A Chilly Winter Camp on Sheffield Pike

Back in January I completed my first winter wild camp. Here is the story: 

"You two are daft!" That was the general reception I received when telling anyone about our planned January wild camp on the top of Sheffield pike. Incredulousness is a relative thing. To someone who has never walked up a fell, the idea of climbing Scafell Pike or Ben Nevis may seem extreme. To someone who has ascended Everest, they would be walks in the park. Likewise, for people who have never wild camped, the very idea of camping atop a fell is a bit mad; to do it atop a fell in the wintry snow is foolhardiness. To seasoned wild-campers, of course, our winter wild camp would be seen as pretty unremarkable.

But just as expectations are relative, so too is the pride we take in achieving our goals. Having never done a winter wild camp before, we both saw this as a challenge and I was pleased to have gotten through it unscathed (aside from the cold I acquired the following day which it most likely contributed to). But having ticked this off, it is natural to search for more difficult challenges. 

We ticked off two Wainwrights on this one: Glennridding Dodd and Sheffield Pike; the latter being our abode for the night. We just about managed to find a space in Glennridding's busy car park. Having arrived early, we decided to have a couple of pints in the Inn on the Lake before setting off. The weather was relatively mild, albeit chilly. As we neared the summit of Glennridding Dodd, we got talking to a seasoned fell-walker from Penshaw, near Sunderland. He told us he'd spent the last three nights wild-camping the Hellvellyn range! (And we thought we were hardcore). 

Having bagged Glenridding Dodd, we made our way back down to the col between Glenridding Dodd and Sheffield Pike and made our way to our place of abode. The walk was mostly straightforward, although there was the occasional icy step. The top offered fine views, but the top of Helvellyn was enshrouded in windswept clouds which, although seemingly headed in our direction, fortunately never came our way. We struggled a little finding an ideal spot to pitch. We ended up opting for a spot next to a wind shelter. The wind was forecast to be 15 miles an hour, though it felt stronger. The temperature was due to be between 0 and -1, but "feels -7" according to the mountain forecast.

To be honest, I was expecting it to be bitterly cold, so the temperature came as no real surprise and was definitely no worse than I'd anticipated. We spent much of the night sat in Alex's tent, watching outdoor camping videos, particularly Blot Outdoors. Inside the tent, we were relatively warm. But whenever we stepped out to go to the little boy's room, the cold hit us like a ton of bricks. I really would not want to be stranded in that kind of cold without the warmth of a tent. 

I didn't get the best night's sleep I've ever had. Partly this was because of the wind, which seemed stronger than forecast. Most of my body was fairly comfortable, except for my feet, which were a little cold. This was in part because I had to remove a pair of socks due to them becoming wet. But the situation was not helped by the inadequacy of my self-inflating matrass, which didn't provide enough of a buffer between me and the cold ground. But all things considered, I was reasonably comfortable.  

I find that descending mountains, having recently awoken a little stiff and achy, is more challenging than going up them. More attention is needed to keep balance and in positioning one's feet, especially when there is ice in the vicinity. We plodded our way back to Glennridding car park. There is little better than that feeling when you remove the heavy load from your back when reaching the top or bottom of a mountain.

I'd only eaten a pot noodle the previous day. We both decided to replenish ourselves with a Spoons breakfast in Penrith before returning to normality. I am a weekend mountain rambler. When my head and feet are in the clouds all troubles are behind me. All the bullshit is way beneath me, literally. But when its over, its back to the rat race, to the sedentary mediocrity of being confined to a desk in a crowded office with artificial lighting. It's not too bad, don't get me wrong. But it's not what our species was designed for. We evolved to move and to navigate in natural surroundings. Back in the rat race, the thought of returning to the holy grail, to Lakeland, or any other outdoor destination is what helps me get through.