A Day With Murphy
If it can go wrong - it will. (Murphy's Law).
In the spring I like to get fit for the summer by doing a series of
longish walks, after the recent spell of settled weather I decided
that conditions would be ideal for one of them.
But which one? I had done the Three Peaks a week before; my
Todmorden meet had accounted for another; I was saving a Llangollen
favourite until the wild flowers were out; what about the Five Trigs?
Now I can claim no credit at all for thinking this one up, the first
time I did it was with Pete Walker but I cannot say where he got it
from. Anyway it starts and finishes at Dovestones and takes in the
Trig Points Alphin, Featherbed Moss, Black Hill, West Nab and
Broadstone Hill giving a mixture of just over twenty miles of good
paths and rough trackless moorland.
First thing was to tidy out my rucksack - out came all the winter
stuff - torch, gloves, scarf, woolly hat and of course my full set of
emergency thermals the weather was so settled I wouldn't need
anything like that and it all adds to the weight. I searched around
and finally found my shorts and tee shirt. My battered old Sigg
bottle came out of the back of the cupboard - much lighter than the
flask and more refreshing on a hot day.
So that was me all set, I had an early night and following my tried
and trusted method I left home very early to avoid the rush hour
traffic, once I'm parked up at the start of the walk I then enjoy a
leisurely breakfast.
All went well, my old van started - albeit reluctantly and I
travelled through Oldham without the slightest hold up. I hadn't
taken much notice of the weather, it had been so settled that I think
I had actually started to believe it would last for ever. As I was
dropping down the hill from Grasscroft I glanced across the valley
towards Alphin - only to see that it wasn't there, obscured by a
heavy blanket of cloud hanging over Chew Valley, I then noticed the
trees next to the road swaying in a strong wind. As soon as I opened
the van door I discovered that not only was the wind strong, it was
very cold, and I was dressed in a thin summer tee shirt.
Thinking that this was just early morning mist I rummaged around in
my sack and found a thin fleece jacket that I thought would keep me
warm once I got moving. Thus prepared I set off, it was cold but as
it was before eight I reasoned that it could only get warmer.
I am fairly new to using a GPS receiver, I find that many of the
functions I am looking for eventually turn up - usually after I have
navigated around the menu a couple of times. As I followed the path,
which leads from the cottages near Dovestones car park, I was looking
down at my GPS to see what I was supposed to press next when suddenly
I was lying down looking up at the sky. I had failed to notice the
fallen tree, which had blown down across the path - just about head
height for me. I got back to my feet, no point in looking around for
sympathy it was much too early for 'normal' people to be out, I
rubbed my head and carried on. Then I glanced down at my hand to see
that it was covered in blood, which simultaneously started to drip
off my forehead. I staggered on, wiping the blood off with the back
of my hand, luckily I didn't see anybody, they may have seen me but
they certainly kept out of my way.
Half way up to Alphin I was in thick cloud and the wind had become
even colder, I was just about keeping myself warm but there was
nothing to spare and I had no warm clothes left. Nevertheless I
battled on, the wind was coming from the east and constantly knocking
me off balance but I still thought that it would soon warm up. I
pressed on.
First rest was at the second Trig point at Featherbed Moss, here I
was forced to resort to my Goretex to keep out the wind - what a
difference this made, it was like standing in front of a blazing coal
fire. I reached into my sack for a butty to cheer me up, that's when
the next problem came along - my butty box so carefully prepared the
night before was safe and sound in the fridge at home. Just then my
phone rang - it was my wife asking 'is that the idiot who has left
his butties at home'. A desperate search of the bottom of my sack
unearthed a plastic bag containing a handful of nuts and raisins, I'm
not sure how long they had been there but I can recall my
brother-in-law Paul refusing to eat them about two years ago because
he said that they were decidedly dodgy. They suddenly became the
lunch I was eagerly looking forward to.
I consoled myself with a sip from my new drinking tube, only to get a
strong taste of bleach from the cleaning fluid that I had used the
day before and not rinsed out properly.
I walked on through the mist, passing Laddow Rocks and following the
Pennine Way now walking directly into the wind as I followed the
stone flags to the third Trig on Black Hill. There was no point
stopping there as there was nothing to see and I had nothing to eat.
Shortly after Black Hill, I met the first people of the day, a group
of youngsters probably doing the Pennine Way, I'm not sure what they
made of the bloodstained figure appearing out of the murk but I could
tell that they were not interested in passing the time of day. Not
long after this the mist started to lift and I could see the
Huddersfield road, parked on it was a white truck - or was it a bacon
butty caravan? My spirits lifted as I kept it in sight could this be
the lucky break that saved the day?
I should have put my glasses on when I first spotted it, as when I
was about a quarter of a mile away from the 'bacon butty caravan' the
truck started up and drove off.
I carried on up to the fourth Trig point - West Nab, just after here
the good paths of the Pennine Way change to completely trackless
moorland with a big decision to be made. Do you ignore the warning
signs (that tell you that you are crossing behind a rifle range which
is used seven days a week) and follow the leat which leads towards
the fifth and last Trig on Broadstone Hill, or do you play safe and
take a big diversion, which involves tricky map and compass work
across a very rough bit of moor?
I sat down with my bag of nuts and raisins and started to think about
it. I heard loud noises coming from the direction of Broadstone Hill
- bang bang thud thud rat a tat tat..........................
Crowden Great Brook [SNAFU: top half of the Pennines gone missing]
Phil Ramsbottom
July Newsletter Index.
Copyright © 2007 Karabiner Mountaineering Club
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