This weekend Jo and I had planned our annual catch up. It was to be a two day, relaxed spring walk in the Lake District: we'd leave the car at Keswick on Saturday morning, walk over the hills to Honister youth hostel, carrying as little as we could get away with, and saunter back a different way on Sunday. Except British weather happened. All week we watched the forecast get worse, until on Friday the Lakes and surrounding areas had their worst snow of the winter. Thousands of homes without power. Roads blocked. Mayhem and turmoil.
We called the youth hostel on Friday night, found that the roads were still passable - just; decided if we could get there, we would give it a go, and downgraded our plans to a nice valley walk from Keswick to Honister - with crampons and ice axe and clothes to weather the predicted gales and -20 degree windchill. Hmmm. But on Saturday morning it looked like things were getting better, so I set off from Edinburgh bright and early to meet Jo at Penrith train station. It was dry in Edinburgh, if bitterly cold. But the road south had quite a bit of drifting snow, spindrift blowing over drystone walls, even the sheep in the windswept fields looking cold and dispirited, and by Biggar - 30 miles down the road - it had started snowing again. By the time snow ploughs were outnumbering even the white vans on the road, I had a feeling we were being overly optimistic. When I called her, Jo agreed. Disappointing to have to abandon our weekend, but the hills will still be there another day. As Jo said, better to be Shackleton than Scott.
So I drove the slippy road home again, and instead of battling through Borrowdale in a blizzard, went to see 'Robot and Frank' at the Cameo, met friends for coffee and cake, and then other friends for pizza and wine. Shackleton would no doubt have approved.
We called the youth hostel on Friday night, found that the roads were still passable - just; decided if we could get there, we would give it a go, and downgraded our plans to a nice valley walk from Keswick to Honister - with crampons and ice axe and clothes to weather the predicted gales and -20 degree windchill. Hmmm. But on Saturday morning it looked like things were getting better, so I set off from Edinburgh bright and early to meet Jo at Penrith train station. It was dry in Edinburgh, if bitterly cold. But the road south had quite a bit of drifting snow, spindrift blowing over drystone walls, even the sheep in the windswept fields looking cold and dispirited, and by Biggar - 30 miles down the road - it had started snowing again. By the time snow ploughs were outnumbering even the white vans on the road, I had a feeling we were being overly optimistic. When I called her, Jo agreed. Disappointing to have to abandon our weekend, but the hills will still be there another day. As Jo said, better to be Shackleton than Scott.
So I drove the slippy road home again, and instead of battling through Borrowdale in a blizzard, went to see 'Robot and Frank' at the Cameo, met friends for coffee and cake, and then other friends for pizza and wine. Shackleton would no doubt have approved.
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