Glacier Racer's Gazette

The inaugural outing of the Glacier Racers, which took place on 4th July 2009, started in a mood of cheerful optimism and a range of daft headgear. Little did I realise, as I fed the requisite contents of a medium sized bag of gold into the pay-and-display meter for our allotted nine hour tenure of the selected parking spot, that I would need every last one of the

1 As has already been intimated, this epic journey, which sparked several quotes and references from Frodo and Sam's efforts, began in the main car park in Ambleside. We set off equipped with map, compass, waterproofs and enough food for a small army; most of which had been carefully selected by Roger for its tendency towards the unhealthy side of a bad diet.

As we crossed the bridge to leave the car park and the last loo we would see for some time, Roger started on the Liquorice Allsorts. The rest of the party declined his kind offer and Brian or Graham, can't remember which, did offer the suggestion that perhaps hard boiled eggs might be more appropriate but Roger is made of sterner stuff.

Despite plenty of alternative suggestions with regard to the route, we were soon marching purposefully past Nook End Farm, if a little slower than at the foot of the lane. As we crossed Low Sweden Bridge we emerged onto

the open fell and began the real work. This part of the walk was where a serious and unrelenting amount of “up” was needed and even at our pace, it was hard work. With frequent stops to admire the views we staggered to a point on the accent of Low Pike where the path forked. Roger, was convinced that the path to the right would obviate the need to climb the steep rise in front of him but the map said otherwise. So more “up” was applied.

Up to this point we had climbed in summer sunshine with a slight, but very welcome, following breeze. It was warm work and, despite Sue's parting words of wisdom, Brian had already removed his protective headgear long before Low Pike. He would spend Sunday resembling a very happy Belisha Beacon.

The climb to Low Pike included one of those points found in all good Lake District walks where it is necessary to put your right knee in your right ear in order to gain the required foothold. Brian led the way and gained the high ground. Roger decided that the weight of his provisions would be too much of a burden if strapped to his back and chucked his rucksack up ahead. I wasn't quite quick enough in converting my phone to video camera mode or you would all have been in

#1 Ambleside and Lake Windermere

#2 Look Sue, look, look, only a mile into the walk and Brian has already removed his hat!

#3 Towards Rydal Water

#4 Looking back at Ambleside

daylight and secondly to make sure that we had somewhere to park. As we set off for High Pike the first of many parties began to overtake us, including two little grey haired ladies who swept past at about twice our pace. I declared that a brief stop for sustenance was required at about half way between Low and High Pike as we were still climbing at a rate and I needed to refuel.
When we set off again, Roger, fuelled with

#6 Graham takes a snort of something whilst Brian gazes at the view.  High Pike and our lunch spot now behind us.

#7 Roger and Clive make good time towards Dove Crag

#5 Brian and Graham looked at Rydal Water and decided that base jumping was not for them.

Liquorice Allsorts, stormed ahead but then began to get paranoid because the rest of us kept staggering to a halt and would then take the opportunity to have a good chat without him. Roger, having gained greater altitude was loath to sacrifice this but was feeling neglected and needed reassurance that we were technically still walking with him, even if he couldn't join in the banter.

Young Brian then succumbed to a fit of madness and challenged himself to reach High Pike in fifteen minutes. Well he certainly couldn't challenge any of the rest of us. We waved as he headed off but when we reached the summit some twenty five minutes later he was nowhere to be seen. He had taken a different path and had taken up residence in a slight hollow on the way to Dove Crag. This transpired to be our lunch stop, it now being past mid-day.
Roger unloaded the full contents of his cavernous rucksack and set about its bounty with some enthusiasm. The contents included the largest flask of coffee that any of us had ever seen but apparently this was unlikely to provide for his caffeine needs as he was already planning to visit the Rydal Hall tea rooms on the return leg of the journey.

#8 Looking back from Dove Crag before the clouds sat on us

As we sat enjoying our lunch there was a distinct sense of something creeping up on us from the South. Not all the food was scoffed at this stop and, as we eased ourselves back to our feet and looked about us, it became quite clear that the next stop for grub would probably involve trying to eat it before it became so sodden that it fell apart. Still, there were always the Liquorice Allsorts. Whilst the path before us was by no means level, it was as nothing compared to what we had just done and so we positively sauntered to Dove Crag.

2 Dove Crag was a bit of a non-event but at least we could see where we were going.

#9 Brian gets his last chance for some time to point at things in the distance

bit of a scramble to reach Hart Crag and, having reached this milestone, Roger announced that we should mark this auspicious occasion in the usual manner and promptly started ferreting about in this multitudinous layers of apparel. Now, I thought that this meant that he was going to have a wee and so made all speed to get up wind of him.  However, I was yelled

#11 Deepdale

#10 Hart Crag

at to come back for the commemorative photograph. I was just explaining this misunderstanding to the rest of the party as Roger took the picture, which is why the other two are laughing their heads off.

The path from Hart Crag was difficult to find but fortunately some people coming in the opposite direction enabled us to pick up the trail again. Then, as we stood in the gloom, being periodically granted a view down into Deepdale as the clouds parted, a seasoned looking fell walker (Looked like Wild Bill Hickock in an oilskin cape) approached from the way that we were heading and imparted his words of wisdom; which almost got us lost.

One thing he did say was that the archaeologists were very fond of crawling all over the sheer rock structure that we could see. Graham, being one to climb such things in his youth, had a brief conversation with the man. I believe that we were looking at The Step and Link Cove. His parting words were something along the lines of approaching Fairfield from six o'clock and leaving it at nine. Trouble is, he didn't know where we were going. According to him we were about to climb Stubby Crag but I never have found that on a map as yet.

We stumbled through the mist and at Rydal Head and encountered a fellow lost soul who enquired if he was still on the horseshoe. We gave him the benefit of our extensive knowledge and as far as we know he is still up there. I took this opportunity to find a comfortable rock to sit on and had something else to eat. Roger changed his trousers yet

#12 The view into the valley of Rydal Beck and the view of the photographer with Hart Crag in the background

again and may, by now, have run out of Liquorice Allsorts. Every now and then the murk would lift and we were treated to a glimpse down into the valley, with the two arms of the horseshoe bounding the view of Ambleside in the distance.

Fed and watered, we headed for Fairfield.

#13 Graham and Brian enjoy the view and Roger tries to see out from under his hat!

Then the clouds parted. Ooops!

The view didn't match what we should have been looking at. So we unfolded the map and looked at it properly. We had set off towards Grisdale Hause instead of south down the western leg of the horseshoe. Now that the clouds had lifted we could see the cairns on the ridge that we wanted off to our left. Time to go “off piste” and indulge in a little sheep worrying. Walking across the slope was a little awkward but to be honest the sheep took not

Rydal Head                                            Hart Crag                          Dove Crag

#14 Rydal Head, Hart Crag and Dove Crag from Great Rigg-ish

a blind bit of notice. We regained the path half way between Fairfield and Great Rigg without further drama. Still, we had gained a nice view of Grisedale Tarn in the process.

4 Somewhere about Great Rigg or Stone Cove, Roger started fantasising about coffee at Rydal House. Probably withdrawal symptoms due to a lack of liquorice. The walk along the ridge seemed absolutely endless. We had now been walking for a good six hours and Roger confided that he wouldn't mind if it ended soon.

I believe that it was before Heron Pike that we encountered a bloke, who we had already

#15 If I had to put money on it I would say that this was a view of Heron Pike with Ambleside and Lake Windermere in the background.

#16 We were all relieved that Roger had kept his trousers on for this one whilst Graham gives us lessons on how to pose on a conquered rock!

Anyway, the pair of them thundered past again before we made Low Pike; the errant phone now firmly in their possession.

It started to rain steadily between Lord Crag and Low Pike and I became aware that my so called “waterproof” was making claims that it did not deliver.

5There must be eleventy million steps from Low Pike to Rydal Hall, which was closed or closing by the time we reached it, so all chance of a nice cuppa had vanished. When we reached the tarmac at Rydal, Brian demonstrated an impressive turn of speed as he undertook to cover the last mile to the car before the ticket ran out. Being wet and knackered was one thing but wet knackered and clamped would have been all together too much to bear. I think Brian may have made it within a minute or so but there was not a warden in sight, so he didn't have to kill anyone.
 

Rain and the good folk of Ambleside not withstanding, Brian could not be prevented from going berserk in the car park. We think he was just showing off because he was the only one of us who had something dry to change in to.
 

#17 Grasmere viewed down Greenhead Gill

#18 Looking back: Hart Crag in the middle of the horizon with Dove Crag to the right and Rydal Head and Fairfield to the left.

Filled, as we were, with our sense of achievement this did not seem to compensate for the fact that apart from Smug Brian we had to sit, wringing wet, in the car and drive home. As we trundled down the M6 Brian asked what we were each going to do when we reached our respective homes. A hot bath seemed to figure strongly but we had to curtail the discussions because Graham was beginning to fantasise about bubbles.

Our sense of achievement took a further knock the next day when Roger discovered on the internet that the course we had followed was actually a fell race and that the winning time this year was about one hour and sixteen minutes! Also, that they run in the opposite direction and had thus gone up the eleventy million steps from Rydal to Low Pike on the western leg of the loop. They would obviously make quite a saving on the car park.

We will walk again!

Clive