Issue # 42 The Misc. Adventures Digest
A reflection on our first wintry hike of the season and on the simple joys afforded by the cold weather
Hello. Welcome to issue #42 of the Misc. Adventures Digest! We have a fair few new subscribers thanks to a mention on Looking Sideways: 10 Things by
. If you’re one of those, then a huge thanks for joining us on our journey. If you want to learn more about us and what kind of thing will be landing in your inbox each week then I’d recommend reading our recent post: This is Us.This week’s issue features a short account of a cold and windy hike to the summit of Dow Crag, with a reflection on the cold itself and the simple joys afforded by walking in the winter. As always, we actively encourage comments and shares and would love to hear about your own experiences.
It is good to get up early and head out into the blue morning light on an adventure of some kind. Frost patches here and there provided visual confirmation of what we felt on our bodies, it was cold. The first proper cold day since last winter. There is a distinct kind of cold in the north - you can feel it keenly with all your senses, but one thing that sets it apart from other types of cold is the way it infiltrates your nasal cavities. You can breathe in deep through your nose, and feel the hollow, clear, chill at the space between your nose and back of the throat. The smell and taste of the mountain air, metallic, keen and biting, drifting on the wind from the distant frozen north.
We had decided to hike up to the summit of Dow Crag - an impressive and imposing hunk of steep bare rock, streaked with deep gullies that we had seen from the summit of Coniston’s Old Man. Viewed from the Coniston side, it seems impossible to summit without ropes. Yet from Seathwaite, a more placid, friendly face of the mountain reveals itself. Nevertheless, our route which followed the alluring rocky ridge along the summit straddled both these worlds and would be relentlessly exposed to the biting wind.
Frost crunched underfoot as we walked in the calm quiet of the valley, cold in the shadow of the mountains, yet in places sunlight poured through gullies and cols creating patchwork patterns of light and shade, chill and cheer.
Although we had come prepared so far as our clothing was concerned, we were perhaps not quite mentally prepared for the icy blast that met us on the summit ridge. Only one week ago, we walked without fear of freezing, feeling the early autumnal warmth on our bare arms, basking on rocks like lizards as we ate lunch by the water’s edge. Now we find ourselves buffeted and blustered by a wind with teeth, gnawing at our bones and reddening our cheeks with its icy bite.
I have no problem with the cold, in fact I enjoy its bracing enthusiasm and the boisterous nature of the winter wind, but it is a shock to feel that first sting of the winter on your face. For all of us, the ridge was a little longer than we would have liked, and we hiked faster than normal, thinking all the while of the relative warmth and shelter of the valley that lay below. We stopped only occasionally to peer down Dow Crag’s steep gullies into the round unblinking eye of goat water below.
A golden glow filled the valley and finally we descended far enough to feel its warm embrace. Our pace slowed, and we ambled alongside a tumbling beck; the water falling fast yet somehow softly. A few birch leaves still clung on to slender, pendulous branches, bright yellow against a bright blue sky, yet here and there pools of leaves had collected in pockets between boulders, little cups of gold.
Our van glinted in the sun as we approached. It was warm inside and we removed wet socks and put on fresh wool ones for the journey home - a simple pleasure. You cannot experience the joy of warming yourself up without having had the feeling of being cold first. With these hikes come many such moments. I wonder, is that why we do this? Enduring a little hardship in order to elevate the simple to the sublime? No, there is much more to it than that, but this is a pleasing side effect. Have you ever slipped into fresh socks in your tent or van after a long day embracing the full force of Nature? Or scooped water ice cold water from a stream to quench your thirst? Or felt the warmth of the sun as you shelter from the wind on the lee side of a boulder, drinking hot coffee and eating pancakes? If not then you are missing out.
Our first cold hike of the season was a good reminder of the simple pleasures that lay ahead as we slide into shorter days and colder times. We may have to work a little harder for them, but those precious moments of joy are all the more meaningful because of it.
We were due to send a Nature Happenings post this week, but over the winter we are changing the schedule and will be sending them monthly instead. We will of course be including neat things we find in Nature in our weekly digests anyway so don’t worry, we’ll make sure you don’t miss out on any of Nature’s many marvels.
Until next time, extra warm wishes from the three of us,
Andrew, Emma and Benji
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Such a wonderful reminder that hiking "season" doesn't have to end when temperatures drop or the rain starts. The landscape after rain is truly something to appreciate.
The first bite of wind is always surprising and shocking! But I agree that the thought of something warm and inviting at the end is the incentive to keep you going. I quite like the cold too (as long as I’m wearing the right clothing!) Happy adventures to you all! ⛰️ 💚