The Easter break saw me escape to do a section of the Pennine Way. My husband dropped me off at Malham and I headed north.
Before I knew it I was at Pen-y-ghent, pitching camp at Horton that evening.
A clear sky meant that a chilly night ensued. My alarm woke me just before dawn to find the tent frozen solid—condensation from my breath on the inside had turned to ice and outside there was a thick layer of frost. As it was so cold there was no point trying to use my gas stove (it was too cold for the gas to vaporise) so I used my tiny ‘White Box’ meths stove to heat the water for my quick breakfast
Just how frosty was brought home to me when I struck camp, finding a clear footprint of the tent left in the frost on the grass.
Days two and three saw me getting into my stride. I was walking well, despite carrying my camping kit, about a kilo of dehydrated food for each day, and starting each day with two and a half litres of water in my pack. Great Shunner Fell tested me: the path of loose stone coming down into Thwaite was a nightmare, but generally I was really pleased with how things were going.
Even the rain as I climbed up from Keld to the famous Tan Hill Inn did very little to dampen my spirits—and the bacon butty at the Inn was pure heaven! Setting out across the moors again I was in great fettle, and made good time, passing the campsite that I had intended to use early in the afternoon. Not wanting to hang around in camp and get cold I pressed on, having looked at my map and spotted a number of possible wildcamp locations up on the moors that I could reach later in the day. I was having a wonderful time.
The countryside was full of variety, with new wonders appearing every mile.
Throughout my trip I was accompanied by the call of grouse, some of which
seemed to have little fear as I tramped by them. The walking was going well. My
gear was performing to plan, and I was happy that my dehydrated food was supplying my
needs.
At around 2.30pm I started to
feel cold – unusual because I ‘walk warm’. Pulling in below a wall I added
layers and ate a snack. Musing, I noticed a tiny white flake landing on my
black trousers. Others joined it. Snow? Surely not? Within moments larger
flakes began to fall. The forecast had mentioned snow showers, and I was up
high… Vague disquiet jangled at the back of my brain.
Snack over, I stood up and drew
away from the wall. The wind had risen and I soon found myself hugging closely
to the line of the wall for relief from its icy grip. My alarm bells were now
going full belt. It became obvious that this was no brief snow shower, but
something more serious. I had already passed my ‘plan A’ campsite. I needed to
divert somewhere with shelter for the night. A village was not too far away.
Surely there would be a B&B or a pub there?
A frustrating walk down through paths which one minute
were clearly marked and then vanished brought a sense of unreality to the
afternoon. I was jolted by seeing a clump of violets nestling into a bank,
surrounded by gathering snow. Memories of picking violets for my grandmother
came flooding back to me as tiredness conspired to overwhelm me with emotion.
Taking deep breaths I pressed on, finally finding my way into the village.
Yes! There was a hotel. I plodded
up the slippy pathway only to find the door closed and locked. I rang the bell
and waited. Nothing happened. Rang again and again. Knocked loudly, with
increasing frustration. No-one there. What to do?
I set out again to find somewhere
else to go. No shop. Nothing. Bus shelter. Phone box. No-one about.
Exhausted and a little shaken I
took refuge in the bus shelter. What I would have given for a seat! I got out
the mat from my pack and sat on the floor, watching swirls of snow drifting
down on me. At least I was out of the worst of the wind in here. I knew my blood sugar was low so I
Expecting a couple of hours wait
I put on all my spare clothes and hunkered down. Imagine my horror a few hours
later to receive a phone-call from my husband to tell me he was stuck, and that
the road was closed.
By now everyone in the village seemed
to be ‘battened down’ for the night. It was too late for a stranger to go
knocking on the doors of houses. Years and years of reading about survival
kicked in. I had all my camping gear with me, just couldn’t erect my tent
because of the concrete around me. I dragged out my sleeping bag, and wrapped
the tent around me, pulling it up over my head. I left a little opening for
ventilation, trying to keep it clear of the snow that was wafting into the
shelter as the wind eddied around.
I drifted in and out of sleep, with cold and my
bladder sending increasingly urgent messages to me. By midnight, something had
to be done. Conscious of being in a potentially public location (though not
aware of anyone moving around) I made use of my billy-can. Bliss!
Knowing that I needed to keep
energy levels up I gathered easy to eat snacks and retreated back into my
rather damp, but fairly sheltered corner, huddled under the tent, trying to get
warm enough to sleep again.
Stories I had read about climbers
benighted on major peaks floated through my mind as I eased aching hips and
kept my fingers and toes moving. My situation may be cold and damp, but was far
less precarious than theirs, and I was sure that in the morning I would be able
to resolve things. It was a question of ‘getting through’ as safely as
possible. Eventually I slept, fitfully,
coming back to the surface aching with cold, easing myself out and slipping
back to sleep again for a little while longer.
Daylight
came. Peeling back the tent above me the cold hit like a slap on the face. Careful!
Stay warm. Eat some more food. Think. Curl up again. Limbo.
My phone rang.
Numb fingers in damp gloves fighting with the zip on my jacket pocket. I talk
with my husband – at least he is safe back home again. The police helped after
the lorries got stuck last night. The road is still closed. All roads heading
my way are closed. I realised that I needed to find my own way out of here.
While we talked, a blackbird hopped into the shelter and rooted in leaves piled
up by the wind in the corner.
Suddenly galvanised I got up from
my little damp cocoon, finding the shocking cold less intolerable than I had
feared. Inches of snow had fallen outside the bus shelter, with a fair amount
winnowed inside on the eddies. Brushing snow off my gear, I quickly packed up,
resolving to find someone – anyone- who could point me firstly in the direction
of some proper shelter and secondly suggest a way home.
I was lucky, and found a
wonderful stranger who not only provided hot tea and a warm place to rest, but
later took me in his Range Rover to a railway station to go home. Many, many
thanks to him yet again.
So, what did I learn?
Extremes of weather constantly
challenge us in our land – this stretched the boundaries for me. On this trip I
left my bivvy bag at home as I had packed my tent. Mistake. From now on the bag
will have a permanent place in my pack, no matter where or when I go!
And what about strengths? I had
just about enough knowledge to cope, to make myself fairly safe in a difficult
situation and find a way to resolve it. Success for me comes in meeting the
challenge and growing from the experience.
5th April 2012
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