My son phoned to say he was climbing Helm Crag with two of his children, on a quest to see the Lion and the Lamb rocks. I left my computer desk and drove the three-some miles to Grasmere, hoping to surprise them by clambering some way up this famous fell, then as they descended popping out from behind a boulder. I had, however, forgotten that Helm Crag has steep ramparts. Consequently, I set off inadvisedly, minus trekking poles and in my shoes with Velcro straps and smooth soles.
The footpath had been reclaimed since my last visit. Now it reared skywards resembling a veritable "Hillary Step". No more friendly zigzags as of yore to ease the pain. Still, I conquered it, eventually gaining open slopes. It was above Jackdaw Crag that my mobile phone glowed yellow like a jellyfish when inadvertently trodden on. It was Mark. He, Harry and Billy were now – contrary to my expectations – descending the far side of the hill. Then the signal faded.
Desperate to reconnect, I stepped heedlessly on, up craggy ground, lured by a faint signal – only for it to vanish yet again. Still, I gained height, regardless. Until … joy! The phone at last stayed connected. By now the others were nearly down the far side; Mark said they would meet me by the Wordsworth hotel. It was then I realised I could not easily reverse in the precipitous place I had ascended, being pole-less and lacking agility and balance. Finally, I slithered on my backside down several craggy steps covered in wet moss, ripping my best pants in the process. With legs aching from the brutal path I had needlessly climbed, I ignored the Hillary Step and instead went down the much easier zigzags of the former path that are barricaded off for conservation purposes. "Illegal", yes, but by now I was past caring.