Day 4: Unnecessary Risk

Stage: Grasmere to Patterdale
Distance: 11 miles
Ascent: 3,550 feet
Time: 8 hours
Weather: Cold and bright. Strong wind on higher ground with vicious gusts, whipping up lying snow.
Conditions: Deep drifting snow. Ice.
Having already determined that this was going to be the day when I would make it through, if nothing else just to prove I could, I awoke to bright sunshine. Valley conditions were beautiful, although it was still exceptionally cold and even at this low level there was a cutting wind.



[photo: Helm Crag from Town Head Farm]

Having battled through the snow to drive north on Friday, and then to be confined to low level walking yesterday, Juliet and Douglas were determined to accompany me for at least some of the way today. On the basis that they were due to return home today their initial plan was to walk with me for an hour and then turn round and head back. In fact they did far more than this, and ended up having their own epic day. So much so in fact that they were still around in the evening, a bonus for me as we were able to have dinner together.



[photo: Douglas & Juliet - The calm before the storm]

The walk-in and initial stages of the ascent to Grisdeale Hause were uneventful, with Juliet & I trying to predict how long it would take Douglas to peel off some of his six layers of clothing. The moment never came.
Just short of Great Tongue the conditions started to turn. The wind whipped up the snow and for the first time of many we were forced to turn our backs to the squall. We also encountered our first deep snow drift. Caught unawares Douglas attempted to wade through a virgin stretch and sank into his thighs, taking several moments to manoeuvre himself free.



[photo: First drift of the day]

This set the pattern for the rest of our day, which was to be dominated by steep slopes, high winds and deep drifts. We fell into a repeating pattern of stopping to steady ourselves against gusts; turning to avoid snow squalls being blown into our faces; and picking our way through drifts. The cycle seemed to repeat every few minutes, with the intensity ratcheting up with each few metres of ascent. Progress was painfully slow. It was easier when others had preceded us as we could use their foot prints. There were very few others out in the hills though (and in the end none) and in no time any prints that were made were wiped clean by the drifting snow.




[photo: Picking a route through the snow, near the mid point]

As we approached the top of Great Tongue conditions deteriorated quickly, and we became alone on the hill. The ascent steepened, the wind strength increased, and the drifts were deeper me more frequent. Each of us at one time or other sank to the waist in snow, and each of us at some point was forced to crawl on hands and knees to make progress. In normal circumstances this would be straightforward climb up a well marked path. Today it was back-breaking work through a featureless landscape. The marked paths no longer existed, cairns were covered, and even streams disappeared.










[photos: Juliet fighting her way through. This sequence tells a story]

High up on the fell we painstakingly traversed Gavel Crag, with frozen snow and ice an added hazard by this point. Crampons would have been handy (if only I'd planned properly!). Instead I had to kick steps in the steeper, more treacherous sections, trying to make use of frozen snow rather than hard ice. This slowed progress further, although by now we sensed the top and were spurred on by the prospect of overcoming the conditions to achieve our objective.



[photo: Douglas & Juliet picking a route through an icy section]

Past Gavel Crag we were able to shelter behind a large rock, taking stock and refuelling. This rock had been Douglas's objective, reached after three hours of toil in an extreme environment. For the first time we had some respite from the ceaseless gale, and in the calm of the moment we were able to appreciate the beauty of these mountains, as well as the brutality.




This was our parting point. I would now go on the final few hundred metres to Grisedale Hause and then down towards Patterdale. Juliet & Douglas would begin their return journey. This must have been difficult for them. We were all pretty exhausted, and they knew exactly what they had to face. I could at least imagine a simpler journey ahead.

They are great friends, and on this climb supported me far beyond the call of duty. I don't know very many who would have had the nerve and strength to have done what they did today. What they'd also done was got me far enough up the hill that I could go forwards rather than retreating again. Maybe I wouldn't have come this far on my own? We'll never know. What I can say is that it is only when you've experienced it that you can properly understand how exposing being alone in these mountains really is. It disorientates and tires you. It erodes your confidence and will to succeed. It nags you to give up.



[photo: Parting point]

After saying goodbye to the others I continued my journey uphill. By now I could see the top of the pass, maybe 200 feet vertically and not far away. For this final part of the climb however there would be no protection from the elements at all. There were no rocks or even bumps or hollows, just unbroken, untrodden snow. I waded, tip-towed, crawled and slithered on my belly through it taking a bee line for my target point on the ridge. Visibility at times was virtually zero as snow was whipped up by fierce gusts. When this happened I had no option but to hold my position and wait for it to pass.



[photo: Grisedale Hause]

Over the top Grisedale Tarn came quickly into view. It is a high mountain tarn that on another occasion might make a good location for a wild camp. Picking up off the water the wind was now constant and in my face, and colder and stronger than before. It was a brutal scene.



[photo: Grisedale Tarn towards the outflow]

I know Grisedale Tarn, although this scene was virtually unrecognisable. All the reference points had gone. Just a field of snow between me and my target at the outflow at the far end of the tarn. I saw that the tarn was partly frozen, and that around the edge the ice had been covered by snow making it indistinguishable from land. Conscious of this I improvise a route through the snow at a safe distance although this a meant a difficult partial re-ascent.
In normal conditions this would be a 15 minute walk. I toiled for an hour to reach the outlet. By now I was starting to read the snow, and could sometimes pick a route over firm snow (for example, sculptured snow equals firm, usually). I sometimes got it wrong and ended up swimming in the stuff.



[photo: Approaching the outflow]

The outflow at Grisedale Tarn is a network of fine streams around a wider central flow. I needed to cross over from south to north to get on my path down the valley. Ordinarily this is a trivial task requiring little thought. Now it was at eye level and an undulating landscape of snow and ice route finding was not so straightforward.

I started to make my way across, looking out for hard ice indicating water below and poking through with my walking poles to check for solid footholds. Some way over, with my objective close, I stood and pondered my next move. In the howling gale decision making required concentration. I felt the ice beneath the snow I was standing on start to crack. I had stopped on one of the outflows.

Before I could react the ice gave way. Instinctively I threw myself forward to maximise my surface area above the ice. In a moment I was able to scramble free and across to the other side. The water probably wasn't very deep, but for a split second I had imagined I was over the tarn itself. It was an uncomfortable moment.



[photo: Looking back to Grisedale Tarn]

The walk down was long and hard, and conditions only slowly improved, with gusts and smaller drifts in evidence right down into the valley. After my experience by the tarn however it was a relief and I enjoyed the walk out despite by now being pretty tired.



[photo: Frozen waterfall on the walk down]

So, I had succeeded in battling through extreme conditions to cross a Lake District pass and break through to my destination the other side. I have shown myself that I can do it and I am proud of myself. These eight hours of hard labour represent one of the high points in my mountain career so far.

The incident by the tarn however has unnerved me. I was perhaps lucky to have escaped with wet feet and a bruised knee. It could have been much worse. Indeed there are hazards with almost every step in these conditions. A slip or fall could result in a broken bone or sprained ankle. Some of the drifts are deep enough to swallow you up to your shoulders, and in an exhausted state escape may be tricky. The snow conceals streams, rocks and holes underneath that too could lead to injury.

In a group an accident or injury can be managed, and at least someone can be dispatched to get help. It may also be OK when other walkers are around. When walking alone however, with nobody around, a disabling injury would be a real problem.

I think I'll learn from my near miss. I don't need to take this sort of risk. Or maybe I'm just a bit spooked and I'll be ready for more of the same tomorrow?!



[photo: Exhausted and Sporting an ice-beard in Patterdale]

Juliet & Douglas made it back to Grasmere safely. Their descent was long and arduous but they managed it with certainty, and without their mountain guide! Great job.