39 Years Later - The Final Wainwright Outlying Fell

On the 8th of May 1975 I bagged my first Wainwright Outlying Fell, not knowing that it was a Wainwright Outlying Fell. I’m not sure that I was much aware of the Wainwrights generally although I did have a copy of Alf’s guide to the Pennine Way which I got after a lunchtime boozing session in the Ship Inn in Skipton following a week booking casualties in and playing monopoly with nurses in the A&E department at Airedale General Hospital. Monday lunchtimes were the new Saturday nights after such a shift.

Hennyway, Whatshaw Common was bagged on a walk from Skipton to Ambleside with the bro. This was a remarkable walk in that we stayed in pubs and B&Bs and I managed to put half a stone in weight on during the week.

On 30 April 2014, in company with my stickocidal pal Bruno, I bagged Irton Pike. The final Wainwright Outlying Fell. That’s a record time of 38.98 years (Lets just say 39, eh?)

The main Wainwright Fells took me from 24 September 1972 (Helvellyn) till 13 April 1991 (Barf) – some 18.54 years. Quite speedy in comparison.

Irton Pike was bagged after setting up the akto on the Old Post Office campsite (nice campsite by the way…) at Santon Bridge and following a couple of beers and a beef sandwich with a bowl of chips at The Bridge Inn. So it was mid afternoon when we set off and half two when we got to the top and had no company and no view apart from the fog. We had a little strollette along the ridge for a bit, Bruno bounced around a bit (I’ve not told him that he’s ill) and chased some sticks and destroyed some other sticks but we didn’t really stetch ourselves much.

We returned to the tent for a cuppa and a snooze (theme developing here…) and, later, made  the enormously short journey to The Bridge for more jinkies in celebration.

And that was that. It was raining Thursday morning, so we came home.

Bruno likes snoozing in tents, so we’re off again Friday afternoon for more jollies.  My daughter’s comments on facebook, refering to the trouble Bruno is in, suggests a Bruno Bucket List. I think this is a crackin’ idea and I’m planning a beach day including avoiding cold, salty waves, completely destroying a cheapo plastic football, and running around in circles barking.

You have to make the most of things but then, in the immortal words of William (Billy) Malkinson who shuffled off his mortal coil and went to meet his Maker nearly at the top of the road up Irton Pike in February 1886 -  “Be Ye Also Ready”.  Wise words, if a bit miserable.

Bruno – Update

The bad news is that Bruno has Lymphoma. This is a serious life-ending condition for a dog (in fact, it’s a life-ending condition for most animals).

So, in consultation with the vet, and, in view of Bruno’s senior status in the number-of-years-still-alive department, I decided not to have a referral to an Oncologist and/or to get into chemotherapy which would likely make him very ill and probably wouldn’t extend his life all that much anyway. – I’ve decided to allow a fairly aggressive treatment by steroids which might extend the lad’s life a bit, but only provided that there’s nothing much in the way of seriously unpleasant side-effects and, I’m advised that this treatment is much more comfortable. The only other alternatives were to do nothing at all or to give up the fight now, neither of which I could do.

Bruno is, as I write,  happy and alert and calm and playful and he seems to be symptom free (although every cough or raspy bark, or period of heavy breathing, or even a twitch, seems suspicious)  and we’ll just continue like this for as long as possible.

But the prospects for much longer than a few months seem unlikely. Its all a bit depressing.

But we’ll do our best to make sure that Bruno’s end of life is as happy and comfortable as possible  and that whenever I have to make the last decision it will be at absolutely the right time(which is sometimes much more than we’re allowed to do for people).

In the meantime, me and the Dawg are of to Santon Bridge tomorrow to bag my final (and Bruno’s final!) Wainwright Outlier and , at the weekend we’ve plans camp near Sedbergh for a little Fight Club Hikering in the Howgills.

I’ll still be doing cafe Akto in the Highlands during the TGO challenge and I’m hoping that he’s still OK for serious walkies immediately after this.

The immediate future is uncertain. Its a bugger, innit? But this is what happens with dogs.

He has his steroids wrapped up in boiled ham by the way. This evening’s tablet fell out onto the kitchen floor. He ate it!

I’m not publishing comments linked to this post by the way – so don’t comment…!

Bruno’s Health Scare

I’m a bit distracted at the moment, partly due to an invasion of grandchildren into Knipetowers( how did they get past the specially recruited manic killer guards?) and substantially by a worry about superdawg.

The other morning, I noticed him give a yelp whilst scrattin an ear and, when I petted him, he yelped again. Orf to the jolly old vet’s we went…The issue is that the vet (nice lass…) discovered that all or most of Bruno’s lymph glands are swollen and so, did a blood test and a biopsy and I’m waiting nervously for the results.

He’s OK, though – he’s alert and playful and occasionally noisy and without any symptoms expect for a slight cough.

I love this dog. But I might have some dangerous and difficult decisions to make quite shortly. I’ve sort of lost concentration on other things just now. There could be a bit of an intermission here….

Bruno’s Guest Post – Dunnerdale Baggings

My view is that the illustrations on the front of Pink Floyd’s Atom Heart Mother album are probably the scariest thing since the vet’s needle…….  I mean, its got huge cows on it. I tend not to get on with cows…. I mean they’re often a bit frantic….

Rabbit!


Anyway, Pieman let me drive to Kendal where I visited the bro’s house for sweet biscuits and to pee on their rockery. Ria turned up a bit later and …  (did you see that cat?!,)_  we all went off to Dunnerdale where we parked near some farm dogs and walked over some lovely squelchy mossy stuff and up a hill which I detect was called “The Pike”. Some sheep ran away. I noticed that.

Later, after a chocolate cake break, of which I had absolutely none and had to hide in the grass due to the wind in my ears, we came back down the way we’d went up, in fact, I could pee in exactly the same places and thus renew my scent, just in case it’s …what was that…?
We crossed a fence. Pieman lifted my over. I could probably have jumped over..but he lifted me over…  Very embarrassing and a bit painful…

1. We got to the top of another hill – possibly called “Bigot”, or “Bigert”. I have no idea why. There were shepherds out driving the sheep – rabbit! -  off the fell. Some foxes had  passed the night before. One had done a poo. They’d been all over the place. We trogged off up the hill and there was an egg and tomato butty. Pieman let me have a bit of crust with a tiny bit of egg stuck to it. I suppose he thinks this is enough, the bastard.  Zzzzzzzz  huh?

There was a “moggling” session where Pieman wore a new jacket and the Bro took pics. I noticed that Pieman kept the jacket on afterwards. He now had three jackets on. Just as well, it was getting cold and we climbed into the fog and some drizzle.

This PHD Minimus dryshell down jacket is on auction over at the walkersforum and, if it's sold, proceeds will go direct to Mind through the virgin money giving page (which has a link at the bottom of this post. The walkersforum auctionny bit is here


We pressed on into the howling blustering ear-lifting gale, passing rocky places which we visited briefly and then steeply downhill to some bogs and some cows and some dogs and, finally, back to the car, nearly ten miles later, and all on the mearest tiny crust of bread and an atom of egg, and a few sweet biscuits. I noticed that somebody on the Isle of Man opened a bag of beef and onion crisps and somebody else, down in Workington was grilling cheese. You notice these things on a strong breeze….

Luckily, we went back to Kendal where more sweet biscuits were provided and I had a nice long snooze in the back of the knipemobile before we returned, hours later to knipetowers where the head butler’s assistant butler’s helper provided some proper scoff.
I think we did just short of  - rabbit! or squirrel? – ten miles…
There’s a map.
Apparently, Pieman now has only one Wainwright Outlying fell to do. I’m not all that sure why this important, but it is. maybe there are plans to make the last one (Irton Pike) by getting really drunk afterwards and eating steaks.. 


Click!

High Street – The Riggindale Eagle and Bruno Eats The Last Bits of Snow

In a casual moment somewhere towards the last dregs of the bottle of Californian merlot wot I got from Crook Boozerama, Bruno casually mentioned that a) It was time for his tea and b) He’d heard on Twitter that there was a still a small patch of snow on Mardale Harter fell and wouldn’t it be a good idea to go and eat it and generally rough it up a bit before it melts.

And so, the very next morning (That would be Monday), as I snoozed in the back,  Superdawg steered the knipemobile up over Killhope and Hartside to Penrith and down to Mardale to park prettily amongst crowds of youthful (and some not so youthful) backpackers with Very large rucksacks. There wuz fahsands of them and I remarked in these terms to a chap who’d parked next to the knipemobile and who was about to set off on a family wander around the hills with his..er….family. We pontificated that it was probably something to do with the Duke of Edinburgh or some kind of Rucksack Rally.


So, we set off in the general direction of Riggindale, passing through a polite group of about ten heaving along under their regulated and listed piles of official and heavy-looking gear. One lass thought that my suggestion of loading the lad at the front’s rucksack with extra boulders, since he obviously had some kind of energy-surfeit problem, was a good one. We had a brief discussion as to how this would be achieved and resolved to wait till he’d gone off for a wee, when the dirty deed would be done. Several handy stones were identified as being suitable.

Me and the Dawg  turned off up the steep path to Kidsty Pike, closely followed, at first, by another two similarly encumbered gangs of yoofs. But they ran out of steam quite soon  and stopped to look at maps and point at things. The first group only arrived at the top of Kidsty Pike as I left, having had lunch. Having still got bits of Man Flu (have I mentioned this?) I was a bit smug about this, what with being an old codger and so on.. but with only a range of weatherproof jackets and a flask of fair trade coffee in the rucksack and not having to navigate all that much, which takes time to do,  I was at some advantage, I suppose.

I bagged Rampsgill head yet again and headed towards High Street, keeping to the edge for the nice view, when I spotted a large bird hurtling – yes, hurtling from the general direction of Rough Crag and , apparently, about to have a serious collision with the middle-level slopes of Kidsty Pike. Then, only a foot or so off the ground, it turned and sped along the contours, putting up several crows and a raven who then proceeded to try to mob it. It was last seen heading towards Haweswater. If this wasn’t an eagle, it was a bloody big buzzard.

Well chuffed with witnessing these antics, we quickly bagged High Street and continued to Thornthwaite Crag for lunch in the sun and out of the perishing wind.

I have a PHD Minimus dryshell jacket for auction, compliments of Dawn, and I needed a picture or two for the walkersforum auction section. So I took a selfie. As a marketing picture, though, this was a failure. I will try again later this week. Its a crackin jacket, though….  ideal for the backpacking and generally keeping warm.


After lunch we headed for Mardale Ill Bell and Harter Fell where Bruno’s intelligence (I use this word lightly and with only a tinge of sarcasm) proved correct and there was, indeed, a small and scruffy patch of snow, some of which he ate, some of which he dug up, and some of which he had a wee on. I expect that this small patch won’t be there for much longer. On the way, we met the family from the car park, but to my embarrassment, I didn’t remember them and had to ask if we’d met before… (dhuhh) (I’m very bad at names and faces, in fact, on really bad mornings, I wonder who that bloke is in the bathroom mirror…)

Harter fell came and went and we returned to the car park on the Gatescarth path – which seems to have been widened enough for an ATV , or, maybe , an adventurous 4WD. I don’t remember it being this wide.

We did nine and a bit miles and 3800 feet of up. I was reasonably pleased that I could manage this after my recent decline (I did mention this, didn’t I?) and , maybe the loss of half a stone of wobbly stuff is a blessing as far as battling up contours is concerned. Its an ill wind, as they say in places where there’s not much else to do but trot out daft phrases…
Here’s a map.



Click logo for Mike’s Virgin Money Giving page