The Rossendale Rambler

Once upon a time a few years back I took myself off for a walk around Chew Valley. It was winter and the snow was quite thick and crispy under foot. I trudged along by the reservoirs until I reached the head of the valley. I had a couple of options here in order to get on the tops and do the ridge walk. I decided to tackle the hill to my right up past the two pinnacles. The route is fairly steep grassland with some outcrops of rocks scattered about. The going was comparatively easy although I had to kick my boots quite hard into the icy snow to get decent foot-holes. I soon reached what I can only describe as a wall of rock which came up to my shoulders. Stepping around this seemed a bit precarious as it was rather more icy up here and the drop was steep if I should slip. For some reason, which escapes me at present, I don't think I had my crampons on so slipping was a possibility in this hard packed icy snow. Given these conditions I quickly came to the conclusion that the only way on to the tops was to climb this rocky wall (I can be quite, quick on the uptake when the occasion demands).

The only difficulty was that this wall did not seem to have any kind of foothold nor was there a good place on the top for me to get a good handhold. So what did I do then? (you may well ask) Well for starters I decided I was in a bit of a fix. In addition there was a sheep not five feet away calmly rooting for some fodder and seemingly quite unaware of my predicament and wasn't being in the least bit helpful. I was trying desperately to think of how I could scale this and was pretty fed up that I wasn't a man because they seem to be able to haul themselves up by their arms. I had no chance of even attempting this.

In my imagination I saw myself making some futile attempt at this operation only to fall back slipping and sliding down the slope and into the icy river below where my body would be, later, discovered. No one would know how it was I got there and would no doubt conclude that I had been foolhardy and ignorant to venture forth in these conditions - verdict 'death by misadventure'.

While thinking on my demise I was growing increasingly cold and worried. I had to think of a way to climb up safely. To move sideways or go down was not an option. I had with me my ice axe and it occurred to me that I could use that to create a decent step. The only trouble. was that I would then not be able to recover the ice axe as I wouldn't be able to reach down far enough. Being of a careful and frugal nature - I hesitate to say parsimonious - I was not happy about losing my ice axe, after all I might well need it for the remaining part of the walk. It was while battling with this problem that I thought of taking my whistle out to attract some attention when lo and behold the solution became clear. My whistle was attached to a shoelace and this was around my neck. If I took the shoelace and tied one end to the web handle and tied the other end to my wrist I could then haul the axe up when I was on the top. Now this solution appealed to me and I quickly set about untying the shoelace with my frozen fingers. I eventually got the whole operation set up. I firmly planted my axe near to the rock sloping towards the rock because I didn't want to step on it and it go flying away from me and me after it. It took me quite a bit of talking severely to myself at this point to make that final (I don't mean final final) lunge. It was with great trepidation that I plucked up enough courage and made the move. The ice axe held firm and I was lying halfway over the ledge and only had to get my legs on to the rock. This I managed and quite an inelegant sight it probably was. The wretched sheep turned round to see what all the noise was about but apart from that went on rooting. To my delight the shoestring was still attached to my wrist and the ice axe wrist band and I hauled it thankfully up. Needless to say I said a prayer and set off for what turned out to be an uneventful day thereafter. Heyho!!

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