Saffron Covill's trip report
On this year’s Bridgemas trip there was wet and windy walking, late-night games in the bunkhouse, and smiling for scores of cameras.
Joining the sea of backpacks and sleeping bags, I chatted to other people in Mountain Warehouse coats as we waited for the cars to arrive. A tall and quiet man who we deduced was Oliver drove us to Wetherby Services, where we stopped for food, before co-driver Darius took the wheel for the second half of the journey.
We arrived at what the Satnav was telling us was our bunkhouse, stepping out into the darkness of the countryside. We excitedly burst into two neighbouring bunkhouses (one with its own resident puppy, which slightly slowed our apologetic and otherwise hasty departure) before finding the right bunkhouse.
The bunkhouse was warm and spacious, and we enjoyed a cosy evening of planning the next day’s hiking routes.
The next morning everybody woke at 7am. Routes were finalised, external bladders filled, and each sub-group set off on their walk. Some groups attempted a technical scramble, one group a café jaunt, and the majority undertook a hike of about 10 miles.
From our vantage point on the rocky hillside path, we were treated to gorgeous vistas of Glenridding village and the Ullswater lake beyond, one of the longest and deepest in England. Shrouded in a cloak of fog, the rolling hills which hugged the lake looked mysterious and imposing. The paths were waterlogged, painting our walking boots in mud as we were sucked into bogland. We slipped and giggled about.
We reached Grisedale Tarn (a tarn is a mountain lake), which was shrouded in mist. The wind was relentless, its powerful gusts sending us to our knees. We had passed a group of middle-aged men on the steep ascent towards the lake who said they had had to turn back, but we had fancied ourselves young and fit enough to continue. We were certainly humbled. It was a hard climb but a very rewarding one.
Once we were back at the bunkhouse having flailed through the dry room in search of a gap on the radiator, the Bridgemas festivities could begin. The cooks did a sterling job, fuelling 28 hungry hillwalkers with the most delicious and plentiful Christmas dinner. The paparazzi (in the form of Joonas and Oliver) were there to capture every moment, which I think was a neat technique to avoid cooking/cleaning duties. After dinner, some hardy souls ventured back into the rain in search of a pub whilst others (including myself) played Cheat into the small hours with a certain someone who profoundly disagreed with the concept of cheating.
The next morning, everyone on the top bunks was blinded by a terrible brightness when the overhead lights were abruptly switched on at 7am. By 9am, we’d all left the bunkhouse, including a very well-rested hillwalker who had somehow managed to sleep through the morning preparations.
My group’s hike was a steep one – less than half the distance of Saturday’s walk but at the same elevation of over 650 feet. Our route took us past the stunning Red Tarn, bathed in a warm glow as the sun’s rays pierced through the low cloud, and beyond the formidable Striding Edge of Helvellyn. The next leg of our hike was the most stunning. The view of the valley below stretched beyond us like an azure-blue ribbon, and we took numerous group photos courtesy of our personal photographers.
Our walk culminated in a trip to a tea room in Glenridding, where we shared chocolate desserts before returning to our bunkhouse. After cleaning ourselves and the bunkhouse, we gathered together for one final group photo. The fresh air of the Lakes must have done us all good because everyone was glowing.
Heading back to Cambridge with so many fantastic memories, a big smile on my face and soggy clothes in my rucksack, I thought what a brilliant final trip of term this has been.