OSAmag80

T h e O l d S t a t i o n e r - N o 8 0
Ingleborough. This starts very gently with an amenable
ramble across some pleasant meadows, but suddenly becomes
a challenging zig-zag scramble up the rocky scarp to the top.
The summit of Ingleborough is a flat, desolate rocky
moonscape. It was here 40 years ago that Mr Young - his
orange bicycle cape billowing around him in the wind and
rain - made the salient observation that this was meant to be
geology field course not a survival week. Had he not been a
tactful and religious man, I sense he may have questioned the
ancestry of his colleague Mr Pritchard for instigating the
whole event. In July 2014 the summit of Ingleborough was
rather more crowded than in 1974, and the fine weather
allowed spectacular views of the Dales.
We were now over an hour behind schedule, so tried to step
up the pace on the long descent to Horton-in-Ribblesdale in
the heat of the early afternoon. On the way down we passed
through the limestone pavements of Ingleborough National
Nature Reserve, where I passed on to my 15 year old son some
pearls of wisdom concerning clints and grykes that Mr
Pritchard had imparted to us when were his pupils. I was
quickly put in my place: 'Dad, I did my geography GCSE two
weeks ago. I don't need to know that right now'. Clearly a
strategic learner in the making ... We briefly paid our respects
to the Pen-y-Ghent Cafe - the scene of much pre- and postwalk
banter in 1974 - replenished our supplies of water, and
then set off for Pen-y-Ghent. As with Ingleborough, the start
of the ascent is deceptive, as it traverses some lush meadows,
before hitting steep rocky climbs up the limestone and
gritstone scarps. However, once over those, the summit is a
short scramble away. It was 5.00 pm, and we waited our turn
to take photos at the trig-point. We had done the Three Peaks
forty years on. The only problem now was that there still
remained a further 9 miles to cover to get back to Ribblehead.
The continuing clear weather meant that we could see the
viaduct in the distance, and it looked an awfully long way
away. However, this part of the walk was very different to
1974.
Forty years ago I recall a relentless yomp through bog and
marsh on a decidedly unclear path. Today, the path is wellmarked
and a very pleasant ramble across the lower fells. A
setting sun and mild breeze provided ideal walking conditions
to take us to the finishing line. We arrived back at Ribblehead
just after 8.00 pm, exhausted but - despite some grumbles from
the teenagers - in good spirits. It had taken us twelve and a half
hours - two hours longer than in 1974, but given nearly half the
party were over 50, we felt rather pleased with ourselves.
So, apart from Mike Brookes' knee and my grey hair, what has
changed over the past four decades? Mike pointed out that
back in the 1970s we were fit but unprepared. Well, we were
now better prepared but certainly less fit. The kit has certainly
moved on. As impoverished Stationers' pupils, we made do
with Doc Martens and flimsy kagoules, with the betterprepared
members of the group investing in combat trousers
from Haringey Army Surplus stores instead of the Brutus
jeans (I recall several of my peer group stumbling when their
footwear snagged the generous flare of their 1970s trousers).
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