Escaping Melancholy in the Mountains
A birthday hike in the Langdale pikes
I’ll be honest, birthdays are a somewhat melancholic affair. This is not a new thing. I remember even at the young age of 10 being overcome with sadness at the thought of growing yet another year older. I don’t remember exactly what I was fearful of. Growing up in general I suppose. Perhaps I was justified in my reluctance to reach adulthood. It’s a lot to deal with.
The marking of another year spent is time for reflection. Each year, especially since having seen the birth of my own son, I imagine myself being born into the world. Fresh and pure, full of promise and joy for those around me. The years that have passed since then have on whole been kind, but plagued with a litany of small failings and disappointments, a feeling of success being permanently just out of reach, no matter how hard I try. It makes me sad sometimes to think of that infant me, born into a world of such beauty and potential, yet into a society rife with struggle and strain. I’m being overly melodramatic, but it’s ok to be self indulgent on your birthday.
For this reason perhaps, I have always wanted to be busy on my birthdays. The temptation for wallowing is all too easy if the day is passed at home. Thankfully, living where we do makes it easy to be busy outdoors. What better distraction from the apparent meanness of modern life, than spending the whole day in mountains?
We had been to the Langdales just a couple of weeks previous for Benji’s birthday and gazed up from the valley bottom at the dramatic peaks of the Langdale pikes, a hulking mass of stone that rises sharply out the earth, alluring and intimidating all at once. We were excited to be heading back for a closer look, and curious as to whether Benji would be capable of summiting more than one peak in a day.
It was warm and humid, tropical even, when we arrived at the carpark at the foot of Stickle Gyhll despite it being early in the morning. Emma cooked a quick breakfast of pancakes in the van, we made a last check we had everything we needed, shouldered our bewilderingly heavy packs (lots of food, plus swimming gear) and made our way towards the evocatively named Dungeon Gyhll to begin our ascent.
Right from the get-go, the path was steep and rocky, enjoyably so, but the warmth and humidity made the air thick. We were sweating hard before we even made it through the first kissing gate. Following the gyhll along the bracken lined trail, we gained height quickly, zig-zagging back and forth, pushing through the uncomfortable, energy sapping wall of warmth towards our first stopping point at the foot of loft crag. Benji marched on ahead, seemingly unfazed by the stickiness. Nearing the ridge a welcome breeze began to pick up, and the temperature sank lower with each step until we reached the refreshing cool air of the plateau. From here, although we had done much of the climbing, three distinct lumps of rock lurched skyward; Pike o stickle, Harrison stickle and Pavey ark. Clouds funnelled up from the valley below through a gap between two peaks and we watched them swirl and drift in front of us like ragged ghosts.
We stopped for cake (complete with solitary candle) and coffee, and made our way along the edge of the plateau towards the first peak. Pike o stickle is almost comical in appearance from a distance. Rather round and dome shaped, like the top of someone’s head. As we got closer it started to look less funny; steep and craggy with no clear route to the top. One side of it sits on top of the plateau, but the other drops sharply all the way down to the valley below, leaving you feeling exposed and giddy. Although only short, it’s a steep, slippery, hands on rock, scramble to the summit; Emma goes in front, showing Benji where to put his hands and feet, and I climb behind to stop him falling backwards. At times like these, I fleetingly question the wisdom of putting the most precious thing in the world in such a precarious position. I shake off the urge to to be at home, safe, comfortable and far from all danger. I tell Benji he’s doing great and it’s all under control even though I’m not sure it is. He did do great actually, climbing with confidence and joy. We made it to the summit, where there’s not much room for three of us to stand comfortably. We marvelled at the feeling of exposure, took in views to far off peaks and deep sunken valleys before scrambling back down.
With Benji in high spirits it was an easy decision to make for the summit of Harrison stickle. Somewhat to our surprise, he was still in high spirits at the top (perhaps it was all the Outdoor Provisions bars he ate) so it was another easy decision to capitalise on his enjoyment of the adventure and head to the summit of Pavey Ark. With three summits climbed, this was his biggest mountain day to date and he did it all with joy in his step and pride in his ability, which seems to have ramped up a notch or two since his 7th birthday.
The trouble with going up of course, is having to come down. The descent was steep and the rock loose, the air gradually grew warmer and stickier and our toes hurt from being forced forwards in our boots. Stickle tarn eventually came into view, black, cold, offering thoughts of refreshment, tempting us like a glass of cool water just out of reach when hot and thirsty. It was worth carrying our swimming gear all the way, and planning our route so the tarn would be near the end rather than the beginning of our walk. We plan most of our walks that way.
Back home, and post birthday dinner at the pub, we asked Benji if he’d had a good day. “It was AMAZING!” came his reply.
I guess birthdays aren’t always so bad...
Thanks for reading! We hope these stories inspire you to get out and about on your own adventures, whether you have little ones in tow or not. We’d love to hear thoughts and feedback so please do leave a comment or drop us a line…
With warmest wishes,
Andrew, Emma and Benji
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