We’ve got a group in from Essex. Unless you live in Essex, I know what image you’ve got in your head; there’s a hint of Burberry in your vision isn’t there?

Fortunately, this lot aren’t a bunch of vicious chav scum although the first night they were here they managed to make noise and play outside until 2am. You can spot the first twinges of chavness in some of them and they’re all cheeky as hell, but once you get accepted into their little group and are seen as “alright” they’re not too bad. I’ve just taken some of them on a mountain bike session and it went so well we went to the shop in Little Braithwaite and bought ice-cream and sat by the (now filled in) mill pond up the lane.

This morning and yesterday I was freezing them in the Ghyll which is always good fun. I like the experiential learning that happens when they turn up in hardly any clothing. You suggest they might want to put more layers on and they look at you as though you have three heads. The learning happens when the first person screams as the cool, clear filtered mountain water seeps up their legs.

I’m not sure why, but I have a fairly sore ankle and heel. It just happened after doing a climb the other day. I’d climbed Ardus at Shepherd’s Crag. The route is one of those routes described as “classic” which can either mean it’s manky as hell and was last climbed 50 years ago, or that there’s one particular part that surprises you. Being the lakes, most “classic” routes seem to have bizarre traverses on them. Ardus is no exception. It’s a hand-traverse high above the trees on a very exposed slab. If you look to the left you can see right across Derwent Water to Skiddaw, and since the route goes left, that’s the way you look. Once at the end of the traverse you’ve got a small crack to climb. Somehow you do climb it (I recon we’re all gifted with levitation that kicks in when you really need it) and arrive with your hands at the top noticing a lack of things to pull the rest of your body up with.

What’s odd about my ankle is that standing on my tip-toes doesn’t hurt, but twisting my foot does a bit, and pressing my heel down definitely hurts. I might have twisted it on the path walking back to the car, once again proving that most climbing accidents happen on the way home and not on the crag itself (although if you read last year’s Langdale Mountain Rescue report, two people did fall to the ground when climbing, and most climbers know someone who knows someone who’s hurt themselves in some nasty way climbing).

Day off tomorrow, parents visiting in the afternoon.