The North Face of the Wine Cupboard

Leo Houlding & Sir Chris Bonington - proper adventurers

We've spent the past day or so lurking around Kendal Mountain Festival.  We've watched the likes of Leo Houlding, Sir Chris Bonington, Steve Birkinshaw and Andy Cave telling us about life, death and near misses in the world of high adrenaline adventure.  Though we've never dangled from a 1000m sheer cliff at minus 30, we've had our own fair share of adventures during our time in the Lakes - we've tackled Lord's Rake, Sharp Edge and Striding Edge, we've made it safely over High Street in the dark & rain with only an iPhone torch to light our way and we've even braved Bowness on a sunny bank holiday Monday (though only the once!).  All of which makes my current predicament more embarrassing.

North face of the
wine cupboard

I've been off my feet for a few weeks due to injury and though I'm better than I was, I'm still hobbling and unable to tackle anything too tricky.  People have asked how I did it, no doubt expecting a story involving fells, rain and snow - or at the very least a tale about a crazy ass drunken exploit that went horribly wrong.  The truth is more embarrassing than that.  I did it on an overcast Monday morning, stone cold sober (not even hung over), putting the washing away.  On a return trip for socks and pants I collided with the North Face of the Wine Cupboard and managed to dislocate my little toe and rupture the ligaments around it to the extent that when the good doctors at A&E tried to put it back it refused to stay put.  They tried 4 times - ow, ow OW.

After a week of pain and not unpleasant pain killers, the hope that it would "click back in on its own" faded so they decided to operate to pin it.  A little toe - how much trouble can it be?  Turns out plenty - I never realised I needed it so much.  Anyway, the surgeon was clearly made of stern stuff and he managed to wedge it back into place and tape it up without pinning it (I'm not completely convinced as it's still jolly painful, but we'll find out if it's been a success this Wednesday.)

Gas and air in A&E while they tried to relocate the offending toe

The offending toe (arrow drawn
for surgeon)

Lovely views from hospital bed.

All done - but far from ideal hiking shoe.

I did have one fabulous injury while hiking but modesty prevented me taking any photos of it - while descending Haystacks in the pitch dark (properly kitted out with head torches this time) I slipped down a small crag ripping a 4 inch hole through my waterproofs (expensive), walking trousers (again) and backside (which was thankfully too cold and numb to feel much at the time).  The bruise was spectacular and I couldn't sit down for a week - but at least I had a decent story to tell even if I couldn't show anyone other than Steve the true beauty of the injury.

Anyway, that's why I've not been on the fells lately.  I've tried to distract myself with some gentler exploits and have still managed to occupy myself in a number of ways:

I've taken the opportunity to bottle up all my Sloe Gin (which is a lot darker than it looks in this pic)...

If the pain killers don't work...

 ...visited the wonderful Kendal Museum - a fascinating place with loads of imaginative ways to engage visitors and kids with the exhibits...

A xylophone made from Lake District rocks.

...paid another visit to the wonderful Greystoke Cafe for a quirky course - I brushed up on my pen & wash skills while Steve tackled blacksmithing (and made a fabulous rams head poker for the fire - these courses are SO fab and make the perfect chrissy pressie)...

Only my second attempt at painting

...and of course visited Leighton Moss - my very favourite "away from it all" place and only 10 minutes from home.  My ongoing quest to see the bittern continues - one day...

Leighton Moss - calm, tranquil and, whenever I'm there, bittern free.

I'm trying not to be a wuss, but I really need this to heal properly as my livelihood depends on me being able to walk.  I've delivered a few courses over the past couple of weeks through the haze of painkillers and I'm gutted the hospital refused to send me home with a bottle of gas & air (I'm sure that would help the delegates no end).  This afternoon we're back at the Mountain Festival and, if one of those rugged mountaineering types asks about the limp, I might just make something up...

Blencathra the hard way

Halls Fell Ridge

I'm sure many folks will try and tell me that the only hard way up Blencathra is via Sharp Edge, but I beg to differ.  The Sharp Edge route is actually quite straightforward apart from the short and rather dangerous section across the edge itself; if you want a route that's a challenge from start to finish then Halls Fell Ridge is the route you'll be wanting.

Halls Fell Ridge

Halls Fell Ridge is one of the magnificent buttress-like ridges that make up the south side of Blencathra.  It is challenging, uncompromising and, in some of the higher sections, downright scary.  During the ascent there are no nice gentle flat areas on which to catch your breath, there is only up and you are under no illusion of that fact right from the start.  As you leave Threlkeld and approach the fell you may begin to question your sanity as it looms high above you but, if you take your time and keep a cool head, you'll be rewarded with one of the most enjoyable fell top scrambles in the Lake District.

The lower sections take you along a steep and easy enough to follow stone path, but don't be fooled, this route builds Bolero style and before long the stone path disappears leaving you to pick your own way up and over the rocky outcrops.

Route up Halls Fell Ridge

The route though the rocks

At some points you can make out a polished stone route created by the boots of a thousand hikers before you but be warned, those polished stones are mighty slippy and this is no place to lose your footing.  There are ledges where you can pause, catch your breath and admire the views, though my main complaint about climbing Blencathra is that when I'm on Blencathra I can't see Blencathra and for me it is one of the finest looking fells in the Lake District.  That said, the panoramas are none too shabby.

View from Halls Fell Ridge

As you near the top the summit ridge stretches out ahead of you with its promise of yet more breathtaking panoramas and, more importantly, somewhere to rest and enjoy a well earned break, though to be honest my slightly frayed nerves could have done with something a little stronger than PG Tips.

Blencathra Summit Ridge

It was blowing a bit of a hooley the day we were up there so we hunkered down behind one of the cairns to shelter from the wind and enjoyed fine views of Skiddaw as we munched our lunch.

Views from near our lunch spot

After such a challenging ascent we opted for a long but gentle descent along the top of Atkinson Pike before swinging down and along the valley of the wonderfully named River Glendermaken.  I'm not usually a fan of descents but this one is gentle, picturesque and offers superb views of Sharp Edge calling for much pausing to soak up what was left of the summer sun and finish off the flasks of tea.

Sharp Edge

There are also fine views back along the valley of the long flat summit which show exactly where Blencathra's other name of "Sadleback" came from. (Although the name Blencathra is derived from Cumbric and means "bare hilltop shaped like a chair" which also makes a lot of sense.)

Blencathra or Saddleback

All that now remained was the trek back along the base of the fell to an eagerly awaited pint in the late afternoon sun at The Salutation in Threlkeld. We then eased our aching bones into the car and headed home but were waylayed en route by a rather stunning sunset over Windermere.  Away in the distance a smörgåsbord of fells lined up and the debate in the car home turned to which fell, which route and in what order.  Decisions, decisions...

You're next, and then you, you and you...

Not a good sign...

Pavey Ark from Stickle Tarn - Jack's Rake is the
diagonal line running up the front.

A bit of a different blog this time, prompted by a story in this week's Westmorland Gazette.  Within the space of one week, two people unfortunately lost their lives falling from Jack's Rake in Great Langdale.  These deaths are unbelievably tragic and clearly our sympathies are with their families; heaven knows how you cope when something like this happens.  In the wake of these tragedies there has been a call for warning signs to be placed on the more dangerous routes within the Lake District, and this has stirred up a bit of a hornet's nest in some quarters.

Tragic though these events are I'm afraid I'm wholly against the idea of warning signs being placed on dangerous fells for two main reasons; first of all the Lake District is a National Park and should not be cluttered up with unnecessary signage and secondly, even if there were signs I'm pretty sure people would ignore them anyway, or see it as an even greater "badge of honour" to flout the warnings.  People ignore signs every single day; "Smoking Kills", "Keep off the Grass", "No Parking" and "30MPH" to name but a few.  Signs like these are perceived as being for "other people" and not for whomever is reading them who will, no doubt, justify their reasons for ignoring them in some way or another.

Striding Edge

I've said my piece about signs before in my work blog, I genuinely think that one of the main reasons that so many signs are ignored is because there are so many of them to begin with, my previous rant was prompted by a trip to a toilet which involved 8 different signs telling me what to do.  In a society which is becoming more and more reliant upon signs to tell us what we can and can't do, we're in danger of losing the ability to think for ourselves and in the fells, that can be very dangerous.

I also think it's very important to keep things in perspective.  The second fell I ever climbed was Helvellyn and we went up via Striding Edge, another notorious route where there have been many deaths; we were pretty inexperienced but were aware of the dangers so waited for good weather and took things very steady, along with the several hundred other people on the route the same day.  Recently I was speaking with a neighbour who told me that, during one ascent of Striding Edge, his party sat and ate lunch near the final approach and counted over 1000 people going past in the space of an hour.  So let's do the maths; lets say that was an average figure for the peak ascent times of roughly 11am - 2pm, so that's 3000 people per day, now let's say there were 5 good climbing days that week, that makes 15,000 for the week and roughly 60,000 for the month.  Even if that only happened for 4 months of the year we're already getting on for nearly 1/4 million people.  (No wonder Fix the Fells are so busy!).  Tragic though it is, statistically speaking, with those kinds of numbers there will be casualties.

Sharp Edge; another notorious route.

Many moons ago my job called for me to work with TRL (Transport Research Laboratory) , these guys know all there is to know about road traffic accident and investigation and they told me that the thing they'd found which was most likely to encourage someone to reduce their speed was not a warning sign but a roadside memorial; a sharp reminder of our own mortality.  I know on our ascent of Striding Edge the memorials certainly reminded us to stay focused.  TRL were passionate about the need for appropriate signage and fully understood the problems caused by too many signs, or unclear or confusing instructions.

Warning signs appear to do very little to warn people.  Currently every car park and access point to Morecambe Bay has large warning signs regarding the dangerous sands and fast tides, and yet over one weekend in May 33 people required rescuing.  On the other side of the country, anyone who's ever visited Lindisfarne will know that every single shop, car park and tourist attraction carries warnings about the causeway and every year people ignore them and get caught out.

Following any tragic event everyone involved will look back and think how things could have been done differently, or how the same thing could be prevented from happening in the future, and it's important that we learn lessons where we can.  But the sad fact is that life is tragic. Millions of people visit the fells each year and sadly some of them get injured and a few will die.  If you stick to the safe routes you're likely to remain safe, if you tackle a more dangerous route the risk factor rises.  I'm not suggesting that the people involved in these tragedies did anything reckless or foolish, I just honestly don't think that warning signs are the answer.

Sharp Edge -v- Striding Edge

Striding Edge and Sharp Edge are two of the most notorious routes in the Lake District and, having completed both of them, I've been asked what the difference is between them, so here goes.

Let's kick off with Striding Edge.  We've been up Helvellyn via just about every available route in a wide variety of weather conditions, including snow, and Striding Edge never fails to impress – either to climb across or simply to look at.

The Striding Edge ascent kicks off in Glenridding where it's pretty much impossible to find free parking.  If you don't mind adding an extra mile or two to your journey then you can probably find a slot in a layby if you're early enough, but it's a popular spot so don't build your hopes.  Also bear in mind that after you've spent a full day tackling a challenging route like Striding Edge you'll want the car to be as near as possible when you're done.

The first time we tackled Helvellyn we went up via Striding Edge and just for good measure nipped along Swirral Edge to Catstye Cam.  Then a long descent via Dollywaggon Pike and Grisedale Tarn with a very pleasant stroll along Grisedale Beck back to the car.  A grand total of 6 peaks and well over 15 miles of yomping, none of it flat.  We didn’t rush and were out there for over 9 hours, but it was worth it.  The views down over Ullswater were amazing, the rock climbing was fun and all that exercise meant I could scoff fish and chips in the evening with complete impunity.

The ascent begins very gently with vistas down and across Ullswater opening up as you gain height and you don't get to see much of the scary bit before you're on top of it.  I'd strongly recommend a good rest before getting stuck in, it's a tiring route and once you're committed there are no real rest stops before the summit.

As with all the tricky routes we've tackled Striding Edge is fine if you take a well-paced and sensible approach.  Yes it's a bit of a scramble but there's a well-worn route which is easy to follow.  The views are, by turn, both breathtaking and terrifying.  It is a truly exhilarating experience to be high up on the long ridge in the middle of such spectacular scenery and watch the sides of the ridge tumble away steeply either side of you.  There are various memorials along the way to remind you that this is a dangerous route so, if you want to admire the scenery, find a secure place to stop before you take your eyes off where you're putting your feet.

Striding Edge doesn't end there though, once you've reached the far side there is a strenuous scramble up to the summit ridge.  There are plenty of hand and foot holds and it's as fun as it is tiring.  It's a fabulous feeling to complete the climb and do make sure you head around towards Dollywagon Pike to get some great shots to impress the folks back home.

So how is Sharp Edge different?  Part of the beauty of Blencathra is that it's not lost in a sea of other peaks and can be seen away in the distance as you head north along Thirlmere.  We completed a circular route starting at Threlkeld, heading over towards Scales Farm and up onto the summit via Sharp Edge; we then walked the ridge route and dropped back down to Blencathra Centre before staggering back into Threlkeld.  Part of the challenge was that we tackled it on one of the hottest days of last year, so we made the most of the many gills to top up the water bottles, alternating between pouring water down our throats and down our backs.

As we ate lunch at Scales Tarn we watched various people heading up and along Sharp Edge and figured that if they could do it, then so could we.  Replete, we headed upwards.  Sharp Edge is narrower but shorter than Striding Edge in fact it's rather like a condensed version; shorter, scarier and, of course, sharper.  Unlike Striding Edge you can see Sharp Edge very clearly as you make your way up towards it and that certainly adds to the anticipation as well as driving up your adrenaline levels.  It's perfectly achievable so long as you take your time. The biggest challenge are the large flat sheets of rock which offer very little in the way of hand or footholds.  It's also tricky when you meet people coming the other way as there aren't many passing places.

The rock climb at the end is a certainly more of a challenge than the scramble up to Helvellyn; again the large flat sheets of rock are the biggest issue when looking for grip.  That said, with decent boots and a sensible head it shouldn't prove too much of a problem for most folks – just take your time and don't try anything fancy. 

So there you go, both edges done.  I will happily return to tackle them both again in the future, but for anyone other than the experienced climber they are strictly fair weather routes.  We're seasoned hikers and found both of them challenging enough on dry, clear, calm days. When it's snowy we stick with the safer routes and content ourselves with admiring the "edges" from afar, much safer that way.