Those Damn Boulder Fields...

The fun stopped when we reached the boulder fields.

If you look closely, you can see how tiny the people look compared to this massive boulder field, which turned out to be just the first of three that we encountered.

While I saw many people just joyfully skip across these giant rocks (which is what Jimmy did when he arrived behind us), I used my trekking poles to gingerly scope out the flattest bits of the rocks to step on. It was a slow process during which I got increasingly agitated by the lack of ground to step down on.

By the middle of the third boulder field, I’d had enough. I sat down and said I didn’t want to go any further.

It didn’t help that I saw that the trail dipped down before going straight up. Kent was incredibly patient. He very calmly said, “No problem,” but then reminded me that we’d have to retrace our steps across those same boulder fields we’d just crossed. I was suspicious that he was just trying to trick me to the top and then we’d have to retrace our steps anyways.  

Kent then explained that we would be taking an alternative path from the top called the Corridor Route. Another hiker overheard our conversation and confirmed that there was indeed another path accessible from the top and encouraged me not to give up when we were so close to the summit. That was the encouragement I needed to plow on ahead. 

Next Stop: England’s Highest Point...

The following day was challenging, making the hike to Helvellyn feel like a walk in the park. Rather than join us for the drive to Seathwaite, Jimmy decided to run from Grasmere.

Our goal was to summit Scafell Pike, England’s highest peak at 3,209 feet (978 meters).

Much like our hike to Helvellyn, we couldn’t spot our destination for much of our journey.

The path started out interesting enough with several stream crossings...

...sweeping views...

...and waterfalls.

Tackling Helvellyn...

Our goal was to summit Helvellyn, the third highest peak in England at 3,117 feet (950 meters).

Once at the top of Dollywaggon Pike, we saw that the trail continued up and up some more. As you can see, it was steep but at least no hand scrambling was needed.

As we neared the top, we finally saw Striding Edge, the daunting ridge that can be taken as an alternative route down to Patterdale.

It was cold and windy at the top...

...and the fog came rolling in incredibly fast.

After summitting, we had lunch on a bench behind a stone wall, which helped protect us from the wind.

Later we stopped for a snack along the tarn.

Luckily the fog didn’t follow us down the mountain, so the weather got better as we descended. 

Carlin couldn’t resist taking a moment to lay down when we reached the first waterfall on the way down. Overall, we both enjoyed the hike a lot.

After discovering that there were no buses running from Grasmere, Jimmy had a first time experience on his way to Keswick to go to an adventure store to buy fell running shoes: he hitchhiked. He then caught a bus to get closer to Helvellyn. His starting point was different than ours and he eventually reached the summit behind us. He thoroughly enjoyed his 13-mile (21-kilometer) run, especially that he didn’t see another person for over two hours. He eventually met me at a pub near our B&B and then we met Carlin and Kent for dinner at their hotel.

Back to the Lakes District...

Two weeks before departing for Nepal, I joined Carlin and Kent for a weekend of trekking in the Lakes District. Jimmy also came along to go fell running (hill running). Unfortunately, his suitcase went missing so he had to go shoe shopping while we set off for our first trek.

The first part of our route was a repeat of Day 4 of our Coast-2-Coast, starting in Grasmere where we were staying for the weekend.

While the views were similar, it was definitely much drier than two years earlier. 

Somehow it seemed much easier this time as I didn’t even need my trekking poles for much of the path to Griesdale Tarn (mountain lake) at 1,770 feet (540 meters). Last time, we stopped at the tarn for lunch and then continued down to Patterdale.

This time, we crossed around the tarn and went up Dollywaggon Pike Trail, the faint zigzag seen in the background.

Locks on Trail...

We crossed several locks on this trail, including this quaint little one that is hand-operated by whomever is trying to take their boat from the canal to the lake or vice versa. 

During Dutch Nash Hash 2016, our ships had to pass through a lock in order to enter Amsterdam. It took nearly two years, but Opee finally managed to figure out a trail that would cross that lock. Unluckily for us brave runners, he failed to make sure that we had beer to quench our thirst during our long waits to cross the separate sections.

Most of us were good sports and were still smiling when we finally met up with him at the next beer break, but one hasher had a major meltdown after we got lost for about 20 minutes. It’s unfortunate that some hashers forget that hares are our friends and they’re just trying to do their best.

The trail ended near a brewery so we could enjoy microbrews outside and then folks could buy their own afterwards.

We named Kevin, an American engineer working in Amsterdam, Jesus Hickey Christ (get it: Jesus H. Christ), which was an especially apropos name.

Boaty McBoat Hash...

The following day, Opee hared again. Slippery was his co-hare for the Boaty McBoat Hash, which featured floating beer stops from Missing Link’s boat. It was another beautiful day with an excellent turnout. We started at the dock near Hard Drive’s house and headed north.

The runner’s trail went through some parts of Noord Amsterdam that I’d never been to before. We had a beer stop at this cute little bar, which unfortunately had a mean little bartender.

You just never know what you’ll see on a hash trail, ranging from this Mercedes Benz military vehicle...

...to these adorable little houses. 

Celebrate Love for All...

We had a great time watching the parade. As we walked towards the train station, we saw these adorable nymphs...

...and this big crowd of party animals.

The Westerkerk displayed their acceptance of all by flying this enormous flag.

This speaks for itself.