone in frustration and going away with an even stronger burning desire to get hold of some nuts, cams, hexes and slings and start trad climbing. However this time I managed to do bits of climbing on the crag. The routes didn't offer very much in terms of training, but offered me a lot mentally. A chance to unwind after school, listen to the running water from the beck and breathe the fresh air. They weren't particularly technical but required that focus and state of mind needed in climbing.  So after feeling low for failing in my run, I had found my high for the day at Jackdaw scar, a perfect place to spend the evening, and feel closer to nature despite being no more than 60 metres away from civilisation.

My next bit of adventure was at Hutton Roof with Adam. Hutton Roof is a limestone crag not too far from Kendal and offers some great boulder problems. It has quite a few trad routes up it too, but it's only about 8 metres high so many of these can be climbed un roped with a crash mat underneath you. The crux of the climb was almost always in the first 4 or 5 metres and after that the angle relents to about 75 degrees with large handholds. My cold was now beginning to affect my general energy levels and I often found myself lying down in the shade after each climb and would leave Adam to wonder round trying out other problems for a while before I picked up the enthusiasm to join him again.

I spent the next few evenings after that climbing around Jackdaw Scar again. Then at the weekend joined Adam at Kendal Wall. We spent quite a decent amount of time bouldering before tying into the ropes and doing a few routes.

The day after I met up with Fergus and we went for a short stroll around the back of Dufton Pike up to Great Rundale Tarn, before strolling back down to the pub in Dufton for a coke. It is a bit odd that I should have had a cold this week. As even today which was supposed to be one of the worst this week, it hadn't rained for over a week and the sun was still shining brightly.

Today I did a bit of bouldering at Kendal Wall, as it it was now the official first day of my Easter Holiday. I could perhaps have gone for a run when I got back as I wasn't feeling as bad, but I was pretty tired from the 2 hours of climbing I had just done. Tomorrow though I will don my trainers and head out, I'll see what I can do, it might just be that my performance is fine and I can keep running for a good few miles up onto Orton Scar or I may have to make do with a lesser run until my Cold leaves me completely.

Thanks for reading.
Comments as always, are very welcome.

Ethan