FullReads

All about the view going up to the top of Scafell Pike on page 76 of the guide-book. Sounds rather like a joke when you can scarcely see your hand in front of you, to read that behind you stretches the beautiful vista of the Langdale Valley, with Wansfell in the distance, and an exquisite glimpse of the waters of Windermere sparkling in the sun; to your right Helvellyn towers amidst its lesser brethren, while to the left the gloomy dome of Coniston lends a serious grandeur to the scene. Sounds all very fine, but it’s a pity they don’t put in the view on a day like this as well.

I quite miss the dashing of the wind against the cliffs. They’re far behind now, and the wind seems to dash against me instead. Whew! I’d better peg on, or the tea will be cold at Wastdale Head! No sign of the Cambridge fellows. Wonder where they are. Half wish I was with them– idiots as they are.

8:30 o’clock.–Top at last! I’m black and blue all over, with tumbling among those brutal rocks. Don’t know however I got up, and now I’m up, don’t know how I shall get down. It’s just dark now, and I can scarcely see the paper I’m writing on. Jolly fix I’m in. Can’t positively see the big cairn, though I’m sitting on it, and haven’t a notion which way I came up to it, or which way I have to go down to Wastdale.

I wish those Cambridge fellows would turn up. They weren’t bad fellows after all. In fact, I rather liked one of them. Don’t know what to do. By the way, may as well eat one of the biscuits I have in my knapsack. Think of sitting up here on the highest spot of England eating a biscuit, and not knowing how to get home! Enough to make any one feel down in the mouth. Wish I was down in the valley. All about the view from the top on page– Bah! that’s too much of a joke. Wish I could see anything! Only thing I can see is that I’m stuck here for the night, and shall probably be found frozen to death in the morning. What an ass I was to snub those jolly Cambridge fellows! Fancy how snug it would be to be sitting between them now. I suppose they’re down at the hotel having a good tea before a blazing fire. My word, it makes one blue to–

11 o’clock.–Just had the presence of mind to wind up my watch. Had to sit on my hands a quarter of an hour before I could feel the key in my waistcoat pocket. Ugh! wish the wind would shut up. Never felt so up a tree all my life. Those Cambridge fellows will be curling up in bed now, I expect. Can’t write more.

12 o’clock.–It suddenly occurred to me there was no absolute necessity, if I must stick up here all night, to stick at the tip-top. So I crawled down gingerly among the rocks on the side away from the wind and looked, or rather felt, for a sheltered place. Presently I slipped and toppled down between two great boulders and nearly killed myself. However, when I came to, it struck me I might as well stay here as anywhere else. It’s right out of the wind and pretty dry, as the mist doesn’t seem to be able to get down into it. Then the lucky idea occurred to me I had two candles in my knapsack and a box of matches, and I might as well light up. So I lit one of the candles, and I’ve been warming my fingers and toes at it for the last half-hour; also been reading the guide-book, and find that the Isle of Man is visible from this place. Jolly comforting to know it, when I can’t even see the tip of my own nose. Got sick of the guide-book after that, and thought it would warm me to say over my Greek irregular verbs. Been through them once, but not quite successful 4,000 feet above the level of the sea. They remind a fellow rather too much of home. Wonder what they’d think there if they saw me up here. Wish I saw them, and could get a blanket! I promised them to sleep between blankets every night. It’s awful not being able to keep one’s promise.