Where's Bertie? He's at Coniston Hall Caravan Club Site where a 4 night stay is averaging out at £22 per night (tonight is significantly more expensive than the rest of the week).
Weather: Mainly rain with increasing wind.
After last week's failure with setting the timer on Bertie's heating controller, I had another poke around at the buttons and found where I thought I'd gone wrong. I had another go at setting it last night. Success! At a minute to 5 this morning the boiler roared into life. A minute later my alarm went off, and a minute after that I had the kettle on the stove.
Breakfasting and getting ready was a streamlined affair and at 0545 we pulled out of the campsite (I'm sure our neighbours loved us...), nipped in through the back of the services to regain the M6, and headed north.
An hour later, with rain gently falling on Bertie's windscreen, Mick waved me off at Troutbeck with the promise of being at Skelwith Bridge when I arrived there 10km later.
The first ascent went unremarkably. The first descent was notable for me catching my toe on a rock and, as I was running at the time, the momentum took me forward such that I didn't just hit the ground but did a full roll too. I peeled myself back up whilst inspecting for damage and found that, thanks to having gloves on my hands, a baselayer and jacket on my elbows and tights on my legs, all of the places that had skidded along the ground had been protected from grazing. Miraculously, I was completely uninjured, as was my phone (in a thigh pocket). My new(ish) running pack does, however, now have a small hole in one of its front pockets.
The only four photos I took today. My phone spent the rest of the day in a waterproof case.
I made it to Ambleside without more drama and passed through the town at a time of day when it was so quiet that all I encountered was a single dog-walker and a bin lorry.
The rain had petered out soon after I'd set out, but as I made my way down to Skelwith Bridge, after the climb from Ambleside, I could see dark clouds approaching and soon enough they launched their contents violently at me. I was fair dripping when I climbed into Bertie.
Mick pointed out that I really didn't need to do this today and that I could do the rest of the route tomorrow or Wednesday. It was tempting, but I could also see the merit of continuing in foul weather, so after inhaling a hot cross bun slathered with homemade lemon curd (a fine combination!) I put my wet jacket back on, shouldered my sodden pack and headed out. We had, however, hatched a fallback plan: Mick was going to move a few miles up the road such that if I wanted to abort at Tilberthwaite, all I had to do was run 2.5km down the road to find him.
I made a meal of finding my exit from Skelwith Bridge. Then at the bridge by Wainwrights Inn I was convinced I didn't need to cross so didn't look at the map or route notes and simply carried on*. A few minutes later I belatedly looked at the route, did an about turn and returned to the bridge. The detour had allowed a couple called Sarah & John, who had also been struggling to find the path from Skelwith, to go past me.
I caught them up beyond Chapel Stile and we ran a few sections together until, just above High Tilberthwaite, they peeled off to return to Skelwith.
Being at a high point, I paused there and took advantage of a weak phone signal to call Mick to say I was going to continue on to Coniston. His phone rang, but he didn't answer. I rang again. He still didn't answer. I knew that as soon as I started descending I would lose the signal, but by now it was teeming with rain, the wind had picked up, and I wasn't warm enough to stay still waiting for Mick to notice the missed call. That decided it: I was calling it a day at Tilberthwaite and heading down to Lane Head Coppice.
It turned out that I'd called Mick at the very minute he went outside to pay for the parking (£5 for 2 hours!!!). It was three minutes after I'd called him that he called me back, but, as predicted, by then I had no signal.
No matter. By the time I got to Bertie I'd covered 28km with 800m of ascent and, as we're here all week, there will be plenty of time for me to do the missing section later (provided that my legs forgive me quickly for today's efforts).
There's nothing else to report from today. We were checked into the campsite and pitched up well before noon and, with the rain drumming** down, I've not stepped outside since.
Weather: Mainly rain with increasing wind.
After last week's failure with setting the timer on Bertie's heating controller, I had another poke around at the buttons and found where I thought I'd gone wrong. I had another go at setting it last night. Success! At a minute to 5 this morning the boiler roared into life. A minute later my alarm went off, and a minute after that I had the kettle on the stove.
Breakfasting and getting ready was a streamlined affair and at 0545 we pulled out of the campsite (I'm sure our neighbours loved us...), nipped in through the back of the services to regain the M6, and headed north.
An hour later, with rain gently falling on Bertie's windscreen, Mick waved me off at Troutbeck with the promise of being at Skelwith Bridge when I arrived there 10km later.
The first ascent went unremarkably. The first descent was notable for me catching my toe on a rock and, as I was running at the time, the momentum took me forward such that I didn't just hit the ground but did a full roll too. I peeled myself back up whilst inspecting for damage and found that, thanks to having gloves on my hands, a baselayer and jacket on my elbows and tights on my legs, all of the places that had skidded along the ground had been protected from grazing. Miraculously, I was completely uninjured, as was my phone (in a thigh pocket). My new(ish) running pack does, however, now have a small hole in one of its front pockets.
I made it to Ambleside without more drama and passed through the town at a time of day when it was so quiet that all I encountered was a single dog-walker and a bin lorry.
The rain had petered out soon after I'd set out, but as I made my way down to Skelwith Bridge, after the climb from Ambleside, I could see dark clouds approaching and soon enough they launched their contents violently at me. I was fair dripping when I climbed into Bertie.
Mick pointed out that I really didn't need to do this today and that I could do the rest of the route tomorrow or Wednesday. It was tempting, but I could also see the merit of continuing in foul weather, so after inhaling a hot cross bun slathered with homemade lemon curd (a fine combination!) I put my wet jacket back on, shouldered my sodden pack and headed out. We had, however, hatched a fallback plan: Mick was going to move a few miles up the road such that if I wanted to abort at Tilberthwaite, all I had to do was run 2.5km down the road to find him.
I made a meal of finding my exit from Skelwith Bridge. Then at the bridge by Wainwrights Inn I was convinced I didn't need to cross so didn't look at the map or route notes and simply carried on*. A few minutes later I belatedly looked at the route, did an about turn and returned to the bridge. The detour had allowed a couple called Sarah & John, who had also been struggling to find the path from Skelwith, to go past me.
I caught them up beyond Chapel Stile and we ran a few sections together until, just above High Tilberthwaite, they peeled off to return to Skelwith.
Being at a high point, I paused there and took advantage of a weak phone signal to call Mick to say I was going to continue on to Coniston. His phone rang, but he didn't answer. I rang again. He still didn't answer. I knew that as soon as I started descending I would lose the signal, but by now it was teeming with rain, the wind had picked up, and I wasn't warm enough to stay still waiting for Mick to notice the missed call. That decided it: I was calling it a day at Tilberthwaite and heading down to Lane Head Coppice.
It turned out that I'd called Mick at the very minute he went outside to pay for the parking (£5 for 2 hours!!!). It was three minutes after I'd called him that he called me back, but, as predicted, by then I had no signal.
No matter. By the time I got to Bertie I'd covered 28km with 800m of ascent and, as we're here all week, there will be plenty of time for me to do the missing section later (provided that my legs forgive me quickly for today's efforts).
There's nothing else to report from today. We were checked into the campsite and pitched up well before noon and, with the rain drumming** down, I've not stepped outside since.
(*It confounds Mick as to how I could have been so careless. He's just shaken his head and muttered 'How?' and 'But why didn't you just check?' as he's been proof-reading this post.
**It's a wooded campsite, as its name suggests. I do dislike parking under trees in the rain (drip DRIP drip). Or in the sunshine, if they're sap-dripping sorts of trees. Grumble grumble grumble)
All familiar territory for me but from some time ago - I rarely venture into The Lakes these days. It sounds like your recce. is paying off with you making the odd navigation error and that bodes well for the event. I am just going to search and find out exactly what the LD 50 is - perhaps you explained a while back?
ReplyDeleteI am far too lax (for which read 'lazy') when it comes to inserting links to past posts, or even to external websites, either of which would have been handy here. I did write a bit about the 'Montane Lakeland 50 and 100' in a post last July (link below), but in all reasonableness, there's no reason anyone but me would remember that.
Deletehttps://thegateposts.blogspot.com/2020/07/montane-lakeland-50-100.html?m=0
And here's the official webpage about the event: https://lakeland100.com/
There were only two stretches of path along which I passed yesterday that I positively remembered and it did occur to me that there would have been a time when far more would have been familiar. Frequent trips to the Lakes are becoming more and more of a distant memory. As lovely an area as it is, available parking and reasonable (if any) fees are far more abundant in most of Scotland, not to mention the quantity of unbagged hills up there.