Last Thursday I climbed Scafell Pike with my son and stepson, 11 and 18 years old. I have been visiting the lake district virtually all my life and walking the fells for 20 years or more, but this proved to be the most extreme experiences so far. I always go well prepared and made sure we all had good kit. The ascent went smoothly and we avoided most of the forecast rain. We eventually got close to the summit after 4 hours (We went via the longer Borrowdale, Seathwaite route). My 11 year old son didn't want to attempt the last 200 ft to the summit as the weather had closed in and the mountain was veiled in thick mist.
(Picture of the final ascent can be seen here..)
http://img135.imageshack.us/img135/3433/ascentofdoomot9.jpg
Desperate to make the summit, we left my son in a safe, sheltered position (having made sure he was happy to wait there) and set off. I checked and re-checked my compass. About 15 minutes later we made the summit, took some photographs, got blown over a few times in the high winds and then decided to descend back to my son as quickly as possible. By now, the mist had thickened to such a point that visibility was reduced to around 10ft. It quickly became apparent that we were descending almost blind in very high wind. Even with the compass, it was almost impossible to navigate and I began to worry about finding my boy in the mist and started to ponder the various scenarios that could befall us. My stepson was convinced we were going in the wrong direction, despite what the compass said and tried to persuade me to head off in a direction that would have led us into a steep and potentially deadly crag. We eventually made it off the summit and more by luck than judgement found my son again. He popped out of the mist having heard us talking. We had managed to come down on the entire opposite side to which we had ascended. My relief was short lived though as the entire top 1000 ft of the fells were now in heavy mist and I still had to get us all down safely. It was 4pm by now and although high summer, it felt extremely dark and gloomy and was now pouring with rain so heavy it hurt. We picked our way through the boulder fields and managed to move from cairn to carin (when we could see them) and eventually made it down below the cloud. We arrived back at the car at 7.30pm, a total of 8 and a half hours (including stopping to eat lunch).
Whilst I am never complacent in the mountains, this episode demonstrated to me that no matter how well I think I know them, they will always have a trick or two up their sleaves.
Which leads me to my question.
Has anybody else had any similar experiences?
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