Memories #1 – The Old Man of Coniston
Memories
Memories is a series of posts looking back at previous escapades, from a time before the blog. Usually produced during a lull in current adventures and most definitely produced while wearing rose tinted glasses.
The Old Man of Coniston
It was our second attempt to walk up the Old Man on this trip. The earlier attempt, from the NT campsite at Hoathwaite had to be abandoned about half way up. Ferocious wind and rain had beaten us. It’s said that there is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing, but even good clothing has its limits and being blown off the side of the hill isn’t much fun. That attempt had been the week before and I had been a year younger.
The inbetweening time had been spent hiding from the world in Wasdale Head. The weather hadn’t been any better there, and I’d commiserated celebrated passing into a new decade in Ritson’s bar rather than on the summit of Scafell Pike.
And so we were back. The weather was slightly dryer and a little less windy. I was slightly older and wiser. Older, anyway.
From the campsite it’s an easy wander to the base of the hill. The wind was still howling so we opted for the more the traditional route up. Maybe a quarter of the way up or so we happened across a group of older folk coming in from the Coniston side. I asked their dog, “who’s a good boy?” and admired the 80’s era Karrimor rucksack in classic green and purple that one of the gentlemen was wearing. Forgetting to tell their dog who the good boy was, we continued our ascent.
Sheltered in the lee of the hill having a cup of tea and a break from the frigid wind, people came and went, up and down. We watched the group getting led closer by their guide. They were making good time. As we prepared to move on we bumped into the group’s guide and stopped for a chat. You know the usual kind of small talk made between strangers on the hill. Having a good walk? Wind’s a bit wild. That’s Sir Ranulph Fiennes I’m guiding up the hill.
Britain’s most famous of explorers. What a privilege to be on the same hill! Not exactly the north face of the Eiger, but still. I’d not long finished reading Kenton Cool’s autobiography that included some interesting sections on climbing with Sir Ranulph and the stories were still fresh in my mind.
It was busy on the summit, we found a spot out of the relentless wind to sit and eat our sandwiches. The group reached the summit a short time later and their dog came over to reacquaint himself with us. There were unanswered questions and I was relieved to be able to assure him that yes, he was the good boy! Rosana tried insisting that I should go and say hello, but I can’t do that. It seems intrusive, he’s just out for a day with his friends and family, not doing a publicity tour. We settled for a stealth picture to save the moment for posterity.
We left them to enjoy the summit and we headed down. It had been a good day.
Get the Route GPX here.