Three Men and a Blog

The 'boot rating' guide to walking enjoyment
	Walking in a Wainwright Wonderland
	The 'Wright Stuff
	An 'Alf-decent ramble
	Not quite a Great Cockup (but nearly)
	Skiddaw-ful waste of a day's walking

11th May 2008: Steel Knotts and the High Street Range

Start Point: Howtown
Wainwrights conquered: Steel Knotts (1,417ft), Wether Hil (2,198ft), Loadpot Hill (2,201ft), Arthur's Pike (1,745ft), Bonscale Pike (1,719ft)

Even Wallace's nausia-inducing brown strides (see Wal's fashion tips) failed to knock the shine off the day. It was a real scorcher as we sweated our way from Howtown up the steep ascent towards Steel Knotts. A few false summits on the way were a bit of a pain but we reached the summit also termed Pikeawassa: a name the great Wainwright seemed less than impressed by. He described the sharp summit as "so acute only the very agile walkers will be able to stand upon it". Given that Wallace managed to perch on the thing, it does somewhat call into question AW's judgment.

A further climb took us onto the High Street range: according to Wainwright "nothing here to call for a halt". We reached Wether Hill (at least we think we did), described accurately by AW as "quite without interest". We moved along the ridge North to Loadpot Hill which the great one noted as "uninteresting" and "unremarkable" (okay, we catch your drift Alf). Descending along the High Street range we reached Arthur's Pike with excellent views of Helvellyn and Fairfield ranges. Down and up took us to Bonscale Pike and the best views of the day over Ullswater. The descent was, er, precipitous to say the least and was a killer on the leg muscles. As is our tradition, we decided to wet the baby's head with a valedictory pint - not hand-pulled and only Theakstons but in the circumstances tasted like nectar. During our usual walk post-mortem we reflected on the fact that we'd seen only four people on the fells in five hours on a lovely sunny day. It must have been Wallace's pants that deterred them. (Blog by: DG)

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17th March 2008: Arnison Crag

Start Point: Patterdale
Wainwrights conquered: Arnison Crag (1,421ft)

Since failing to conquer this crag in December 2007, Arnison Crag promised to become a millstone round our neck as the Wainwright that got away. However, given the state of our legs after the previous two days of epic walks we were looking for something that a bloke with one lung and a zimmer could conquer. Arnison was beckoning us. Parking in Patterdale we followed Wainwright's directions behind the Patterdale Hotel which were spot on, then following a stone wall most of the way. It was bloody steep but blessedly short with no streams for Wal to fall into. Although not a huge mountain, the views were good value. Back down, we popped into the White Lion for a swifty which sadly was spoilt by a miserabilist of a barmaid who looked like someone who had failed an audition for Grumpy Old Women. (Blog by: DG)

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16th March 2008: Fairfield Horseshoe

Start Point: Ambleside
Wainwrights conquered: Nab Scar (1,444ft), Heron Pike (2,008ft), Great Rigg (2,513ft), Fairfield (2,864ft), Hart Crag (2,697ft), Dove Crag (2,598ft), High Pike (2,152ft), Low Pike (1,667ft)

AW once said that a walk in Lakeland was like a day in heaven. I would generally agree with this sentiment but the conditions on Fairfield today were as close to hell on earth as you are likely to get without entering the big brother household with John McCririck and that mental woman who used to be in Atomic Kitten.

It all started so well: the sun was shining, the sky was a bright blue and Wallace was wearing his tight pants. The walk from Ambleside to Rydal Hall was reasonably uneventful, as was the steep climb up Nab Scar. The hellishness started as we got onto the ridge and walked in a northerly direction towards Fairfield. Once we had gained the height afforded by the steep climb we were exposed to the scything north, north easterly gale. It must have been blowing at a steady 80 mile an hour and reduced the temperature to about -8. The gale made progress slow, difficult and rather unpleasant. Add to this the occasional sleet storm, blown so fast by the gale that the skin was literally flayed from our exposed facial cheeks, and you have a deeply unpleasant scenario.

My personal predicament was made worse by a rather rash decision to go commando under my Ronhills. The combination of a strong, icy wind and gossamer thin nylon leggings meant that I was more than a little concerned about the state of my nether regions and so I spent much of the time wrestling with the dilemma of what to do about my freezing genitals. In my weaker moments I thought about asking the lads to lend me their over trousers but that would have meant revealing that I hadn’t had the sense to pack my own. Also, I doubted that Dean would lend me his virgin Paclites or that Wallace had anything other than his pencil case and gym knickers in his girly little rucksack. As a consequence I ended up walking like a demented hunchback as I stuffed my hands down my Ronhill pockets, whilst simultaneously pulling my jacket as far to protect my withering genitalia.

All in all we made reasonable progress in the circumstances, passing people who were even less well prepared for the conditions than I was, but the usual cheery banter was non-existent as we concentrated on a heads down trudge up the various slopes that take you along the ridge towards Fairfield.

We eventually made it to the summit of Fairfield, a featureless and pretty desolate place in the best of weather, but a complete hell on earth today. It was so unpleasant that we merely hesitated for the obligatory photo before high tailing it, pretty sharpish, eastwards towards Hart Crag. And it was at this is the point that funniest thing ever happened (well, according to Dean and Wal at least). Unknown to me as I led the way, at pace, across the valley head my brand new, (3 hours old) top notch map case containing my weatherproof 1:25 Explorer map, was ripped from my shoulder by the bastard gale and blown all the way to Dumfries.

I didn’t notice my loss until we managed to find a reasonably sheltered spot for a lunch break. It was at this point that Wal and Dean, after they had managed to stop giggling like young girls, managed to break the news to me. Choking back the tears I ate my lunch and then, rather magnanimously in the circumstances, passed the hip flask. It was at this point that my comrades rubbed salt in my wounds by admitting that they didn’t possess hip flasks! Three Men and a Hip Flask?! Some people had clearly failed to read the Terms of Reference.

Anyway, it was too cold to sit still for too long, so after about 15 minutes we set off across Hart Crag and down the east flank of the Horseshoe. With the wind at our back we made good progress and could even enjoy the southern vista across Windermere and the Langdales. We descended via High Sweden Bridge and once in the shelter afforded by the valley it was hard to see what all the fuss was about – out of the wind the sun-kissed air provided a very pleasant environment, so much so that it was almost reasonable that a bloke would attempt to push a child laden buggy up the steep hillside towards the ridge. Well, almost.

Of course the truly beautiful thing about the Fairfield Horseshoe is that it ends at the doorstep of the Golden Rule – a truly classic pub. Sat in the back room, quaffing Hartley’s and chewing the fat, the misery of the western ridge was a long forgotten memory and it was once again clear to see what AW meant by comparing a day walking in the Lakes with heaven.

Oh, by the way the genitals survived and remain in fine working order. (Blog by: LC)

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15th March 2008: Helm and Calf Crags

Start Point: Grasmere
Wainwrights conquered: Helm Crag (1,329ft), Gibson Knott (1,378ft), Calf Crag (1,762ft), Ullscarf (2,381ft)

It all seemed so straight forward as we headed off up to Helm Crag. After reaching the Lion and the Lamb Dean insisted on climbing The Howitzer. Lee and I felt it was more respectful to watch although I did venture halfway up to demonstrate how easy it would have been if I had decided to boldy go where AW failed to tread. The derision as I returned was completely unjustified.

Onwards to Gibson Knott and Calf Crag and thence to Steel Fell. At least that was the plan. In the event we took a wrong turning after Calf Crag and ended up ascending Ullscarf instead. AW describes it as ‘featureless and inexpressibly dreary’. He was obviously there on a good day. Off-piste (is that the right way round?) we followed a fence which led us to the summit - ‘a cheerless place, even in sunshine’ (AW). Unfortunately for us the weather was closing in and there was a real danger of becoming disorientated. Thankfully our faithful navigator, Mr Cranston, had brought his compass. ‘140 degrees’ he stated with completely misplaced confidence. We tramped over rough ground and yet more bogs before recognising the shape of Thirlmere far below. Following a stream downwards we managed to find a way down to the road.

The original plan had been for a nice little loosener before the Fairfield Hoseshoe on the Sunday. By the time we got back to Grasmere we had covered 12.5 miles, 4 more than originally planned. Some loosener! I was stiff in places I didn’t even know I had places. Things were so bad we walked straight past The Traveller’s to the car. A day memorable for all the wrong reasons but memorable none the less. (Blog by: WHW)

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30th December 2007: Saint Sunday Crag

Start Point: Patterdale
Wainwrights conquered: Birks (2,041ft), Saint Sunday Crag (2,759ft)

Restricted daylight hours plus a long journey meant limited Wainwright-bagging opportunities but weather good - bright, fresh with snow on the tops and some cloud. There'd been lots of rain so Ullswater overflowing and streams gushing down the fells. Lots of bling kit on display although disappointingly Wallace's tights didn't make an appearance (nor, blessedly, did Lee's hirsute backside). Climb from Patterdale was er, robust. Missed the track to Birks courtesy of Lee's monumental navigational skills and had to double back later to plant the flag. Nice views of Ullswater. Pressed on up to Saint Sunday Crag which wasn't too strenuous. The snow was quite deep on the summit and the views stunning particularly towards Helvellyn. Decided to descend via Grisedale where Wallace came to grief on a stepping stones stream crossing. Nobody laughed at all. In fact Wallace had been tripping up all day. At the lunch stop Dean brought out the 15 year-old Glenfiddich which was nectar. We had intended to conquer Arnison Crag but abandoned that idea early on - will have to return for it. Eventually made it back to Patterdale as dusk was settling and enjoyed a lovely pint of Tirrel's in the White Lion. (Blog by: DG)

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22nd November 2007: Ullock Pike

Start Point: Ravenstone Hotel nr Bassenthwaite
Wainwrights conquered: Ullock Pike (2,231ft), Long Side(2,408ft), Carl Side (2,448ft), Dodd (1,647ft)

Planned to claim two Wainwrights but ended up bagging four by accident. Embarrassingly all of us turned up wearing identical Lowe Alpine thermal hats -, it's like turning up to a ball wearing an identical dress (said Wallace). Weather was poor: exceptionally windy, cold and wet although it was clear. The ascent from the Ravenstone Hotel up Ullock Pike was very steep and Wallace was almost on the point of calling NHS Direct. Views from the pike across the Solway Firth to Criffel in Dumfries were stunning. We didn't hang about though as the winds were gale force. Long Side was almost overlooked given its insignificance and Carl Side wasn't particularly memorable but at least the views over Bassenthwaite were lovely. The descent down to the White Stones was very steep. Dodd was despatched with quickly - a Wainwright curiosity really. We returned to the car park where Lee stripped off his clothes to reveal a backside so hirsute that Dean still has nightmares about it. Finally we wound down with a cracking pint in the Sun Inn in Bassenthwaite. (Blog by: DG)

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