#1 The Old Man 15/12/22

Do you remember the Guinness Surfer ad  from 1998? Shot in monochrome, the cool surfer man  waits for the perfect wave. He times it just right and his patience is rewarded with the perfect wave.

Last week I was like that surfer, in my head. Waiting, watching - well checking my weather app every day. You see, I’ve got a thing about cold, clear, winter days. I love them. I don’t know why, I always have. To be honest I prefer them in February because I feel the days slowly starting to get longer. But they can be good in November, January…whenever really. You don’t get them often in December. Especially in the North West, especially approaching Christmas. Up here it tends to rain and be dark & grim in late December. But not last week, not the week beginning Monday 12^th December 2022. Oh no, after a glorious Sunday, the weather just got better, colder, clearer, crisper. So by the time it got to Wednesday, I knew I had to take action. Clear my Thursday diary, shift the meetings, book the day off and head to the Lakes, to catch my wave.

‘Good things come to those who wait’ runs the old ad's strapline and the hike up The Old Man of Coniston that Thursday was such a good thing. There was the bright blue, cloudless sky; there was the  crisp cold air (-9.5 degrees according to my car); and there was snow on the ground. Weirdly The Old Man and associated crags were the only peaks in the Lakes that had snow on them that day. As the proud lady in Coniston said, ‘It’s a proper Alpine Day, we don’t get these very often’. So after all those many, many, sodden, soggy, dreary, long hikes where I’d chosen the wrong day. Finally. I was rewarded with the perfect day in the mountains.

I guess it’s not for everyone. It was devastatingly cold as I got out of the car onto the icy car park near Dixon Ground. I had found it impossible to drive further towards the parking spot on Walna Scar Road. The ice would not permit my tyres to grip the road. The 4x4 wrapped around the tree confirmed that my choice was a good one. But as I climbed steeply up the road which then levelled off and wound through farmer’s fields I began to thaw and warm and look ahead at the challenge I was facing. There it was, the unmistakable shape of the Old Man, towering above the track that winds through the spoil heaps and mining remains. To the left of The Old Man was the sheer wall of Dow Crag, surely the finest Southern Fell Summit?

At that moment, looking up, I’m chilled and I’m scared. Its an odd combination. When I’m walking in the hills I’m relaxed. It’s always been like that for me, right from my early teens. But when I’m up high, or going up high, I’m also scared, sometimes very scared. I’m nervous, not nervous enough to ruin it, but nervous enough for some edginess…..just like the surfer man. The old Man feels like a big mountain and Dow Crag has a big, sheer drop.

I was comforted  by a distant memory of climbing this mountain in the early 80s, with my Scout troop. Pretty sure I was 13, and made it to the top. As the endorphins begin to work their magic I found it funny, even giggle funny, that I was returning to The Old Man as an Old Man.

As I followed the narrow path, carefully on the ice, through the mines and quarries to Low Water I began to relax and feel the impact of the beautiful day and being on the fells. A brief break at Low Water got me thinking about possibilities of a summer swim (see Messy Water for a great site on wild swimming, and my bit part in it).

Then it was time to climb to the top, the short, sharp climb through the rocks, onto the top. I paused  for the inevitable photo shoot and a brief chat to three or four others who’d also made the most of this day and then began my descent and climb back up to Dow Crag along the ridge  to Buck and Brown Pike.

And on those pikes, along that ridge, I was in the zone. Nervous of the edge and the height; exhilarated by the air, the view, the snow; but deeply relaxed. For that hour I was processing the mid life mountains that  I’m trying to climb – my work, my divorce, my health, my happiness, my who am I? These kind of mid-life things……and then, almost too soon the descent to Walna Sca road begins. Before long I was in the valley crossing the beautiful streams and slowly losing the wildness, returning to walls, roads, bridges….and the wonderful Black Bull Inn, for a pint of Bluebird, from their very own brewery.

So ‘Here’s to waiting’  and acting quicky when the time is right. Here’s to a perfect day on the mountains. A beautiful, solitary, wild and wonderful experience. But as always, on days like this, something is given, something emerges. Why did I stop for extra long to talk to the man with the Border Collie, passing me on Dow Crag, and why was it that we both emerged at the inaccessible parking spot on Walna Sca road simultaneously? Why did I wave and ask if he minded some company for the walk back to Coniston ( I never do that). And why did it turn out that we were two ex-teachers, one ex-head teacher and one ex- College Principal, both the same age, both needing days in the hills. Why was one retired, settled, chilled and the other experiencing and struggling with life’s mountains. Why did that happen?

Because it always happens on a day in the hills.