This morning Carol and I headed out to climb on Buckbarrow. I know as we leave the road its going to be a short sharp shock. Not far though, about 15 mins of steep grass through the bracken and then bouldery scree to the bottom of the buttress. As the grass steepens I put my head down put, "my brain in neutral and my legs in low range". I smile as I do it and I am transported back to Rossett Ghyll in the late sixties. We had been sat in the ODG early evening enjoying a pint after a days climbing, when Sid Cross appeared through the door in the bottom bar. There's a rescue on and we need some volunteers, I raised my hand with a couple of others. Sid Cross looked me up and down " how many pints have you had?" Two I said, he went round the other volunteers, OK lads come round the back and we'll take your names. Into the rescue hut and we were entered on to the team sheet. There would be about 10 of us altogether 4 volunteers and 6 team members. There's a casualty just this side of Esk Hause and we're going up to carry him off. Oh the innocence of youth?? We got a ride along Mickleden in a Landie, bliss, at the bottom of Stake we stopped, someone asked if I would mind carrying the stretcher? In fact it was only half a stretcher, in fact half of one of the first Bell stretchers.
We went straight up Rossett, I was just behind Sid Cross and as he turned I said "This is steep, why don't we go up the packhorse route??" "We used to walk over here every weekend t'Wasdale Head" he mused a moment, "Just put your brain in neutral and your legs in low range and we'll be at the top in no time" he just smiled and plodded on.  That piece of advice has served me well and has been sagely handed down for over forty years. It still makes me smile.

My mind refuses to go into neutral as we head towards Buckbarrow carefully watching every footstep I begin to check off the tiny flowers hiding in the grass " Eyebright Carol?" more of a question than a statement. No I think it's Milkwort comes the reply, we're busy taking about different types of Milkwort when I hear "Lady's Bedstraw" then a clack clack just like two stones being clapped together. I look up just in front of me and see the white rump of a Wheatear as it flits up through the gorse and onto a boulder with another clack clack. This seems to turn my hearing on and I can hear a constant  "Little bit of bread and no cheese, Little bit of bread and no cheese" as two or three Yellowhammers are proclaiming their territories and in amongst it is the rising and falling song of the Meadow pipit. I climb ever upwards watching my feet passing through a myriad of small flowers and listening to the song of the fellside. A quick stumble through a group of large boulders and we are at the bottom of our climb.
I look up properly for the first time to take in the view back across the valley, along the Screes to Scafell, Scafell Pike has a thin veil of grey across it and is fast disappearing. The rains on its way. We quickly get our harnesses on and rack up, I get to the top of the climb and bring up Carol, as she arrives the first drops arrive. "Its raining" she says, "Drizzling" say I and we head back down to the sacs. It seems to have dried up and the veil of rain on the Scafells has gone. We set off up the next climb, a blunt arête with no gear for about15 feet and slightly damp lichen. As I get to the top of the route large drops of rain start to splat around me as I set up the belay anchors. As I take the rope in to bring up Carol I wonder how slippery those first 15 ft will be. After an initial start Carol goes back and then her helmet is quickly appearing at the top, as she climbs out of the top I notice she is now wearing rock slippers not the walking boots that I left her in. "It was wet" she declared.  It was raining as we stripped the belays and coiled the rope, and very slippery as we headed down the boulders and scree to the sacs. That's us, harnesses and gear put in sacs and Offski.

Not bad, two enjoyable  little routes and back home for lunch.