Fight Club Hikers Peramble Pike O’ Blisco and the Old Dungeon Gill

It’s been tradition now for the Fight Club Hikers to have an annual meet once a year (otherwise it wouldn’t be an annual meet, innit?). And so far, the meet has taken place in early November – often in quite bad weather – principally a lot of rain, some hefty snow and cold and some other weather that wasn’t either of these.
So, it came as little surprise that as I erected my tabernacle on the National Trust campsite at Langdale that it was chucking it down big time.

Eventually, after a snack and a snooze to the soothing sound of heavy rain on the flysheet, me and LTD repaired to the pub where, after a very nice chicken curry and severalteen pints of various beers, 5 other FCH members appeared along with 2 dogs. As it continued heaving it down outside, a proper boozing session developed.
So, eventually, on a grey and drippy very next morning where it seemed to have stopped raining, we all went off to climb Pike O’ Blisco. Pete and his pooch Bella dropped out early on but five of us including canines LTD and Pepper the Collie made a ponderous ascent of the rocky path leading to Pike O’Blisco’s summit. On the way, three of us took a detour to bag the Very Lovely Kettle Crag, an insignificant Synge top with a significant view of Langdale.

Meanwhile, at the top of Pike O’Blisco we discovered that, as well as the caitn and shelter the summit furniture included a Geo-cache in a small plasic box and a huge pile of human poo. By the size of it, this must have come as a considerable relief to it’s previous owner – but what a dirty twat they were to do such a thing. LTD wanted to eat it whereas I would have preferred whoever donated it to be made to eat it. The mind boggles at whatever was going through the defacator’s mind.  Prolly though it was funny.

Anyway, we located the “down” path and came down as the rain started again, bagging the diminutive Brown Crags on the way down, and slipping on one’s arse on the wet grass and/or on the appallingly slippery “path” that’s been “improved” (i.e. hardened) by the utter eeejits who manage to con the walking world that they’re saving the fells from a terrible fate. I must say that falling over on wet grass is much more fun and less painful than falling over on the tilted skitey boulders of this comedy footpath. I wasn’t the only one to come a cropper, and our speed, which should have been a quickish downhill romp, was reduced to a delicate, careful and awkward crawl – resulting in getting much wetter than was strictly required.
We cheered ourselves up by more food and a substantial increase in the profits of local breweries back in the ODG. (This hasn’t changed in 40+years by the way, and the cobweb on the “pub of the year 1989”  plaque still retains nicotine from the days when this bar would have been full of sweaty climbers and tobacco smoke,)
Note that the Fight Club hardly ever have proper fights except sometimes at chucking-out time and we don’t really talk about those occasions… but it’s really nice to meet up every now and then and have some hilly fun and, occasionally, talk TGO challenge routes….
On Sunday morning it was still slashing down so I went home.