Plucking up the courage to get out of bed at 6 a.m. on a cold and frosty morning wasn't easy. But Andrew and I had wanted to climb Wild Boar Fell once more after our visit there two years ago, but this time from the west and to see Sand Tarn on the descent.
We set off from the camper at about 9:30. AW's aerial guide is a little
vague as to distances, but his map helps. We passed Street Farm, where there
are stables and a riding school. The walls here have been rebuilt with great
skill. There's money in ponies.
Further on the Mansion at Street was hidden behind a high wall and
impossible to photograph. We were now on firm ground after the sodden and muddy
footpath and turning right we ascended steep Clouds Lane, where surface
improvements have been made to assist the pony trekkers. After some hesitation
we found the correct route above Stennerskeugh. AW's track has now
become part of the Pennine Bridleway. Much of the surface along this old track
has been upgraded which appears to point to far more attention being given to
bridleways than to ordinary walkers' footpaths, as at most places where the PW
runs. I wonder where the finance comes from.
The track rises and falls, passing High Stennaskeugh lead mine. There is a broad flat bridge over Scandal
Beck just before two gates; thereafter the track rises to a wall corner where
there is a small gate. This is where our route leaves the bridleway and splits
off up the ridge to the very steep final ascent to The Nab. The seven miles per
hour wind became thrice as strong, and looking up to the top of the fell we saw
a covering of ominously dark cloud.
We stopped in the comparative shelter of the wall, but being hungry and tired I knew definitely that I would not be going any further. Andrew was hesitating, and finally, knowing that there
would be no view from the cloudy summit, he decided to go back down with me. He consumed his hot soup and I had a drink of coffee and ate my
Cornish Pasty.
Two stout lads had overtaken us on the way up and did so again on the
way down, they having been up into the mist and out again. My toes were no
longer endowed with life or spirit and a muscle in my thigh was feeling the strain.
My balance, having rallied over the past few weeks, now gave up completely and
twice I fell over sideways right off the track, luckily at a point where the
rushes broke my fall in comfort. In fact, it would have been tempting to lie
there a while had it not been for the bitter cold. The sun had not yet had the
compassion to mount high enough in the sky to be of any warmth to us.
By the time we reached the tarmac road I was dragging my left leg like
one of the zombies in Night of the Living Dead. It was a real pleasure
to take off my jacket and fleece which I found to be soaked with condensation.
We'd tried, and failed. But the views from the top and the chance to make castles at the delightful Sand Tarn will still be there next spring under the warm sun and blue sky !
