December 2009

Dow Crag from Coniston Old Man

Coniston Old Man in the dark and alone is much like Ben Lomond from Ptarmigan Ridge, you need to watch where your feet land on the initially, craggy descent in the first snow.

Potter Fell in the evening in the company of a club, on the other hand, equates to Dumyat from Mentrie: the local runners navigate you around the abusive and violent farmer in his Frosty Hole.

Thornthwaite Beacon from a mile away in December








Thornthwaite Beacon from a mile away in August

Kentmere Horseshoe, that's Ill Bell, High Street, Kentmere Pike, is the closest training round to Kendal. So managed just one in a month.

Away in a Manger in Snowdonia
(when you don't make the bothy)

Yr Elen in between soakings

No self-respecting Scot wants to admit to running away south. No face lost, though, running away from Cumbria down to The Land of Somebody's Father's. Nevertheless, like anywhere else up the west coast of Britain, you get hit in the face with rain.

Back home in the festive season, Ambleside organise a chance to run off a pound or two dashing up and down Wansfell. Ploughing through every type of snow: half melted, firm crust, crust that lets you fall through unpredictably like a slap on the back of the head, ice, deep drifts to save you over the crags on the descent, at least it didn't snow.

Salute

Best of luck to Dave Eiser as the new Ochil's club captain. It's great when the seniors take over from the vets.