Misadventure on the tops
At 17:34 on Monday I called 999 for the first time in my life. I badly misjudged the severity of the snow up on the tops and after what had been an amazing walk across the moors to Stoodley Pike, found myself stuck on a track in deep snow with my route ahead completely blocked by towering drifts. I'd already walked far further than I'd planned and I'd neglected to bring a torch out with me. Realising I didn't have enough daylight left to find my way back safely, I started to feel panic rising.
For much of the walk I'd been following others' footsteps in the snow. I have a very good GPS O/S map on my iPhone so I could tell the trail I was following was a proper footpath and the fresh tracks let me avoid the many hidden bogs and streams that dot the landscape up here, as well as judge the stability and depth of the snow. A combination of powdery snow and strong winds had resulted in enormous drifts forming, particularly in all the little lanes and against all the old dry stone walls alongside which the paths run. I've never seen snow like it in my life, in some places meters high, over topping walls, blocking gateways and burying stiles. The snow density varied so much that one step might only sink a few inches and another might sink a few feet. Unfortunately following these footsteps helped lull me into a false sense of security. As I would go on to feel out of my depth when confronted with untrodden snow of untold depth and stability with fading light and bitter wind blowing me in the face.
The first alarm bell rang in my head when I nearly lost both snow boots in an unexpectedly boggy patch which the previous walker had apparently breezed straight through. The mud ripped both boots clean off my feet as I tried to step through leaving me in my socks against the freezing ground. It took quite an effort to free both boots but at least neither had been topped by the muddy water. Still that was little consolation given my socks were now wet from the snow. But panic over, the sun was shining and I felt otherwise snug enough so I decided to press on to Stoodley as it was now very close. I've had wet feet out walking so many times now I'm used to it.
Stoodley Pike still in the distance but already looming large surrounded by bleak landscape
After reaching the monument and grabbing some photos I got out my phone to start to plan the easiest way home. To my horror the phone suddenly flashed me the "You have zero battery charge" red bar icon and promptly powered off. This was crazy as the thing had a full charge when I set off and should have been fine. Thankfully I got it to restart and the phone decided it had around 70-80% of a charge left. Disconcerted after that incident already, I realised it was already nearly 17:00, which was an hour past what I'd earlier decided would be my turn around and head home time. I guess a combination of being slowed down by the snow and distracted by the awe inspiring scenery, had distorted my sense of time passing. Looking at the map I found I had relatively few options for a quick way home, but the most promising seemed to be back towards Cragg Vale, which at the least would put me on familiar ground and it would be easy enough to walk back along the road in the dark as I've done it before.
Being careful to avoid the area where I'd nearly lost my boots earlier I started on the route I'd initially picked to head back via which would have taken me along the side of Sunderland Pasture (a pine forest) down to Withens Clough Reservoir. Familiar territory. Thankfully at first it seemed like someone else had taken this route and I was once again able to follow their footsteps. Then abruptly their trail turned into the trees. I started to feel a bit scared, the path ahead was a maze of tall tufty snow laden grass and reeds. I made several sinky steps forward before stopping realising this route wasn't going to work. What should have been the simplest route was closed to me. Trying to calm myself I back tracked to the intersection where the Pennine Way and several other footpaths cross. Looking at the map on my phone again I re-plot my route - there's another path down towards the reservoir but it's much less direct and runs through the pine forest. Still that's a better alternative than trying to find my way back over the moor or taking an even longer route down towards Hebden or Charlestown.
A drift far worse than the one pictured here blocked my way
I climb over another wall and find the path through the wood is actually a wide open track and is pretty deep with snow. Thankfully there's some footsteps to follow. I head down it for about 20 minutes, still feeling distinctly uneasy. At 17:25 I decided I really should let someone know where I am so I left a quick Facebook update stating "On my way back from Stoodley Pike via Cragg Vale. If I don't checkin on FB by 8ish send search parties!". Once again the footsteps veer off the track into the trees. Cursing I find myself next to a permissive path sign which after checking on my map points toward Cragg Road. At this point the idea of being on a road of any kind is extremely appealing so I head off towards it as hastily as the 1 to 2 foot of snow on the ground allows.
Around 10 minutes later I reach the boundary of the forest area, a towering snow drift blocks the gateway ahead of me. I'm scared now, I've used up another half hour of day light and every easy route is blocked. I could try and go back up the permissive path and continue down through the deep untrodden snow on the woodland track or… I realise I'm out of options. Every course I could take from here was going to leave me in the dark, snowy, cold with bitter wind on treacherous terrain. So I call for mountain rescue.
It was good to speak to someone, immensely reassuring to hear a voice. The call dragged on for what felt like an eternity where I kept reiterating my position as clearly as I could while the guy reeled off unfamiliar place names based no doubt on some distant phone mast's coordinates. Eventually I was told I'd be called back by the local mountain rescue. I had to hang up. Once again I was on my own. Over 20 minutes had passed, it was nearly 6 now. Starting to feel scared again, I wondered how long this rescue would take. I left a quick Facebook update at 18:02.
"Right that was a balls up of epic proportions. Had to call mountain rescue - please don't call me. Warm and safe for now."
It was around 10 agonising minutes before finally I got a call from Calderdale Mountain Rescue at 18:05. A friendly sounding man confirmed my position and asked me to backtrack towards Stoodley Pike while checking on my condition. I was warm, I'd dressed sensibly enough, although my feet were starting to feel rather sorry for themselves. I was able to walk out, I just needed light and someone who knew the land.
So I walked back, called the mountain rescue guy to confirm I'd reached where he'd said and I waited. My phone's battery which had been around 60% when I'd first called for help now read only 35%. The cold was taking it's toll. I turned off as much as I could in the settings and dimmed the screen down to its lowest level. The wind had picked up and there was little shelter to be had from it where I'd been told to wait. Every time I found somewhere out of the wind, the phone would lose service. So I had to keep moving around, sometimes sitting in a broken section of the wall, sometimes jumping about to warm up, trying to avoid standing in the snow.
I got a worried call from my sister at 18:47 asking if I was alright. I said I was, but still waiting for help to arrive. A few more minutes passed and I decided to call the mountain rescue guy again to see if they were getting near. My phone flashed the 'no power' icon at me again and shutdown for the second time. After some coaxing I managed to start it again, now hovering around 20% charge. After a couple of attempts I managed to get through and was told help was very close now, that they'd parked up their Land Rovers and were heading towards me on foot.
I'm not sure how much more time passed, I tried yelling out a few times but only silence met me. Finally though I heard my name being called in the distance and the bobbing of bright LED torches caught my eye. I clambered up on a wall and waved and yelled back. Help had come.
~
I learned a lot of lessons from this experience as you can imagine. Some of it was stupidity, some of it was bad luck, some of it inexperience. But realising now that if my phone had packed up back at Stoodley and I'd not been able to restart it, I could potentially have died from exposure up there is pretty sobering. I certainly won't be heading anywhere so hostile again without some proper survival gear, torches, emergency chargers and the like. The Calderdale Mountain Rescue guys were absolutely wonderful, please support them.
For much of the walk I'd been following others' footsteps in the snow. I have a very good GPS O/S map on my iPhone so I could tell the trail I was following was a proper footpath and the fresh tracks let me avoid the many hidden bogs and streams that dot the landscape up here, as well as judge the stability and depth of the snow. A combination of powdery snow and strong winds had resulted in enormous drifts forming, particularly in all the little lanes and against all the old dry stone walls alongside which the paths run. I've never seen snow like it in my life, in some places meters high, over topping walls, blocking gateways and burying stiles. The snow density varied so much that one step might only sink a few inches and another might sink a few feet. Unfortunately following these footsteps helped lull me into a false sense of security. As I would go on to feel out of my depth when confronted with untrodden snow of untold depth and stability with fading light and bitter wind blowing me in the face.
The first alarm bell rang in my head when I nearly lost both snow boots in an unexpectedly boggy patch which the previous walker had apparently breezed straight through. The mud ripped both boots clean off my feet as I tried to step through leaving me in my socks against the freezing ground. It took quite an effort to free both boots but at least neither had been topped by the muddy water. Still that was little consolation given my socks were now wet from the snow. But panic over, the sun was shining and I felt otherwise snug enough so I decided to press on to Stoodley as it was now very close. I've had wet feet out walking so many times now I'm used to it.
Stoodley Pike still in the distance but already looming large surrounded by bleak landscape
After reaching the monument and grabbing some photos I got out my phone to start to plan the easiest way home. To my horror the phone suddenly flashed me the "You have zero battery charge" red bar icon and promptly powered off. This was crazy as the thing had a full charge when I set off and should have been fine. Thankfully I got it to restart and the phone decided it had around 70-80% of a charge left. Disconcerted after that incident already, I realised it was already nearly 17:00, which was an hour past what I'd earlier decided would be my turn around and head home time. I guess a combination of being slowed down by the snow and distracted by the awe inspiring scenery, had distorted my sense of time passing. Looking at the map I found I had relatively few options for a quick way home, but the most promising seemed to be back towards Cragg Vale, which at the least would put me on familiar ground and it would be easy enough to walk back along the road in the dark as I've done it before.
Being careful to avoid the area where I'd nearly lost my boots earlier I started on the route I'd initially picked to head back via which would have taken me along the side of Sunderland Pasture (a pine forest) down to Withens Clough Reservoir. Familiar territory. Thankfully at first it seemed like someone else had taken this route and I was once again able to follow their footsteps. Then abruptly their trail turned into the trees. I started to feel a bit scared, the path ahead was a maze of tall tufty snow laden grass and reeds. I made several sinky steps forward before stopping realising this route wasn't going to work. What should have been the simplest route was closed to me. Trying to calm myself I back tracked to the intersection where the Pennine Way and several other footpaths cross. Looking at the map on my phone again I re-plot my route - there's another path down towards the reservoir but it's much less direct and runs through the pine forest. Still that's a better alternative than trying to find my way back over the moor or taking an even longer route down towards Hebden or Charlestown.
A drift far worse than the one pictured here blocked my way
I climb over another wall and find the path through the wood is actually a wide open track and is pretty deep with snow. Thankfully there's some footsteps to follow. I head down it for about 20 minutes, still feeling distinctly uneasy. At 17:25 I decided I really should let someone know where I am so I left a quick Facebook update stating "On my way back from Stoodley Pike via Cragg Vale. If I don't checkin on FB by 8ish send search parties!". Once again the footsteps veer off the track into the trees. Cursing I find myself next to a permissive path sign which after checking on my map points toward Cragg Road. At this point the idea of being on a road of any kind is extremely appealing so I head off towards it as hastily as the 1 to 2 foot of snow on the ground allows.
Around 10 minutes later I reach the boundary of the forest area, a towering snow drift blocks the gateway ahead of me. I'm scared now, I've used up another half hour of day light and every easy route is blocked. I could try and go back up the permissive path and continue down through the deep untrodden snow on the woodland track or… I realise I'm out of options. Every course I could take from here was going to leave me in the dark, snowy, cold with bitter wind on treacherous terrain. So I call for mountain rescue.
It was good to speak to someone, immensely reassuring to hear a voice. The call dragged on for what felt like an eternity where I kept reiterating my position as clearly as I could while the guy reeled off unfamiliar place names based no doubt on some distant phone mast's coordinates. Eventually I was told I'd be called back by the local mountain rescue. I had to hang up. Once again I was on my own. Over 20 minutes had passed, it was nearly 6 now. Starting to feel scared again, I wondered how long this rescue would take. I left a quick Facebook update at 18:02.
"Right that was a balls up of epic proportions. Had to call mountain rescue - please don't call me. Warm and safe for now."
It was around 10 agonising minutes before finally I got a call from Calderdale Mountain Rescue at 18:05. A friendly sounding man confirmed my position and asked me to backtrack towards Stoodley Pike while checking on my condition. I was warm, I'd dressed sensibly enough, although my feet were starting to feel rather sorry for themselves. I was able to walk out, I just needed light and someone who knew the land.
So I walked back, called the mountain rescue guy to confirm I'd reached where he'd said and I waited. My phone's battery which had been around 60% when I'd first called for help now read only 35%. The cold was taking it's toll. I turned off as much as I could in the settings and dimmed the screen down to its lowest level. The wind had picked up and there was little shelter to be had from it where I'd been told to wait. Every time I found somewhere out of the wind, the phone would lose service. So I had to keep moving around, sometimes sitting in a broken section of the wall, sometimes jumping about to warm up, trying to avoid standing in the snow.
I got a worried call from my sister at 18:47 asking if I was alright. I said I was, but still waiting for help to arrive. A few more minutes passed and I decided to call the mountain rescue guy again to see if they were getting near. My phone flashed the 'no power' icon at me again and shutdown for the second time. After some coaxing I managed to start it again, now hovering around 20% charge. After a couple of attempts I managed to get through and was told help was very close now, that they'd parked up their Land Rovers and were heading towards me on foot.
I'm not sure how much more time passed, I tried yelling out a few times but only silence met me. Finally though I heard my name being called in the distance and the bobbing of bright LED torches caught my eye. I clambered up on a wall and waved and yelled back. Help had come.
~
I learned a lot of lessons from this experience as you can imagine. Some of it was stupidity, some of it was bad luck, some of it inexperience. But realising now that if my phone had packed up back at Stoodley and I'd not been able to restart it, I could potentially have died from exposure up there is pretty sobering. I certainly won't be heading anywhere so hostile again without some proper survival gear, torches, emergency chargers and the like. The Calderdale Mountain Rescue guys were absolutely wonderful, please support them.