Ros set me off with a cheese sandwich and all refuelled and re-clothed (I decided to put on ¾ length tights and a long sleeved merino), we began the tough climb up Steel Fell. I’d taken more painkillers and put a new tubigrip on my knee. I decided that I didn’t feel bad enough to quit, and therefore Leg 3 would be make or break. If I could maintain my pace and maybe make back some time with my knee as it was, then all would be well. If my knee prevented me from doing this then I would by badly down by Wasdale and the decision would be made. One thing definitely in my favour was the fact that Leg 3 has a lot of big climbs and steady climbs and fewer descents. That was if I could maintain a pace on the ascents!
Having decided to go for it, and basically to ignore the knee pain, it felt like a weight had lifted from my mind. As we set off on Leg 3 up Steel Fell, we kept the pace steady. The only major navigational error occurred on the climb up Steel Fell and it was my fault, as I headed towards the wrong gully (the right and not the left) and by the time Rich had realised John and I were to the side of him, it was too late!! What a fool, what did I have supporters for if not to navigate and way find for me!! It was not the worst of things to happen probably just took us a minute of so longer, a bit of a grassy scramble got us onto the ridge and soon we were trotting along towards Steel Fell and Calf Crag.
The torches were put away as dawn spread across the fells. It was a good pace across to Calf Crag, it’s a route which I find very hard in thick mist but is so obvious in the clear! I was holding onto time here and not loosing any more. The sunrise was still a long way off, but the lightening sky was a wonderful boost and as the skylarks started singing again, and the dew formed on the grass, it was an amazing time to be out. The valleys were full of cloud, and above us the sky was blushed with a faint blue-purple hue. I kept thinking here that regardless of what happened I was so lucky to be out on these fells in these conditions. It was probably the coolest temperature of the whole round, but it was perfect. As the dew formed, a thin shroud of mist formed on the land around us as we climbed up to Sergeant Man and High Raise. The P&B group ahead left only footprints in the dew before us.
I was eating well again by this point, and managing to drink well too. Little and often as I’m sure many people have said is the motto. John and Rich were doing a great job of keeping me hydrated, and every few minutes offering me a bottle of water or nuun to sip from. They also kept a steady supply of food coming. I’d recovered enough from my aversion to sweet food, to get cake and flapjack down me, and started sipping at Lucozade as well. I normally hate this stuff, but today it was going down well. It was also at this point that I started to pick up again on schedule. I was not having any problems on the climbs and felt strong.
We made the turn at High Raise and the long section down and up to the Langdale Pikes, across Thunacar Knott and on to Harrison Stickle. Here we actually saw someone out who obviously thought they’d have the fells to themselves at that time in the morning. Time was passing really well for me at this point. I felt good and strong on the ascents, although I was conscious that as I neared every summit I started dreading it because it meant I’d have a descent to tackle and these were really painful. I’d almost lost track of the amount of ibuprofen I had taken even by this point. After Pike Of Stickle, Bowfell loomed ominously in the foreground. A huge advantage of knowing this leg so well, was the lack of intimidation that this caused. I was almost looking forward to the ascent, as once on top, it really was home territory! The descent over Martcrag Moor was slow and it still worried me how slow I was being on the descents but I couldn’t do anything about it except try to move as quickly as possible, so I dug in and soon enough the slope of Rossett Pike reared up in front of us. Looking back we’d passed really close to a group of tents without noticing them, but it was still early in the morning and no sign of anyone moving about.
This climb gave way quickly to the top of the Pike, although Rich took us a different way to the one I was used to from the top of the ramp to the summit cairn. Always useful to find better lines! A quick (ish) descent to the top of Rossett Gill and Bowfell was next. We took the climb steady, and it felt really slow. It was refreshing to be able to see the rocks and grass beneath our feet, as the last two times I’d been this way it’s been covered in snow. Rich kept stopping to take photos as the cloud from the valley swirled up and around us, in an eerie way. It was stunningly beautiful. We actually, despite perception, made good time up here and soon I felt like I could still make up time!
Rich also had a great line off Bowfell avoiding the worst of the rocks and rough path, which saved me some pain on the descent to Ore Gap. The climb up Esk Pike did seem to go on for far longer than I remembered it too. I wasn’t sure what this meant and started to get really worried about my pace, but I think at 7 in the morning you’re body and mind can play all sorts of tricks on you. Rich rang ahead to Pete on Broad Stand to let him know we’d just left Bowfell Summit. I realised how important it was to me to see Pete at this point. It gave me a real boost to know he’d be there waiting and I had to stop myself getting too emotional! Rich again zigged and zagged a wee bit on the descent to Esk Hause avoiding the rocks and finding the soft grass. It was great to keep the mind switched off the route finding and just follow.
By now, the day had well and truly dawned and it was obviously going to be a hot one. I was really happy now I was on truly familiar territory and the summits seemed to pass by quickly as we ticked off Great End, Broad Crag, Ill Crag and Scafell Pike. Even at the relatively early time of 8:30am we were not alone up here, and we didn’t stop to take in the view – something I know well anyway! Rich sprinted off in front to get to Pete and get up Broad Stand before I arrived. I had hoped to make up significant number of minutes here but I juts couldn’t descend to Mickledore quick enough. Pete was all set up on B.S. and Rich had got to the top before I arrived at Fat Man’s agony. A quick squirm onto the ledge and step into my harness waist band and I was climbing up the scramble. I had been apprehensive about this bit, hoping I wouldn’t go tharn in my tired state or feel weak armed on the climb, but it was fine. Pete gave me a quick encouraging kiss and I was on and upward to the summit. When I had supported Paul two years previously someone had put a rope all the way from the top of B.S. to the top of the rocks as a guide, so it was quite a shock to have to think at all about the route. Luckily the rocks are polished and worn, so Rich and I picked a route out to the summit, with John following having given Pete the low down on how I was doing.
Now the bit I was dreading – the long descent off Scafell. I took it steady but had to push it mentally to keep a pace up, as it was tempting to walk. I told myself that it hurt just as much whatever speed I took, and those 2 minutes of scree waiting for me would be great fun and pain free. The scree descent was really good fun and a welcome relief from the steep grass and rocks, but all too soon it was over and we descended down through the fields to the west of the main path to Brackenclose and the welcome sight of Ros, the van and Pete.
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