Day 7: Ashley's Poles

Stage: Orton to Kirkby Stephen
Distance: 13 miles
Ascent: 1,800 feet
Time: 5 hours 30
Weather: Mixed bag. Heavy snow at start. Periods of brightness. Heavy snow and high wind on high ground. Cold easterly wind throughout.
Conditions: Extensive lying snow at start. Roads and good paths in first half. Open moorland and then lying snow and drifts over high ground.



[photo: Fresh snow on Orton Scar]

We woke up in Orton to significant fresh snowfall, so after the break in the sequence yesterday, breakfast today was again spent pawing over maps looking for options. We agreed to set out on the originally planned high level walk, but would make decisions at selected points to continue, or switch to a lower level alternative.

The planned walk would take us over two fells, Ravenstonedale Moor, and then after dropping sharply to Smardale Bridge, climbing up and over Smardale Fell. Fairly quickly it became apparent that the lying snow was obscuring paths and features, which would make navigation difficult, and it was concealing hazards underneath. We took one of the early escape options and walked around Ravenstonedale Moor rather than over it.



[photo: On course]

Making good ground on clear paths we reached that half-way point Newbiggin-on-Lune in quick time. After wandering through the village in an unsuccessful search for a cafe (a cup of tea was very much in order) we stopped and lunched on our own supplies and plotted the second half of our walk. Conditions had improved, at least in the valley, and we identified that there was only one two and a half mile stretch of moor where there was no clear escape, and on this basis we decided to walk over Smardale Fell.

A few moments after setting out we passed the village cafe, lamented our misfortune, but pressed on without stopping. Immediately the terrain was more interesting than our initial low level route, and we were both energised by it.



[photo: The river at Smardale Bridge]

Our route wound up the side of a hill and then steeply down to Smardale Bridge where we rejoined our originally planned route. At this low lying point conditions were benign, although the fell ahead sat in cloud. We were committed by now so pressed on.



[photo: Smardale Fell from near Smardale Bridge]

The climb onto the fell as more arduous than we'd expected from counting the contours on the map, steeper and with a strengthening easterly wind against us. Nevertheless we marched on at good pace, and into the snow-storm engulfing the fell. From here it was a race against time, before the land became transformed by deep snow and the risk of becoming lost on a featureless moor.



[photo: Ash on Smardale Fell]

The crossing passed without incident and as we completed the long descent into Kirkby Stephen the season changed for a short time. The sun made an appearance, the easterly wind dropped, and I believe I even heard birdsong.

I've been using walking poles for some years now. I find it helps to spread the load on ascents and descents. Ash has always frowned on this as if it were counter to the basic values of the hill-walker, even referring to them as Zimmer Poles. However, having finally accepted his decent into middle age practically has taken over from principle, and anticipating some serious walking this week Ash forked out £20 of his hard earned money on a brand new pair of walking poles.

Having waved goodbye to Dave and Elaine at Scar Side B&B we hung around for 10 snowy minutes in the car park whilst Ash set up his new poles. Then after less than 10 further minutes of walking he saw that one of the baskets had gone missing (the basket is a small circular piece of plastic that fits to the bottom of the pole to stop it sinking into the ground too far - they never really work that well). After politely criticising the quality of the workmanship he set off back up the track in an unsurprisingly fruitless search for the missing basket. After a further 10 minutes we were finally on our way. It was the start of what would turn out to be an eventful day for Ash's odd poles.

Our low level walk took us through numerous fields, protected by dry stone walls and with all manner of stiles, ladders and steps assembled to allow walkers to climb over them. The fields were generally empty or housed flocks of sheep. It was a pleasant enough scene especially as we were treated to some fine views across to the Howgills.



[photo: The Howgills, seen from the north]

I've been chased by cows before, and I know not to mess with them. By contrast I've always seen sheep as rather timid creatures with little about them. I've never come across a militant sheep, until today. As we dropped into another of the many fields we passed through today we anticipated the same uneventful crossing. Ash mentioned that sheep are known to be very protective of their lambs, and at this time of year we shouldn't go too close or we might be butted. Whatever.

As if on cue the sheep seemed to look up as if in unison, still chewing of course. They then started a slow coordinated march towards us. We quickened our step slightly. The exit point over the dry stone wall was not apparent and we veered towards a likely looking low point.

By the time we reached the wall we were pinned against it, surrounded by staring-chewing sheep. They stepped forward within touching distance, again in unison. Brandishing his basket-less pole Ash poked out in an attempt to deter our would-be attackers. I took the opportunity of the distraction to vault (well, climb over quickly) the wall into a snow drift the other side, and Ash quickly followed. "Told you". Good job he had his new poles with him.

Ash's odd poles spent the rest of the first half of the walk strapped to his rucksack. As we neared Smardale Bridge, in anticipation of more challenging walking to come, Ash stopped to assemble his poles. He unscrewed the securing threads on his good pole to extend it to the correct length, but over extended it and the two hales came apart.

After a few seconds of furiously trying to jam the separated parts together Ash again commented on the quality of the poles, questioning at the top of voice their usefulness, and hurled the broken parts into the distance. He turned and continued on his way, swinging his bad pole by his side and grumbling.



[photo: Ash crossing Smardale Fell with his bad pole]

I'm seven days into my coast to coast now. My biggest concern at the outset was cumulative fatigue. This hasn't really happened. I have been tired at the end of each walk but so far I've recovered in time for the next day. I was also a bit footsore for the first time during the walk today, but I don't have any deep down fatigue. I'm managing this well I think, taking my time and keeping my blood sugar level up with frequent snacks and energy drink.

I thought I'd have stacks of time on my hands. This just isn't the case. After my daily routine of eating, packing up my big yellow bag, setting out my rucksack items to dry at the end of each walk, and so on, there isn't much time left in the day. The rest of the time is walking, updating my blog, and sending out texts and calls letting people know I've arrived safely. It's going too quickly.

I'm also loving it. Each day's exertion leaves me tired but with a feeling of elation and satisfaction. I like the road-trip experience moving from one place to the next each day and experiencing the different villages and towns. I am missing Carol badly and I wish she was here with me. FaceTime is an excellent thing, but it's not quite the same.



[photo: Wainwright's fish & chip shop. Closed on Wednesday]

I like Kirkby Stephen. It is a very small town, but it is a town - the first on my route so far. It is also the first place I've stayed where the coast to coast is just a sideshow. The Old Croft House guesthouse is excellent, and there is no reason to expect anything less than a superb breakfast tomorrow.

The owner has been in touch with mountain rescue on my behalf, and provided good advice for my route tomorrow and also the travel prospects for the people joining me tomorrow.






[photos: The Old Croft guesthouse]

I packed two pairs of shorts and am still optimistic I will get to wear a pair outdoors at least once in the next eight days. Until now I have been wearing four layers of clothes against the cutting easterly wind and low temperatures. The forecast has improved however. The next two days should be a little warmer, the wind should drop, and no further snowfall is expected.



[photo: Smardale Fell]

Ash left for Whitby after our walk today. Juliet, Douglas, Walking Dave and Rob will all join me tomorrow at Keld. Keld is an isolated high altitude village that is frequently cut off to traffic. The roads are currently open, and I hope the forecast holds so that they can all get through, and so that Suzi can transport my big yellow bag of course.

As I'll be setting out alone, and having listened to expert advice (and being the new low-risk Pickering) I plan to take a low level route tomorrow. All being well Juliet and Douglas will walk out from Keld to meet me.



[photo: Flipping (?) Wainwright]

Day 6: The Velvet Turf

Stage: Bampton to Orton
Distance: 12 miles
Ascent: 2,300 feet
Time: 6 hours 15
Weather: Bright sun at times. Snow squalls. Cold easterly wind - easing. Heavy snowfall in last hour.
Conditions: Some minor snow drifts early and late in walk. Otherwise mainly grassy moorland, with snow patches. More ascent than expected.

Our stay at the Crown & Mitre was excellent, in keeping with the standard of accommodation so far, the highlight being possibly the best beef pie in England, served at dinner last night.

The landlady took no time at all to work Ash out. As we waited for him to come down from his room to settle his share of the bill she asked if he was still doing his hair! She also shared a radio news report that on Monday the Mountain Rescue Service had been called out three times to the aid of walkers in the mountains between Patterdale and Bampton.



[photo: Last sight of the Lakes]

The path out of Bampton was mostly across fields, with snow-drift-hidden stiles crossing dry stone walls. The section was uneventful, if a little hillier than expected. By the time we reached Shap we were both feeling the effects.


[photo: Crossing the M6]

Suitably replenished at the very good coffee shop there we crossed first the west coast railway line and then the M6. A landmark moment signalling the one-third point of coast to coast and a switch of phase.



[photo: Near Oddendale Stone Circle]

Out of sight of the motorway the landscape settled into a quite different feel to that of the Lakes. This was rolling moorland rather than sharp peaks. Scattered lying snow rather than wall-to-wall drifts.



[photo: The velvet turf]

As we progressed east the snow became more scattered to reveal smooth close-cut grass (not because it's been mown!). Wainwright called this the velvet turf, and it was much in evidence through the second half of the walk today. It made for good comfortable walking, although the repeated sharp descents down to streams or similar and subsequent re-ascents ensured the difficulty level remained respectable.



[photo: Knitted hat and matching Foster Grants]

The chilling east wind was ever present, and was sometimes accompanied by squalling snow. From time to time however we were treated to bright sunshine, and where this coincided with a dip in the wind the conditions were almost pleasant. Maybe spring is not so far away, and I will get to wear the shorts I packed sometime before Robin Hoods Bay?




[photo: Limestone pavement]

The Bampton to Orton stage is also punctuated by what can best be described as "items of interest". Some of these are named. Oddendale Stone Circle is to be honest a bit of an "is that it?" sight, as is Robin Hoods Grave. In the case of the latter we couldn't see a connection either to the legendary do-gooder or to a tomb. There are remains of roman roads, limestone pavements, medium sized boulders and large boulders. Whilst none of these is especially spectacular they do add interest to the moorland march.

All in all it was an excellent walk, rather like the North York Moors but with a charm of it's own, and that Velvet Turf. It is a part of the country that deserves more visitors, or maybe that would take away some of the charm.






[photos: Calm before the storm - see the clouds gathering behind the sunlit scene]

As we moved into the final miles of the walk the repeating pattern of wind blown snow flurries and bright sunlit moments was interrupted by a heavy and extended snow-storm. This persisted until we reached our destination.



[photo: Approaching Scar Side]

Scar Side Farm B&B is wonderfully situated below Orton Scar, and right on the coast to coast path. I'd been in touch with the owners, Dave & Elaine, several times in the run-up and my expectations were high. I'm pleased to report that they didn't disappoint. The accommodation is excellent. We each have a comfortable bedroom, and there is a separate living room shared by all guests, which means the two of us. As I write Ash is warming by the log burner watching England play Montenegro.

The welcome was warm, and we arrived to tea and biscuits and were even offered an evening meal. We decided instead to try the local pub, about a mile away, and Dave kindly provided a taxi service there and back for the price of a couple of pints.



[photo: Scar Side Farm B&B]

Consistent with what had gone before dinner at the George was excellent, as was the beer. A stream of locals came in and out and engaged us in lively conversation. Most expressed surprised at why we're here. I think we may be the first coast to coasters of the season. Indeed, like the places I've stayed previously Dave & Elaine reported that all their other coast to coasters this fortnight have cancelled, pulling out of their walk altogether.

Indeed, we saw no fresh footprints in the snow today, and not another soul on the moors. Could it be that I'm the only coast to coaster still going? Surely not?



[photo: After the storm - Orton Scar]

So, a good walk today. Thanks to Ash for the excellent company - like old times. Lets hope his dodgy knees hold up for another go tomorrow.

It is also worth noting that we completed the stage as planned, with no unforeseen dramas!

Day 5: Farewell to The Lakes

From the B&B this morning I could clearly see the path up to Boredale Hause. This is a thoroughfare from Patterdale onto the far eastern fells. There was nobody on it all morning. There is nobody on the fells today. And that includes me.

No regrets. With conditions much as yesterday and snow starting to fall, I woke up feeling the same way I felt last night. It's not worth the risk. Today will be a rest day.

The Lakes phase of my walk has not been what I planned or expected. I thought it would be the hardest working phase, with the steepest and greatest climbs, but I was really looking forward to seeing it and walking it in a different way to my usual, climb up early - do a few summits - and head down. In the end it didn't get to do this, but I got to do something different instead.

When the weather first closed in a few days ago I was frustrated and irritated, particularly when it caused a break in my progress. Then recognising that I couldn't change it I became more philosophical and learned to play with the hand I'd been dealt. I am satisfied I did everything I reasonably could to get through on Friday and Saturday and in the end enjoyed excellent, and very different, winter walks on those days. The successful crossing yesterday was important for me. At least I got to win once.

I've seen aspects of the Lakes I'd never seen before, and contrasts from valley to valley too. The terrain and landscape changes, and each seems to have it's own weather system. And it was good to get just a glimpse of life in each of the villages.

In the end I am pleased with this phase. I put at least as much into it as I would if it had been straightforward, and I feel I know the mountains better now after my multi-day wrestle with them. I also feel pretty good in myself. I am feeling the effects of yesterday at the moment, but not much in the way of deep down fatigue, and my legs and feet are fine with no aches or pains worth mentioning.

Tomorrow I begin a new phase, running through to half way at the end of day 8. What I want to do now is put some miles on the clock. I'll seek the quick but attractive routes rather than the risky. I'll explore a part of the country I know little about, and I'll do it in the company of good friends.

This has been one of the great bonuses for me over the first five days: The appreciation and enjoyment of my family and friends (given that I'm the grumpy, solitary type).

Those first few days with Sherpa Dave, Mum and Ali were very special, and the experience was heightened because we had a common mission rather than just spending time. The way they helped me make difficult decisions as if they were for themselves, whilst trying to put themselves in my shoes, just illustrated how much they care for me. If I didn't know already.

Juliet and Douglas picked up the baton next. I had to talk them out of my Greenup Edge attempt they were so keen to join in (so I am capable of good decisions). I could have easily felt down that evening, having failed to get through to Grasmere; Sherpa Dave, Mum and Ali having left for home; and the disappointment of Carol not coming up, but they made sure I was OK. As for yesterday (read the Day 4 post), they demonstrated that they have the hearts of lions (as well as gold).

Ash arrives tonight for a two day stint over the Pennines. It will be good to spend some decent time together. Our lives have taken us in different directions lately and we haven't done this enough. Juliet and Douglas will be back for more on Day 8. I have promised them a more straightforward day, and it will be nice celebrating half way with them. Then the cavalry arrives. Dave & Rob ride into town (in my car!). Fresh legs and fresh spirits for the second half.

One of the things I've really come to appreciate at the end of a long cold day in the hills is somewhere warm and comfortable to stay, good food, and a friendly welcome. I've been very lucky in this respect. All of the places I've stayed have been excellent and I'd recommend them all.

The Shepherds Arms in Ennerdale Bridge is one of a surprisingly small number of places to stay there. The place is comfortable enough. Keith, the owner, was extremely helpful, in particularly in contributing his local knowledge to our Day 2 decision making. Indeed, the B&Bs on my schedule formed a network to check my progress, share weather reports, road conditions and so on.

Yew Crags in Rosthwaite is a lovely B&B. It is a fine house just outside the village with large comfortable rooms. The whole family shares in serving breakfast. A really nice feeling place.

Town Head Farm is a couple of miles to the north of Grasmere, at the foot of Helm Crag, although this splendid location isn't ideal for those wanting to see the bright lights of the village. It's like being at home. It's very small with a cosy sitting room. Jackie is just great. Straight talking and you get the feeling she really cares.

Last night I stayed at Crookabeck, down a track from Patterdale. I didn't particularly enjoy the extra mile or so at the end of my walk yesterday, but it was worth it. The accommodation is an annex to Adam and Charlene's family home, and you get a bedroom, a bathroom and a living room / kitchen. Warm, cosy and stylish all at the same time, and they have Sky Sports! Adam also helped transport my big yellow bag to and from the main road, the track to Crookabeck being impassable for normal cars.

Tonight we're at the Crown & Mitre at Bampton Grange. This is the late substitution I had to do when the Mardale Inn fell through. So far so good.





Finally, I enjoyed my rest day by taking a walk!

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.

Day 3: Footprints in the snow

Stage: Rosthwaite to Grasmere
Distance: 7 miles (walked)
Ascent: 1,600 feet
Time: 4 hours 10
Weather: A little snowfall, but more blown up in gusts. Wind cold but slightly eased from yesterday.
Conditions: Trecherous. Deep snow drifts and hidden hazards underfoot.

This should've been one of the most pleasant days of the walk, enjoyed in the company of friends. Juliet and Douglas had made it to their base in Grasmere Friday evening, but after postponing their journey until Saturday morning Simon, Austin and Carol decided not to risk the journey.

After hugs and goodbyes with Sherpa Dave, Ali and Mum I waved them off from our B&B. I've had a cracking weekend with them, and if anything the unexpected challenges we've had cemented us as a group. I could not have wished for a better send-off.

Based on another poor weather forecast and the visibly difficult local conditions I urged Juliet and Douglas not to join me today, and they did some lower level walking around their Grasmere base. We agreed to meet up later in the day. I set out solo from Rosthwaite with a clear safety plan to pull out if I felt it was becoming dangerous. I was sure that if I could get up to Greenup Edge I would be able to make it because my knowledge of the descent into Grasmere is good, including in poor visibility.




The first part of the walk, south out of Rosthwaite alongside the beck, was promising. There was still a light snowfall, but conditions were benign and the tops of some of the surrounding fells could be clearly seen. As I turned east towards the foot of Eagle Crag though the wind whipped up and some drifting was in evidence, even though this was still at the valley floor.

I was comforted that the path had been trodden by others this morning, and the foot prints plotted a route through the increasingly deep drifts. Gradually the prints drifted away until eventually, as the hill steepened, I was kept company by a single set. I continued this way for some time, stepping in my predecessors footmarks to avoid sinking in the deeper snow.




Ultimately I lost my friend, as the footprints veered right and curved back down the hill. Now I was alone. The knowledge that I was the first to tread this way today weighed heavily. I felt more exposed and conscious of the danger of my situation.

The practicalities of climbing upwards also become more difficult, exponentially. Now I had to plot my own route, keeping a steady uphill direction, navigating through the drifts, and avoiding dangerous rocks and hollows. It was painstaking work as I used my poles to survey the snow depths ahead of my steps. I made frequent mistakes, and slipped waist deep into drifts a couple of times. Later I frightened myself by missing the side of a concealed rock, scraping my shin down it. This could easily have been a sprain or worse.




Several times I stopped and considered my situation, each time coming closer to turning back. Near Lining Crag, not so far from the top of the pass, I approached a deep drift across a gully. I think I knew the game was up before I reached it. As I came up close the lip of the drift came above my shoulders. I couldn't see a feasible route round, and after taking a moment to process the reality of defeat I turned and headed downhill.




OK, so I'm no explorer. However, it's worth noting that I have a pretty fair chance of making it to my 50th birthday. Something Scott and Mallory didn't achieve!

Soon after turning back I bumped into a solo walker following my footprints in the opposite direction. We discussed his prospects for a few minutes. I think he considered retreating with me, and for my part I wondered if I might give it another try. Walking together would be safer, and we could share be route finding. In the end we both decided to stick with our current plan. We shook hands, wished each other good luck, and moved off in our different directions.

As I approached the end of my retreat I could see a figure coming down the mountain. I wasn't sure at the time but it turned out to be the walker who passed me. He pulled over at the bus-stop I was waiting at for my ride over the Keswick and offered me a lift all the way to Grasmere. He'd continued until my footprints finished and then for a further few hundred metres, but became unnerved by the exposure of his situation and exhausted by the difficulty of cutting his own path through the snow.




I was a little down as I made my decision to turn back today, wondering if I could have pushed on further. It is a selfish thought but the fact the other walker also turned around after extending my farthest point by only a little helped me be satisfied that I has pushed far enough. Given the time of day I suspect nobody went over that pass today.

Since arriving at my B&B this evening I've been contacted by several concerned friends and also seen the weather related carnage across the country. Maybe it's something just to be giving it a go in these conditions. I hear this is the coldest March in 50 years. How symmetrical!

The weather looks like it will further deplete my walking party. Jo hasn't been able to make it, and Ash is flagging a concern for his arrival on Monday. We'll confirm plans tomorrow. Juliet and Douglas plan to return for the Kirkby Stephen to Keld leg and this will be a real bonus. They are always great company and we've had a really enjoyable dinner together this evening.

As for my journey east the next two days are key. In this part of the world there is no feasible low level walking route from west to east and it is necessary to cross the mountain passes. My plan is to do what it takes to get myself and my big yellow bag across to Patterdale tomorrow and then Bampton on Monday. My first choice will be to walk but if this becomes dangerous or infeasible I will use alternative means. Suzi starts her work tomorrow, and hopefully the roads will be sufficiently open to allow her through.

After Bampton the situation should ease. The terrain is a little more forgiving and there are more escape options. This means if the fells are too difficult I should still be able to continue on foot, even if it means using the roads.

Day 2: Something about discretion and valour

Stage: Ennerdale Bridge to Rosthwaite
Distance: 8 miles (walked)
Ascent: 1,200 feet
Time: 3 hours 40
Weather: Strong winds, heavy snow, blizzard conditions higher up. Very cold.
Conditions: Lying snow and drifts. Footpaths and roads indistinguishable in places.


Well, it's been an interesting day. I guess the main thing I have to report is that the dream is over, at least in its purest form. I am no longer able to cross the country under my own steam.


Oddly enough I feel OK about it. I don't feel my coast to coast is broken. I've had a thoroughly worthwhile walking day, and I'm ready for more.


I thought cumulative fatigue would be the most likely cause of failure. It hadn't occurred to me (despite Juliet's warning) that I would be stopped in my tracks, at the end of March, by a blizzard! I guess it's been coming. There have been national and local forecasts warning of severe weather, and as we walked into Ennerdale Bridge yesterday afternoon local man pointed skywards proclaiming "it's coming" as if foretelling of some impending doom.


This morning we awoke to just a sprinkling of snow, although the wind was howling against the building. By the time I joined the others for breakfast the owner of the B&B we were due to walk to today had already phoned around the accommodation in Ennerdale to locate us and deliver a plea that we should not attempt to cross the mountains to her, adding that we should drive there early before the roads were closed by drifting snow.


Four well-prepared and experienced looking guys sporting the right gear finished breakfast hurriedly and left, declaring they were heading home and wouldn't been risking the hills today. Another couple, here to do the first five days of coast to coast, were planning to use public transport to get to Rosthwaite and were agog that we hadn't yet ruled out walking.


Perhaps anticipating my attitude to the decision at hand Ali, Mum and Sherpa Dave had enlisted the help of the owner of the hotel to advise against doing something foolhardy. I recall that last night the three of them were busy convincing me that I was invincible. Mind you, I was a bit down and very much in need of some encouragement.


We opted for a compromise. I would start to walk, accompanied by Ali initially, and we would meet with Sherpa Dave and Mum in the car at pre-arranged points to make a decision whether or not to go on at each one. We could keep this up for maybe an hour, after which the road would end and I would be committed, and they would need to head to Rosthwaite whilst they still could.


At first the wind was strong and cold, but not a show-stopper. It was snowing but the strength of the wind swept it from the path and collected it in the hedgerows. As we approached the lake the ferocity of the wind increased such that walking became difficult. By the time we reached the lake it was difficult to stand. And this was at the valley floor. At the top of the pass I was aiming for it would be far more severe and almost certainly a white-out. Whilst it was a hard thing to accept, it was an easy decision to make.


Shakespeare: Henry IV part 1.
Falstaff: 'The better part of valour is discretion; in the which better part I have saved my life'.


After attempting a couple of direct routes over passes, each time being turned back by drifts, we drove the long way round via Keswick and into Borrowdale. Here it was as if we'd entered a different climate system. The snow was thick on the ground but the wind had almost gone. It was a winter wonderland.




I was keen to walk. These were cracking conditions and I wanted to minimise the distance lost against my original route. The last thing on my mind was a rest-day. I decided to walk out to Honister Pass, which was on my itinerary for today, turn about and follow my planned route back down into Rothswaite.


Mum had intended this to be her part of walk from the outset and she undertook to walk with me, even though the out and back approach I was taking would double the distance and add 1,000 feet of ascent. It turned out to be a challenging but excellent few hours.




At first the conditions were idyllic (to some of us!). Falling snow and stillness all around. We took our time climbing the hill, taking it in stages. As we neared the top the wind picked up, ultimately to the point where I had to stand and brace myself against the gusts in order to stay on my feet. I held onto Mum to stop her blowing away!


The wind here had scoured the path of snow and deposited it in deep drifts. It was vicious. And this was the point I would have come to after coming off the high fells. As I peered up into the murk it was clear that I had made a very good decision indeed.


As we turned back down the hill we turned into the teeth of the gale, the wind and snow stinging our faces. I'm really impressed by the way Mum handled it. It was quite unsettling at times and I know strong men who would have struggled with it. I was concerned for a time as she lost the feeling in her fingers through the cold, and visions of Rannulf Fiennes taking a hacksaw to his own frostbitten fingers momentarily popped into my head. I thought it best not to mention it (!) and we were able to deal with it quickly.


As we descended the conditions eased and when the calm of the valley was restored Mum expressed her regret that our adventure was over and that the easy valley walking was an anti-climax!








So how do I feel. It's odd really. I feel I should be down, but I feel good. I've had a thoroughly enjoyable day walking in the snow, I'm feeling good in myself and I'm ready for more tomorrow.




The forecast for tomorrow remains bad. I have already decided to go unless conditions make it impossible. The walk is shorter, although the pass at Greenup Edge will be exposed and difficult to navigate if visibility is poor. I'm not familiar with the walk up, but I do know the route down into Grasmere and I have done both the ridge route and valley path in difficult conditions.


Juliet and Douglas arrived in Grasmere this evening. They plan to join me in the morning for the walk. We'll compare notes at breakfast time and make our decision based on road and walking conditions. Communication might be an interesting challenge as they have mobile phone reception but no wireless, and I have the opposite. Simon, Austin and Carol decided to stay put tonight and plan to drive up from the midlands early in the morning. Selfishly I would prefer not to have this extra unscheduled night away from Carol but it is the right call.


Let's see what the morning brings. I hope the conditions will ease but the forecast suggests otherwise. They are all keen to walk with me. After all it's what they came for. However, walking for enjoyment, soaking up the views from the high places, is natural pleasure that most could appreciate. Battling through a white-out in a gale is quite another thing, and is only enjoyed by the unhinged.

Day 1: Wind at our backs?

Stage: St Bees to Ennerdale Bridge
Distance: 9 miles
Ascent: 1,400 feet
Time: 3 hours 20
Weather: Cool & mainly bright. Strong wind at times.
Conditions: Initial section across muddy fields. Then on road.

After several days spent convincing myself that I'm not up to the challenge it is good to get started. At least now we'll find out for sure. After the long drive north, tea and a rather substantial scone in the beach cafe, we went through the time honoured start of Coast to Coast ceremony. I collected pebbles from the beach and dipped my feet in the sea.









Ali and I then headed east on foot whilst Sherpa Dave and Mum drove across to the B&B at Ennerdale Bridge before walking back to meet us. In fact they walked close to 3 miles back to us making for a considerable round-trip.




I'd opted for a direct route for this first stage, although this meant scaling a bigger than expected hill in the first two miles. Surely a taste of things to come. As we walked across the highest part of the hill into a cutting easterly wind I mentioned to Ali that one of the reasons most people walk from west to east is to have the prevailing wind (westerly) at their backs! Spring is late this year and the wind is coming from Siberia rather than the Atlantic.




It may be ominous that during our final mile or two into Ennerdale the warmth of the sun, such as it was, faded and the breeze picked up noticeably. Blizzards are forecast for tomorrow. Is this the weatherman being over-cautious or are we in for an interesting day?



I'm glad to to be on my way, although a couple of hours after finishing I feel more tired than I should after what wasn't an especially challenging section by the Coast to Coast standards. This is a bit of a worry because tomorrow is one of the very toughest stages. It is also the most remote and I will be on my own for most of it.

Maybe the lack of training over the last month or my slow recovery from man-flu is affecting me? Maybe I will wake up in the morning feeling fit and ready to go?