Morning road chaos in the snowy and icy north east of Sheffield, possibly presaged an interesting Warts’ night out from the Broomhead layby. We could but hope! Despite a few absentees from the south and west of Sheffield, ten of us set off on the increasingly snowy track to follow a modified version of one of the Summer Series races. Whilst we would probably come to regret the feeling that track running was a bit boring, we nevertheless made good progress (the best of the whole evening) until we were drawn to the joys of deep dead bracken and swamp for our crossing of Ewden Beck.
It’s not necessarily the water crossing itself that is the challenge but sometimes it’s the entry and exit to and from it that can provide interest. This night was such an occasion. A snowy slimy steep descent did elicit a few less than gentle comments including comparisons with the current gold standard of notorious slopes, namely Priddock Wood, only visited a week ago. After this, it felt easy to wade across the cooling waters of the Beck for the climb out. At some critical angle, slopes go from feet only to hands and feet and this was such an angle, prompting speculation about the need to also have studded gloves, for those who actually wore gloves. The climb was equally slimy and snowy as the descent, though even steeper. I think that Ewden Beck is gaining in notoriety, maybe it’s now the silver standard?
Having survived the Beck, we were entertained by more deep bracken and snow for a visit to the ruined cabin at Park Cote (dated 1883?). As some sort of relief, we were able to run via a gentle climb in plenty of snow, to Fox Stones though no refreshments were allowed! Instead, in true Warting tradition and because of our experience of the Ewden valley, the originally proposed route was changed to avoid another slippery slide into the beck and a wet feet river crossing. (Are we getting neche?). So, instead, we were to fly over the river via the “girders” and fight through the rhododendrons even though the Cap’n had declared some weeks ago that this route was no longer viable. Hey Ho!
Before then, the refreshment stop was declared to be the Earnshaw Ridge or thereabouts so there was a bit of a drawn-out ambling climb through the now usual deep drifting snow, knee high heather, bracken, swamps and rushes. Whiskey, jelly babies and some other confection (?) were on offer to encourage our return. It must have been a long way through the usual undergrowth to hear “Are we there yet?” and “Can we go home?”. It was actually a long way, involving a couple of references to the technology, carefully protected from the conditions by a high technology sports sock but we did return to the Beck area to find the now, infamous girders. There were the brave and the cautious crossers. The brave walked across balancing on a couple of the three or four girders (actually rails), the cautious crawled over. In so doing the latter, it was possible to closely examine the rusting and crumbling of the steel, how long will the girders last?
So, no immersion in the Beck. As always, the rhodos didn’t seem to too difficult until about half way up when the path turned into quite a significant stream and all our efforts to avoid a wet crossing of Ewden were as nought. Still, the neoprenes just about saved the day. A sprint back to the layby helped warm us up for The Old Horns where the wild water swimmers were already warming up. When they left, only the Warts remained to enjoy the illuminating discussions on massive fireworks, speleology and bladder control. Honestly, there was some sort of link,,,,,,,,,probably the beer!
Graham