Frigid Northland

Before I left to come here, I really tried to avoid 'panic packing' and end up throwing a bunch of unnecessary stuff in my suitcase just to make me feel better. One item that lingered in the suitcase/storage limbo was my rocking BA camping sleeping pad. A silly waste of precious packing space, I know, and when would I need it? Well, last weekend actually.
By strokes of luck and kindness I was invited to camp in the lake district with a few friends. Happily, through their uncesasing generosity I was furnished with tent, sleeping bag, and mattress! So, on Friday evening after collecting camp food we were off on the M6 to, well, for me, anywhere. I realized I didn't know where we were going nor what we would do when we got there, but I didn't really care. I was camping! In the country! In England!

All camping trips begin with a few amusing hiccups. This one was no different, especially when confirming the camp site on the way there. The rest of the car was quiet, carefully listening to our side of the conversation.

'Hi, we're planning on camping there tonight, but won't arrive until about half ten, is that okay?'
'Right...ok.'
'I see. Yeah'
'Well, are there any camp sites nearby that you know are open?'

With even greater interest we listened to the next phone call, were we were happily assured of a spot. Arriving in the dark is always a bit mysterious but it didn't take long (after passing the 2nd pub on the property) for me to realize this was not the campground I was used to. We were actually situated on a terraced, currently unused, sheep pasture. The cloudless night had us staring at the stars discussing rods and cones, and our complete lack of constellation knowledge (except here they call the big dipper the 'plough' It took me a few minutes to figure that out). 'Oh, you mean the big dipper?' 'The what?' 'Um, you know, a big...dipper.' Who says dipper, anyway?

The night was certainly chilly, and even with my every layer on I was happy to get up at 6:30 just to move around. What I missed in the darkness was that we were surrounded by beautiful snow covered hills. I would have loved to have seen my face as I stumbled out of the tent and looked around. I was absolutely dumbfounded and thrilled.

We got everything sorted and mapped out our route while finding it difficult to look at anything other than the scenery. The trail head was a few miles south in Glenridding. From the drive there through the entire day I marveled at the use of stone in the area. Indeed there is a lot of it (staking the tent was annoying) and it is seen in every building and in miles and miles of dry stone walls.

The hike was awesome, and silly, and beautiful to say the least. I didn't take long for us to get amazing views of Ullswater and Glenridding, and soon that was traded for snow covered mountains as far as we could see. Our trail eventually led us to that snow, and lots of it! It's really hard to describe the snowy part of the hike. It was unlike any environment I'd been in, treeless, rocky and really just amazing. I felt like we were in a different world. We had our packed lunch before the last leg and then set off toward the summit of Helvellyn (3114'). The trail, for me, became kind of scary; slippery with wet snow, and a very long sharp drop on one side. I questioned our sanity, especially when a cloud came in and obscured where we had come from and where we were going. We made it about half way and I was not comfortable with going any higher, but between the clouds and warning reports from other hikers, we all became suddenly satisfied with our achievements and headed back down.
The way back was a little less steep, and though the snow underfoot wore out its welcome, the views were amazing from every angle.
In the evening we warmed up in the pub, and that night was very cold indeed. Tiredness won out, but getting up was a battle between not wanting to leave the sleeping bag, and the need to get the blood moving. After packing up we drove to Ambleside, a great little town with more outdoor stores than residents. Tea, apple pie, and ice cream from there will cure what ails you.
Everything about the weekend was a surprise, each more pleasant than the one before. (Including spotting a rare red squirrel and a badger!) It was completely worth sore legs and nearly freezing to death. Pubs are not the only perk of camping in England. There aren't any bears either.