I was typing a post about a 'smash and grab' trip to the Lakes last week, when I felt the need to refer back to my post about our previous such trip, only to find that there was no such post. I duly started writing one, but with a voice in my head getting more and more insistent, with each detail I covered, that I'd written it before. On the third search around my laptop, I finally found it. So, rather belatedly, here's a post that I should have published on 9 December last year:
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Having had our intended trips in November thwarted*, and with Mick needing to get in some recces of the Lakeland 100 route, on Wednesday I suggested to Mick that as we were going to Halifax to see his Mum, it would make sense to tack on a micro-trip to the Lakes.
“But we haven’t got time!” Mick protested. I set out a proposed timetable and argued that we did.
“But the weather!” he protested. I reassured him that it wasn’t going to be any colder than it was when I recce’d Howtown to Troutbeck on 12 April last year, thus waiting until spring was no guarantee of warmer weather, and it was unlikely he’d get a better day in terms of sunshine and air clarity.
I concede it was all a bit of a rush. We had a guest (and a late night) on Wednesday, weren’t in a position to start packing until 10am on Thursday, and we were due to leave for Halifax before noon. It transpired that there were packing omissions.
Friday morning came around and only a few minutes behind schedule, Erica’s windscreen was scraped clean of frost and north from Halifax we headed. Here’s a little collage of Erica’s thermometer during our drive:
With 25 miles to go it was still reading -7. Yikes! I’d promised Mick that the coldest it would be was -2 and that it would get up to +2 whilst he was out.
Then the sun came up. The temperature rose. By the time we reached Coniston it was a comparatively balmy -2 degrees. Mick was soon out the door and heading up towards the mines and almost as soon, I was off to drive around to Boot.
Taking my pick of spaces in the empty car park there, I could have stuck the diesel heater on in the back of Erica and merrily sat there knitting for the next few hours, but with conditions so glorious I soon had my trainers on and set out to reverse the L100 route to intercept Mick.
I can’t say that I put on my finest display of navigation…
...which could have been a problem if it had persisted, as I really needed to make sure I was on the same line that Mick would be taking for fear of us passing like ships in the night.
With the Lake District not having much by way of mobile phone signal, I knew little of Mick’s progress. The only message I received from him was as he approached the top of the Walna Scar Road. Based on the timing of that message, I did some calculations as to the earliest, and latest, possible times that we might meet each other. The earliest possible time coincided with one of my accidental detours, and whilst I was reasonable confident that we couldn’t have passed there without seeing each other at a distance, it still created a niggling doubt.
As the ‘latest possible time’ approached my stress levels rose, as I pictured Mick having slipped past me and reaching Erica whilst I was still heading in the opposite direction – not a problem had we remembered the spare car key. Having finally reached a point where I had a good view ahead of me, and still seeing no sign of Mick, I stopped in the middle of the path, pored over the map to check my distances and calculations (yep, they all stacked up) and was just dithering over what to do, when I looked back up and saw a chap heading towards me, waving. Yay!
What I’d failed to take into account with my calculations (yet again!) was that, with this being a recce for Mick and with it being critical that he found the exact path (no “I should be over there so I’ll just cut across”), he was spending quite a bit of time reading the course description and checking the map (his watch stats say a quarter of his time was spent stationary).
For obvious reasons, I knew the correct path back to Erica, but me leading Mick wasn’t going to be beneficial for his purposes, so he continued checking the course notes and making mental notes as we went. On the one hand that slowed us down, but on the other hand whereas my outward leg had been at a relaxed pace (i.e. I walked), on the way back there was frequent trotting along.
By the last significant descent, we had lost the sun behind the hill and the temperature had plummeted again. I went from ‘comfortable’ to ‘I wish I had a fleece’ (another packing omission) and whilst I gave passing thought to putting on my insulated vest, I didn’t think to put on my spare baselayer. I did switch from my thin gloves + fingerless mitts, to my Buffalo Mitts, which soon brought my hands back to life.
It was approaching 3pm by the time we got back to Erica. Having misjudged how long the outing would take, neither of us had taken lunch with us, so that was the top priority, together with drinking multiple cups of tea to remedy my lack of water over the previous 3+ hours (my water bottles were another packing omission).
The sun was just sinking out of sight by the time we pulled out of the car park to head home, where we arrived just in time for bed.
(*Footnote added in April 2023: Off the top of my head, November was ruled out due to the need to do some work on a rental house, but with uncertainty as to the date when we would be given access we were held at home in a constant state of waiting.)
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