A Fell Too Far – Great Whernside

I woke early, at 5.56 again, but turned over and slept another half an hour. A quick tent takedown, rolled up my sleeping bag, did the same with my mattress and packed everything away in my rucksack. Everything except the toddler food and a boite of beans, which soon disappeared. I hydrated before I set off (drank watter), and reluctantly hoisted my rucksack on to my shoulders, which were sore through carrying the same weight yesterday.

The hill above the campsite was the first of four horizons before I was to arrive at the summit of Great Whernside. My thoughts weren’t powered by positivity, my body hurt from yesterday’s efforts and it was hot in this valley. I set off at 7.30.

I weaved through the village, along the river, to the start of the footpath to the top.

The footpath, once discovered, leads steeply uphill for nearly three miles. God it hurt. The rucksack straps dug into my shoulders like rope, bruising the bones, and my calves were aching and powerless.

And still it climbed.

I couldn’t stop feeling negatively. I usually know that I’ll get there in the end and just keep on going, but this was different.

After several rest breaks in shaded places, I reached the summit of Great Whernside, after four hours of climbing. Rarely could this mountain have been summitted so slowly.

Turning northwards along a short ridge, I welcomed the flat ground. And a big plus was that on this huge chunk of mountain there was no-one. Nobody. Not a soul. Well maybe Chip. We passed together not a million miles from here whilst he graced this planet.

The footpath dropped dramatically down from the ridge. And it was almost as painful working my way down as it was working my way up. This wasn’t working.

I was aiming to get to Hawes, 14 miles away. There was more chance of pigs flying.

I sat down and thought things through. I needed to drop back down to Kettlewell and work out what to do there. I got a tiny signal on my phone, rang last night’s campsite and although they were full Nigel would find a spot for me.

Dropping down the upper levels of Great Whernside were unaware of the pain they had caused me. They had been here for millions of years and I was just a passing irrelevance. In the grand scheme of things these mountains themselves are passing irrelevances, and will be eroded and then captured by the great implosion of the Universe. But not till next Friday.

It took me another hour and a half to make it to Kettlewell. I want to be at home tonight. I want to watch England in my local. I want to eat dinner with, and sleep with, my missus. I want to be in my own bed. I texted Nigel and cancelled my pitch.

At 14.45 there was a tiny bus to Grassington. At 15.15 there was a slightly bigger bus to Skipton. At 16.00 there was a two carriage train to Leeds. At 16.50 there was a taxi to aar ouse. I kissed my missus.

Takeaway pizzas, an hour’s kip, England won in a sea of big screens, fantastic atmosphere and beer and……. I slept in my own bed with my own lass. Heaven.

My sister Che (Deb) is taking me back up to the Dales tomorrow morning. Good old kid! I’m going to get back into mountain climbing training. Hooooraay!!!!

I’m feeling positive again. But we won’t beat Argentina.

Night night.