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9:01 p.m. - 2006-05-03
In which I climb a mountain and nearly die in flames
Oaky.(That was meant to be okay, but I think I like oaky better) I'm not really doing this often enough, and when I do I'm always half (sometimes three-quarters) cut, so here's a catch-up for my future self.
On Saturday night we walked from Carrigill to Greg's hut on Cross Fell. Only about 7 miles, and widely held to be the easiest stretch of the Pennine Way, but what an evil climb it was with all our kit and a night's worth of firewood. And food. And booze.
Okay, so most of the weight was firewood and booze.
I always forget how fast temperature drops at altitude. So I went from sweating like a bastard on the climb, to borrowing a pair of gloves at dusk.

(more to follow - boredom knows no bounds)



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