White Out On Sergeant Man

Looking down Langdale

The recent deaths of two walkers on England's third highest peak, the 3,117ft Helvellyn
(http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/cumbria/7185720.stm) is a reminder of the dangers one can face in high country, particularly in winter. Like many of my generation, preparation for such eventualities was drilled into me from an early age, via Cubs, Scouts, walking enthusiast school teachers prior to school trips to the Lakes and Dales, and the Air Training Corps. Expedition training of increasing intensity as I grew up meant that all the precautions one should take before venturing out became second nature - minimum expedition size four, survival bag, emergency rations, tell somebody where you're going so they can report you overdue, it's almost like a mantra for hill walkers. But rather like the pre-flight safety briefings to which everybody who has travelled by air is familiar, you never seriously expect to find yourself in a situation where you might need to use that knowledge.


Got all the equipment...

This trip, on 5th March 2005, started as a planned circuit of the Langdale Pikes, starting up Dungeon Ghyll to Stickle Tarn, then up to High Raise (2,500ft) via Sergeant Man, then over the Pikes back to Langdale and the Stickle Barn Inn. The weather forecast was snow over the High Pennines, but the Lake District would be clear. The white deposits of earlier snowfalls covered the tops of the peaks though and we would have to be careful.


Starting out


We slowly ascended the steep, rocky footpath up Stickle Ghyll, occasionally stopping to take in the magnificent views over Langdale. The weather was dry and there was no hint at thi point of any precipitation. As we approached the top of the Ghyll it became noticeably colder, and the beck here was frozen.

Across Langdale

Kerry route-finding. Not that way, alas...

Looking down Stickle Ghyll


Frozen stream at the top of Stickle Ghyll

By Stickle Tarn we took a breather. Ice was forming around its edges. Harrison Stickle opposite had a light sprinkling of snow on top. Sergeant Man, the 2,414ft secondary summit lay around a mile to the north. Covered with snow, it stood very impressive against the skyline, almost like a distant Mt Everest rather than a Lakeland crag.

Snow-capped peaks looking to the west: Bow Fell and The Scafells

Stickle Tarn and Harrison Stickle

Taking a breather, Sergeant Man in the distance. Although less than a mile away, from this angle with its snow covering it had the appearance of a distant Himalayan or Alpine peak

Soon after resuming the trek however, ominous clouds started to move in from the north west. Soon flakes of snow were eddying around, and before long the ground had a very fine white layer through which the green hue of the rough turf could just be made out. On we pressed, the temptation to believe this was just a light inconsequential shower being too great. As we approached the rocky base of Sergeant Man the intensity of the fall increased, and visibility dropped to zero. Ice laced the rocks leading up to the summit, and we had no crampons. Adhering strictly to the Three-Points-Of-Contact rule we gingerly made our way up, a foot occasionally slipping. Eventually reaching the top with its tall, thin cairn our predicament couldn't be clearer - we were caught in a blizzard, visibility zero. Kerry suggested we go down the way we went up, normally a sensible course of action, but given the icy rocks we had just negotiated I decided against it. In climbing most accidents happen on the descent, and the idea of trying to gain footholds again on such lethal surfaces didn't appeal.

The first snow begins to fall under threatening skies

A gentle slope led down from Sergeant Man on its north side towards High Raise. I suggested it might be better to go this way, then using pacing and compass headings to loop back around Sergeant Man down friendlier grassy slopes and back down to the footpath to Stickle Tarn. We headed north into the white-out, then north-east, south-east and then descended to the south. Images loomed out of the cloud - a landscape. Rather like descending in an aircraft things became clearer and clearer - Pavey Ark, Stickle Tarn. We were out of it. Relieved, we carried on down to put some distance between us and the weather. No way were we going to carry on with the route now, this had been a nasty jolt to our confidence and the prospect of slipping and sustaining an injury was too great.

Then the cloud started to come in...

On Sergeant Man - the grim expression says it all. No visibility, high winds and falling snow...

Up or down? There was only one sensible decision...

The Stickle Barn Inn and hot tea and chocolate seemed an attractive proposition, and the way down gave us chance to reflect on our experience. Whilst well equipped for more normal conditions, it suddenly seemed to us almost suicidal to have gone up a route such as this in these conditions without crampons. The unexpected snow fall that had moved in from the east wasn't in itself that dangerous given our gear and experience but in these underfoot conditions it could easily have been the straw that broke the camel's back (or the walker's ankle). In such visibility taking a wrong step or route is just too easy, and the unbalancing effect of high winds can be lethal too.

On the way down. Here at least we could see where we were going.

Whilst making our way back down Stickle Ghyll we were hit by another snow flurry, justifying our decision not to continue with our planned route. God only knows what conditions were like further up at this point.

Descending out of the weather, Stickle Tarn just visible behind a spur:

Finally out of it! The relief is clearly visible in our faces...

Our route, we probably came within a third of a mile (500m) of High Raise's summit:

(Image produced from the Ordnance Survey Get-a-map service. Image reproduced with kind permission of Ordnance Survey and Ordnance Survey of Northern Ireland.)

If we were in any doubt as to the true danger of our predicament, this excerpt from Langdale Mountain Rescue Team's log for 5th March 2005 dispelled it:

"6. Fellwalking Link Hause Hart Crag
5th March at 14.42

A 57-year-old woman slipped on snow and ice and sustained a suspected ankle fracture. Due to weather conditions it took about 3 hours to locate her. A helicopter was called to assist, but was of limited use due to strong winds, poor visibility and all its outside lights failing. It did manage to lift some kit higher up the hill to the limit of its visibility, but the remainder was done on foot. It was a lengthy operation, and we were assisted by Patterdale MRT on the carry off, who had come up their side to help. She was evacuated down the Patterdale side of the hill. In keeping with the usual random nature of our work, while all this was going on......

7. Rock Climbing Slab Route, White Ghyll Gt Langdale
5th March at 19.45

We were then requested to recover two climbers who had become cragfast on White Ghyll slabs. They had started climbing in daylight and had taken shelter while half way up, when it started to snow. Unfortunately the snow continued and they were unable to make any further progress. They became very cold. They were hauled to the top airlifted to the valley floor. Kendal MRT came to assist us with this one"

http://www.lamrt.org.uk/

It was dark when we left the warmth of the Stickle Barn Inn and the Old Dungeon Ghyll at 5pm for home, an RAF Sea King could be heard on the north side of Langdale - doubtless the one attending to the first incident above. And we were perhaps fortunate that it wasn't looking for us.

Video 3min 56sec: