20th - 21st Lakes - Wasdale

Well in my last post I was praying for good weather, I almost got what I prayed for. Also this week Claire has added in her side of the story (italics) although she still left most of the story telling up to me.

I got off work early on friday, only to drive my Dad to a charity cricket match at which we found that the boot had broken! The thing won't unlock, unless you use a ten peg from the inside.

I got off up to Preston to rescue Claire as her car has died. Eventually I managed to pick her up from somewhere in Manchester as she was down there viewing a new car. We got back to Preston and made it to Blackpool just as her mates gig was starting. They sounded a little like Dropkick Murphy's. I was pretty impressive watching this dude pulling of hardcore solos on a harmonica!

Saturday came around with an early start as we planned a big day out on Engineers Slab, Gable Crag. As we got closer to the Lakes the weather did not look good (hardly surprising). We very quickly made a decision to head to Scarfell Crag instead. For some odd reason this seemed a better plan than going the shorter distance to Great Gable, but we didn't worry about that.

Everybody seemed to be heading up Scarfell on Saturday. This puzzled me until I realised that they were all Three Peaks Challenge people. I saw people of all shapes and sizes, prepared and grossly under-prepared and of all ages heading up. I'm usually a grumpy bugger about that many people in "my" mountains, but it was so cool to have a friendly hello or a short chat to all these different people on the way up.

Up we plodded with the masses. Seems like no matter how much I attempt to lighten my rack, its still just going to be heavy (maybe time to start swapping out for lighter biners). We got there in about 2 hours, a respectable time seeing as we spent a lot of the walk sitting down, having lunch or gesticulating wildly whilst ranting at the weather to behave (it kept raining you see). We chose Botterill's Slab (VS 4c) on the Central Buttress. The line looked so obvious on the crag (easy for route finding in thick cloud) and it sort of screamed out to be climbed. Anyway it was also wet so our options were limited. We geared up below a short scramble to the base of the route.

This scramble proved to be a terrifying dash upwards on wet holds, grass and loose gravel. I was only too happy to arrive at the nice flat solid ledge. This seemed an ominous start to our climb and I headed up the first pitch heavy with doubt. It says in the guide "4b short chimney to up to ledge". However the "chimney" appeared to be a bigger groove in a system of grooves and proved very difficult whilst wet. I struggled and thrutched my way up thanking Claire (in my head) for making me bring my hexes. I arrived at the belay happy not to have fallen off, but now even more unsure of whether I could lead the next 4c pitch. Trying in vain to keep the rope dry I brought up Claire. Claire seemed to progress up this pitch using everything; knees, elbows, head? We re-racked my gear and the rope, shared some unsure glances and then I headed off.

The scramble up to the first pitch (which we later discovered could be reached by a lovely path) taught me a vaugely useful lesson; clawing at grassy moss is more effective than using slopey wet holds. This meant that I ended up taking a 'direct route' up the 'scramble' through a near vertical patch of greenery, anoyingly wet greenery that soaked straight through whatever touched it. Which happened to be most of me as I salmoned up it.

I love delicate friction slab climbing, but not today. Friction wasn't so much a good friend now he was damp. I picked the driest line up the slab, but still had to dry out some holds. Made me think maybe a rag would have been a useful addition to my rack, but my poor old hat sufficed instead. I tried to get in as much gear as I could, using up my medium wires as I went before a great size 1.5 cam slot. This proved to be the 4c crux. I deliberated (built up the courage) to make the next few moves to a small ledge I could see. Instead of my usual hammering up on my arms, I h to find the driest most positive little edge for purchase that I could, then hope my feet wouldn't pop off. After a few more metres I gained the good ledge added more gear to the slab and then set off again. This time closer to the edge and near the 100m drop.

The rock started to get a little drier, then the cloud swept in and the wind picked up blowing me into the wall (least it might hold me on a bit better!). By now I was freezing, having ditched my fleece in an effort to go a little faster and lighter. Never the less I was loving it and getting closer to the belay with each move. About 8ft below the ledge I placed my two largest single wires in a couple of bad cracks. It wasn't that I was too cold to care, I just needed something in as I was balancing on wet smears. I crimped a good hold with my right hand and grabbed the arete with my left and moved my feet up as high as I could, ready to just pop for the top.

Thankfully I made it and breathing an immense sigh of relief, relaxed. Its amazing how much difference a bit of moisture makes on a climb? I set about constructing my belay, snapped a few shots of Claire and then brought her up. She seemed less than happy with the state of the route, but still enjoyed it. I remember a very nervous expression when she made the last move, ripping out my wires quickly and dashing to the top.

At the ledge after reading the guide book, I realised that I was ten metres short of the pitch set in the guide book. This left a 47 metre pitch to finish off the route and top out. Topping out of course being a relative term as the terrain looked like a roped descent might be needed in the wet. I headed up what was more like a grade 3 scramble and kept going until rope drag forced a halt and belay. By now Claire was well out of sight and hearing distance. I yelled that she was on belay and to climb but heard nothing in return so settled on the three sharp tugs. Feeling some slack in the rope, I started taking in. Occasionally I heard yells of take on the wind. She had a massive smile on her face as she arrived, I think this pitch had made her day.

The massive grin was because I'd found some dry holds and friction on the last pitch, after the first two sketchy ones this just felt amazing and gave me an impression of just how enjoyable the climb would be on a dry sunny day. It was a great note to end on and had me buzzing until Matt found a peg...

We stayed roped together for part of the descent until, as it happened the weather finally cleared up blessing us with clear views all around. We bumbled along the broken ground making for Mickledore col. I found an rather new looking peg and taking a look at the terrain beyond decided an abseil was in order. I set this up, back it up, tested it and then off I wet, helpfully throwing my almost still dry rope into a stream! We both ended up on the scree and scrambled up to Mickledore, only to descend to the bags for some food, water and a much needed break!

A rather new looking peg my ass, anything with rust doesn't qualify as new in my book. But I forgave it it's rust and agreed to strip out the back up and follow matt down. Then he bounce tested it, and sure it didn't break, but it wobbled, and with every little jerk as he descended the whole thing flexed in an utterly disturbing way. *Poof* My buzz was gone, stupid abseiling, stupid Matt, and stupid lack of nice shinny ab points, I missed sport climbing! But being inherently lazy I headed down anyway, he's heavier and it didn't break for him anyway!

The peg really was ok, and claire had taken so long to arrive it already ruthlessly tested it. The weather really had brightened up now and we descended rather quickly (occasionally relaxing on nice looking boulders) chatting to people still walking up to Scarfell. When we arrived back at the car, I looked down at my poor merrells. I don't think they actually like being used a approach shoes. I'm going to have to sew the front of them back up now. We set off on a hunt for some cheep camping. Woop! We noticed a £2.50 per night camping outside the pub. This had the added benefit that we could enjoy and damn good pint inside.

Needless to say, we did enjoy a nice pint, then another. Seeing as we'd been on the go all day, drank about a litre of water we were promptly quite drunk and stumbled foolishly back to our tent!

Matt somehow managed to put up the tent and cook beany pasta. I was not help what so ever, in fact I think all I did was complain about his dinner then steal it when he wasn't looking. I'd had a damn good goulash in the pub so mixed beans and pasta didn't really compare!

Considering the original plan had been to spend the whole weekend in the lakes before my car had imploded and I commandeered Matt for car hunting all sunday,we'd had a great time. Seems like my best memories involves things not going to plan, getting rained on at somepoint then making the most of a less and desirable situation. Anyway we topped our weekend off with an incredible gooyey roadside cheeseburger for breakfast, and I manged to buy a car. What more could you ask for?