Getting a feel for Old Man

I love this picture. It sums up everything that was awesome about this day and this hike. But when I look at this photo I can’t focus on the gorgeous sunshine or the snow. I just remember being worried and a bit scared. I took it while I sat in the snow and debated whether to continue up Old Man of Coniston. It stands guard over the village I call home. Just as Skiddaw, my first Lakeland fell, was a rite of passage for the staff in Keswick, Old Man was something I had to do.

Unfortunately I arrived to Coniston at the start of winter. There have been some nice days, but it’s also been cold, wet, icy and we’ve had snow at ground level. Most of the time I’ve been here Old Man has had a good dollop of snow on him and in the conditions of late, an assent without crampons and an ice axe is risky. Only a few weeks ago a woman was rescued up there. The article heading was “Woman blown off Coniston Old Man” and a picture of a helicopter. I had no plans to go up any time soon, and certainly not alone.

But then the weather did this:

And I changed my mind.

There hadn’t been much fresh snow lately so I thought my chances of getting a fair way up the track were good. I accepted getting to the summit could be unlikely, if not dangerous. I met two men coming down who said they gave up about 3/4 of the way. “We don’t have crampons and there’s too much ice and snow.”

For the non-fell walkers among you, crampons are spiked, razor=type attachments for boots that make it possible to walk and climb in snow and ice. In winter they are essential for any serious climbers. I don’t have a pair and am unconvinced I’d get enough use out of them to warrant investing in some.

Only early into the hike I decided to keep going as far as I could. The sun was out and the track was interesting enough anyway. Coniston was a mining town and there’s many old quarries in the area. The main track up Old Man passes through some.

I made it to Low Water Tarn without any trouble. The tarn sits at the bottom of Old Man and the splattering of snow on the rocks was dizzying. It reminded me of the optical illusions in the Magic Eye books. After Low Water Tarn the track got more intense and it wasn’t far from here that I caught up with three other walkers – two together and another solo walker. I’d also reached a point where I started to wonder if I should go on. The ice and snow was building and while I could go up without much problem, coming down could be interesting. The other three kept moving and I figured I may as well go with them for now.

The snow and ice intensified as we continued up the track. Although by this point there wasn’t really a track. Just footprints in the snow. Then we saw this guy. Running. In 3/4 leggings.

The “well if he can do it” attitude motivated me to this point:

We stopped here for a bit. We were only a few hundred metres from the summit, but we didn’t know if we could make it up. I don’t know what the others were thinking – I didn’t even know their names. But I was ready to go back down.  That’s if I could move at all.

The views we had at this point were spectacular – the photos don’t do it justice. But I was scared.

It was really bloody windy.

I thought I was going to be another woman rescued from Old Man. I’m an amateur in the fells and if I hadn’t come across the three other walkers there was no way I would have got to this point. I feared lifting any part of my body off the ground might be all the wind needed to carry me down the hill.

Tony pushed on and we all followed. My decision to keep going was, by this stage, well considered. I didn’t want to put anyone in the position of being responsible for my safety and I was sure that if I had to turn around, I’d be OK to get back down alone. But it was comforting to have people there. At least if I was blown off the mountain someone could call Mountain Rescue.

The other two dropped back a little, but Tony kept waiting for me later saying that since the other two were staying close we should too in case one of us fell. For most of this last part I was nearly on all fours, keeping as close to the ground as possible, treading into deep footprints and using even the slightest grip of snow around my ankles to weigh myself down. The wind was howling and giving me a headache as it thumped into my body.

The summit came into view and the wind disappeared. I straightened up and walked over the ice to the pyramid of rocks that marked my achievement. I actually hugged it.

There were other walkers at the summit and others joined us as we all sat in the sun with our lunch and themoses. Another runner came up, tapped the rocks and jogged off back down. The view was gorgeous. It was one of those “I can’t believe I’m seeing this” kind of views accompanied with a “I can’t believe I made it up here” kind of feeling.

Two of the men I’d walked up with consulted their map and continued over Old Man into more fells. Tony and I decided to return the way we’d come – although it was only at this point we introduced ourselves.

Coming down wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but there were parts were it was easier just to sit on my butt and slide down. As we returned to less risky territory we met others on their way up and encouraged them to head for the summit.