Guess where we were? Most Slow Warts would identify the area if they’ve experienced the long uphill concrete surfaced drag at the end of races from the elbow of the road to Midhopestones. This area, of course, has the added bonus of plenty of heather, it also has, in Jim O’s view, the best ever descent, down the track by Sugden Clough. However, though Andy had suggested this would be included, there was a change of plan so instead we were to go up the Sugden Clough track. No matter, Jim was going to do his own solo route direct to Pike Low and descend via his favourite line.
The mountain forecast was for sleet with a feels like temperature of variously -3⁰ to -8⁰C depending on which forecast was checked. All four of us wrapped up well despite the occasional bit of sunshine, which gave us the chance to seemingly go through a glorious rainbow on the way to the elbow. The omens seemed favourable, or were they?
There was a route variation even on our climb up the Sugden track with the youngsters Tim and Russ visiting the cabin before rejoining Andy and I back on the track. A sharp left turn directly into the heather set the terrain standard for the rest of the euphemistically called run. We waddled, wallowed, waded and occasionally wished we weren’t there for more or less the next hour. There were the odd bits of mown heather which lifted our spirits and the crossings of various cloughs to relieve the laborious tedium. Magnificently, we arrived within 50m of Tom’s Tree thanks to Andy’s precise navigation. This needed a photo or two to celebrate, so I snapped 12 shots of,,,,, darkness; so, my incompetence didn’t allow us any bragging rights over over Tom who was out with the Wiily’s Warts.
We stayed a little too long and we were quickly getting cold in the sleety rain and wind, there was no chance (too much cloud) of seeing the “parade of the planets” though there were still opportunities in the next couple of days and then next in 40 year-time! Russ and Jim however saw their own star in the darkness of the woods,
The summit of Pike Lowe was very hard won with the long uphill climb through the heather and largely against the wind. We didn’t linger, so set off down the rocky summit area and back to the heather, searching for a path which we didn’t find until the (Trump) orange swamp track. Fortunately, I think my feet have returned to their natural pallid colour. By this time Andy’s ankle was looking a bit twisted so it was a painful return for him back to the cars. He can take much satisfaction in getting us to Tom’s Tree and back in the most appalling weather.
Despite that, the challenges were not over. Getting changed out of wet clothes and into dry ones in driving rain and then in the car, requires a high degree of patience and contortionism which I have been progressively losing over the years. I imagined that I may have been found in the morning still trying to escape from a wet thermal vest in the back seat of the car. Such an undignified thought drove me on to extricate myself and drive back to the Plough with heater, fan and demisters on full blast. It was less than convivial at the pub; the refurbishment involved painting a large wall grey (I think) and the removal of the fireplace where we sat in the hope that we might warm ourselves by our imagination of the burning fire. There were no other people in our bar area so the place lacked a bit of sparkle though the three of us provided a bit of cheer, Jim and Russ having returned home for an early bath.
A challenging outing, well done all and thanks.
Graham
