hull in my head

On the morning of Boxing Day (that’s the day after Christmas in case you didn’t know) I somehow found myself in a truck with Scott, Nathan, and Chris headed for England’s Lake District. We were heading off to go camping of all things. Camping in the middle of winter in England’s most notoriously wet and cold region. Why, oh why, am I a glutton for punishment?

To be fair the lads had given me fair warning of what I’d be getting into. Matthew told me of one time when it was so cold that the gas for the grill was frozen and wouldn’t light, they had to eat their meals from the can. Nathan told me of a time when the ground was so frozen they couldn’t get the tent pegs in. And Chris told me a time when everyone’s gear was flooded and muddy for the entire trip. But what reassured me in all these stories was the fact that the storytellers recounted them with laughter and smiles on their faces. I chalked it up as a “character building” experience that would be miserable at the time, but would be a great memory a year later. My personal experience however taught me something a bit different. Camping in wintertime is less about camping and much more about surviving.

On the first night we were met by the famous “Langdale Express”. It’s this crazy natural phenomena of wind that comes so hard and fast thru the hills that it sounds exactly like a train. It’s uncanny! You can actually hear it coming a few seconds before it hits you. And when the 60 mph wind does hit all you can do is duck down for cover. In the direct wind it feels like temperatures of –10, and if you are in a poorly made tent you poles will be snapped instantly. Thankfully I shared with Nathan and his professional tent held up just fine. That’s not to say however that the sides of the tent didn’t hit me in the face a few times. I soon developed the strategy of ducking under my sleeping bags and making myself into as small a ball as possible any time I heard it coming. I felt like a child hiding from the monsters under his bed.

Night two brought some wind, but mainly buckets and buckets of rain. It rained so hard that the loudness of the drops hitting the tent actually kept me awake for most the night. It sounded like I was sleeping underneath a shower turned on full power. Again though, Nathan’s tent withstood the test and kept us almost completely dry. If there is one thing I learned from this trip, it is the importance of quality camping gear.

By night three I think the Lakes were sick of us because they threw all they could at us. The howling winds from night one combined with the furry of the rain from night two and teamed up Mighty Ducks style to go all “bash-brothers” on our little tent. I didn’t know if it’d make it through the night. I tried to just fall asleep so that I’d be oblivious to it all but it didn’t really work. My sleeping bags (I had two) had gotten a bit wet at my feet and subsequently frozen my toes. I barley slept at all that night and already mentally began packing my things, ready for morning light. And as I sat there shivering cold thinking that we’d all be ready to leave as soon as possible I looked over at Nathan only to find him sleeping comfortably in his bag. He told me the next morning he’d actually got too hot that night. To which I grumpily muttered a curse word under my breath. The only thing worse than being freezing cold and ready to go home is to have someone else sleeping a few feet overly comfortable.

Just as planned however as soon as light came I packed up all my stuff and waited for the others to get up. Nathan packed next and found me in Scott’s truck shivering and huddled around a little hand warmer pack I had bought. I’ll admit I must have looked rather pathetic.

In my defense I had spent the past three days in terrible weather and hadn’t complained. The lad’s said it was some of the worst weather they had ever experienced yet throughout it I attempted to make the best of it the entire time. Even when on the walk in which I was soaked to the bone, freezing cold, and was literally blown onto my back once by the wind. However, a guy can only take so much. So as we packed up our tents in rain that had now frozen into hail and spurts of snow I was overjoyed by the thought of going home. After all, there seems to be a direct correlation between losing your joy and losing feeling in your appendages.

It didn’t take long at all for even those rough conditions to form into great memories. Besides the camping aspect we had some really great nights spent in the pub, drinking, warming by the fire, playing pool, or crying with laughter whilst playing card games like cheat. We saw some amazingly beautiful landscapes, Roman fort ruins, and the kind of English countrysides that no doubt inspire Thomas Kinkade paintings. To be honest, I’d already do it all over again. Though I would like to see the Lakes beauty in summer or spring.