Crook

In my late 20’s Deaf Ricky, Jason and I used to climb mountains for fun every weekend, sometimes in the Lake District, sometimes in North Wales and very rarely in Scotland. We would even trot around the slopes of Mont Blanc and the Matterhorn from time to time.

This weekend I set off into the back fields to try and photograph the hares I had seen a few days ago. I thought I would go to the higher part of the field before entering it in order not to scare them if I were to see them. They were nowhere to be seen. But before I knew it I had ascended quite high, more than half way up Crook, one of the summits in the Howsgills, so I decided to carry on.

I wasn’t wheezing as much as I had expected I would be and I was enjoying the solitude and lukewarm wind. Before long I found myself on the summit, gave a little wave down to the family below who were all lounging in our garden and then made my way down. It was all over and done with in less than 2 hours.

I did feel a little like Frankenstein’s monster the next day.

"High Crag with Deaf Ricky"

"Old Man of Crook"

"The Howgill Summits"