Easter 2021

Having acquired a baby during the post-Christmas lockdown, we made the most of our support bubble by heading to the Peak District for a week of the Easter holidays. It felt somewhat like being let out of prison. We probably tried to do too much in our excitement and didn’t come home any less tired than we went, but it was fun…

After a rather slippy gritstone scrambling experience, we bought Jess some grippier trainers. She tried them out at Bradgate Park…

Alps 2018

Finally getting around to updating the blog….

Over the summer, we headed to the Alps. Dave headed up some peaks, while Jo did some lower level walking, cable car riding and intensive resting in the campsite.  It was the first time we’d taken the van to the Alps in summer since the rather soggy Saas trip of 2014, and we were relieved that this one didn’t follow suit (although our expectations have probably evolved somewhat in the intervening years).

We were based initially in Bormio, Italy, where summits reached included Monte Cevedale and Punta San Matteo.  We also drove up and down the Stelvio Pass a silly number of times, explored the WW2 front line, and can highly recommend the pizza and gelato at the campsite.

We then transferred over the border to Morteratsch near Pontresina in the Engadine, Switzerland.  The highlight from here was Piz Palu (just sub-4000m), and we also made friends with the marmots around Piz Languard, were introduced to Megacremeschnitte (Dave promised to recreate these at home, but for some reason hasn’t got round to it yet) and did some valley climbing.

Far North

A week of fantastic weather in the far north of Scotland, tootling from Tongue to Ullapool via a few hills, a couple of cycle rides and a lot of beaches.

Strans Gill

On one of the last weekends in Skipton, we wanted to go climbing, but it was rather hot. We opted for a (dry) ascent of Strans Gill.

Honeymooning on Skye

Wedding photos are still a work in progress, but here are some of our wonderful trip to Skye afterwards. (We’re still not really sure whether this counted as a honeymoon or not and reserve the right to have another one at a later date!)

Yorkshire in the evening

In June, without very much notice, we moved to Skipton. Well, Dave did, and Jo is attempting to be there as much as possible while working in Oakham (currently managing about half time). Although we’re both working hard, we’ve already found a couple of benefits of our new location…

Soon after moving, we joined a large group of friends to celebrate Ruth’s 30th birthday in Buttermere. (OK, not strictly Yorkshire but with the recent extension of the Dales national park into Cumbria, not far off.) This turned out to be more exercise than expected, especially for Dave who, after a whole-group round of Red Pike, High Stile etc, Haystacks and Fleetwith Pike, was persuaded to join some speedy people in continuing around the skyline to Dale Head, Hindscarth and Robinson. Meanwhile, Jo was more interested in making it to the ice cream shop before closing time. On Sunday we re-bagged Mellbreak and discovered that yet more of our friends are in danger of becoming fell runners, before driving home in two hours – a strong contender for the best bit of the weekend.

We’ve also been out and about in the evenings. With evening-size hills in most directions from Skipton we’re a bit spoiled for choice and still trying to work out the best parking places, crags and routes avoiding various walls, bogs and insect hotspots. Being able to cycle to Bolton Abbey after work is also quite exciting.

Torridon

After our sailing antics (see post below), Dave spent a month in Perth interning at a wind analysis company. We managed to meet up in the middle (Teesdale) for a weekend, mostly spent slobbing in the van, battling through heather on some obscure moor, drinking wine by Cow Green Reservoir, and walking along the Pennine Way in what appeared (judging by everyone else) to be the wrong direction. It was a good weekend, but not really deserving of its own blog post.

However, at the end of Dave’s internship we had a proper trip, courtesy of a Farrow family wedding in Torridon. Our first mountain fix on the long trip north was Glencoe, where the sun was out – along with the tourist coaches and bagpipers. We soon left the crowds behind as we headed up Bidean via the zig zags onto Gearr Aonach, and Stob Coire nan Lochan. From “zig zags” I was expecting a beneath-an-alpine-lift-style slog, but they turned out to be significantly more fun in an unlikey-secret-passage kind of way. It was absurdly hot and we found ourselves sheltering in the shade of every suitable rock for a drink. At the summit we watched a mountain rescue helicopter collecting a search team from the next top, then descended down the Lost Valley (we had been contemplating adding Sgreamhach to the day, but we’d only started at 11 having driven up from Glasgow, and still had a 4-hour drive to Torridon to go).

Unfortunately, by the time we’d washed all the sweat off, most of the drive was in the dark, but we did have dinner watching a spectacular sunset over the Grey Corries from the Spean Bridge Commando Memorial, and the full moon lit up the landscapes (and deer) around Glen Shiel and Lochcarron as we passed through.

The next day we did the classic traverse of Liathach – a complete contrast to our previous ascent, which had been unrelentingly grey and drizzly. It was very warm and windless again, but much of the steep ascent was in mist as we climbed through the cloud that had shrouded the mountainside after sunrise. As we gained the ridge we just rose above the cloud into the sunshine, and watched as it all gradually cleared below us over the course of an hour or so. We had fun scrambling over the pinnacles and managed to descend with our knees just about intact. The walk finished with a refreshing dip in the river Torridon, followed by drying off on a sunny slab of gneiss while eating haggis-flavoured crisps (then hastily retreating to escape the evening midges).

Normal service resumed on Friday as we completed a damp, misty and viewless round of Ben Alligin – much the same as the previous time we climbed it, only in the other direction and incorporating a less-frequented nose ascent route (Na Fasreidhnean).

On the day of the wedding itself there was only time for a morning “stroll” – on a somewhat deceptive coastal path from Inveralligin to Diabeg. Although we’d only really intended to go halfway and then reverse, the groom was having so much fun that we carried on – over countless lumps and bumps, through a squally shower, down a cliff face, and finally back along a road containing no fewer than seven up arrows and seven down arrows, all at a pace that was more of a run than a walk. A decent warm-up for the evening’s ceilidh!

Wasdale

This one had been in the calendar for a while. When my parents retired, they decided to reset their Wainwright count (not that they had been counting) and do them all again. As they got closer to finishing, it was decided that their 214th Wainwright would be Scafell Pike, and that they would climb it on my Dad’s 70th birthday, 3rd July 2015. And so it was that 20-odd family and friends (mostly from the Castle MC) converged on Wasdale Head for a long weekend of celebration and generally having fun in the mountains.

A last-minute work trip to Finland happily managed to just avoid disrupting best-laid plans, and the yellow van picked me up from Manchester Airport en route to the Lakes. Torrential rain and traffic cleared to a wonderful drive over Ulpha Fell, and we arrived in time to join the party, who had taken over a sizeable corner of the Wasdale Head Inn (the birthplace of British climbing, as we were frequently reminded), for a drink. As usual, most people knew who I was while I had no idea who several of them were – though it was worse for Dave, who knew even fewer people, but was nevertheless immediately called on to participate in a “who’s taller” contest. The fact that around 20% of the party were called Dave didn’t help matters! We then spent a comfortable night on the green undisturbed by the relatively small number of Three Peakers (it being Thursday – more inevitably turned up later in the weekend).

Friday’s ascent of Lingmell and Scafell Pike went off without a hitch and in glorious sunshine. Summit celebrations included prosecco, ginger cake and pork pies with candles in. We descended via the Corridor Route and Lingmell Beck. Some of the party stopped to cool off in the pools of the beck, but Dave and I had bigger ideas and continued down to the valley. We had a quick change and paddled/swam down the river to Wast Water, where we managed a good 5-10 minutes of actual swimming (and very pleasant it was too, although we found that as soon as we ventured away from the river mouth it got a lot colder). Back with just enough time for showers before an excellent dinner and more cake.

A wild night (in terms of wind and rain rather than behaviour, in case that needed clarifying) ensued as the weather broke, and we spent a largely grey, damp Saturday pottering over Yewbarrow.

Sunday was much better, and we decided to get some of the driving out of the way in the morning by heading to Coniston. The van only just made it over Hardknott Pass – I think we’ll tick that one off and not bother again. There wasn’t time for any worthwhile climbing so we left the rope behind and joined up three scrambles to make a most enjoyable ascent of Brim Fell: The Bell, Low Water Beck and the crags below Brim Fell itself. Low Water Beck was the pick of the three – good rock, excellent positions alongside the tumbling falls, almost entirely dry and never too precarious. We finished the day by running over Swirl How and down Coppermines Valley, getting caught in a couple of summer showers but drying off before we got back to the van.

Scrambled Legs

With one eye on the weather forecast, Jo managed to swap her bank holiday Monday to the Friday, so off we went on Thursday night to the Lakes. This meant we got the best weather on Friday, and the good forecast (but not the actual weather) on Saturday.  Whether or not we were net winners is a matter for debate…

Anyway, we headed to Rosthwaite for a weekend of scrambling and hopefully climbing. Friday dawned cold and clear, and with snow on the tops, we opted for a scramble rather than a climb. Langstrath is an amazing empty valley in the middle of the Lakes, and Cam Crag is a wonderful ridge onto the tops in a good surrounding. After a fun scramble, we headed on up to Glaramara and on again to Esk Pike and Bowfell. I realised I had left my water bottle at our lunch stop, so we headed back over Esk Pike to Allen Crags. Unfortunately, someone had already nicked the water bottle, so we headed back to our route, past Angle Tarn and over Rossett Pike back down into Langstrath. Not entirely surprisingly, Langstrath is quite long. It was nearly 7pm when we finally made it out, pretty knackered and both of us with sore feet, dreaming of gear shops and buying new boots.

We then spent a pleasant evening in a campsite (luxury), although it was still pretty cold to be outside.

The next day started similarly, so we went off to look at Gillercomb Crag on Grey Knotts above Seathwaite. While still walking to the start from the campsite (before 10am) I ran out of energy and required a second breakfast, despite an enormous meal the night before. We wandered up beside Sour Milk Ghyll (we decided it was too cold to go in) , did a short but enjoyable scramble on Seathwaite Upper Slabs, and were checking Gillercombe Crag and our route when it started to rain. Waterproofs on, we decided to abort, and walk around the crag. Getting closer, we decided the rain had eased enough to go for it anyway. We were half way up the obvious route, when a re-reading of the guidebook (“no route finding difficulties”) showed we had taken an alternative route but were luckily back on track. A fun and interesting scramble up an imposing crag and it started to snow as we topped out. A quick stomp in the wind round to Brandreth and Green Gable and we headed down – it just wasn’t worth the mist, wind and rain to head on up to Great Gable, which we have done in similar conditions before.

Another afternoon and night in the campsite in the pouring rain (we saw a few groups give up and leave) and we simply relaxed on Sunday as the rain didn’t let up until we were out of the Lakes driving home around 2pm.