I was up with a sparrow’s fart in the morning to get all my gear ready for a summit camp on Black Sails in the Coniston Fells. Firstly I called in at Ambleside for breakfast and to meet up with my friends John Fearn and Chris Butterfield. It was a very special occasion because I collected my new Wainwright anniversary box set from the Armitt Museum, where Chris has put on an excellent exhibition on everything about Alfred Wainwright and his guides. Thanks Chris for everything you do, especially for keeping the Wainwright story going. You are an absolute star mate.
The weather Gods told me to head south due to cold northerly winds bringing snow flurries in the afternoon. When I arrived at Levers Hause, where I stopped to collect my water, I could see bad weather heading towards me from the Langdales, so it was a quick dash to the summit to pitch my tent. Thankfully it just missed us on Black Sails, but I witnessed the Old Man nearby getting the brunt of it. We soon settled in the tent and Tika was fast asleep in no time at all.
On this trip I was testing out a new foil mat, which is radiator foil that I normally use, but this thicker and double-sided brand looks far better. Tika is also testing out his new winter jacket.
The following morning we witnessed a wonderful sunrise. It was below freezing on the tops but we had very little wind through the night. Tika slept like a baby and hardly moved all night. What a great companion he’s becoming on these summit camps. We hung around for a short time to allow the tent fly to dry in the sun, but we left the summit shortly before 9am and then headed over to Wetherlam before our descent back to Coniston.
“Lakeland on fire.
Witnessing a sunrise from the top of a mountain is by far the finest moment of a summit camp. It is difficult to describe the experience and emotions you go through, but to be there at that moment, all alone amongst the frozen rugged landscape, it is an absolute honour. These memories stay with you, and remind you that the world is a beautiful place. There are no dramas here; no politics, and no wars. Just you, and quietness. As I open the tent door with great anticipation, I see that the skies are clear. I watch the moon set behind Swirl How before the birth of a new day. Then, she rises from the east, and for only about 20 minutes she turns Lakeland red. I’m now in a good place, and nothing else matters.”
