Yeah right….
56 - something else entirely; what sort of loser am I?
Twelve left.
The stark spectre of mortality looms….but one must shout at the devil as age accrues – especially with such delightful ‘friends’ there to remind you of impending decrepitude…
How I laughed.
But that was yesterday.
Today is Ennerdale.
The micro-fleece clad ‘oh do you think it will be warm?’ Mr El and I get lost 10 metres from the car park but steely resolve assures that we get back on track to the ridge stretching from the western shores of Ennerdale up the Pillar summit.
It is a brutal start.
But all things pass…like 56 years.
Soon we see the ridge that must be gained to via Crag Fell.
Once there all we must do is climb for as long as can be borne to then collapse to the most important aspects of the day….new gear to play with and admire….
The provender supplied by El on this occasion will be totally exhausted and we will descend from the hill with nary a morsel between us….
The ex-Wainwright bagger has gained something useful from an otherwise futile task – he knows where a few water sources are.
On Caw Fell.
Shiny new tent; never put it up before.
Time: 3 minutes 23s
Still and warm.
We wander over to the summit…..to his credit El resits touching the cairn; the bagger deconstructed…
Some hold out but I have already partaken of supper as the sun sets romantically behind the nuclear power station. El begins the first of his 6 courses….
An attempt is made to grab El’s chocolate pudding (not a euphemism)……rebuffed I retire…
….and have judged the shoulder season a little generously, or age tells…I need to don my down booties, trousers and primaloft top for a warm enough night’s sleep….
….somewhat vexingly that change of wardrobe occurred around 3am…
Blink awake at 05:31 to a steel blue sky with the moon set above Seatallan.
A stellar day portends….
And somewhat of a red-letter day too as the normally slothful El is also stirring.
We are off by about 06:40 I think…over frozen turf and grasses then onto crispy snow following the wall and fence line that climb over Haycock.
We are steadily getting through our food…indulging in mini-brunches along the way…
A longer maxi-brunch is taken to admire the views and bask in the very warm March sunshine.
This looking East to Great Gable and the surrounding fells.
There is no holding back Mr El (although his low centre of gravity helps).
El thinks he is Mary Poppins.
He’s not as fast over the tops, and also lacks the dress sense.
Steeple to the left and Pillar on the right. Pillock to the far right.
Mosedale in sparkling form.
The ridgeline to Pillar.
For some reason it was deemed a good idea to drop off that ridge to the left of Pillar via White Pike.
I’ll never forgive him.
Mosedale again but I was more concerned about the snow on the final push to Pillar – no worries there as it transpires.
Mr Intepid.
You wait for your mate…
…and he just f*cks off; the gleam of a summit in his eye….
We had spotted these chaps some while back from Scoat Fell – pitched right on the top of Pillar.
As did I some years ago…..
We wander to an overview of the Northern fells and tarry awhile in the warm sun.
Plans had been to drop down and do the climbers traverse, but it looked rather snowbound and in the shade so down via White Pike was the ordure of the day…..I’d never been down that way…….and as the initial lack of images attests am unlikely to take the route again if it lies under crispy post-holing snow….
A good route to wear ‘grown-up’ trousers rather than the daring ‘capri’ style I sported this day….ankles a bit chopped up.
The 1000m down to the valley is a tad tedious and one’s knees decry the descent. Taking on water and re-hydrating at High Beck seems wise.
We then drop into the forests around Ennerdale....there is a whiff of roasted squirrel on the air and a suspicious amount of wood shavings underfoot…
Quite why anyone would spend time in this suppurating morass beggars belief…
A lone fisherman nods his agreement.
