So here I am at the summit cairn of Pike O’Blisco – a hill I’d long wanted to climb, in part due to its interesting name. It lies on its own in the Langdale valley near the Crinkle Crags but far enough removed from them that on this sultry August morning we didn’t encounter a soul on the stiff climb up to the top.
On the summit we could see the promise of bad weather, heavy clouds caressing the crinkles while we sat with our feet dangling over one of the rock bands, eating our sandwiches and enjoying the solitude which was soon to be broken.
A family arrived, the dad bossily announcing that this was the wrong top – the actual summit was the other point of the twin cairned top. (I think he must have had his map upside down.) More people began emerging head and shoulders over the last of the rock bands and brushing past us to discover the other summit where the family were being ordered to eat their lunch according to some rule or another.
We decided to make a retreat from the crowds, but a self-portrait was in order. There was a queue forming behind me to have photos snapped at the summit cairn. There was no time take another shot before the next person leapt in to get their piece of the summit. My eyes may be shut but at least is it the right summit. If there is such a thing.