Pitch Perfect

Has to be said that this is the worst I have ever pitched a tent and whilst yours truly remembered not to drink alcohol before pitching it something went very wrong between pitch and sleeping which is why I might have woken up in a puddle. It all started so well.........

Given the wonderful weather of late the three amigos set off in socially isolated cars to Wasdale Head to camp out and crack on with a few big mountains. 

Conditions were perfect when we landed and good sense prevailed whereby we pitched the tents before sampling the local beer. Somehow the only one or two turned into three or four and by 1.30 am reached double figures and having said a very jolly goodbye to the very happy land lord as he bolted the door behind us we set a course for the approximate area of our tents and more by luck than judgement opened the doors to the right ones and slept off the effects of fermented hops. The morning was horrific, I woke up soaked in my sleeping bag with various items floating past. Quick reference to the first pic will indicate what a disaster my tent was, in my haste not to be last to the bar I had omitted to peg the outer skin properly and beer goggled fumbling had moved it so when it rained, mightily, the rain had no choice other than to turn the inside of my tent into a private pool. 

Luckily all my mountain gear was still in the truck so after a slow breakfast of spam fritters in pittas we decided on a slow plod up Kirk Fell Pyke a seriously steep 45 degree 900 metre bastard that I never want to see again. The approach lulled us into a false sense of how easy it was going to be. 

Our first clue as to the severity of the climb came at this point where we were just about to ascend into the clouds and pretty sure were were half way. Computer said different. The altimeter showed just under 200 metres, less than a quarter done.

Slopes of rock made it even more fun.

This fun lasted for ages.

Finally we achieved the summit and Eric and Ernie popped out for a brief photo but soon hid once they realised how crap the weather was. Gale force winds and hail just to make things more interesting in the murk of the clouds.

I cant upload the videos showing the howling winds but in the frantic effort to get down and stick to the right path left of the small loch ahead yours truly somehow (quite easily) blazed a trail left of the loch left of the right path, in fact so left it led right into the wrong valley. First indication of this was when I viewed the river flowing below in the right place but going in the wrong direction.

Still on we plodded, no choice really, no buses here.

Being the wrong side of the right path we had to climb back up and eventually managed to hit the right valley, Wast Water below where it should have been 2 hours earlier. 

The weather inevitably cleared now we were downhill and the summit of our mountain swung into view.

It took a while to get down

and any ideas of climbing Great Gable here on the right were sensibly binned.

Gradually the pub got closer

and after pausing to look for trolls

we were eventually on pretty flat ground.

Our hill here on the left the way back from the v in the middle.

Nice sheep.

You can see the path we took just right of the tree leading direct to the summit.

Rewards of cream teas served by the land lord who said something like oh no not you lot again as he tried to hide.

 And so another adventure was over ... until th e next one.