Lords Rake

Monday January 2^nd. Still in the Lakes and about to
embark on quite an epic day.

Through Twitter I have established many online friendships and today I’m about to meet two fellow Tweeters and do some serious hiking. I’ve been told to bring crampons and an ice axe as we’ll be tackling the daunting

Lords Rake enroute to Scafell. I research Lords Rake to see what I’m getting into.  Yes it’s a steep old gully, but seems rather ‘do-able’.

After brief introductions (yes they seem pretty normal) we gear up and we’re off. We’ve met at the NT campsite at Wasdale and the original plan is to summit Scafell Pike via the Brown Tongue route. It’s a route
that I know quite well. I’ve summited Scafell Pike twice in the last six months taking this route, so I know what to expect…….

Alan, then pipes up with “Why don’t we take in Lingmell too?”

This pleases me enormously as I’ve set myself a goal of ten years to complete all 214 Wainwrights. These should ideally be completed by my 50^th birthday in January 2022….so watch this space.

The path up to Lingmell is steep and grassy, very different to the Brown Tongue path. I notice that I’m quite out of breath quickly and kick myself for drinking far too much alcohol throughout the month of December. I also seem to have forgotten about exercise of late and instead I've set up home with CHIPS. I make a promise to myself that CHIPS will have to move out.

                                                    

The company is good. Alan has completed all of the Wainwrights and has a sound knowledge of Lakeland. Davie too has vast experience of the Lake District and the ‘moontains of Scotland’. He’s also an ultra runner who runs up and down mountains for ‘fun’. Well today there will be no such running I bossily tell him.  Alan tells me that he's slow on the fells. But that’s a fib. He’s not. I am!

We reach Lingmell summit pretty quickly. It’s a little claggy and damp but otherwise the views so far have been pretty good. Ice is just forming on the rocks and the temperature has dropped to minus 2. I’m glad
that we stopped earlier to layer up as a thin frost starts to cover my jacket.

                                                          

 A quick check of the map and we are dropping down into Lingmell Col before scrambling up to Scafell Pike. As the temperature drops so does my energy a little. The boys have slowed their pace for me but its clear that I’m still slowing them down. They are very polite though and reassure me with ‘hey we’re a team’ etc etc. I wonder if they really mean it!

We discuss the death of a 19 year old on Scafell Pike two days earlier. He was experienced, a fellrunner and dressed appropriately. His body was discovered in Piers Gill on New Years Eve after getting separated from

his friend at 3pm during a whiteout. It looked like they were taking the corridor route off Scafell Pike when the weather changed. Piers Gill is an accident black spot. It’s a tough scramble on a clear day and can often be mistaken for a path in poor weather. Sadly it looks like this may have been what happened.

Soon we are at ScaFell Pike summit. Its very white up here and the temp has dropped to minus 5 plus windchill. We huddle down and eat our packed lunches. Well I don’t, as I’m an idiot and have forgotten mine. I do find some old expedition food in my rucksack though. A museli bar from an old hike round the Mosedale Horseshoe back in October. It’s a little stale but for now it will do. The boys gallantly offer to share their sandwiches with me, but I have this huge aversion to butter so I politely refuse. My stomach scolds me.

I now notice that my backpack, Alans eyebrows and my bladder have iced over so I cant get any water from it. Luckily I carry a spare bottle and gulp this ice cold water down. I know the next part will be tough and decide that I may need to use my poles now but the ruddy things have iced up and I cant get them

open. Plan ditched!

So off we set to Scafell a mountain not yet ventured onto by
myself. I’ve wanted to ‘do’ Lords Rake since June. Justin and I were heading up the Brown Tongue path to Scafell Pike when he pointed out some hikers attempting Lords Rake. I could barely make them out and remember thinking that it looked rather steep, vertical almost. We then spied a couple also heading there and
laughed as the boyfriend marched on and his poor, helpless girlfriend trailed behind, clearly having had enough. I’m not sure if they ever made it to Lords Rake, but something tells me they may have turned back as many hikers do.

                                                                                                          

 

                                                         

We take the Mickledore route to Scafell, dropping down into it from the Pike. The boys pause by the stretcher box as I see Mickledore up close for the first time. I’m a bit of a scaredy cat on the mountains so it
comes as no surprise to me that the narrow ridge of Mickledore has unnerved me somewhat.

                                                   

However, nothing and I mean, NOTHING could have prepared me for the sight that was Broad Stand. I couldn’t see her at first as visibility was poor and then suddenly and dramatically she appeared before us. Clad in ice with clouds swirling around her but not daring to touch her she was in total command. I think back to something that Jim from www.mountainandglen.com quoted “You never conquer a mountain. You climb it, spend time on it but you never conquer it. It can defeat you in minutes"

The more I stare at Broad Stand the dizzier I become. I’m aware that I’m on Mickledore still, its windy and its snowing lightly and its covered in ice. I cling to the rocks to the left of me and pray that the wind doesn’t
change direction. The boys are ahead ever so slightly. Its best to keep moving.

I round the corner and see that they have stopped  and are chatting and pointing. I’m glad that I’ve

left the ridge behind and start to sigh with relief when Alan shouts “Hey Karen, that’s Lords Rake”. I look past him at what I can only describe as a near vertical gully of ice and scree. Its impossible that this is Lords Rake.
No way.

I reply to him almost instantly with........
“F*** OFF!”
Yes its crass, but my brain spoke before I had a chance to reign it in and compose myself. I’m in shock. I momentarily think the boys are playing an evil joke on me but they're not. This is Lords Rake and its worse than I had ever imagined.

I need to wee suddenly. A panic wee. Theres nowhere private on this ridge so I tell the boys to look away and do it there and then. I don’t care anymore. I decide that when I get home I’ll just delete my Twitter

account.

And so we start. Alan goes first with me in the middle and poor Davie behind me. I’m used to climbing in scree. Mount Fuji and Mount Kenya are full of the blasted stuff, but this scree is different. Big, brown loose

and heavy scree. Its almost impossible to grip with your feet as you just slide back and trust me no-one wants to do that with that drop at the end.

We reach the top and I attempt to crawl on hands and knees under the chockstone rock. ‘Nooooo” the boys chorus. “Go around it”
“Nobody cough” I beg.

                                                          
There are three sections to the Rake and by far the first is the worst. Section two was relatively easy or maybe I was just getting more confident. Section three was a bit hairy in places but I moved quicker and it

was calming to know that I had Davie behind me.

                                                              Don't look down Karen

Alan waited at the top, patient and encourging. "We’re nearly there now Karen, not far now"
"Yeah right" I think, he's probably one of those people who stand at mile three of a marathon cheering "you're nearly there".

I’m pretty whacked now but the adrenaline is pumping and I’m excited about Scafell. We trudge upwards as the weather worsens. Big skiddy boulders make the path. I’m slow. Terribly slow as I try to manoever and hop my way around and over them. The boys seem to skip over them like puddle jumping. I’m jealous, how can they have so much confidence?

The summit is a welcome site and again we have it all to ourselves. We congratulate each other and start to make our way back before darkness creeps in. We take the Old Victorian Route off Scafell aka as Green

How. Its unpleasant at first as its relentless boulders but Alan reassures me that it will soon be big, sweeping grassy banks and he doesn’t disappoiunt.

I'm  feeling very elated and rather pleased with myself at this point and then suddenly the path changes into what I would call a bloody great zig-zag scree chute made of big ugly boulders. Yet again the boys skip down it but this isn’t for me so it leaves me only one option…to do it on my arse.

                                                                  Burnmoor Tarn

Yes its slow, yes my lovely Berghaus trousers were shredded, yes my bum was black and blue…but you know what? I’m alive.

Photo's courtesy of Alan without his permission.
Link to Alan's great pictures https://picasaweb.google.com/106055583748430517026