walkhighlands

A Snowy High Cup (St.) Nick

Date walked: 26/12/2022

Time taken: 4 hours

Distance: 13.2km

Ascent: 510m

It's been a tough autumn for a mountain goat stranded in the flatlands. I work in a field where we are a) very short-staffed as an industry, and b) have to legally provide a 24 hour service. So as a consequence I have either worked or been on call 24/7 since the end of September. Exercise has mostly come in the form of 5k runs by headtorch at 5.30am in a 10 min radius of my car in case of call-out. The dog enjoys it, but that's pretty much all that can be said for it. So when I got the offer of some cover for a few hours on Boxing Day I didn't spend it catching up on sleep like a normal person, but instead threw some kit in the car (along with a slightly reluctant husband and two very much not-even-remotely reluctant dogs) and set off in search of adventure.

I chose High Cup Nick as somewhere which was just about reachable in my timeframe (8am-5pm), plus somewhere I'd been a few times before, but never with the husband, and never in the depths of winter. We were pleased to find the carpark at Murton covered in the white stuff, with the promise of more higher up. The forecast was OK-ish - there might be showers, but I was hoping to get done before they arrived. Ha.

Every time I drive along the A66 I look up at the Nick, which is almost invariably swathed in cloud, and think 'glad I didn't pick that for today'. It is a spectacular place. But only if you can see it!

We varied my usual approach by taking the road towards Dufton, then cutting up on a footpath towards the farm at the foot of the gill. Here I encountered a not-uncommon problem with OS mapping - we followed the route marked on the 1:25k map through the farmyard to the inch (I have ninja navigational skills), only for the farmer to appear and politely point out that we were where we shouldn't be. I knew I was right, but decided not to press the point, apologised, and continued out of his yard on the signposted footpath. As a farmer himself the husband was mortified, but agreed that we were in the right. On later investigation the footpath marked on the 1:50k map skirts round the farm, whereas on the 1:25k map it cuts through the yard. An access stile on the latter path backed my point up. Hey ho. I have too much respect for farmers to have wanted to argue. He was being polite, we were being polite. No harm done.

After a brief pause to consider how to best cross the beck on the first bit of open access land (memories of falling in last time when I was fell-running here, which I had no wish to repeat in the freezing temperatures) it was on to contour round the side of Middle Tongue and drop down onto the gill bottom itself. It is a magnificent amphitheatre to walk up, and I have never yet met so much as another person here. Perhaps the bogs swallowed them all. Or they have more sense and choose to come up the path from Dufton instead. Pah. They're missing out!
Nick bottom.jpg


As we got to the lovely/annoying (delete as applicable) boulder field the skies darkened and the threatening blizzard started. I may have forgotten to mention in advance to my husband the glorious little scramble out at the top. He's not good with heights, and wary of my route descriptions after being defeated by Sharp Edge earlier in the year. However there is little exposure here, just a need to use your hands a bit, and before long we'd topped out onto the plateau into another world. My plans to sit with our feet dangling over the edge and drinking in the magical view whilst brewing hot chocolate (and whisky, obviously) on the stove were rather scuppered by the blizzard, wind and, well, total lack of a view. So we made do with a swig from the hipflask (Old Pulteney, for the record) and pressed on.
Nick Selfie.jpg
Nick top.jpg


We felt like the last people in the world up there, and very far from civilisation, despite being only 5 or 6 miles from the A66. The blizzard continued, and so did we.
Nick bowl.jpg
Nick Icicles.jpg
Nick Biscuit.jpg

My dog loves this weather -the colder, wetter, boggier or windier it gets, the more she thrives. She is a veteran of tough days on the hills, and many backpacking/wildcamping trips in the wilderness, and it was lovely to see her enjoying herself so much. She spent a large amount of time burying her head in the snow, and rolling over and over and over. Oh to be as easily pleased!

We eventually reached the shelter of a tall fell wall and stopped for lunch - roast Shorthorn beef rolls and pop.
Nick Lunch.jpg
Nick Wall.jpg
Nick Murton.jpg


The weather had cleared, and although it was too late for that iconic view down the centre of the Nick, we were treated a a lovely contrast in the snow-white shark fin of Murton Pike outlined against the greens and blacks of the snow-free valley below.
Nick Murton 2.jpg


The last couple of miles are a very pleasant stroll down the track skirting Murton Pike, with squadrons of grouse whirring up on either side making their rather cartoonish calls.

The arctic tundra of the plateau all felt rather improbable when we were back down in the green flatlands. We made it back for my work curfew by the skin of our teeth. A wild and adventurous day, but a very worthwhile brief escape, and much better for the soul than a day spent catching up on sleep!

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Comments: 4


Gamebird


Activity: Stravaiging




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Statistics

2022

Trips: 1
Distance: 13.2 km
Ascent: 510m


Joined: May 08, 2021
Last visited: Feb 16, 2023
Total posts: 11 | Search posts