To HELL and back!!
What started out as a nice romantic hike into the beautiful Lake District ended up being a virtual trip to HELL and back.
Ani and I had decided to go for a walk in the Lakes this weekend. On thursday evening, I got a call from my buddy Steve, asking me if we wanted to go to the lakes with him. No problem, always better to hike with more people. I was thinking of a nice leisurely walk in the woods near Ambleside, Grasmere or Keswick. Little did I know that he planned on scaling Scafell Pike, which is the third highest mountain in the UK but the most notoriously difficult to climb. Luckily for me, my dilly dallying in the toilet in the morning meant that we didn't have enough time to scale the peak and make it back before sunset. So what do we do instead? We decide to climb Helvellyn instead, which is about 3250ft high. Its a bloody 9.5 mile hike and the peak is graded as 'Hard' just short of 'Severe'.
I was all up for it as I misguidedly thought that my three months of active working out would have put me in decent shape. Boy was I wrong. Fifteen minutes into the trek, and I'm panting and cussing. In fact, if it weren't for all the cussing, I don't think I could have kept going on. Ani, however, kept leaping from rock to rock, like a mountain goat. I've decided to call her Nanny Ani. Steve was way ahead of us and at times I couldn't even see him. But I could still hear him. All around me, the words 'George!! You BIG Girl!! Get your ass up here fast!!" kept echoing. It was as if even the mountains around us were laughing at my sorry ass.
The snow and ice didn't help either. Being flat footed, I kept losing my balance and fell over numerous times, much to Nanny Ani's delight. We finally reached the Red Tarn, a lake on the top of the mountain and I could not go any further. Steve ditched us and decided to run up the rest of the peak to the summit. I mean. that's just taking the piss. Here I am, falling over, incapable of one more step, and he decides to JOG the rest of the way. Anyway, Ani and I chilled out at the frozen lake and waited for Steve to get back down. We kept looking out for his red jacket and couldn't find him anywhere. I was hoping he fell over the edge. That would teach him not to run up mountains. But to my chagrin, I saw a red jacket coming down the mountain. Coming down is actually overstating it. He was BUM sliding down. His legs had given up on him, and he just let gravity do its work.
Going down was even more treachorous than going up. My knees were failing me and I was rolling down the hill most of the time. We finally made it to ground level and with my last burst of energy, I sprinted to the pub at the base and rested my sore butt. A pint has never tasted this good.
Ani and I had decided to go for a walk in the Lakes this weekend. On thursday evening, I got a call from my buddy Steve, asking me if we wanted to go to the lakes with him. No problem, always better to hike with more people. I was thinking of a nice leisurely walk in the woods near Ambleside, Grasmere or Keswick. Little did I know that he planned on scaling Scafell Pike, which is the third highest mountain in the UK but the most notoriously difficult to climb. Luckily for me, my dilly dallying in the toilet in the morning meant that we didn't have enough time to scale the peak and make it back before sunset. So what do we do instead? We decide to climb Helvellyn instead, which is about 3250ft high. Its a bloody 9.5 mile hike and the peak is graded as 'Hard' just short of 'Severe'.
I was all up for it as I misguidedly thought that my three months of active working out would have put me in decent shape. Boy was I wrong. Fifteen minutes into the trek, and I'm panting and cussing. In fact, if it weren't for all the cussing, I don't think I could have kept going on. Ani, however, kept leaping from rock to rock, like a mountain goat. I've decided to call her Nanny Ani. Steve was way ahead of us and at times I couldn't even see him. But I could still hear him. All around me, the words 'George!! You BIG Girl!! Get your ass up here fast!!" kept echoing. It was as if even the mountains around us were laughing at my sorry ass.
The snow and ice didn't help either. Being flat footed, I kept losing my balance and fell over numerous times, much to Nanny Ani's delight. We finally reached the Red Tarn, a lake on the top of the mountain and I could not go any further. Steve ditched us and decided to run up the rest of the peak to the summit. I mean. that's just taking the piss. Here I am, falling over, incapable of one more step, and he decides to JOG the rest of the way. Anyway, Ani and I chilled out at the frozen lake and waited for Steve to get back down. We kept looking out for his red jacket and couldn't find him anywhere. I was hoping he fell over the edge. That would teach him not to run up mountains. But to my chagrin, I saw a red jacket coming down the mountain. Coming down is actually overstating it. He was BUM sliding down. His legs had given up on him, and he just let gravity do its work.
Going down was even more treachorous than going up. My knees were failing me and I was rolling down the hill most of the time. We finally made it to ground level and with my last burst of energy, I sprinted to the pub at the base and rested my sore butt. A pint has never tasted this good.
posted by TinTin @ 12:30 pm
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