Today I climbed a Hill

Some would call it a Mountain. Others, a Fell. But I feel like calling it a Hill as the purist in me feels like I cheated somewhat by getting to the high car park so missing a big chunk of the climb. That said, it was a memorable day despite this "cheating"...

The fabulous samba band I play with, Batala, have a habit of doing a slightly off-piste gig / event at least once a year. Last year it was the amazing gig in the Thornton Force at Ingleton. This year there are plans afoot (boom boom...the pun will become apparent imminently) to do the three peaks (Ben Nevis, Scafell & Snowdon) in 24 hours finishing with a gig a-top Snowdon. And with this in mind a couple of our members have been organising training walks. I made it to the first (and made acquaintance with my new favourite local-ish spa, at the Langdale Hotel, who do an awesome dual-entry day pass for less than a tenner. Win) but had missed out on the past couple due to other commitments. Not so today.

With indications of sunny weather I set off nice and early to get in a chunk of time pre-walk at the spa...but fundamentally the weather wasn't looking too clever. Ah well, a bit of a grey stomp in the hills isn't too bad, thinks me. We were about 5 minutes out of the car park when a kindly gentleman asked if we were heading for the top - only to advise us there was sheet ice up there. Hmm. On we strode. We didn't find any sheet ice, but we certainly found plenty of snow:

On the way up...

Visibility had been pretty abysmal most of the way (catching glimpses of tarns that were less than 50m away emerging from the mists) but having been well trained in my youth my drive to get to the top was simple: word had it there was a trig point and everyone knows that climbing to the top of a hill, regardless of conditions, is always worthwhile if there's a trig point to jump on top of. The truth was true and there was, indeed, a trig point.

I admit. This could be anyone. Anywhere. Well, anywhere there's a trig point. Or trig-point-looking-thing-to-stand-on. But it is me, on top of the Old Man of Coniston trig point, earlier today. Promise.

Having got to the top it seemed like a good place to pause for some lunch. Aside from the snow, wind and rain. But, you know, having brought a packed lunch it seemed rude not to eat it on top of the object of our efforts. That said, I wasn't feeling particularly hungry and, having stopped moving, was beginning to feel a bit cold. Which is where things got mildly interesting. When I'd been getting ready at the crack o' dawn I, in my infinite wisdom, put on one of my Batala T-shirts. Further, while climbing aforementioned hill I ended up taking my jumpers off as I was rather warm.

And so it was that I found myself at the top of the Old Man of Coniston, getting a bit cold, knowing there was only one layer between me and a Batala T-shirt, a trig point that I'd already proven to myself I could get on top of and not get blown off and some time on my hands while others were munching. Only one option, really.

Slightly more recognisable as me. Certainly recognisable as sans jacket. And a bit bonkers.

Sadly my camera phone isn't the high tech gadget required to render this moment in even great technicolor but you get the idea.

We set off again but, unfortunately, the wind got stronger and the rain heavier. Hmm. Didn't realise quite how wet & cold I'd got until, on reaching the car park, I realised I was struggling to press the button on my car key to unlock it. And it was a good few minutes before driving was a sensible option. And it took a good while in the gorgeously warm jacuzzi at the Langdale before any semblance of normal body temperature came about. But it did. And I've lived to tell the tale. This time!

All that said, it was a good tromp out with an excellent set of people (and a brilliant reason to revisit the Langdale) and has reminded me of trig-point-joy. Huzzah!