Belinda Carlisle Was Right!

“Oh baby, do you know what that’s worth?..”

To the south west of Keswick in the Lake District lies a hidden gem; one of my favourite and one of the most beautiful places on Earth. Simply being in Borrowdale is a stunning experience.

When the Gods made Borrowdale they were in fine form and had the best materials to hand. You can stand anywhere in the valley and stare in wonderment through a full 360 degrees as you are entirely encompassed by hills, feeling as if there would be no way out of this magnificent place. The surrounding mountains are high but not overpowering. The valley floor is lush and green. The contrasting and dramatic shapes and textures of the hills and crags, the shades of colour and the mass of natural beauty gently caress your eyes. The sounds of the young lambs, skylarks and other birdlife sooth your ears and ease away stresses of the modern world. It is bliss in the extreme.

For those too young to remember, back in the Late 1980’s Belinda Carlisle (yes the tight-legging-wearing ski-slope-nosed razor-sharp-cheek-boned beauty of The Go-Go’s fame) had a number one hit. I think she was unwittingly describing Borrowdale.

“..Oh, heaven is a place on Earth”.

There is nowhere I’d rather be, especially in the weather we were experiencing over Easter,.

And indeed there I was, staring in awe, listening to silence and songbirds and having my tortured soul calmed by nature. Well, only partially calmed, as I was in full running kit and preparing for more multi-mountain summit-bagging Bob Graham reccie running.

But before the run there was time for a family walk over a hill to the most scenic café in the world. The café at the farm in the hanging valley of Watendlath is special, there is not a café in a more beautiful place in England, but it can be a gamble as to whether it is open or not. Thankfully it was open, and I was able to fuel up before attempting to check out the fifth leg of the BG route into Keswick.

On paper this looked like a simple task. Only three sizable mountains stood in the way between the slate mine at Honister Pass and an easy trek along lanes to the finish.

And indeed that is how it proved to be.

The comparisons with the first reccie run the month before couldn’t have been greater. That time Rich and I floundered lost in the freezing mist and had to abandon the run in order to stay alive. This time there was not a cloud in the sky, no wind, no chance of getting lost. In fact, the visibility was so good that on reaching the top of the first summit, Dale Head, I had to agree with the poet, William Henry Davies,

“What is this life if full of care, we have no time to stand and stare..”

Last run we couldn’t see fifty metres. This time, and to my amazement, I was able to turn around, scan the horizon, and pick out more than half the mountains that make up the Bob Graham Round. Over to the north stood the massive lumps of Skiddaw and Blencathra, with Great Calver half hidden behind. Along the eastern horizon ran the ridge that included Clough Head, the Dodds and Helvellyn groups. Further south stood the Langdale Pikes, where Rich and I had been lost, then next to them the massive group including Scafell Pike towered tall over everything else.

Over to the west I could see the sea, and almost in front of me were my next two challenges, Hindscarth and Robinson. The fantastic vision proved something of a double edged sword. Whilst I was reassured to finally see where I would have to run in June, it was evident that it was going to be an awfully long and difficult way.

But I stood and stared none the less.

“..No time to stand beneath the boughs, and stare as long as sheep and cows..”

Glorious though it was, I had to finish the run. After a big drink from my Raidlight backpack I set off swiftly westwards, skipping over soft grass and some loose rocks, my Inov8 shoes holding firm on the unpredictable surface. The trainers were reassuring as one bad slip could have resulted in a terrible fall off the ridge and down into oblivion.

But there were no slips, and I found myself breathing heavily as I jogged up the long, steady slope to the summit of Hindscarth. The path I needed to take from the top wasn’t shown on the map, but a well-worn track (probably carved by the studs of Bob Graham runners) was evident heading down to the col between Hindscarth and Robinson. I flew down, trying to hold myself back so as not to take too many risks and damage my ankle again. It was hard not to grin like an idiot. This was fun, and freedom.

There was no path up the steep side of Robinson. The shortest distance involved taking a rough compass bearing and a straight line up the mountain side. This proved to be quite a long slow slog, but it eased in severity towards the top. With the final summit conquered (and the leg all logged firmly in my memory) I set off for the long and high descent to the valley bottom.

The easiest way seemed to be to follow the well-worn walker’s path. This was good running until the path spewed itself suicidally over a series of steep rock steps. A bit of scrambling and sliding proved sufficient to see me safely to the bottom, but it made me think. The descent wasn’t terribly easy on fresh legs. It would surely prove tough at the end of the full BG after having climbed 42 mountains and run in excess of 60 miles. I logged that into the memory banks as well.

The rest of the run back to Keswick was a jolly. Narrow, winding country roads proved pleasant enough and I jogged easily back into town with an hour in hand over my Bob Graham schedule time.

The reccie run had been a massive success, and a very enjoyable afternoon on the fells. Confidence had returned and I felt a new enthusiasm about getting around the BG on our proper attempt, although there was still a lot of preparation work to be done.

Belinda Carlisle summed it up for me once again’

“Maybe I was afraid before. I’m not afraid, anymore.”

Well, not as much anyway!