As a kid and into my mid-teens, every May on one of the bank holiday weekends, we'd go camping in Keswick on the shores of Derwentwater. We even managed a couple of summer trips, and there was that one time where the campsite was full and we ended up in Braithwaite instead.
As an adult, the Lake District became a more distant acquaintance, with the odd rare trip and some very fond memories. Nine years ago today, I set about reacquainting myself with the Lake District and the fells.
I'm not entirely sure what prompted the change, but I very quickly gave myself a new goal. For all my many visits to Keswick as a child, I'd never climbed Skiddaw. I ran up Latrigg as a 14-year-old (I have not knowingly run up a hill since), we climbed Barrow from the campsite at Braithwaite, and we had even ventured up to Helvellyn over Striding Edge. But never Skiddaw.
So on a sunny day in late July 2011, a new target had been acquired. Never mind that I hadn't really climbed up any sort of hill since those teenage days well over a decade earlier. I bought some new boots, booked a B&B, hopped on the train and then the bus, and there I was in Keswick. Let's go!
With the benefit of hindsight, this was more than a little silly. I'm now a relatively experienced (albeit not terribly athletic!) fellwalker, and even now I would not jump straight in to the high fells. Thanks to the pandemic, I've not climbed a Wainwright fell since January, and I'll definitely be feeling my way back in before I attempt a big day out.
Most attempts at Skiddaw start at the Gale Road car park, knocking the best part of a quarter of the ascent off. I'd arrived by public transport and had no such luxury. Even on the lower slopes around Latrigg, the views start to provide great compensation for your efforts, but by the time I'd reached the car park to see everyone else start their hike, I was already feeling the effects of my lack of prior practice. Nevertheless, I ploughed on, slowly. Very slowly.
The standard route up to Skiddaw summit is often belittlingly referred to as the "tourist path", and I'm not sure that is fair. Sure, it's not exposed and you would have great difficulty falling off, but the initial slopes are unremittingly steep, especially for a novice walker. I've climbed this way twice since, and it has never been less than a slog. The crest of Jenkin Hill is a blessed relief both from the slope and from the wind, and the route showed me some mercy as it passes gently to the north of Skiddaw Little Man.
I've always found the slopes to be a great ego-leveller, and as I climbed the final scree approach to the summit plateau, delighted in my achievement, I remember being easily passed by several walkers who could well have been almost three times my age, as well as a heavily-pregnant woman.
Nevertheless, dear reader, I did make it to the top, and in the process, rediscovered my love for the Lake District. I’ve returned regularly ever since. I even found enough energy to dash up Skiddaw Little Man on the return leg. I took in the views but even that was secondary to the knowledge of setting an ambitious (okay, I'll be honest, overly-ambitious) goal and reaching it.
How my feet and legs suffered for it on the way down though.
I’ve only got low-resolution copies of these photographs unfortunately - hopefully they don’t look too bad!