Skiddaw by Ullock Pike

This was another of Martin Banfield’s collection of Bill Birkett’s Great British Ridge Walks, in this case number 20, Skiddaw by Ullock Pike and descent by Birkett’s Edge.

And what a fine spring morning if a bit fractious on the roads and a bit mizzly and misty at first. But as we (me, Bruno, Graham and Martin) climbed up on to Ullock Pike, the cloud top over Skiddaw gradually cleared and there were sunny patches in the fields below.

Edit: Can you see Jimmy Hendrix in the Skiddaw Screes in the picture above? He's in the snow just above the scree and right in the middle in the top third..... He may have melted by now...

We bagged Carl Side, which Bill Birkett seems to have ignored for some reason, although it does have a very fine view of Keswick and Derwentwater.

From here, the next bit looked tricky. Some people, high up on the slope up to Skiddaw, seemed to be having some difficulty with the steep snow, and a couple with a dog seemed to have turned back. A brief committee meeting was held and it was unanimously agreed in a unanimous kind of way that we’d go for the zig-zag path to the right of where the people were struggling because the snowline was higher, so there’d be less of the slippery stuff. Martin lent me a walking pole and orf we jolly well went. It wasn’t all that difficult, really. The snow was grippy enough and steps didn’t really need to be kicked. Bruno ate much of the snow anyway – so , soon we were on the sunny and snowy summit of Skiddaw.

The snow was thawing quite quickly and it won’t be very long till its retreated just to the edges and the gullies. There were a few small bare patches on the summit.

It was much too cold for sitting around up there, so, we had a break a little down the North side in the sun.

Bakestall and Birketts Edge followed where the supply of snow ran out. In trying to get superdawg to walk to heel instead of pulling me all over the place in search of snowballs and kicked-up snow, we broke our retractable lead. It was a bit old anyway, and so, it looks like Bruno will be getting a new lead and harness for his birthday, whenever we find out what his birthday is. His harness is a bit old and frayed too. We’ll make no mention of the old and frayed nature of the bloke holding the other end of the lead.

We only got lost a little bit on the way back to the car and I shouldn’t really mention it, so I won’t – and soon, we were back at the car and battling once again with others on the A66.

According to the book, the walk is 13km and 1030 feet of ascent. I could only make it 930 metres though.

Cracking walk – Thanks to Martin once again for the idea and Graham and Martin for the company and thanks a bunch to Bruno for the broken lead.

Stop Press Late Edyte and all that kinda thing.... Martin;s version of this walk can be read here http://phreerunner.blogspot.com/2010/03/tuesday-16-march-2010-great-british.html complete with bonus photo album and a bloke smoking a swiss roll

Cockup Collection Incomplete

Or

Bijoux Birkett Bagging Back O’ Skidda

Immediately following a TV News report of people carried off by an avalanche in Cumbria was perhaps not the ideal time to tell the wife that I was off to the Lake District in the morning.

During the evening, I was struck by an attack of Lassitude du Neige – a fear of being carried off either by an Australian Women’s Darts Team (abducted by Aileens) – or being swept away by a moving white hillside. I studied the map and the lake District Weatherline and MWIS and discovered that it was only Northern and Eastern slopes which were a bit iffy. My route for today would have been up Northern and Eastern slopes. I was doomed to an evening of indecision. Later - the police issued a statement about the unstable snow conditions

Bugger.

Eventually, I chose some low, rounded hills on which nothing could go wrong.

Two of them were named “Cockup” – Low and Great.

I made a cheese butty and told the dog.

We parked by Overwater and investigated the frozen tarn. Bruno rescued a stick from the ice. Country lanes through green countryside took us through Orthwaite to Horsemoor Hills where we bagged our first little Birkett – the diminutive Orthwaite bank – 348 metres with a nice view of snowy Skiddaw and an apparently frozen Bassenthwaite Lake. It soon became clear that today’s windchill was teetering off the scale. It was, in fact, perishing. Bruno whinged at waiting about, so we made a rising traverse to Birkett number two – Little Cockup, where a short stop was made for more insulation.

We climbed Great Cockup – up into the frozen snow and yet more nithering draughtiness which insinuated itself into my bones and played bongos on my blood vessels. We descended, shivering to the glacial overflow channel at Trusmadoor , finding a cosy spot by the beck, just abandoned by a couple having their lunch. There was a hint, just a hint of warmth in the sun.

I decided against further explorations which would have only taken me to higher, more frozen and much colder places, being unable to get the idea of drinking hot coffee in a warm and comfy car to the sound of Steve Wright in the Afternoon… Bruno seemed to agree, so we followed the bridleway back to Horsemoor and the lanes back to Over Water where the car was, indeed , very warm, and the coffee still hot, and Steve Wright was on the radio.

It was late anyway and the hills were beginning to get white and cloudy caps.

As an afterthought, we bagged the extremely easy Birkett Aughertree Fell – a matter of a few shivery minutes. We left for the fleshpots of our house…

On the way home, I picked up a chap called Frank. He was fairly elderly, had a big rucksack and was happily quite drunk drunk. He’d been standing by the A66 for hours being ignored by and making rude signs at lorry drivers. The police at the nick opposite his hitching spot had been waving at him. Apparently, he’d spent the night sleeping out in the park in Penrith – but what was significant was that he had a selection of Norwegian army kit and, despite the rough sleeping, was well turned out. Whilst we crossed Stainmore, he waved his arms and stated “I’ve walked over all this..” – indicating the rough and flat moorland – the kind of place avoided by most hillwalkers. I suspect this chap had a bit of a history. I dropped him off in Barnard Castle. He seemed quite happy…..

We did 7 miles and 1400 feet.

Nice to be home today…..