Helvellyn Weekend with the Fight Club Hikers

Friday afternoon saw me slide over the Pennines to Glenridding to join the Fight Club Hikers Second Anniversary do in a frozen camping barn a mile out of Glenridding.

Those attending (apart from me) were, in no special order, Wibble, Titaniumdude, Walkingirl, Darksky, UKMase (alias Masey), Peter Crawford and, a bit later, Der Allte. Plus Mille, Pepper and Woodstock.
It was, of course, perishing cold both inside the barn and outside and it seemed to have snowed quite a bit during Friday night, Saturday morning.

We arranged a walk suitable for dogs, hangovers and icy conditions thus: Sticks Pass, Raise, Helvellyn, Nethermost Pike, Dollywagon Pike, Grisedale, Travellers’ Rest. 12 Miles and 3500 feet of upness. Masey along with various random colleagues also bagged Stybarrow Dodd and, whilst most bypassed Dollywaggon Pike, he and Gill did that one too.

It was slippery and snowy and windy and even colder than the Barn. Millie got herself an icy beard, whilst Woodstock was frustrated in any attempt to curl up somewhere warm for a nap. Pepper, meanwhile, is a collie and is designed for this kind of stuff.

The tops were covered in a wispy kind of clag, but , suddenly, Helvellyn appeared out of the clouds and the day became sunny. Helvellyn was busy.
At some point, we lost Darksky. He became detached from the back of the group and failed to turn up after a shivery half an hour’s wait on Helvellyn Lower Man, and a shorter wait on the summit. The dogs in particular began to suffer badly from the cold and a search of the ridge leading up to Helvellyn produced no evidence of Mr Darksky, we pressed on regardless. This was his eighth trip up Helvellyn, so he knew the place fairly well. Turns out he descended by Swirral Edge.

We slithered and slipped down to Grisedale Tarn and then down the length of Grisedale, where it went dark. Most people spent sometime crashing to the ground doing comedy pratfalls on hidden ice. Minor injuries were received.

Eventually, we made it to the bar of the Travellers Rest, where we rested, warm and toasty and increasingly intoxicated, till around midnight (I think) Der Allte turned up and bought cheesy chips. Darksky was reported to be tucked up in his sleeping bag back at the refrigerator camping barn.
All was well with the world, having enjoyed a very fine hillwalking day.

Ultimately, we walked the mile back up the the barn and spent a second shivery night.
The car thermometer was reading minus 5.5 C in the morning. There’s been a bit more snow. The drive down the valley was interesting, without the benefit of brakes (I had brakes, but using them was less than useful – there was no stopping.)

Cracking weekend, though. Thanks for the invite, and to Masey for taking the matter in hand and booking the barn, and to Gill for the chips. I’m still drinkihttp://ukmase.wordpress.com/2010/12/03/fc-hikers-2nd-birthday/ng the Spanish wine.
I’ll put a link to Masey’s blog as soon as he produces an account.

Edit: Here it is http://ukmase.wordpress.com/2010/12/03/fc-hikers-2nd-birthday/

This is complete with a potted history of the Fight Club Hikers.

TGO Chips and Boozing

Eventually, having learned icy water shrivels yer bits lesson (one again), I filled up the primus kettley thing, warmed the water up a bit and attacked meself with a pack towl and some hotel shower gel. This worked a treat, as it happens, thanks for asking. I even managed another shower later on. I’ll have to be careful of me natural oils….
I crossed the Geldie and wandered up a bit of moorland to find the path to the Linn of Dee and then blasted Eastwards in the TGO migratorial drift towards the Braemar chips and beer establishments.

I met the Parsons once again and had a brief discussion with some old folks who told me that the night before the town of Ballater had received a bit of a pasting from an energetic thunderstorm. The water had been up to the old chap’s chest. Almost as high as the top of his trousers, in fact. I continued Eastwards – calling in at Mar Lodge which appeared to be occupied by surly people in tweeds with a marquee and deerburgers. Yes, it was the British Deer Society, dressed to kill deer despite the fact they were having a picnic.

The kitchen of Mar Lodge was occupied by multiple Challengers, swigging tea and scoffing biccies. I joined in with Gusto (he’s one of the Italian TGO-ers….)

Soon, I was in Braemar where I had some pints and some enormous fish and chips at the Hungry Highlander, and then up to the campsite where I recognised, off a walking forum, the diminutive figure of Fight Club Hiker walkingirl aka buzzingirly aka Gill Mott. And with her was Ukmase aka Paul Mason. We greeted each other like people who had only ever met on a walkingforum and I went and put up me tent and had a little whisky party with some TGO-ers I vaguely knew.

Later, I met up with the full complement of FCH-ers, now including Titaniumdude aka Patrick Burrows and Peter Crawford aka Peter Crawford. They seem to have been enjoying themselves and we had a bit of a boozy-do.
Bingowings played and Sloman and the Wiglet jived.
We all got rat-arsed.
Thats what you do in Braemar.

Today’s pictures have been generously provided by Andrew Walker, Mike and Marion Parsons and Shirley Worrall.
Thanks ever-so, peeps.

During the night, during a short bladder emergency I thought I recognised Kylie's distinctive snoring coming from another tent. Nah....