And then the snow came . . .

I don't remember the last time I've lived somewhere with snow on the ground for so long, not including short stays in the Alps and elsewhere that is.

It started falling properly last Monday 2nd February, I left Manchester with continuous snow falling but not settling. As I travelled up the Hope Valley the snow increased in intensity until I arrived at home in Grindleford.

The snow was falling heavily back in Grindleford and I gratefully accepted a lift into the village that night. Once in the village, all sorts of mayhem was afoot! Traffic Police controlling the flow on the Hathersage road, with a large oil lorry stuck at the top of the Sir William Hill, and one car that had already been unable to halt itself in the snow and had hit the wall on the other side of the junction.

After all this drama, the following day was one of peace and quiet after the village received none of the usual traffic through it, and most didn't make it to work due to the treacherous roads. Children were out playing, sledging was in full flow on the perfect sledge field out of Froggatt woods.

For me, preceding this fall and after the fall, it led to some fantastic runs in the snow almost in solitude, passing only a few other runners. I got out for some great runs across the top of Froggatt and Curbar Edges.

A run on the Thursday in particular was spectacular, with fresh snow falling as I made my way up through the snow laden branches of the silver birch woods, with no one around except our springer spaniel, Dylan.

Once I'd made the push up the hill onto the top, via the road over Curbar gap, I set out across the top as the weather closed in. Stormy snow clouds drifted in and soon obliterated the usual fantastic views across the Hope Valley. The isolation I found in these clouds reminded me of winter climbing trips in Scotland, were often you have no more than 5 meters visibility, but the muffled sounds become eerie companions.

Jumping down the stone slabs that take you from the Curbar area of the edge to the Froggatt plateau, I have to take care to place my feet carefully. Drifts of snow cover rocks and possible ankle twisting scenarios. As I approach these rocks I pass two other runners coming up from Froggart, they too seem to be enjoying the relative isolation as much as I am.

I open up once on the Froggatt plateau and suck in the cold air, feeling my legs warm up in the falling snow as my pace quickens. My Innovate shoes are sticking to the snow as the applied pressure of the shoes melts the snow and then refreezes as I lift my shoes, letting in the cold air. This provides a strange sensation and noise as I make my way through the already surreal environment.

I cross the road and into the Longshaw Estate woods, dash across the stream and sprint up the last small hill before the descent into Grindleford. Again, taking care to place my feet onto solid ground, I pace down the hill and back to the sounds of sledging and children's laughter in the village. I love where we live.

The snows are going now, after being on the ground for almost two weeks. I don't remember the last time we had snow around for so long. They've provided some fun for children and adults alike over the last few weeks, but as they recede you start to think of Spring again.

I am sure there more cold snaps to come, well I hope so as I have a winter climbing trip planned to Scotland in March. But, this visit of snow will be remembered by me and many others for years, the snows that brought London to a standstill for several days.

Helvellyn weekend

We left the peak this weekend and returned to my home territory of the Lakes for a weekend at the Helvellyn Youth Hostel with a group of climbing friends. It's an annual event we have in different locations every year, with a weekend of outdoor activity doing what ever suits you, and then a fantastic meal laid on for the Saturday night.

We left our daughter at my parents for the Saturday night, and it was nice to relax and let our hair down knowing she was in safe hands. Eventually making it to bed at the unbelievably late hour of about 1.45am after a marathon session on Sing Star, encouraged by too much wine.

The evenings festivities had been precede for me by a fantastic run out on the tops around Helvellyn.

I climbed up from the Hostel along the side of White Side Bank, hitting the summit at the cairn there and then returning along the ridge to the summit of Raise.

Whilst up there it was fantastic, winter in full effect with fantastic winter views across most of the Lakes. Superb, reminding me why I love the mountains so much and more specifically my love of the Lakes.

With a few odd stares and a few questions asked I ran past walkers in gore-tex's and crampons, making sure my Inno's gripped the snow and ice well. Great fun.

From Raise I dropped down towards the mine workings above the Hostel, but feeling good I decided to push on further, turning east to go up again and aim for a contour round Sheffield Pike and into Glencoyne.

Glencoyne was beautiful, with no one else around, I traversed round to the fantastically named "Seldom Seen" farm, but before I reached there I headed up and over the shoulder of Sheffield Pike, leg burn on the push back up the steep incline reaching a maximum.

Once up and over the top I could feel the cold wind coming off the larger mountains at the top of the valley, reminding me that was still very much winter. Heading down the steep bank to the road that leads to the hostel, I have to dig my heals deep to ensure I don't lose my footing.

Back onto the track and I make my way back up to the hostel, my legs are heavy and my energy is starting to run low now. I push on, extracting what's left of my energy supply, as I do so my mind starts to wander with the end in sight. Passing the Travellers Rest, I can smell the ale drifting out of the bar and the quick gasp of warm air as someone opens the door. I'll be back here after a shower I think.

What a great weekend away we had.

The Good Life

It's grey, wet but not particularly cold. The Froggatt Woods have now reached that splendid purple that they cloak themselves in during the winter months.

We've had a pleasant weekend and preceding week living in what we are finding more and more the perfect surroundings of Grindleford village.

During the week, there was a planned, but sadly postponed, first social drinks meeting of the Grindleford Train Clubb. A group of people with whom I share my hour journey into work with, whittering about all sorts from capital punishment to Pierce Brosnan's performance in Mamma Mia!

Instead of the planned night out, we spent a few hours round our neighbours hours drinking mulled wine in truly festive style while a collection of young children ran riot around the house. Discussing possible fell running plans, cycling and climbing with people who share the same passions.

This weekend has been spent making our Christmas presents for family and friends. So far there has been Hearty Ale Chutney, Onion Marmalade and Bramley Lemon Curd. There's blackberry & apple jam and shortbreads to come.

There something very satisfying, particularly when budgets are tight, about making presents. After two days of work in the kitchen there are a collection of fantastic looking preserves that we are going dispense in just a few days.

Thanks has to be passed to Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall and Pam Corbin for the book Preserves:River Cottage Handbook 2, a great publication that combined with another book or two has provided us with all of our recent preserves recipes.

Well, by the time I get round to another post, Christmas will have been and gone, so all there is left is for me to wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Winter Takes Hold

Well winter is here and with it have come the usual colds, coughs and ailments.

The Froggart woods are still in that sad transition phase, where the colour from the autumn leaves has now left, but the decaying leaves are still grey and decomposing on the floor.

The Silver Birch that dominate the woods haven't yet reached that state of winter glory where they turn a deep purple at their extremities and a ghostly silver on the trunk.

My fell running has dropped off a little having had too many weekends away recently in urban environments and the inevitable festive over indulgence that goes with those trips. Something I hope to make up for with a good run this weekend, if I can shake this cough a little more.

The village is preparing for the winter months as well, we have a visiting ice rink on the sports field this weekend with a winter market thrown in for good measure.

As I type, I'm hoping my delivery of logs for the fire is about to turn up to add that comfort that a real fire brings to a home over winter.

My photography has dropped to an all time low sadly. Note to self, must get round to getting a new camera for next year and ensure a refresh the photographic element of my online presence.

A friend was up recently I was sold on the Canon G10 as an interim between buying a new DSLR. A great little camera that can produce high quality shots and with a decent wide angle to the lens that always help with landscape photography.

Anyway I want to finish with a toast to another season that is about envelope us with is bracing winds and cold temperatures, here's to winter.

Post OMM Review

Well for anyone who reads this blog, you will have read in my previous posts the lead up to the last weekend, my training and preparation for the OMM race in the Lake District.

You will now most likely of heard of the race on the national news after a weekend of intense weather. Granting insight into the little followed sport of fell running and the individuals who are involved.

It was, as expected, wet, windy and generally very wild. What follows is an account of Ayshea's (my wife) and my experience on the day of the race.

We had a late start time 11:05am, much to my annoyance, by the time we were under the start gun it was throwing it down with rain and the wind was picking up by the minute. It immediately started hampering our progress up to the first checkpoint. Knowing our times were going to be significantly affected by the weather compared to the early starters was frustrating.

After reaching the first check point we headed across the source of Sour Milk Gyhll to checkpoint two. Not being able to take the preferred route due to the extremely high torrent that the usual stream had now become, we contoured below Raven Crag and up to the second checkpoint.

Leaving the second checkpoint, by this stage thoroughly soaked to the skin but warm, we headed down to Honister Pass where we dropped in to empty our pockets of energy gels that we had already spent. In the cafe we found half the races participants, drying off, brewing up and generally making themselves at home. Presuming them retiring from the race, we zipped up and went back out into the weather to reach checkpoint 3, as we left we bumped into a fellow who asked if we were heading back to the base, bemused I looked back at him and told "no, why would we" and head off into the rain to find checkpoint 3. This must have been about 12.30pm-1pm.

Heading up the steep incline from Honister we passed streams of folk pouring off the side of Dale Head. Assuming they were on the score courses we ran on and headed off towards High Spy. After battling our way across the tops in wind and rain, which on the whole was coming from behind us we made good time to checkpoint 3. After turning around and heading back into the wind we released what the rest of the course was going to hold, very bad weather.

Reaching the crossing point of the stream at the top of Dale Head Crags by a technique of head down and just starring at a compass baring, we looked up to the summit to see squalling winds battering the top, with winds that must have been reaching 90-100mph. We decided it was unsafe to cross the summit and rerouted to run down the pass road and then up the hillside of Buttermere Fell to reach checkpoint 4. It was on our return to the Honister Pass that someone asked if we were still competing and we were then told the even had been called off.

We were disappointed, we'd been training for a long time for the OMM and wanted to achieve good times. But in the conditions it had just become a challenge to complete the course.

We ran down off the pass, back towards the HQ, encountering the deep water on the lane up to Seathwaite that had drowned several cars. Returning to Wilfs after checking in to get some welcome hot food.

After spending the night in our car, only occasionally waking to check the water levels weren't rising any further, we escaped the following morning.

In review, we didn't get much from the weather than we weren't expecting or didn't come prepared for. We knew before we arrived it was going to wet, very windy and generally very wild.

We were disappointed that we didn't get the opportunity to run much after all the training we'd put in. But we didn't blame the organisers for running the event, we wanted to go, its a mountain marathon for crying out loud and mountains can have bad weather.

I'm currently finishing off Richard Askwith's Feet in the Clouds, during the book Askwith covers the subject of risk and responsibility whilst on the fells eloquently. In my own opinion, which echoes most of Askwith's quotes from fell runners, I made the decision to compete on my own behalf, I didn't need anyone else to tell me what I could and could not do.

The freedom I find on the fells and the weather that mountains can throw at me is one of the many ingredients that actually brings me satisfaction from a day or night, or in fact several days in mountains. My decision to go out into the fells or larger mountain ranges are based on a life time spent walking, running and climbing in mountains, as were most of the other competitors in the OMM.

The inevitable press backlash on the event only saddens me further to see what a cushioned soft society we have become. A society where individuals will not only avoid all risks themselves, but they will go further and criticise those of us who take risks on our own behalf.

There's a animal part to the human spirit that is being heavily sedated in our sedentary office roles in modern life. It's unnatural in my opinion, and for those of us who still like to run like mad mountain goats once in a while jumping for rock to heather, we should be free to do so without criticism.

Fungi Finding with Friends

I spent last weekend, searching the local woods for fungi with some friends who were up to stay with us for the weekend.

Armed with our trug and identification guides with explored the inner depths of Froggatt and the surrounding woods over a period of a few hours.

This was my first real concerted effort to acquire fungi for free, I've been a seasonal fruit collector for several years now. Collecting enough fruit to make chutneys, jams and jelly's for my family at Christmas and the odd fruit crumble.

What a great day we had, trudging through the less explored parts of the woods, clambering over brambles that seem to be there to generally discouraged progress towards hidden secrets well of the beaten path. Hidden water runs and tumbled down buildings, heavily laden with moss and undergrowth, twisted Oaks shaped over years of seeking sunlight and yet more brambles.

From our hunting we found Chanterelle, Cep, Brown Bolete and Yellow Brittle Gills. We took our veritable feast of fungi home to carefully establish their identity for certain.

After some careful identification, dissection and disagreement on features we reduced our trug full of funghi to a small pile of about seven mushrooms that had passed the "will not cause severe kidney disorder" or maggot test.

Gently fried with some garlic we munched our meagre collection with smiles of an afternoon that couldn't have been better spent.

I endeavour to embellish this day further with photos of the fungi we encountered at some point in the not to distant future.

Welcome to Grindleford

Hello and welcome to Grindleford, where I, Ed Richardson, will mutter and meander through my life as and when I get the chance.

I've had a blog running for a while now, but it was get a bit divisive between my work and private life, so I've split them. My work life can now be found at Digital Signals and meanwhile my other life mutterings will be found here in their new home, Grindleford.

To get the ball rolling I am going to cheat and copy some posts over that are relevant from my existing blog.