Bloody green socks on Kinder Scout
Posted: Sun Aug 21, 2016 3:21 pmNow I know it can take a while to get round to doing walk reports, but this time I'm going back nearly 30 years to write about one of my most memorable days out on the hills.
I was 8 years old and my parents had agreed to let me go camping in Derbyshire with my 18 year old cousin who was studying at Manchester University. My Dad took me to Edale train station in the car to meet my cousin off the train on the Friday night and take us to the campsite. It sounds awful now but I couldn't wait to get rid of Dad!
I don't think I slept at all that night. Next morning we set off to climb Kinder Scout, although I don't remember much about the climb. At the top we found a place to light the stove and cook some soup, which was one of the most exciting things I'd ever done.
As we were heading back down I tripped and fell off a small ledge, cracking my head open on a rock as I landed. My main memory of this bit is my cousin swearing a lot. He produced a bright green sock from his bag and told me to hold it against my head. He later explained to me that the wound was wide open because the skin on the top of the head is so tight it just kind of pulls open naturally. I think he could see a lot more of the inside of my head than he wanted to.
We came down the hill. I remember feeling dizzy and taking the green sock off to look at it, which by then was soaking wet and had turned a rusty red colour. At the bottom of the hill or in the village there was some kind of mountain rescue point. The guy on duty said he would take me to hospital, which he did after a brief phone call in which my poor cousin had to explain everything to my poor, panicking mother.
At the hospital they stitched me up and asked me what happened. I was totally unaware of this at the time, but the hospital staff were questioning me because they and the mountain rescue guy suspected my cousin of beating me up! I was questioned subtly by the nurses while he was questioned rather less subtly by the police. I think their suspicions were allayed when all I could talk about was how much I wanted to go back to the campsite with my cousin. My mother finally agreed to this and off I went with my sewn up head back to the tent. I slept better that second night.
The scar on my head will no doubt be fully exposed when I finally go bald.
I was 8 years old and my parents had agreed to let me go camping in Derbyshire with my 18 year old cousin who was studying at Manchester University. My Dad took me to Edale train station in the car to meet my cousin off the train on the Friday night and take us to the campsite. It sounds awful now but I couldn't wait to get rid of Dad!
I don't think I slept at all that night. Next morning we set off to climb Kinder Scout, although I don't remember much about the climb. At the top we found a place to light the stove and cook some soup, which was one of the most exciting things I'd ever done.
As we were heading back down I tripped and fell off a small ledge, cracking my head open on a rock as I landed. My main memory of this bit is my cousin swearing a lot. He produced a bright green sock from his bag and told me to hold it against my head. He later explained to me that the wound was wide open because the skin on the top of the head is so tight it just kind of pulls open naturally. I think he could see a lot more of the inside of my head than he wanted to.
We came down the hill. I remember feeling dizzy and taking the green sock off to look at it, which by then was soaking wet and had turned a rusty red colour. At the bottom of the hill or in the village there was some kind of mountain rescue point. The guy on duty said he would take me to hospital, which he did after a brief phone call in which my poor cousin had to explain everything to my poor, panicking mother.
At the hospital they stitched me up and asked me what happened. I was totally unaware of this at the time, but the hospital staff were questioning me because they and the mountain rescue guy suspected my cousin of beating me up! I was questioned subtly by the nurses while he was questioned rather less subtly by the police. I think their suspicions were allayed when all I could talk about was how much I wanted to go back to the campsite with my cousin. My mother finally agreed to this and off I went with my sewn up head back to the tent. I slept better that second night.
The scar on my head will no doubt be fully exposed when I finally go bald.
