Wainwright Walks 53: A bit of festive Barfing

Hills: Barf
Wainwright number: 109
When: Monday 24 December
Weather: Glorious!
Time: 2 ½ hours, including breaks
Conditions underfoot: Mostly ok, though terrain in shade was frozen at times. (On the plus side, so was the bog. Result!)
Who: me and the mountaineering minion
Post walk drink:  Prosecco
Post walk watering hole: The Ambleside Tavern
Mishaps: None whatsoever!
Uses of the arse crampon: No need for it.

Christmas Eve. The sky was blue, the birds were singing, and on surfacing from bed in our holiday cottage, the conditions on the day would have been ideal for a long walk. However, a few libations the night before, and not setting an alarm, had meant that by the time I was actually awake, showered, gear sorted and ready to throw said gear into the car and get underway – as well as needing to engage in some serious de-icing of the car – it was already gone 11am and the time to do any sort of walk other than a short one was fast disappearing. I was also knackered despite having not done very much the day before, following on from the high Tove bogfest on Saturday, and a pretty frantic period of work in the run up to going on holiday. However it was far too nice a day not to do something. Continue reading

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What’s in a name 2 – from the sublime to the ridiculous

No not the ongoing debate about the BMC rebrand (at approximately the same time indoor rock climbing was made an Olympic sport: coincidence? I think not..) but the names of hills. These range from the truly sublime to the absolutely ludicrous and of course when translating from the Gaelic there is an added element of weirdness. Continue reading