Three Women on a Hill

Apparently, I was told,  there is always someone on Sharp Edge, just like there is always someone on Striding Edge.

 

For those of us not quite brave, or mad enough, to venture on to these narrow ledges, I have always thought individuals string along the edge resembled an orderly line of Playmobil.

 

 

On my last trip up Blencathra last November, in the mist was no exception.  There they were, these mad people.

If you look very closely you will even see a dog.

Well, what a difference a few months and bit of sunshine can make to one’s sensibilities.   When my friend said she was planning Sharp Edge, as the weather was set to hold, and would I like to come, I had a moment of total amnesia and enthusiastically responded ‘Yes’.

But it was fine.  May be not quite the ‘breeze’ that has been reported on FB.  But I am here, along with my two ‘chums’ to tell the tale.  The start of the walk is deceptively benign, you can’t see the edge.  The most acute thing on the horizon was Great Mell Fell, over the valley.

There were quite a few cars parked at Scales but they must have retired to the pub (White Horse Inn), as no one was out on the fell.  We wandered up the valley to the tarn in splendid isolation, basking in the rare, Lakeland commodity, yellow sun, blue sky and no wind.  Then there was the ridge.

No Playmobil.  Not one.  We were quite affronted when a family with a couple of dogs wandered up to take a swim in the tarn.  They were probably pretty put out at finding us there at 4.50pm on a Friday afternoon as well.

There was no denying how inviting it looked but we stuck to the plan and headed up.  Slowly.  And still no one was there.

Just as well really, I am sure we must have clocked up the longest traverse time.  I have actually met my match in Shirley, who actually takes as many pictures as me, and yes, we did manage to stop and take several on the ridge.

So despite the various verbal, shocks and angst,  **** on reflection, the copious photographs and sending of en-route pictures to those slightly well known social networking sites mean it was actually ‘a breeze’.

Well maybe not quite.  There were one or two ups and downs, and each of us had an odd moment when perhaps we thought there could be better places to be.  But they were only moments.  Ultimately the fells speak for themselves.

There was no hiding the intoxicating delight of reaching the Blencathra summit.  Even if all three of us had ‘been there before’.

So thanks Shirley for the idea and some great photos of me clambering over the edge, which will see the light of day soon.  Also to Jeanette, for being our ‘guide’ and making sure we took the right route.

Our route, below, see geeky details here

Blencathra appears:

on this map	in this book