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Topic: Damsels in Distress (Read 294 times)

keltiejack
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Joined: May 2006
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Damsels in Distress
« Thread Started on Apr 9, 2012, 10:37am »

TOPSIE’S TRAVELS

Easter Saturday

Timetable
8.59 JAGUAR (lift from bus stop) to Windermere
9.22 508 to Glenridding
10.20 Fun begins
12.10 Birkhouse Moor
12.50 Lunch at Red Tarn
2.15 Helvellyn
2.35 Nethermost Pike
3.15 Dollywagon Pike
5.20 Travellers’ Rest on A591
5.55 555 to Ings
7.00 Dinner

Usual poor & out of focus pics on

https://picasaweb.google.com/112371915950638220162/BirkhouseMoor

Madame Topsie has just two Fells left in book 1-Birkhouse Moor and Gowbarrow Fell. If we hade been mere peak baggers we would have polished of both of those in the same day. (We actually met a chap from Suffolk [not our dearly beloved Global Moderator] ascending from Grisedale who had knocked off Pike ‘o Blisco earlier in the day and then driven to the 591 to tick off Dollywagon. Years before he had walked the ridge from Helvellyn and not taken the short left turn to claim Dolly. Poor chap.).However, being gentlemen of the fells, we opted for a decent walk in honour of humble Birkhouse.

The 508 bus now goes straight through to Penrith and consequently Pam joined us at the bus stop in anticipation of a little light retail therapy. Joy of Joys; as we waited for the 555 one of our village chums offered us a lift in her plush Jag. Now that’s the way to travel. Incidentally whilst we are on the topic of buses I have to complain in the strongest terms over the accuracy of Mr Raymond Bradshaw’s superb caricature of your correspondent. THERE IS NO 4.20 TO INGS USING THE 505. Get your facts right man.

As a result of the lift we were early at Windermere but even so there was a decent crowd waiting for the 508 to Penrith. I felt sorry for the family of Asians who had patiently queued up and asked tickets to Bowness. As the driver told me ‘that would have been a four hour journey’. Just in case readers of this occasional column are unaware, the Bowness/Glenridding and Patterdale/Penrith buses have been merged reducing the amount of faffing about. Which means that whenTopsie finally scales mighty Gowbarrow she can stay on the bus to Aira Force. When we alighted the cloud level was down to about 2000’ but the day forecast was good. I have mentioned previously that ‘starting off’
is often the hardest part of the trip & today was no exception. AW indicated we needed the southern side of Glenridding beck but it transpired later that this was immaterial (does anyone remember the 80’s pop group ‘It’s Immaterial’, I used to work with one of the band member’s partners—lovely lass who died much too early from breast cancer. At the same desk there was also an ex-partner of one of ‘The Mock Turtles’ and therefore ‘in-law’ to Steve Coogan—she is now Lady somebody, being married to the leader of Manchester City Council, Sir somebody). We also met on the bus Jane a sassy Australian, on her first trip to Lakes. Lucky lady but no real excuse because she has lived in the UK for a good few years. Pam eventually escorted her round the charity shops of Penrith and visited The George. Furthermore we had a drink on Sunday night with her in the Watermill. She must have been desperate.

As we approached the foot of Birkhouse we noticed what seemed like dozens of walkers heading for Striding Edge. Later from the top of Birkhouse right to Swirral Edge we got the classic Lowry take on Striding Edge; Loads of matchstick men on the Edge seemingly going nowhere whilst they waited for the lights to change. I suspect that the direct ascent of Birkhouse is not that common. It is much easier to go on the Striding Edge route and then detour back to the summit. Which made it surprising that there were fences across the obvious route where the grass was being reseeded? Further up the fell the paths also seemed very scant. The ninety minutes we took going up the NE ridge is testament to how hard it seemed. When we finally arrived Topsie was able to claim her only new fell of the day, and poor old John bagged nothing new. Or so he said. When he started on this escapade a couple of years ago he had totted up those fell ‘he thought’ he had done in his youth. I reckon a red blooded youth who was not into peak bagging would be unlikely to bother with Birkhouse. At least his conscience is now clear.

Moving on we soon met the main drag but veered off towards Red Tarn where we lunched. No psychedelic sarnies today. Just look at the photo for the cost and date of his pork pie. I am still examining him for signs of salmonella. We eventually set off again aiming for Swirral. Not nearly as busy as Striding but still buzzing. At the foot of Swirral we met our Damsels in Distress. They had walked up from Glenridding with their men. The intention was to climb Helvellyn, descend to Grisedale Tarn and return to Ullswater by the valley. The he men decided Striding was not suitable for wimpish women and sent them in the direction of the ‘easy’ Swirral. The ladies (Elaine, Sarah, and Sheelagh) did not think it was easy. In fact the rather slippy conditions made it anything but easy. Enter Batman (John) and Robin (Don). They asked us to escort them up to the top. I should be the last person who should be asked for this task. John however is not quite clever enough to feel fear and he was prepared to lead the way. After many adventures we all arrived at the top in one piece and were rewarded with hugs and kisses. Must join Mountain Rescue. We met the men by the shelter who seemed unconcerned. Ladies I hope those nasty men got you down in safety. If you are still alive and manage to read this email me on don.m.morris@btinternet.com ;I need another hug.

We left them to their lunch and started on the long road to Grasmere. Nethermost and Dolly were knocked of in fairly quick order bur the path down to the tarn seemed endless. We arrived at the col between Fairfield and Seat Sandal to discover that a lot of the route down (long) Tongue Gill has been transformed into a magic staircase. One thing was annoying. When we arrived at the point where the path bifurcates to either side of the Tongue there was a map sending us to the more awkward north side. A bridge had collapsed on the southern side. If you go that way ignore the sign and take it down. The bridge is repaired. After a longish day (John reckons 12 or 13 miles) we were glad of refreshments at the Travellers Rest. John, for it was his shout, was not pleased by the charge--£5.95 for a pot of tea and a pint of Stella. At least the 555 was on time

Don