#LakeDistrictBid Advent Calendar Day 7 - Because of the great big mountains

The mountains in the Lake District may not be the highest in the world - or even in the UK - but, as they say, size isn't everything.  There really is nowhere quite like it.  Even though they are all found within a relatively tiny geographical area, they are all so very different - from the jagged ridges of Blencathra to the boulder strewn summits of Scafell Pike and the smooth rounded flanks of Skiddaw - the fells have something to offer you whether you're a gentle stroller, a hardened hiker or a full on rock climber.

Though mountaineering legends such as Sir Chris Bonington, who have visited the far flung corners of the planet and scaled it's highest peaks, will testify that the fells can hold their own against some of the most dramatic landscapes on the planet, UNESCO World Heritage Status would give us a platform to broadcast that message around the globe.

Click HERE to visit the Lake District National Park Authority website where you can learn more about the whole process of making the bid and register your support to show the folks at UNESCO that this is something that matters to everyone who loves the Lake District.

Blencathra

Striding Edge

Route to Scafell Pike

View from High Street

View from Place Fell

Dow Crag

Skiddaw

Click HERE to go back & start from to Day 1.

No Country for Old Boots

It won 4 Oscars and was raved about by all and sundry but so far as I'm concerned, No Country for Old Men is 2 hours and 2 minutes of my life that I'll never get back.  Shame really, I usually like Tommy Lee Jones.  The thing is I'm about to do one of those review thingumys again and wanted to point out that whatever I might have to say about a product, I can only ever give you my opinion of it, you may choose to disagree and that's fair enough,the world would be a boring place if we all liked the same things (and damned near unbearable if we all liked No Country for Old Men, but I digress...)

If you've read the blog before you'll know how much I loved my old boots and I thought they were doing fine - it wasn't until Steve got some new boots (having killed his old ones walking 214 Wainwrights in 214 days) that I looked more closely at mine and realised that though the tops were fine, the soles were damned near smooth and as the Lake District really is "No Country for Old Boots" (you see what I did there?) I figured it was time to nab me a new pair too.

Enter GriSport - tucked away near the Dolomites in Italy and manufacturing boots in a factory where 70% of the power comes from solar energy.  (Not so easy to do in Cumbria for some reason...)  They sent me a lovely pair of their Everest boots to play with and see what I thought.

Anyway, I figured that as I've been learning Italian for a few years now I'd make the review useful by translating some common English/ Northern phrases into Italian for you as I go - you know, in case you ever decide to visit the factory or anything...

1.  I say, I'm absolutely parched, do you know of somewhere I can wet my whistle?  "Dico, ho grande sete, sai da qualche parte dove posso bagnare il mio fischietto?

Never mind the hiking part, let's tackle the important stuff - do the boots look cool enough to be seen in the pub with.  Yes they do - if there's one thing you can trust the Italians to do it's design something that looks good.  Mind you, that beer looks good too and that was made in Ulverston...

2.  I'm so hungry I could eat a scabby horse. "Ho fame cosi grande che mangerei un cavallo crostoso."  

Not only are the boots good enough to be seen in the pub with, they'd also pass muster in most pub restaurants - so long as they weren't too muddy obviously.  Not found a pub serving scabby horses yet - will look for it on next year's Master Chef.

3.  Do you sell Compeed?  I've got blisters the size of conkers.   "Avete Compeed?  Ho i vesciche come i ipposcastani"

I've given these boots a good workout.  I've done 8 miles up and around Whitbarrow Scar, 5 miles around Hampsfell and another 9 up and over Black Combe and I can honestly promise you that you won't be needing that phrase.  They were proper comfy from the off and my feet were almost as fresh when I took the boots off as they were when I put them on.  The smell wasn't as fresh mind...

4.  In these shoes?  I don't think so! "Nel queste scarpe?  Non penso cosi!"

OK, not so much a phrase as a fabulous Kirsty MacColl song - but a perfect way to point out that the boots come with easy to follow care instructions.  They didn't specifically say no paddling in them, but I'm guessing the salt water wouldn't do them much good.

5.  If I don't sit down soon, I'll fall down.  "Si mi non siedo presto, mi cadró"

I'm pleased to report that although these are high boots (well up over the ankle) they are light (1205g) so if you need to put your feet up to enjoy a well earned rest they won't be too heavy

6.  That'll put a spring in your step. "Quello metterà una balzo in il tuo passo"

Again, light, flexible and bouncable.  Plenty of spring for jumping on and off rocks repetitively so the shot you had planned can be caught on a camera phone.

7.  She took off up Whitbarrow Scar like a rat up a drainpipe.  "Ha decollato su Whitbarrow Scar come un ratto su un tubo di drenaggio."  (And if you're thinking the Italians are using the same words as us for things like rat, it's probably the other way around.  Blame the Romans.)

The day I got them I strapped them onto my feet and took off - no breaking in, no gentle walks to the shops, no nothing - straight on and straight up.  No problems at all.  At least not for me.  Steve was cursing a bit 'cos he didn't have nice new shiny boots to play with.

8.  He was in such a hurry that he met himself coming back.  "Era in tanta fretta che ha incontrato lui stesso tornare indietro"  (This was *really* horrible to try and translate!)

Because they are light and comfy you can whiz around all over the place and have a lot of fun taking silly photos.

9.  Striding Edge?  It was a walk in the park!  "Striding Edge?  É stato una camminare nel parco."

Though I've not  taken these boots up striding edge yet, I can confirm that they are proper hiking boots for proper hikes on proper big mountains.  The high sides keep my ankles cosy and firm and the fabulous grippy soles stop me slipping over quite as much as I used to.  And there was me thinking it was the gin when I could have blamed my old boots all along.

10.  Well, I'll go to the foot of our stairs!  "Allora, andró alla piede del nostri scalini!"

Stairs, hillsides, stiles, whatever - the boots bounded through it all.  I'm trying to think of a downside to tell you about to keep the review balanced and the only 2 things I can come up with are that a half size might be nice as I could feel my toes catching the ends on the descent from Black Combe - though not badly so - and the fold in the leather catches the little toe on my left foot a bit, but that's only because I dislocated it last year and its still a bit grumpy.

I plan to wear the boots throughout the winter and post an update in around 6 months to let you know how they are once they've worn in a bit.  Best get my Italian phrasebook out and start brushing up on my grammar ready.

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...

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.