The man who gets up at 4am to climb a mountain before brekkie – every day!
Impressed? The rest of his story will take your breath away . . .
He knows every rock and crag on this mountain, every twist and turn in every path to the summit. I wouldn’t be surprised if he could name all the sheep along the way.
But then, sion Jair has been up and down this peak at least 5,000 times. Indeed, when I meet him halfway up the famous Lake District climb, he is on his second ascent of the day.
It may only be mid-morning but sion, 67, and his partner, wendy, were already at the top of the old Man of Coniston — 2,635ft above sea level — before 6am to catch the sunrise, then returned for breakfast. now they are on the way up again to meet me.
It is a gorgeous day on what has always been one of the most popular hills — or fells — in the Lake District. Being more than the requisite 2,000ft, the old Man of Coniston also qualifies as a mountain.
You will find sion up here in all weathers with a rucksack containing climbing kit, a two-way radio and plenty of spare clothing. over the years, his presence has been a blessing for umpteen ill-prepared hikers who found themselves marooned when the weather turned.
sion describes his entirely voluntary role as ‘not quite mountain rescue’ on the basis that he can’t treat injuries and has no formal status. But the official Mountain Rescue teams are always grateful for his help.
A couple of years ago, for example, sion came across a group of seven lads from Liverpool who had got lost in foul weather, without a map or a compass. sion made a chute through the snow using his ropes and ice axe and got them to slide down to safety one at a time.
They were certainly grateful. what they didn’t know, however, was that their saviour was one of Britain’s most extraordinary mountaineers. Because for at least seven years, sion has been suffering from Alzheimer’s disease. YeT
despite having a condition which is thought to affect around half a million people in Britain — shutting down the ‘connectors’ in the brain and, in turn, causing dementia — he continues to guide people down from the hills when they find themselves lost, out of daylight or overcome by vertigo.
If I hadn’t known in advance, I wouldn’t have had the faintest idea he suffered from anything. He is lucid, funny and fitter than I am as he natters away while I pant up the track, trying to keep up.
‘I do all my thinking up here,’ he says. ‘ when I’m on the hill the blood gets going and whatever oxygen is left in it gets to my brain. It’s when I’m sitting around at home that things start to fade.’
The Alzheimer’s has advanced to the point where he had to have the cooker removed from his housing association flat in Ulverston in case he turns it on, then forgets about it.
Though he is still allowed to drive, he must take an annual test and generally leaves the driving to wendy, who lives nearby. He can read a book, but finds it hard to remember any of it an hour later.
But put an ordnance survey map in his hands and it is a different story. Because sion is a different man once he starts pacing up the mountain.
‘no one passes me going up,’ he says proudly, adding that he can usually reach the top in just over an hour. ‘It’s when I’m coming back down I have to go slowly because I need to think carefully about each step.’
sion acknowledges that there is no cure for Alzheimer’s, but sees no reason to surrender to it.
‘I’m not going to beat this thing, but I’m not going to let it get me down. I remember when I was at school and this bully kept having a go and eventually I said: “I want a fight.” He said: “Do you think you can beat me?” and I replied: “no, but I’ll give you a hiding along the way.” And he backed off.’
That is why sion is determined to make use of all the time he has left by passing on his knowledge of the fells to others, along with his tips on how to navigate.
Using his own savings, he has developed a course for walkers of all ages.
‘You do it one-on-one,’ he says. ‘The problem with groups is that some people are happy to leave it to someone else to do the navigating. And a lot of people these days just rely on sat-nav or a phone. That’s no use if the battery goes.’
sion won’t make a bean out of this. People will pay just £120 for a four- day individual course, starting with some theory work at their home or in a pub, then graduating to the hills.
Half the fee will cover the travel and printing costs. The other half will go to three charities — Mountain Rescue, the Great north Air Ambulance and the Alzheimer’s society. Anyone can sign up via www.specialservices247.uk.
‘The whole point is to get people to think for themselves,’ says sion, ‘ and learn a bit about the mountain at the same time.’
sion has climbed every significant peak in Britain but his favourite spot has always been the old Man of Coniston, which he first saw in 1968 while on a teambuilding exercise as a trainee draughtsman with British steel.
The son of an RAF pilot, he had grown up moving from one base to another, before taking up a career in engineering.
‘everything was being cut back and I was made redundant from one job after another,’ he says. In between, he made ends meet doing everything from driving a prison van to litter-picking.
Based in Birmingham, his great escape was getting away to the hills, all the more so after his marriage broke down and his exwife moved out, taking his son, Martin, with her.
In due course he abandoned Birmingham for the town of Ulverston, at the southern end of the Lake District.
one day, he says, he ‘collapsed in a heap’ and pernicious anaemia was diagnosed, though that did not stop his daily treks up the hill. eventually, four years ago, further tests revealed that in fact he’d had Alzheimer’s for three years.
The diagnosis merely made sion even more determined to stick to his rigorous routine.
on an average day, he will rise at 4am and be heading up the mountain by 4.30am. WHen
he’s back down again he has breakfast, often a toasted sausage sandwich at a local cafe, then goes for another ten-mile walk.
Come late afternoon, wendy might prepare pasta or a baked potato. sion likes the occasional half of lager or tot of whisky before food: ‘If it’s afterwards, I get a headache.’ He is usually in bed by 11pm, but says he gets by quite happily on four hours’ sleep.
He is disconcertingly cheerful about everything — for which wendy, an artist and retired county councillor, must take some of the credit.
‘ Tomorrow is the second anniversary of the day I asked her out for a drink,’ he says. ‘ And aren’t I lucky she said yes?’
Life is settled, he says, and he talks to his son — now grown-up and living in the Midlands — on the phone most days.
wendy will join him on the mountain at least twice a week. The rest of the time, sion walks on his own.
only once has he needed rescuing himself. In February 2015, while guiding two youths wearing the wrong kit down a sheet of ice, sion fell and dislocated his shoulder. ‘ The Mountain Rescue team were amazing and got to us in two hours,’ he says.
so is there anything that keeps him off the fells?
‘only very strong winds and bank holidays,’ he says. ‘I can’t stand it when the paths are crowded.’
so what does he do then? ‘we’ll go to Morecambe Bay and walk on the beach.’