Still smiling

LittleBear and I had an Awfully Big Adventure a couple of weeks ago. We went on a "yomp" with one of the bear cousins. A "yomp" being a multi-day, multi-peak, wild-camping* walk** in the Lake District. This is something my CousinBear has been doing for years, and is the means by which he has completed all 214 Wainwrights. Which means not only does he know what he's doing, but he has All The Right Gear. And LittleBear idolizes him, which is really rather lovely.

Our original plan was, shall we say, ambitious. But planned with escape routes and alternatives ready and willing to be deployed. Which was fortunate, as we ascended into cloud not long after our 10am start in Skelgill, and did not see the sky, or very much else, until we reappeared near Moss Force about seven hours later. By which stage we were largely soaked through, and had distinctly squelchy boots. I say "largely", because to the chagrin of LittleBear and CousinBear, it turns out that my comparatively-new and eye-wateringly expensive Goretex waterproofs were considerably more waterproof than anything they were wearing. I retain a sneaking suspicion that my admission that my feet were still dry somewhere round about Robinson was a contributory factor in the acres of ankle-deep bog that CousinBear proceeded to find for us in the next mile.

Original possible route

Suffice to say that, after Robinson's best efforts, and the constant wall of rain and cloud encountered, not to mention the unaccustomed exertion of walking with a fully-laden pack, we were all more than willing participants in the decision to reduce the second day's route.

Actual route

Which gave a still-quite impressive ~22km (13.5 miles) over two days, with over 1600m (5250') of ascent.

Elevation profile

There were, of course, Incidents and Misfortunes en route. There was the point at which LittleBear slipped and stood in a stream, and declared himself unable to continue. A Mars Bar and some cheerful (but lost) Germans got him back on track. And CousinBear incredibly nobly then piggy-bagged LittleBear and his pack across the next stream to avoid a complete collapse in morale. But the story of the first day is best told in the pictures taken of LittleBear conquering each of the six summits.

10:40am Catbells - barely wet at all, and definitely happy

11:40am Maiden Moor - an underwhelming cairn, but still triumphant

12:30pm High Spy - a proper cairn at last

2:15pm Dale Head - the fell that nearly defeated us

3:00pm Hindscarth - I'm not even standing up to celebrate

4:00pm Robinson - is these even a different place?

6:10pm Warm(er) and dry(er) and smiling again

Though the pictures are largely doing the talking here, I feel the utter relief in LittleBear's face on actually getting to the top of Dale Head deserves a minor explanation. We had, as mentioned, found some lost Germans. They had an inadequate map and no compass, and had been unable to find their way to Honister Pass in the cloud. So CousinBear offered to guide them, as we were heading mostly that way. 

It rapidly became clear quite why they'd been unable to find the path. Even with the help of OS maps, compass, and GPS, there was no path to be found anywhere near where the OS claimed it would be. We zigged and we zagged our way up the fellside where the path should have been, hoping to intersect it. But no. Instead we ended up fighting our way up 200m in a mere 400m of horizontal distance. And somehow, despite that incline, a large portion of the ground beneath our feet was bog. How? Why was that water not at the bottom of the hill?***

Perhaps most impressive was the fact that our lost Germans solemnly, doggedly and trustingly followed the crazy English people up the non-path, in the cloud and rain, in the hope of ending up in the right place. Cresting the slope and finding the top of Dale Head exactly where it was meant to be was a definite triumph. And we pointed the Germans onto the path to Honister Pass.

And despite the rain, the cloud, the boots that took three days to dry, the exhaustion, the slips, the trips and the midges, LittleBear absolutely loved it. And the moments in which he lost morale were overcome with a resilience that genuinely surprised me. He kept smiling, and wants to do more next year. Especially if it means skipping tooth-brushing and being allowed chocolate in bed.

Bed chocolate is definitely A Thing

 

* For those of my friends who have expressed concern about the legality of wild camping in the Lake District... it is not something to which one has an automatic, legal right, it requires permission from the landowner. And in this case, the landowner being the National Trust, permission is given for sympathetic, responsible wild camping above the intake: Wild Camping in the Lake District

** I have a peculiar allergy to word "hike", though it would be what many of my readers would describe this adventure as. However, I go fell walking, not hiking. So this was a walk.

*** This is a rhetorical question. I am fully au fait with the ability of both peat and moss to hold staggering quantities of water, no matter the angle at which they are suspended.