“I feel like a polar explorer”
progress is blocked by craggy towers and awkwardlooking rocky steps, and to the right one slip would leave you plummeting into the abyss of Bannerdale Crags’ circling cliffs. I breathe deeply, exhaling a billowing white cloud, rub my hands together for warmth, and compose myself for the climb ahead.
“Take your time, be careful and always think about an escape route,” coaches Tom, eyeing up the route above us. “We’ll aim to stick to the apex of the ridge, but if it gets too gnarly, we’ll veer left away from the cliffs onto safer ground.” We progress slowly and deliberately. I kick steps into the snow, carefully checking the terrain underfoot and ensuring it won’t give way under my weight. I jab my ice axe in – once, twice, three times – before I’m happy with the grip.
A harsh wind is buffeting over the ridge, unbalancing me slightly. It is bitterly cold. In summer this would be a simple, think-nothing-of-it ridge walk; in full-blown winter conditions however, it’s a nerve-jangling, knee-wobbling proposition. But undeterred we carry on, focused on our goal to reach the summit throne of Bannerdale Crags. Tom leads and I follow. We haul ourselves up and around rocky obstacles, edge up a short scree-filled chute, scramble over loose rocks, and zigzag slowly over rough, stony terrain, before finally – and joyously – topping out onto the summit plateau.
But the adventure isn’t over. The terrain ahead is flat and gentle, but unbeknown to us at the time, the ridge had shielded us from the worst of the wind. Now we are pummelled by barbaric, icy gusts, like a Siberian weather front has come to batter the high fells of Cumbria. To my left I can see mighty Blencathra towering above Foule Crag and Sharp Edge, a sight that would usually captivate – but I don’t give it a moment’s notice. Instead my body tenses instinctively. I ball my fists, as if readying for a fight, and grit my teeth. I tighten my hood and pull my buff over my mouth and nose. “I’m going for it,” I shout to Tom, and power forward, battling the wind with all my might. It is only 200m to the summit cairn but it feels like an epic quest. I’m no longer James the hillwalker; I’m James the polar explorer – and today Bannerdale Crags is my North Pole.