This turned out to be a bit longer than I expected, and so it is a two parter.
Back in February 2020, just before words like Covid, lockdowns and bubbling became common parlance, YUCPC had a trip to the mines of Nenthead. Twelve of us were going to stay for the weekend, with Chris Twig and Adele Ward graciously volunteering to guide us around the mines. Through the joys of being old, I hadn't been involved in any of the planning, but was aware that the club weren't able to book the normal accommodation of the NMCS bunkhouse as it was being refurbished. The meet's secretary had been able to find some alternative accommodation, however, a short drive from Nenthead.
On the Friday morning before we left, I decided to have a proper read of the email that had been sent round with all the details of the weekend, and followed the link to the website for the new accommodation. The photos, which had obviously been taken in summer, showed a nice barn conversion. I was aware of the weather forecast for the weekend though, which included snow and Arctic temperatures, so I looked closer at the photos and started to get a little concerned. There were two main rooms in the barn with a connecting door between them, each with a large alpine style wooden platform to sleep on, a small log burner, single-glazed windows, and a corrugated metal roof with no insulation. We were going to be cold.
Given the weather forecast, I had already been wondering whether we were at risk of getting snowed in and not making it back to York in time for work the next week. I was now fairly sure we were going to be in for an epic. I messaged everyone to pack warm clothes, and then packed every single item of warm clothing I owned. Around a dozen fleece jumpers went into a dry bag. Half a dozen fleece blankets went into another, along with all my hats and gloves.
The drive there started to confirm the conditions we were heading into, with the occasional flurries of snow and strong winds, but thankfully the snow didn't stick, and by 9 pm we were pulling up at the bunkbarn. My car was the last to arrive, to find everyone else already in party mode. They had got the stoves going as soon as they had arrived, but not that you could tell, as all the heat went straight up the chimney with barely any staying in the hut. Whatever heat did remain in the hut went straight up to the corrugated roof before attaining sub-zero temperatures and returning to ground level. As such, everyone had decided that alcohol was the only solution.
I unpacked my spare fleeces, much to everyone's delight, and all the blankets went to supplement sleeping bags. Soon it was a little odd to look around and see almost everyone wearing my clothes. Then it was time to investigate the rest of the facilities. The "kitchen" was basic. There was a worksurface, and that was it. Fortunately, I'd packed a stove. The toilet was a composting one. The living quarters of the barn were actually on the first floor, and the toilet was essentially a long drop through the floor, down to the ground floor. Sadly, the accumulated pile didn't seem to be generating much heat, and with the large gaps around the ground floor doors (and all the doors for that matter!), it made for quite a cooling draft around one's nethers. Needless to say, there was never a queue.
After futilely trying our best to get the wood-burning stoves to heat the building and sampling various alcoholic delights, we eventually decided it was time to bed down for the night. Cue people crawling into sleeping bags under blankets, wearing every item of clothing they had.
On the Saturday morning, few people were keen to leave their sleeping bags, but the temptation of the warmer temperatures underground meant there was a lot less faff than normal. While I had been very grateful for my thick down sleeping bag, I think the only other people who could claim to have been warm were Chris and Adele (both real adults with money for decent equipment), and Toby, who generates heat like a thermonuclear pile. There was a pitiful attempt to boil water on the hastily relit stoves for cups of tea, while the students realised they could wear their undersuits underneath their clothes for both more warmth and less skin exposure when getting changed at the mine.
We drove into Nenthead for Chris to take us on a great exploration of Rampgill mine, with everyone being overjoyed to be warm again! While most of the events of the weekend are etched in my mind, the trip through the mine is much more vague, I can only presume as a result of feeling warm and relatively safe. Looking back, I did take some photos on the trip, but as I was still getting used to my camera at the time, they were all very blurry.
After a surprisingly efficient trip, we headed back to the bunk barn around mid-afternoon. With the lack of cooking facilities, the plan was to head back into Nenthead in the evening and eat at the pub. We had already placed our meal orders and paid. Until then, we entertained ourselves by trying to once again trying to warm up not just ourselves, but also the building. At this point, we realised we had no chance. Where the corrugated roof met the wall, nothing was filling the gaps. As such, the wind had been barrelling through, stealing any warm air straight out of the building.
Outside, the weather became a bit more inclement as the wind picked up and it started to snow. This is when we discovered that the capping ridge on the apex of the roof wasn't corrugated like the roof; it was straight, again with nothing filling the gaps. We worked this out because it started snowing.
Inside.
Moral, already hanging by a thread, started to deteriorate further. Even the broke students decided they would rather be buying expensive pints in the pub than staying in the frigid barn, so we headed out to the cars. By this point, a fair bit of snow had come down. Josh drove off first, followed by Jean-Luc's car, and then me. Or at least I attempted to drive off. It took me about four or five attempts to drive up out of the car park onto the road, as the compacted snow had my wheels spinning. It was quickly becoming apparent that this could be an interesting journey, as the snow was still coming down thick.
The journey was uphill, and I could feel the wheels occasionally slipping. We came to a sharp right-hand corner, for which I had to slow down. Reluctantly so, as following that was a left-hander on an even steeper section of the road. I got the car around the left-hander, but as we were going up the steep section, I could feel the wheels start to spin more and more. And then we were no longer going forward. After backing down a little and trying to drive up on fresh (rather than compacted) snow, we gained an extra foot or two of distance. A couple more attempts at this, and it was clear that we were going nowhere.
I decided to turn around and head back for the (minimal) shelter of the barn. The snow was still accumulating heavily, and now I was worried about being able to slow down enough for the corners while still maintaining control. Somehow, we made it past the corners and I started to breathe again. By this point, I was struggling to work out where the edges of the road were. I didn't want to go back to the car park at the bunk-barn, as with the extra snow, there was no chance we would be able to get out again. Thankfully, there was a large gravel area to the side of the road that I could just about make out the edges of, so we pulled in.
Chloe, Rosie, Chris Edgar and I wrapped up as best we could in the blankets and clothes we had with us, got the sledges out of the boot, abandoned the car and started heading down the road in what was now a full-blown blizzard. This now seemed so daft, that we were all laughing. Unfortunately, despite repeated attempts, while being well covered in snow, the road just wasn't quite steep enough to sledge down until we made it back to the drive that led to the barn.
Back inside, we huddled forlornly around one of the stoves, trying to keep our spirits up and eating the various snacks and cereal bars we had been saving for the following day.
