By Fraser Hale – March 2005
Jeff Farr’s face is a picture of incredulity. His disbelief at the predicament
in which we find ourselves clearly displayed in his every feature. The
circumstances are unprecedented and, as such, more than a little unsettling.
Jeff is sat, with Mike Bayley and me, in my car. We are heading for the A14 on
the first leg of our journey to the Lake District for the weekend. The momentous
issue that is the cause of such surprise is devastatingly simple. We have set
out ON TIME exactly as we PLANNED!! No one has been delayed, got lost, forgotten
anything or found something better to do at the last minute. We have also, in a
spectacularly faff-free episode, unwittingly set the tone for our whole weekend.
Trips to the crags or the hills are usually remembered and related in terms of
the mishaps, the minor accidents, the unintended epics or the simple buggering
about that seems a natural companion to enjoying the Great Outdoors. These
stories, certainly in retrospect, usually have the attraction of acerbic humour
or outright drama to them and lend themselves to good-natured embellishment with
repeated retelling. Sometimes, however, this is not so and outings which are
beset neither by near death experiences, gargantuan lobs, perilous benightments
nor hilarious aprs-outing drinking games, digestive upsets,
run-ins-with-the-authorities tend to go unremarked. They are not, though, any
the less enjoyable for those involved and serve to highlight one of the primary
reasons why, I believe, we each do this Great Outdoors thing in the first place.
The trip to Sykeside over the 29/30th January could be very briefly summed up;
Drove up without incident, found comfortable lodgings as arranged, teamed up
with other walkers, planned and executed two walks in the local fells, travelled
home without incident.
Great huh? Well, actually, yes it was!
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The weekend was blessed with some wonderful weather (organised, along with the
accommodation, by Christina) and, with little apparent effort Jeff, Mike, Ian,
Christina and I managed to agree on a couple of interesting and moderately
challenging walks to occupy us over the two days. Accompanied by the indomitable
Monty we walked a couple of circular routes, starting and finishing from the
camp-site. We visited, variously, Hart Crag, Dove Crag, High Hartsop Dodd, The
Knott and High Street. In between grunts and gasps the soundtrack to the journey
was provided by the exchanges of opinions and commentary on a multitude of
topics (Monty kept strangely silent during most of these debates, preferring to
keep his opinions to himself). In the winter sunshine the fells presented a
majestic visual backdrop whilst providing us with equally diverting physical
challenges, all of which we were able to meet without any more than the odd
stumble.
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Evenings at Sykeside have to be spent in the Brotherswater Inn (really, it’s in
the contract). Huge plates of grub and half a dozen ales to choose from (a minor
faff only narrowly avoided) seemingly render it quite attractive to the camping
fraternity and it was these convivial surroundings that provided the venue for
tales of despair and daring do from “The Cyclists”.
You see, our party also included the two Steves and Carol, who disappeared each
day to ride, apparently, to Manchester and back. Their weekend ran far more like
a traditional outing. They were delayed on the journey up by a traffic jam
caused by propellers on the highway! On arrival there was a minor epic regarding
a lack of laces for cycling shoes, and another to do with hydration bladder
tubes. First day out and Steve C misplaced the key for his bike (which
apparently caused some temporary consternation) and a number of other technical
difficulties hampered early progress. Finally, Carol lost interest in cycling
and decided to go swimming instead. The venue; a shallow beck. The twist; rapid.
The result: unexpected, fully clothed entry into the water from atop a cycle
saddle. The observing judges awarded high marks for style.
All this just goes to show that we walkers simply weren’t trying hard enough.
Travelling back on Sunday I realised that what had happened was very
straightforward, and all the more powerful because of it. The companionship of
likeminded folk in surroundings for which we all share an attraction and
affinity, the shared sense of achievement provided by completing physical
challenges together and in sharing the natural beauty around us is a deeply
satisfying and life affirming thing and I can think of few better ways to use up
a weekend.
No one got lost, broke anything or got arrested, nor did we get caught in a
blizzard or become so inebriated that we collectively married a Shetland pony
called Nerys.
We just had a Great Weekend in the Great Outdoors.