What is a mountain? In England, one definition is “landform that rises at least 610 metres (2000ft) above sea level” and indeed 609.6 metres does convert to 2000 feet. In Scotland which has much high land, Corbetts are 2,500 feet minimum and Monroes are 3000 feet minimum and so it goes on in the Alps, the Andes and the Himalayans. The Peak District rises to 636 metres (2087 feet) at Kinderlow on Kinder Scout so in England it would be considered to be a mountain. And, if the difficulty of getting there is any further qualification for a mountain, then our expedition on Wednesday night does make Crowden Head a mountain, at 632 metres high.
It was relatively warmish evening at the Snake Bridge near the former Snake Inn (a sad loss?) as we set off dodging the muddy pools in our attempt to keep warm, dry feet and socks even though recognising our almost immediate dunking in the fast-flowing river Fairbrook. This set the scene for the rest of the outing, wet! The climb reminded us of the last part of the Marsden to Edale race climbing up Gateside before the three-minute crossing. However, being Slow Warts, we had a conversation, in other words, we were going slowly, we are the Slow Warts after all, standards must be maintained. The higher we went the mistier it became with a strong dose of drizzle which made our view restricted to the limits of our torches, not far, we were in our own little world. The mist enhanced the sinisterness of the looming rocks on Seal Edge but we weren’t put off our mission to reach the mountain top.
The map shows an almost grough-free section of moor, a sort of watershed area, leading to Crowden Head provided it is accessed from the right group of rocks further along the Seal Edge path. Andy found these rocks and used his proposed bearing of 230⁰ towards Crowden Head, about which he and Roger religiously followed, with the remaining three of us following them. According to the map the Head was about 1K away but darkness and mist and rain/drizzle does seem to distort distance or, perhaps, we went slowly. Nevertheless, we had an almost pleasant time on a sort of shallow clough for about 20 minutes until we decided we were just about there, or were we? The technology was brought out by Simon and Tim and it showed we were very close though we needed to go back left a bit. We did, and then found some higher ground to our right so we climbed it but then we needed to go more northwards. Fortunately, there is no (electronic) track available, to show our demented wanderings, thank goodness! We then abandoned the search and remained on the northwards (345⁰) bearing for the head of Fairbrook.
This wasn’t like our previous smooth crossing to the Head. There were a few ups and downs for our delight but these settled in to a more consistent deep watery rocky groove which gradually changed into a faint path and then a distinct one. The sound of a waterfall and a distinct steep drop to the stream on our left encouraged us to cross over to the other side of the top of Fairbrook. All good navigation by Andy and Roger on Andy’s bearing recommendation of 345⁰.
By now, our time out was getting close to the 2 hours. A decision was needed, via Fairbrook Naze and over a choice of two muddy routes or down the knarly path by the stream. The latter was chosen. Such was our concentration on the rocky path that not one word was spoken until we arrived at the Snake bridge. There was the occasional grunt and groan but we tend to do that all the time. We were so relieved to arrive at the bridge that we all stopped there for a pee and started talking again to each other.
The talking continued apace at the YBI over beer, crisps and peanuts, thankfully not posh cheese and wine, which is not the Slow Warts’ style which is more about crossing Kinder on a wet and foggy night. Glorious, thanks to all.
Graham