I was at 600 metres at points wading through thigh Deep powder snow with Rex, who most the time seemed to barely scratch the surface. It was exhausting. The only food I had on me was today's lunch; a titan bar (Aldi's half size Mars Bar), which I'd just eaten, tonight's tea; pasta, with no sauce, a packet of semolina and tomorrow's lunch; Kendal Mint Cake, which unfortunately I had also just eaten! There was also Rex's dog food, but then what would he eat? Once again I was heading up to Cross Fell England's highest Mountain Bothy at 700metres. I was hungry and there was nothing I could do about it. But deep down this was what I wanted to happen.
In the last hour I had made about 400 metres progress with even less ascent. And I had been looking for the slope in front of me wondering if I'd ever get to the bottom of it let alone up it. I hadn't been on an overnight trip for over a year. I had wondered all the way through last year, whether fell walking wouldn't be constructive anymore. When you head up into the hills it seemed to take up a lot of time.I started to view it as something I had the skills and experience to so when I wanted to do it. I was never going to get out of practice at it, like I would if I had a long time off climbing or running.
I used to feel a sense of accomplishment from it. But I started to think that would no longer be possible when I now knew there were people around like Joss Naylor who run 70 peaks in under 24 hours to celebrate there birthday, or Kilian Jornet who can head up kilimanjaro after breakfast and still be down for lunch (admittedly quite a late lunch, unless he had an early breakfast of course). My greatest hill walking achievement had been climbing the 12 highest wainwrights in 3 1/2 days! That wasn't going to impress anyone and it certainly wasn't going to impress myself. It was only with a little more age and wisdom that I began to look back at the real reason why I went up into the hills in the first place....It was for that sense of freedom. Strapping on a rucksack, walking up into the hills and leaving my troubles on the ground. Waking up to that amazing silence, the air so fresh, the views of skiddaw making its way through that morning haze, watching watching the sunset up on gable. They were never expeditions. They were holidays. And I realised deep down it was something I was resisting doing. Like a recovering alcoholic resists his drink or dieter resists chocolate. But it wasn't something bad for me. I would come back fresh and happy, at piece with myself. Backpacking in the hills isn't just something I want to do, its something I need to do and something when I don't do I long to do.
It was nice to feel this way again. It was a relief. All I needed to think about was getting to the hut and all I had to worry about was not making it. I wasn't sat on the couch hoping that England won the match against Brazil, or logging onto Facebook hoping that there would be a message in my inbox only to cure me from my temporary boredom. Instead I was hoping the large plateau that is the summit of Cross Fell would be cloud free and that I wouldn't be in a white out on the other side of the fell, unable to find the already hard to find hut. And hoping that when I did get to the hut one of the previous over laden guests would have left food behind (though in reality there was as little chance of that as England beating Brazil or me receiving a message on my facebook account). Things were simple. Things were in perspective again!
We were now on the summit Plateau of Cross Fell, the fog was down, and it was perfect! We worked our way over to the Trig Point. Finally there was no more ascent. Just as well, I didn't no how much more ascent I could have taken, even at a 20 degree angle I was only managing 100 metres or so of travelling before I had to sit down and rest. The snow on the other side of the hill was deep. It had built up between the large boulders that scattered the northern slope of the mountain. I kept going through it, at points down to the waist at points even further. It was only when I saw a gap between the snow and the boulder that I realised just how deep it was. It went down seven or eight feet, and I was tip toeing across it's surface. I had one of those casual thoughts, where I wondered how my Dad would react in this situation. There are so many things in modern day life, that I struggle to take with my fragile mind, yet my Dad can seem so strong. Though when it comes to this kind of situation it would be very much vice versa. I was more in my comfort zone here then I would be walking through Penrith. It was similar throughout the rest of the day until I got to the hut. First struggling to find the hut in the snow and fog, then getting to the hut just as it was going dark to find the door wouldn't open. At first I thought it was iced up and then started to wonder if I was locked out. This was what I meant about things being put into perspective. Down in the hustle and bustle of a modern life I would have been far more stressed out if I had blocked the toilet or dropped a potato on the floor. Those few minutes where was locked out was simply just a trivial concern, I knew a solution would come. It was something I've learnt time and time again in the mountains. Panic only brings loneliness and makes you feel small and insecure in such a big place. One of the things I love about being up here is that time seems to be so slow. So slow that a solution often springs to mind, far before the problem worsens. Here I was waiting around for that solution to spring to mind when I noticed the bolt was closed at the bottom of the door. I opened it and wondered in.
It was great to be back. Even more so this time with -10 degree temperatures about to build up outside. Everything was cold. I went in to the back room to light the fire. I searched around in hope that someone had left some food. A tin of bacon! It was like winning £100 pounds on a scratch card. Settling down for the night by the fire was pleasant. In my down jacket and sleeping bag I was nice and warm. Rex might not have been. So I put one over the top of him that had been left there for unprepared guests. We both lay on the floor by the fire. Most the heat it did produced was drowned by the unrelenting cold around it. Anything around that could freeze did. A 5 litre bottle of water left there was now hard as stone. So was any water supply, so I had to melt snow, which might seem like fun but, pot full of snow produces about 1/5 of a pot of water, requiring numerous trips outside through out the evening to fill it up. I lay there with a book in my hand and a torch next to me. Something riggled right in front of my face. It was a mouse. I'd never seen one this close before. It was a lucky mouse to have found this hut in the middle of no where in conditions like these. It was probably pleased I'd lit the stove. Rex lay there fast asleep I soon followed him, waking occasionally to feed the fire. I woke up in the morning to find Rex out from under his duvet shivering. I wrapped him back up again and re lit the stove, he soon stopped. I think he finally realised that if he stood up he the duvet would fall off him and he would have to stand there in the cold until I happened to wake up from my light sleep every so often to put it round him again. We then slept for a little while longer before waking up, for breakfast. I couldn't believe how good that bacon tasted. After packing everything up and giving the floor a quick sleep it was time to leave. I set a bearing on the compass and left setting off down the hill as quickly as we could before the wind picked up later in the afternoon.
It had worked I had a clear head again. I had spent a night with no troubles or fears. I just had to keep myself warm and keep my dog warm. Despite having nothing to do, boredom could never occur. And most importantly neither could any troubles.
I used to feel a sense of accomplishment from it. But I started to think that would no longer be possible when I now knew there were people around like Joss Naylor who run 70 peaks in under 24 hours to celebrate there birthday, or Kilian Jornet who can head up kilimanjaro after breakfast and still be down for lunch (admittedly quite a late lunch, unless he had an early breakfast of course). My greatest hill walking achievement had been climbing the 12 highest wainwrights in 3 1/2 days! That wasn't going to impress anyone and it certainly wasn't going to impress myself. It was only with a little more age and wisdom that I began to look back at the real reason why I went up into the hills in the first place....It was for that sense of freedom. Strapping on a rucksack, walking up into the hills and leaving my troubles on the ground. Waking up to that amazing silence, the air so fresh, the views of skiddaw making its way through that morning haze, watching watching the sunset up on gable. They were never expeditions. They were holidays. And I realised deep down it was something I was resisting doing. Like a recovering alcoholic resists his drink or dieter resists chocolate. But it wasn't something bad for me. I would come back fresh and happy, at piece with myself. Backpacking in the hills isn't just something I want to do, its something I need to do and something when I don't do I long to do.
It was nice to feel this way again. It was a relief. All I needed to think about was getting to the hut and all I had to worry about was not making it. I wasn't sat on the couch hoping that England won the match against Brazil, or logging onto Facebook hoping that there would be a message in my inbox only to cure me from my temporary boredom. Instead I was hoping the large plateau that is the summit of Cross Fell would be cloud free and that I wouldn't be in a white out on the other side of the fell, unable to find the already hard to find hut. And hoping that when I did get to the hut one of the previous over laden guests would have left food behind (though in reality there was as little chance of that as England beating Brazil or me receiving a message on my facebook account). Things were simple. Things were in perspective again!
 |
| On the summit Plateau, with a snow covered cairn |
It was great to be back. Even more so this time with -10 degree temperatures about to build up outside. Everything was cold. I went in to the back room to light the fire. I searched around in hope that someone had left some food. A tin of bacon! It was like winning £100 pounds on a scratch card. Settling down for the night by the fire was pleasant. In my down jacket and sleeping bag I was nice and warm. Rex might not have been. So I put one over the top of him that had been left there for unprepared guests. We both lay on the floor by the fire. Most the heat it did produced was drowned by the unrelenting cold around it. Anything around that could freeze did. A 5 litre bottle of water left there was now hard as stone. So was any water supply, so I had to melt snow, which might seem like fun but, pot full of snow produces about 1/5 of a pot of water, requiring numerous trips outside through out the evening to fill it up. I lay there with a book in my hand and a torch next to me. Something riggled right in front of my face. It was a mouse. I'd never seen one this close before. It was a lucky mouse to have found this hut in the middle of no where in conditions like these. It was probably pleased I'd lit the stove. Rex lay there fast asleep I soon followed him, waking occasionally to feed the fire. I woke up in the morning to find Rex out from under his duvet shivering. I wrapped him back up again and re lit the stove, he soon stopped. I think he finally realised that if he stood up he the duvet would fall off him and he would have to stand there in the cold until I happened to wake up from my light sleep every so often to put it round him again. We then slept for a little while longer before waking up, for breakfast. I couldn't believe how good that bacon tasted. After packing everything up and giving the floor a quick sleep it was time to leave. I set a bearing on the compass and left setting off down the hill as quickly as we could before the wind picked up later in the afternoon.
It had worked I had a clear head again. I had spent a night with no troubles or fears. I just had to keep myself warm and keep my dog warm. Despite having nothing to do, boredom could never occur. And most importantly neither could any troubles.
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