Three Peaks 2012

An attempt to tackle the 3 Yorkshire Peaks challenge in July was aborted due to the seasonable weather we were experiencing at the time. Basically about 1 mile into the 26 mile challenge we were soaked to the skin, and with the weather set for the day we decided that the sensible thing was to go to the pool for a dip, the sauna and then the pub to play pool no relation) The challenge remained however, and was rescheduled for late September, for logistical reasons the next chance to get a team together.
And so it came to pass that team regulars Nelson, Greendale and myself were joined by second reserve Peter, the Shelfstacker, replacing the Judge on this outing, the last chance to realistically tackle those pesky hills with a full 12 hour window of daylight.
Not only did we have a change of team but also a change of accommodation location. Despite the lateness of the season our budget digs were fully booked, probably due to the popularity of the pool and sauna available to relax after a hard days hiking. Alternatives were sought and very acceptable, albeit slightly moe expensive overnight lodgings were found nearby. I am deliberately not naming names as I wish to protect the guilty, Selby Greendale having once set fire to one of these locations. Despite this we are a professional and well behaved group, who pardon the inference, don't like to burn bridges so wouldn't want to upset our former site owners but it is only fair to say that their bunkbarn is starting to show it's age and could do with a refurbishment. The alternative setting was far more spacious, better equipped, cleaner and more rurally idyllic  with a brilliant view and spacious gardens to boot. The rules of democracy dictate (if a democracy can dictate) that this will be our lodgings of choice in future.
Nelson PK, Greendale and myself traveled together and arranged to meet Shelfstacker at the Marton Arms, just outside Ingleton. We were still a good half hour away when he phoned to say he'd arrived, but strangely there was no sign of his car at the pub when we pulled in. he was soon located at the Masons Arms, in Ingleton itself. In his defence we had visited both pubs during our July visit and he is obviously easily confused. It was however nice to see a Supermarket manager getting foxed by things being in the wrong place, and I will remember this with a degree of satisfaction next time I visit Tesco's and the beans have been moved again.
After settling into the digs it was, by tradition that we went to the pub for a meal and a few beers. Now, I may have sung the praises of the Masons Arms on previous visits, but the pub has changed hands since and to my knowledge no longer serves it's famous mini mixed grille at a belly busting and value for money £10 a head. So we skipped the Masons. The Marton Arms also had a great selection of beers and good food when we first visited 4 or 5 years ago, but this too has changed hands. It still does food, but a very limited menu and instead of a varied range of both popular brews and local real ales it now has a choice of beer, the choice being take it or leave it. No slur intended on either pub, I can;t say that view is current as we did not visit either on this occasion. They will get a chance to redeem themselves next year perhaps, but we took the majority vote and returned to the Wheatsheaf in Ingleton, which sells Hobgoblin amongst other decent beers, did a two steaks for £20 deal on a Tuesday and had a pool table. We took advantage of all three elements until 8pm when the local pool team arrived to play a match and we walked back to the bunkbarn for a few beers, a DVD and an early night before a dawn o'clock start.
It was around about this time that both the Shelfstacker and PK discovered they were sans sleeping bags, both having left them at home. Fortunately for them the night was mild, the heating adequate and some blankets, or rather the throws off the sofas were foraged to keep them warm.
The accommodation proved surprisingly comfortable, and even the floor allowed a goodly sleep, as I discovered in the predawd hours as arms encased in a nylon sleeping bag I slid gracefully off the bed and into the gap between the bunk and the wall. Unable to escape without making a lot of noise I remained there for the last half hour or so before at some ungodly hour I was woken and forced, possibly at gunpoint, to cook a full English breakfast. With our normal plan of attack changed by the adverse weather conditions both cars were taken initially to Horton in Ribblesdale. This would allow Pen-Y-Ghent to be taken on first, return to H-I-R then drive one car to the Ribblehead Viaduct, leaving the support car in Horton for the return to Ribblehead after completing Whernside and Ingleborough. This was of course cutting out the boggy leg between Pen-Y-Ghent and Ribblehead, which due to flooding was an almost suicidally impassable river crossing and likely to risk life and limb unnecessarily. Had it been a matter of life or death I'm sure we could have done it, but we walk for fun, not necessity. It meant we cut the official route by maybe two or three miles, but that we could still tackle all the peaks in safety, with a chance of returning again another year.
First light was breaking as we left Horton at 0653 hours precisely and started our ascent. It was about this point that the heavens opened and the heavy rain began. Immediately soaked through the mission looked in jeopardy again, but after about 10 or 15 minutes the rain abated, and with the temperature probably about 8 degrees or so the windchill wasn't too bad and the wind helped in drying off the combats and raincoats.
It is at this point possibly wise to mention PK's mode of dress. He had shunned the obvious choice of waterproofs and elected instead for a poncho. With his grizzled stubble and bushmans hat he lacked only a cheroot to make a passable Clint Eastwood lookalike. You had to see it to believe it, which was of course difficult, because it was a camouflage Army style poncho, and over his similar DPM combats he became invisibly at 20 paces. Was he doing the walk in fancy dress for charity, we asked ourselves? Well it made a change from his JR Hartley fishing outfit.

 Pen-Y-Ghent at the start of the steep final ascent was shrouded in mist, or rather low lying cloud, meaning that PK and Pete disappeared into the gloom, leaving Selby and myself trailing in their wake. Mr Selby dislikes heights, and the ascent up the final scramble is always a testing time for him, and with the wind blowing fiercely around the top he took extra caution in clinging on - at one point I swear he was even using his teeth. Regardless we made it to the summit unscathed only to find it had been conquered by the British Army, a two man outpost occupying the shelter by the trig point. It turned out that 200 Army Recruits had been set free for two days as art of their Duke of Edinburgh Award Scheme, with co-ordinates to make for and with an overnight camp included in these inhospitable surroundings. They had my pity. It was almost but not quite freezing on the top, but as we began our descent it warmed up again a even a little patch of blue appeared in the sky. The weather was forecast with a foggy start and rain first off, clearing to sunshine and clear skies, 15 degrees and light winds. So far the former was true, and it looked promising for the latter, although it wasn't quite right as it turned out.

With Pen-Y-Ghent dispatched in short order we drive the short hop, cheating our way past the boggy marshland and parked up at Ribblehead where once more a light drizzle had set in, continuing on and off in thankfully short bursts. The temperature rose however causing much taking on, and putting on of waterproofs (and ponchos) Once more PK and the new boy pulled ahead, with the slow but steady following a short but steadily longer distance behind. Then even the shelfstacker began to feel the pace and PK left him a good four or five minutes behind at the peak. It is fair to point out that PK is younger than me, and has a fully functioning knee joint system. he also travels light, whilst Greendale and myself carry sufficient food, water and supplies, plus dry clothing and survival gear to last at least overnight and probably for two or three days, just in case. PK meanwhile carries a sandwich and a can of pop.No wonder then that he can walk at such a cracking pace. 

Lunch was taken and off we went back down the hill and on toward Ingleborough. Of course all three left me for dead on the descent, as my knee cracked under the pressure as it always does here, and dosed up with Ibuprofen and supported by two sticks I hobbled down some fifteen minutes behind the others. The weather remained "changeable" with patches of rain and sunshine, and we mostly dodged any heavy rainfall. A rainbow appeared over Ingleborough, which was nice. Back on the flat I was able to keep pace again and it was only as we started the assault up the steepest parts of Ingleborough that PK once more split the pack and raced off ahead. I am convinced he is half breed mountain goat. Due to all the rain the path was also a waterfall, meaning navigation was particularly trick especially on the scramble toward the top.

The weather however was now shining on the righteous and I even caught a bit of sunburn - or it might be rust, only time will tell. A final drenching was to be had though, and came in so suddenly we didn;t have chance to don waterproofs before getting soaked to the skin again. Of course as soon as we did it stopped raining again. 

Amazingly Selby had not fallen into any water, nor had he sunk waist deep into a bog, despite the many opportunities. Normally he can seek out such hazards in a desert, so maybe he is finally becoming hiking savvy.

The mountains giveth and the mountains taketh away. Last year on an outing to Pen-Y-Ghent I managed to leave my seat pad at the summit as a prize for some other lucky hiker. I was rewarded in kind with the find of a hiking stick halfway down Ingleborough, where some unfortunate had obviously leant it to open the gate and then walked on without it. As I had left mine, stupidly, in the car boot at Ribblehead and had relied on those borrowed from the team it came in hand for the rest of the walk.It seemed a long long way down to Horton again but eventually the village came into view. 

The weather produced more spectacular rainbows this time over Pen-Y-Ghent, brooding in the distance, and the picture just doesn't do it justice.

The last mile or so was severely waterlogged however and heavy going with my knee once more giving major gip on the downslopes. I eventually hobbled into the station doing a passable John Wayne impression but only 3 or four minutes behind the group with an end time of a credible 10 hours dead. Allowing for the difference in mileage from the full route this is comparable with last years 10:39 and quite acceptable given the adverse weather. Shelfstacker had never done any of these hills before and certainly gave a good account of himself as a 3 peaks virgin. He may therefore be formerly invited to join the BBC (Beer and Boots club) as a permanent member.

A quick celebration pint in the "other pub" (not the Golden Lion, but I can't remember it's name) set us back towards our digs for a quick shower before fish and chips and more beer before bedtime. A thoroughly enjoyable outing which we promise to repeat again again next year.

This will probably be my last outing of the season due to equipment failures. Whernside killed my waterproof jacket with a rip from the pocket down the side appearing as I put my water bottle away in the rucksack, and it also claimed my boots. Elsewhere on the blog you will read of "Shackletons boots," my previous pair of leather walking boots which despite being clumsy heavy old things lasted from age 18 to around 41 and did thousands of hiking miles. They were replaced by modern Gortex and suede lightweights a couple of years back. Lightweight by name, lightweight by nature they have lasted just a few years and maybe 3-400 miles before splitting and the soles tearing away. Hopefully they will be replaced in the January sales ready for the next season. but if I feel the urge to walk again between now and then a it o glue might just see them through on a dry day. 

Dave "Greendale" Selby, Cheif complainer, water diviner and Navigator. 

Paul "Nelson/PK" Kitson Entertainments Officer, Pacemaker and  Hygiene Complaints Coordinator

Peter "Shelfstacker" Sewell, 3 Peaks Rookie, Honourary Member of the BBC, role as yet unassigned. 

Not pictured: Martin "Stig" Crossland, Logistics, Catering and Accommodation manager. 

Apologies: Mike "The Judge" Barratt, survival and navigation officer. Unable to attend due to work commitments. And sadly missed on this excursion..

Shopping in your sleep

Living as we do a good 12 miles from the nearest supermarket, it makes good sense for me to do the shopping when I leave work, as there is a supermarket a stones throw from the office. In fact I often spend my lunch hours throwing stones at the supermarket, but that is a different story.
Being a man, I hate shopping almost as much as I hate settling the credit card bill afterwards, so it also makes sense to go when it is quite. The two happy events coincide when I finish night shifts.
There is nothing quite like walking into an empty supermarket at 7 a.m. with plenty of parking spaces, loads of trolleys and generally empty aisles. You have to dodge the odd cleaner (and some of them are VERY odd) and the occasional shelf stacker, but by and large you can make progress. There is little chance of being held up by Edna and Doris having a prolonged natter whilst blocking aisle 4 (tinned fruit) and all the young mums are still out on the school run, so there are no screaming toddlers demanding sweeties.
There is also a good selection of marked down "best before" bargains to be had.
The downside is I am often sleepwalking by then, and just want to get it all over with and go home.
My dearest lady wife, 'er indoors, sweetness and light, who must be obeyed at all costs writes me a list. However her list only contains the things SHE needs reminding to buy. In her head she keeps a standard list of all the ordinary things like bread, eggs, milk etc. The list is things that aren't "ever day items" and are supplementary to her inbuilt default woman shopping settings. I know nothing of these inbuilt default settings, hence will arrive home with no eggs, flour, sugar, potatoes, carrots etc etc. As a man I shop logically, buying what is on the list, and one or two things that might catch my eye - e.g. wine, beer, pies, pizza, car magazines, a new DVD player etc etc.
I have however become adept over the last 15 years of marriage at second guessing what might be needed. Cheese for example always goes down well. you can't buy enough cheese. Or enough variety of cheese. Flowers are a life saver too.
The list however always, but always has it's pitfalls. This is partly because dearest wife has scribbled the list whilst it was pinned to the kitchen wall as and when things came into her head using whatever dodgy Biro, crayon or pencil came to hand - I've even had list written in chalk if she was childminding at the time. Combined with her unique spelling it always throws up a mystery item or two that I either can't read, can't find or didn't know existed. Quark for example, despite sounding like a character from Star Trek turns out to be a type of allergy friendly cheese that the girl child eats. Pommygranite was sort of easy to understand, if sounding like an Aussie interpretation of a hard wearing stone.
Her abbreviation for Frozen is Froz, which because of the afore mentioned handwriting issues once lead me to buy 71 ounces of fresh Raspberries instead of a single packet of "Froz Rasps" That was one hell of a lot of Raspberries.
She also writes up the bleeding obvious - things like "Coloured Cheese" feature in her list. Well, I have searched and searched and all the cheese I have ever seen have colour. There may well be some Tibetan Yak Translucent Cheese somewhere in the supermarket, but I have yet to find it.
Fortunately Wifey does "cluster" items together in her own brain logic way, such that all fruit will be together on the list, making it easier to locate said items all in the one area before moving on. This means that I am now able to anticipate and interpret not only what she wants, but also what she needs, and what she thinks she needs and also what I ought to think she thinks she needs. Our relationship is moving towards the telepathic.
Thus when I found the word Corguettes (sic) scattered amongst the frozen food items I was able to logically deduct that what she actually wanted was potato croquettes. And I was right!