The Abominable Scafell Ape Men

So my brother Nik is currently in the UK on a visit. We've got a few trips lined up to go see some of the sights in Europe. As I live here in Britain now I wanted to show him some of what this place really has to offer as well. So I thought I'd take him up the highest mountain in England...when the forecast is for sleet and fifty mile an hour winds up top. 

Simple. 

He's not so sure I know what I'm doing and is perhaps a bit hesitant. Unsure. Worried, even, that I may take him up a cliff with the 'she'll be right' attitude our Dad is known for and he may slip and die. I'm pretty sure we'll be sweet as. 

So we are currently sat at Victoria coach station waiting to get on the overnight bus from London to Carlisle. I didn't say it would be glamourous did I? It's not the best timing though as the weather where we are going is ripe to piss down and he's come down with a pretty serious tooth infection. Like, really serious. We sit down on the side of the wall and he's struggling to keep his eyes open having not eaten really in three days. I offer to stay here in London but he says he wants to try to go all the same. 

So we get on the bus, it's absolutely rammed. As soon as we find a seat a fat lady taking up the seat next to me rams her ham hock of an elbow into my less supple ribs and tells me to ask the driver to turn the plug sockets on so she can charge her phone. I'm pretty incredulous at the demand but go despite my hatred for rudeness and am told they're not working. I sit back down and proceed to shove her across back to her seat and give myself some more space. It's much less aggressive but I get what I want and she doesn't. She can't even tell her other friends on Facebook how she managed to resist a double whopper at Victoria. Perhaps I'm being a bit harsh but perhaps so was she when bruising my ribs. 

But oh well, no wozzas, only another nine hours of this, right? Easy peasy, right? Wrong. Almost straight away his carsickness kicks in and he's about to spew. Bugger. I try to keep him talking to take his mind off it but am not getting very far so ask if he'd rather not talk. He says he would, which is fine and I leave him be. I'm pretty worried about him but he seems to be trying to keep on top of it. The only thing is that neither of us know if he'll succeed in that. He says that he is banking on the antibiotics the dentist prescribed kicking in by morning when they are supposed to. It's tenuous but worth a try. 

So we spend the evening trying to sleep on the crammed bus and between us manage about an hour. Four in the morn rolls around and we rock up to the rollicking Carlisle bus shelter. It's heaving with nothingness. It's also heaving with cold so we wrap up warm and head around to the train station for our next journey. 

Walking around I remember the last time I was here for The Wall last year and it's a bittersweet memory of the lack of mental fortitude to push through and finish a race. This time around though it's freezing and I'm blind as I don't have my contact lenses in. I'm also being followed by a foreigner blinded from orthodontic pain so we must look like a proper pair of munters stumbling along the road. Then I remember it's four in the morning on a Saturday as we see a couple of other munters stumble out of a kebab shop en route to the next bar, lettuce and rat meat flying akimbo out of their slathering gobs and decide we're probably a bit better off than they are. 

We make it to the train station in one piece and I stop to put more layers on and also put my contact lenses in. Right. Now I can see. Yes indeed. I can see that everything is closed and we're still freezing our bollocks off. We decide to walk around to look for somewhere to sit until we can catch the train. 

We don't have a lot of luck and end up getting back to the station and an hour later get the fifteen minute train to Penrith. Nearly there, I assure Nik as we disembark and decide what to do for the next hour we have waiting here. There is a McDonalds open. We go in and get a coffee and just wait for the bus. The sun starts to make an appearance and we can see over the road at the ruins of Penrith castle and I'd really like to go take a look, having been here before, but it's bloody freezing and Nik is struggling as it is. So we wait and finally get on the final bus for half an hour to Keswick. Nik grabs a seat to himself and gets a quick nap. I can't sleep and it's now ridiculously hot sat next to the radiator so I quite happily watch the countryside as we come down into Keswick and finally get off. 

We take a moment to sit down after a frankly epic journey. Now we have to decide what to do next. I had originally planned on doing the route of the Scafell Pike Trail Marathon of last year but unfortunately that's a forty five kilometre route and Nik is certainly not going to be up to that. So we head through the town and watch the rest of the sunrise over Derwentwater. 

Sadly, it's still drizzling and freezing; meaning the sunrise is less than spectacular. Rather, it goes from dark grey to light grey as we stand on the edge of Crow Park trying not to slip down and fall over on the slippery grass. 

I point out the options now. The first bus to Seatoller is in two hours. Seatoller is about a one hour forty five minute walk away. It's up to Nik. He says he hurts too much and would rather we go back to the supermarket and wait for the bus. I say that's okay and we do exactly that. It's nice sitting down for a coffee after such an epic journey as the day gets a bit brighter. Sadly the weather doesn't. 

Seathwaite Farm

We get the bus and get off at Seatoller as planned. I tell Nik to look around at the hills but he's still a bit too focused on the pain to really appreciate it. No matter, there will be plenty of time later. It's a two kilometre walk up to Seathwaite Farm and when we arrive there are already some cars and people there heading up the hills. I point out that we're not the only idiots dumb enough to go out walking on a day like this. He points out that Britons are used to this weather and don't do it with tooth infections. 

The first section is pretty simple along the path and gradually works it's way up the valley following along next to the end of the river Derwent. Nik points out the hill next to us, Base Brown, and asks if that's the one we're going up. I tell him it's not and that what he's looking at are quite small hills compared to where we are going. A look of immense fear creeps over his face. I tell him it will be alright and that I know what I'm doing with regards to getting him up and down Scafell safely. I think it's probably true.

Can you see the apprehension?

We've made a plan that throughout the day we will see how Nik is feeling and make the decisions on whether or not to continue based on that. Right from whether or not to leave Victoria to whether or not we'd leave Keswick for Seatoller. When we get up to Sty Head we'll then reevaluate how he is feeling and also the weather as it's supposed to be those fifty mile an hour winds at the summit today so I'm wary of going up the tough Corridor Route if that is the case and it looks bad up top. 

Stockley Bridge

We continue on up the valley and eventually reach Stockley Bridge. We cross over and I tell Nik this is where the hard stuff begins. The first section is over a slippery rock slope which we get over pretty easily then it's up neverending steps and rocky sections until we reach a stream. 

I stand in it for a photo and Nik is pretty surprised that my shoes are holding out as waterproof and tells me he needs to get himself some. They're pretty handy although are losing the Gore-Tex waterproofing a bit now so I get out of the stream and we carry on up to a gate. 

We take a moment to rest on the other side of this as we've been going at a fair pace so far. It's nice to look around as well at the valley below us before we head around the Aaron Crags below Seathwaite Fell and join Styhead Ghyll. The gradient is a little less demanding going up here but there is a family with a dog not far ahead that we try to overtake but as we stop every now and again for a photo we don't seem to shake them for a while. 

We reach the marshy section that I remember from last time and decide to take a line to the left as the path is not easily recognisable at this point. It turns out I've taken the wrong line for us and we get pretty bogged down. It's hard to avoid our shoes getting soaked at this point until we finally decide to head over to the right and eventually find the path again which is a little drier. Sadly we both have casualties with wet shoes in between. Nik proceeds to profess unhappiness at this eventuality. Sadly, it's not met with much sympathy. 

The conversation goes a little like this:

"Benjamin! My frigging shoes are wet!"

"SCAAAAFFFELLLLLLLLL!!!!!"

"No, seriously man. I'm not happy about this at all."

"SCAAAAFFFELLLLLLLLL!!!!!"

'Up yours, Benjamin. Really, I...I just...I really hate you a lot right now."

We knew that wet shoes were inevitable so carry on all the same. Soon enough we reach Sty Head and it's memorable stretcher box. Nik seems quite chuffed to have reached out first checkpoint of sorts. He climbs on top of the stretcher box and starts to do some stretches for a laugh then gets me up to do the same. It's a bit of an awkward effort for both of us being quite covered in several layers of clothing but we get there all the same. 

After a rest I point out where we are heading up in the clouds and say that the weather looks good enough that 

we can carry on. Nervousness creeps back into Nik's face as I tell him the parts up until now were pretty easy in comparison to what's ahead. 

He say's he's okay with carrying on and we get moving. We have a gel at this point as he's not able to stomach too much so it's been a matter of trying to get food in and energy where he can manage it. I just hope he can hold out on not too much. The antibiotics have kicked in though and he is feeling a lot better than he was, which is obviously a good thing.

So we head through and around the top of Spouthead Ghyll. It's hard to know where to go but we keep a keen eye out for the path. Last time I was here for the marathon there was very limited visibility and everyone just ran across the fields looking like a zombie apocalypse ensuing. This time it's a more sedate idea and we can see the path. I comment to Nik that it's a hell of a lot easier crossing this area on the path rather than following blindly across the marshes. 

We reach the base of Great End although can't really see very high up it due to the cloud cover. The Corridor Route starts wending it's way up around the side of the mountain and we follow it. We soon reach the section I've been mildly worried about on the ascent. 

A small stream crossing brings us flush up against a rock face. During the race this was attacked through a twenty metre climb up the side and was an absolutely terrifying moment. For me then, this was the gateway to Scafell. It's been vivid in my memory as an incredibly intense and scary experience. 

Today we look at it without time pressure and with quite a bit more visibility. Instead of climbing it we see a much easier route to the side around the rock and suddenly I realise that this hill is actually not that terrifying and wonder why I was such a sissy last time. 

Nik isn't quite so sure. He still looks terrified. But I tell him it will be fine and we carefully make our way over the rocks. We take a breath at the top and then continue along the base of the mountain.

The next section is pretty steady and not quite as taxing as we are going slowly up and around the hill rather than straight up. There will be time for that later if I remember correctly. We see the head of Greta Ghyll and turn around us to see the sun just reaching the edge of a valley far below and far away. It's lighting it up in an amazing manner and I point it out to Nik. He wishes we were over in the sun. Not up a goddamn mountain. 

Instead it's been hammering down pretty solidly with rain most of the morning although is showing signs of clearing up a bit now. Or at least the rain has slowed a bit to the point we've been able to take our hoods off for a short while. So that's something at least. I guess. 

At this point I note again that the way is considerably easier when you are on the path. Last time no one could see anything and at one point ten runners were blindly following me up a path that didn't exist. I point up at the scree and tell Nik that I think that was where we were scrambling across desperately trying to figure out where the hell we were going. He says he's pleased that we're on the correct path today instead as he doesn't particularly fancy that much. 

We then have to climb down a pretty rocky section which doesn't do Nik's nerves much good and start making our way over to the head of the Ghyll where we can see the snow line starting. A quick jog across the first section of powder and we meet some older gentlemen who seem to be struggling a bit. They tell us they've come all the way from Keswick and ask about what is ahead. I explain a bit more and they don't seem particularly happy about the prospect. Nor does Nik. 

Easy. Eeaaasssyyyy...

We have a quick yoghurt, again to give him a bit of energy, then carry on our merry way. At this point Nik comes up with a dare that I should take my shirt off at the top like the ape he thinks I am and prove I can handle it. I tell I would probably have done it without the challenge.

The path gets higher until we eventually reach the intersection above Pikes Crag where you can choose to continue on to further fells or take a sharp right up to Scafell. We go right.

The snow is getting thicker here. It's less simple to see where we are going. Neither of us can see the path so we just continue trudging along all the same. There are no other footprints in the snow and we are alone amongst the wilderness. 

We continue on like that for a while and neither of us are speaking. We have reached a point where we are quite happy just carrying on our way knowing that we are going to beast this thing. After a while, though, Nik does start to get a bit concerned at the lack of footprints so I check the map and ascertain we are just slightly to the left of the path. 

Moving sideways seems harder than up as we try to find the correct path. We think we do and carry on but after a while there are still no other footprints. I check and we are now off to the right of the track. Then my phone with the map on it dies due to the  below zero temperature we're now in. I do have a paper map and compass in my bag but decide not to bother getting it out and continue walking. 

Nik follows but doesn't understand. He asks if I know where we are going. I profess that I do. He asks which way we should be going. I tell him 'Up'. He asks if I know that's right with a dead phone. 'Up' I repeat and carry on. He follows in silence then asks a couple of minutes later if I know what to do in these situations. I turn around with a big grin and repeat loudly 'Up!' He gives up and just follows. 

After a few more minutes I tell him that normally this way of navigating is incredibly stupid but that today we're on a mountain, we're trying to summit so the best way to know what way to go is to follow the gradient until you reach the summit and then work out the map and directions from there. As it's also a mountain and area I know fairly well I'm confident that there is no problem and the fact that we're not on the path just adds to the adventure. He still doesn't seem one hundred per cent in agreement with this method but resigns himself to trusting me. 

The gradient gets steeper and we reach a small crag jutting out. I ask him if he wants to go left or right around it. He's still uneasy at this carefree manner but decides on left. We go left. As we're left of the crag we suddenly find ourselves in an area that has had a considerable amount more snow. Quite a big amount. As in, we are up to our arses in snow. I slip and fall into a section which brightens Nik's mood as he sees me floundering and struggling to get back to some snow that's only knee deep. To be fair it is pretty damn funny seeing how stuck I am. 

We reach the top of the crag and soon approach another. This time he also says left and this time as we're coming up around it we see some other hikers following the path directly above the crag. I think I can hear Nik letting out the breath he's been holding in for the half hour of walking as we climb up to the track. I turn around and tell him 'See? Up!' He laughs now that he knows it's okay and we're back on the designated route. 

The track is obviously considerably easier to move along but as we go over a ridge and find a couple with their teenage son coming the other way I ask if we're at the top. The guy says we're not far but it's pretty windy. We wish him a good day and continue on. 

As we've now come over the lee side of the mountain we are suddenly struck by the winds. And the sleet. We both put our hoods up and park the zips as best as we can but the sleet is still hitting us in the face. We're nearly there though so I pat Nik on the back and we keep going. 

The area in front of us is just a snow covered wasteland with low visibility and almost no distinguishable points to navigate from. There are still a few footprints on the ground though so we still find our way fairly easily. Nik is getting delirious I think and asks me to film him pretending to be on a cooking show. I'm not really sure why but I get involved all the same and pretend I'm on it as well. Although my input is far less eloquent and mostly swearing. Each to their own I guess. 

Then out of nowhere a rock structure with a huge group of people around it looks in front of us and we realise we're here at the summit. We take a few photos and then once the scouts group are off the structure we climb up the top and look out across the land. 

We can't see bugger all. Welcome to Scafell, Nik. It's snowy. And more importantly it's sleety. Razor in the eyes type of sleety. Mmm my favourite kind of sleety. Not Nik's though. He doesn't look very impressed in the slightest. In fact, he looks bloody cold and tired. 

"Well, Benjamin, I, ah...I'm pretty impressed with myself getting here. Aren't you?"

"SCAAAAFFFELLLLLLLLL!!!!!"

"Stop screaming that!! Can we go back down now?"

"SCAAA....FEEEEEELLLLL!!!!!"

"The sleet is like razorblades in my eyeballs." 

We head back down and shelter on the lee side of the structure as best we can although it's not terribly good as the annoying huge scout group are taking up pretty much anywhere the sleet isn't. We talk about what to do. Nik is kind of keen to go back the way we came. I say we should go the Esk Hause route but he's not so keen as that's the side with the sleet. 

I tell him it will be worth it and that we should go via Esk Hause. He's really not keen but I tell him it will be worth it and he reluctantly agrees. Something I remember from last time though is that this section immediately after the hilltop is a bit of a no mans land in terms of navigation. Meaning you do have to pay attention and no where you are going. 

Instead I just bound from rock to rock in the direction I remember. I come up pretty short pretty quick over the lip of a drop and realise I should probably get the map out and check. My phone is working again after being in my pocket and a bit warmer so it's pretty easy to see we should have gone more sharply down from the top. 

We head over to the correct path and find that unfortunately the scout group have left and are going that way as well. It's incredibly slippery here and one wrong move could mean a very serious injury so we can't just leap around them as there is a section that needs to be traversed very carefully and trying to use all four limbs if possible to steady yourself. Unfortunately this means that the group of terrified children are barely moving at all. 

The guide tells them to move aside to let us path. The three directly in front of us, blocking our path, stop still to let us pass. None of them seem to realise that just standing there means that neither us nor them can continue and they are making it worse if anything. 

The few up ahead are inching carefully down the mountainside with ice axes and crampons being made full use of. We begin to get a bit impatient and as soon as the kids in front finally move a bit we fly past all of them throwing caution to the wind, to get past them and this steep rocky section. 

Directly after this is a heavily snowed in area but it's not covered in rocks to we turn sideways and skid our way down this part with the group above ogling us and pointing at as if we are a pair of mentals. To be fair, we probably are. Then right at the bottom the risk pays it's dividends and I slam my knee straight into a rock. 

"If you were less of a dick today I might care about your boo boo".

Agony. I hop along and instantly start to worry about what to do if I've got a serious injury from this. The worst possible outcome creeps into my head at about the same time the dull aching thud of the pain does. Nik asks if I'm okay and I say through gritted teeth that I am and continue walking and hobbling. 

We soon reach a flatter section and I mentally check through myself. The knee feels like it is actually more painful than it really is and I realise the cold must be making it ache that bit more so I just resolve to be more careful and to take it a bit slower. There looks to be a path off to the right but there are fresh footprints on a path going down the really steep way off to the left. We go down there but I'm instantly unsure if it's a good idea. I shout to Nik I'm going to go ahead a bit to see what this path looks like a bit further down and head over to what looks like a pretty treacherous cliff face descending through an abyss of cloud. There must be a walking route down there because of the footprints but I know it's not the route I've intended for today so I don't look too hard for one and head back up the slope towards Nik to tell him we need to go back. As we're a bit sheltered from the sleet here I remember Nik's dare and start to strip off my top five layers to prove I really am still the ape he remembers. Once they're all off I start yelling about how cold it is to boost up my energy and Nik finds it hilarious enough for a photo.

The Abominable Scafell Snowman

I put my clothes back on but I've seen that Nik isn't particularly enjoying being out in the open on the windward side of the mountain so I leave my gloves off and we get moving. Unfortunately while we were mucking about down there the scout group has passed across above us so when we rejoin the path we then have to run up to and around them a second time. 

They now just look puzzled at us in wonderment at our mentality. Oh well, you can't please everyone. We're now in the valley between Broad and Ill crags and it's a boulder strewn area so we have to be very careful not to snap our ankles as we hop from one to another of them. The thought of a snapped ankle this high up fills me with dread. 

As we climb back up the other side of the valley Nik calls me a dick for not telling him there was more uphill. I apologise, grin and carry on moving. As we reach the top a minute or two later we are now back in the wind, which tries to blow us over. As we're still on a slope I lose my balance a little and we both nearly end up tumbling down the hill. Luckily I right myself. 

The sleet is moving horizontally and stabbing us in the eyes. Paired with low visibility anyway, it's a pretty tough section. I tell Nik to hold on and we'll be out of this soon. He looks at me unbelieving and I can tell he's sort of wishing we went back down the other side of the mountain. 

The boulders thin out a bit and we're back on a downhill section with Great End off to our left and dark nothingness to our right with razor sharp sleet coming out of it to attack us. We scan the horizon for cairns so that we know where to go, having had no discernible path since the summit. 

Eventually we reach a plain and finally do see a path once more. I point out to Nik that it's very easy to get lost here with a few paths going off. We reach the first fork and I explain that this is where last time four of us listened to a walker instead of checking our maps and went down the hill only to find we were going the wrong way and back tracking, wasting at least ten minutes. I'm not too keen on that this time so we check the map and carry on. I ask him how he's managing and he says he's okay but keen to get down from the mountain. I tell him it really isn't far now before we'll be on an easy section again. 

When I took my shirt off I neglected to put my gloves back on as I knew this wasn't easy on Nik so wanted to keep moving as quickly as possible. I now regret that whilst holding the map as I can't feel my fingers so ask Nik to get them out for me. He does but it takes me about five minutes to get them on as my fingers are so cold and I resolve to buy some waterproof ones at some point as putting on these cold and wet ones is feeling pretty grim. 

As we move across the valley I note that it's actually becoming considerably easier so we're covering ground a lot quicker than we were over the past couple of hours. Then out of nowhere leers Esk Hause. 

Esk Hause

This is a turning point for a few paths and as such has been set up as a makeshift shelter. By shelter I mean four walls about a metre and a half laid with rocks. And I don't mean four walls in a square. It's four walls in an 'X' so that no matter where the wind is coming from you can huddle behind one side of it and be out of the wind. I ask Nik if he wants to go down and see it, he says it's just a bunch of rocks and we turn left down the hill instead. 

Straight away we're on firmer ground and out of the wind and straight away things get considerably easier. It's pretty much a straight line down a ghyll now heading back towards Sty Head. We reach the path to go down Ruddy Ghyll back to Seathwaite Farm and I offer for us to go that way but Nik says he's happy to carry on down the intended route to Sty Head as mentally it's less taxing knowing where we are going.

So we head down steadily and soon crest over below the snow line to the view I've been waiting all day for...Sprinkling Tarn below us, Sty Head ahead of us and Great Gable in the distance. It's an amazing view and I say to Nik that this is why I wanted to continue on the route past Esk Hause, so he can see this. He agrees and confesses he's glad we went that way. I smile at that as I wasn't too sure if I made the best decision on pushing for that given his tooth ache. I guess on the plus side it gave him something new to think about though...

We make our way down to Sprinkling Tarn and Nik asks if you can swim in there. I admit I've no idea if people do but can't see any reason not to given it's fresh mountain spring water. I don't particularly fancy it myself given the cold but say he's welcome to if he likes. He moves away, wary I might throw him in. 

Soon enough we're back at Sty Head and take a minute or so to catch our breath. I ask if he's glad we did it and he says he is, but that he's absolutely knackered. I tell him that's because he hasn't eaten hardly anything in the past few days and he agrees.

I tell him he should have a scotch egg. He's pretty dubious, never having heard of a scotch egg before. I have a packet of six big, nice ones in my bag so tell him it will be good to eat something solid for a change. He's still very wary as I open the packet and he takes one after removing the huge gloves he has on. He's bargained a deal that we have to stop for a minute as he can't walk and eat at the same time, which I say is fine albeit a bit odd. 

He has a bite. His eyes light up. He takes another bite and starts exclaiming about it being one of the best things he's ever eaten. I can't stop laughing at how happy he is with a simple scotch egg but am glad he's enjoying food again as that's obviously a good sign and suggests he's getting better. 

We put our gloves back on and continue along and he's clearly in a far better mood, chatting about all sorts. I'm really pleased to see it. Especially as we're back down into rain, which admittedly isn't too torrential at this point. Wanting to capitalise on his mood I ask if he'd like a gel or something else to eat. He says he wouldn't mind another scotch egg. I nearly fall over laughing as he was dreading the concept of this weird scotch thing so much up until now, and then can't get enough. 

I offer to stop again and he says he doesn't care he only wanted to stop and eat as he thought it was going to be disgusting. So we get another pair out and bounce down the hill merrily along our way. 

When we reach the waterlogged field, this time we stay on the right side of it and find it much easier to follow the path. Moving down the first section following Styhead Ghyll is much easier, as is the rocky section below the Aaron Crags, over the waterfall which this time I don't stand in and all the way down to Stockley bridge. 

We're in good spirits now that we're back on the flat and make good time back to Seathwaite Farm so check the bus timetable and realise we have about twent five minutes or so to get the two kilometres back to the bus stop. 

As the rest of the way is paved we hammer it. Much to my chagrin near the end Nik even suggests we run a little although I think this is more because he doesn't want to wait at the cold bus stop for an hour until the next one rather than actually wanting to. We get there in time and make our way back to Keswick, chatting to the bus driver who sees it day in and day out. 

We go to a nice little pub in town to wait out our evening and as soon as we sit down the day just hits us and we realise just how tired we are. We end up spending the next few hours sat there giggling about absolutely nothing and having no idea what the hell is going on. It's a nice end to a nice day. 

The bus home is bloody horrible.