Originally Posted by
OneOffPoet
Hello Folks
Not sure why my BGR experiences have prompted this brand new urge to create poems on the matter. It's something I've never ever had an urge to do before this.
I love the idea that there are certain places on that round that are especially evocative, to me anyway. As per my previous poem, I always saw Broad Stand as the elephant in the room that no-one really mentioned much until we were there – everyone dreading it a bit… The fact that it’s big and grey helped turned that into a poem.
Martcrag Moor is relatively unremarkable and not an obvious place to write about, but it sits at roughly halfway and is a rare place of running ground between the mighty fells and it feels like a staging post and a place to check progress. I enjoyed writing that poem very much.
Yewbarrow is an obvious focal point, quite the opposite of Martcrag. It’s actually the third lowest peak on the round, but that flank facing you as you sit and drink your tea in Wasdale is a ‘popular’ point of dread amongst BGRers. It’s a remarkable looking mountain, like an upturned hull, and it has some great crags at either end which are best avoided when the need is for speed! It also comes at a time during the round (clockwise, about 15 hours in) when you can be well up on time and push too hard on Yewbarrow to your cost. That flank is 2000 feet straight up and is loose and stony and for me, the toughest single climb on the round because of what it is and when it is. You first see it miles below you as you descend from Scafell. It looks nothing, but you know differently. No wonder it’s so evocative!
I’m thinking of piecing various bits of the round together through a series of verses (not too many!) and photos to form a little book. Nothing that will set the world on fire but a unique form of guide perhaps? I was tempted to write a guidebook to the BGR, but I would hate to rob any aspirants of the joys of finding things out for themselves! Perhaps something like this would just act as a pleasant reminder of the day? I’m been round twice and have some terrific photos, to which no fancy words could do justice. Still, it’s turning out to be great fun trying!
Yewbarrow
Wastwater’s redundant ferry upturned upon its shore
Now offers a barrier, no longer hinting any passage
And what a barrier! Feared for hours before
The rocky keels at either end, fearsome but academic
For my concern is that fifty minute flank and what it has in store
At first sight it is lowly and foreshortened, side-on from such a height
Barely noticed, unsuccessfully competing for attention
Kirk Fell, roaring quads and imminent tea winning every time
The watch says well done, ahead of Bob’s prediction
As the long descent into confidence sets Yewbarrow’s trap
Rearing from the strath, its angle verging on unkind
No respecter of schedules, confidence unwinds
Faith leaks out through the feet, it’s just so bloody steep
This change of heart, so rapid. You couldn’t make it up
But you do make it up, and move onto bigger things.
PS - The Bob in this poem isn't Bob Graham. It's Bob Wightman, man of BGR website and schedules.
