Due to a minor misunderstanding, me and the brother parked in separate car parks, about 200 metres apart in Whinlatter pass. Eventually, I went on patrol and found him.
We decided that the fells looked, frankly, orrible with lots of wet snow and hill fog and that driving hailstone stuff, that we’d go for the Plan B.
Plan B was to abandon a car at Whinlatter and go to the little back road from near Ennerdale to Gosforth and go off and bag Birketts.
Yes, Birkett baggers, eat my dust. Or , rather, slurp my slutch. We bagged another five of the little beggars – Blakely raise, Kinniside, Latter Barrow, Swarth fell and Burn Edge, plus repeat ascents of Whoap and Lank Rigg. I think Whoap ought to have an exclamation mark, actually. This would be good for hillwalkers pub quizzes.
It sounds like when your feet suddenly go out of control on wet grass. Whoap!
Followed by an invitation to play rudies e.g. Whoap! F**k me!
Anyway, it was a short walk, all over far too quickly, for these are nice, grassy, friendly fells with a lovely view of the High Stile ridge and a nuclear power station.
Bruno liked it too. I went over me boots in Whoap (!) Beck, followed by the traditional Whoap! Exclamation (see above). Luckily, nobody was listening as I was in no fit state for that sort of thing anyway as I hadn't yet scoffed my banana.
Then I went home on the A66, very, very quickly. (new brakes, new tyres, wet socks)
Anyway, another five Birketts – that’s 22. so far this year (444 in absolute total). I suspect there may not be many more this year.
We decided that the fells looked, frankly, orrible with lots of wet snow and hill fog and that driving hailstone stuff, that we’d go for the Plan B.
Plan B was to abandon a car at Whinlatter and go to the little back road from near Ennerdale to Gosforth and go off and bag Birketts.
Yes, Birkett baggers, eat my dust. Or , rather, slurp my slutch. We bagged another five of the little beggars – Blakely raise, Kinniside, Latter Barrow, Swarth fell and Burn Edge, plus repeat ascents of Whoap and Lank Rigg. I think Whoap ought to have an exclamation mark, actually. This would be good for hillwalkers pub quizzes.
It sounds like when your feet suddenly go out of control on wet grass. Whoap!
Followed by an invitation to play rudies e.g. Whoap! F**k me!
Anyway, it was a short walk, all over far too quickly, for these are nice, grassy, friendly fells with a lovely view of the High Stile ridge and a nuclear power station.
Bruno liked it too. I went over me boots in Whoap (!) Beck, followed by the traditional Whoap! Exclamation (see above). Luckily, nobody was listening as I was in no fit state for that sort of thing anyway as I hadn't yet scoffed my banana.
Then I went home on the A66, very, very quickly. (new brakes, new tyres, wet socks)
Anyway, another five Birketts – that’s 22. so far this year (444 in absolute total). I suspect there may not be many more this year.
6 miles, but 2100 feet of uphill (be fair, I mean, y'know, be fair....)
In Iceland, do they have Bjorketts, I wonder? Or is it just frozen chips?
In Iceland, do they have Bjorketts, I wonder? Or is it just frozen chips?
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