Post by Martin CarpenterI'll let you know how we get on
A cracking weekend - thanks to all who provided hints.
Thursday was mostly spent travelling, so we didn't get out until Friday.
The crack of 10:30am saw us at the base of Corvus (VS). The notice on the
tree at the first belay caused some deliberation, and we, with some
regrets, decided to leave it alone and went back down. Not a good start.
(There's a note from someone warning of a "lethal wounding" in 2005, and
that the last pitch remains really lose).
We headed over to try Little Chamonix, but this had three guys gearing up
at the base, so we climbed Jackdaw Ridge (D) in our trainers, which was a
nice little warmup. We got on Little Chamonix (VD) next - what a corker! I
haven't enjoyed an easy route as much as this in ages. The awkward move out
from the block onto the face was particularly amusing (feet first? bum
first? head first? those that know it will know what I mean).
Then we had lunch (4pm) and retired for tea.
Saturday was a pleasing romp with the rest of the gang: Sty Beck/Sticks
Pass/Helvellyn/Striding Edge/Glenridding (beer and a pie at the Travellers)
and back over Sticks Pass. Striding Edge felt a million times different to
the last time I did it, half a life-time ago ("How can this be a
ridge? It's got grassy slopes!").
On Saturday we sampled the fine night-life of Keswick. We didn't get in
any fights at The Loft, failed to burn down the barn by enthusiastically
over-stoking the fire on our return, and didn't wake with howling
hangovers on Sunday (pick the truth out of that).
Observations:
Aren't British guidebooks nice? We got the FRCC guide recommended by Sean,
and it is indeed very good: Grid references; small enough to go in a
pocket; laminated; indexed; detailed; great piccies. (French
authors, please take note). Hats off to the editor ;-) and all other
contributors.
Short pitches (and routes), huh? I'd gone prepared for full-on rope
stretching alpine-style pitches. I suppose the 5kg rack was good exercise.
I'd forgotten how beautiful the Lakes are (helped, of course, by the
frolicking lamblets and the fact that it wasn't siling down for once).
Good beer; non-BBC accents; stupid jokes that I don't have to parse
twice; the company of old friends.
Oh, and I picked up the most preposterously dayglo yellow long-sleeved
RonHill t-shirt in the bargain bin somewhere in Keswick. If you're in the
alps this year, and you see a guy that looks like half a hi-lighter and
makes you reach for your sunnies, then it's probably an un-chic me.
Cheers all,
Martin.