#group adventure Hathersage

[thegeorgehathersage]

Friendly places to stay in Hathersage for a fun-filled holiday

Explore the best accommodations in Hathersage, from The George to the Plough Inn. Whether you seek a romantic escape, a family holiday, or a group adventure, Hathersage offers options for everyone. Book your stay and enjoy the perfect blend of relaxation and adventure in the Peak District.

[stemcellankle]

The Accident

My anklegeddon started on a warm day at the end of August 2020. Six months into the Covid 19 pandemic, my life seemed finally to be on track.

After a few years of existential and rudderless drifting, I’d been made redundant from a boring job and was fitter than I’d been in years. I’d beaten a series of frustrating and chronic injuries and was feeling bulletproof. I was with a girl I loved, and had a lifetime of adventure to look forward to.  Our lives were full of running, climbing, river swimming and mountaineering. We were that annoying couple who did an ab workout together before having sex. I felt stable. I had a few quid in my pocket for the first time in my adult life, and was excited by sinking energy into a new life in the Army Reserve.

We’d just returned from a cycling trip in the Dolomites, and keen to wring the last days out of the summer I went on a climbing weekend with two of my best pals. Life was good.

Stanage edge is well known mecca for  climbers - a 3.5 mile stretch of grit stone in the Peak District national park which draws from around the country.

I don’t have much more to share about the day. Like all the best weekend warriors, we spent the morning faffing around the outdoor shops of Hathersage, did a few routes, ate a large quantity of sandwiches, and by around six o clock were ready to call things a day. Rain started to fall, but then a call went up from the group “ONE MORE ROUTE!”.

I hastily chose a final and fairly non-de script route from the guidebook (I can’t bring myself to look up it’s name, or even look at the guidebook for now).  The main feature of the route was a large off width crack in the gritstone. I didn’t  have large enough gear on my harness, but wasn’t worried.

I was in a hurry and wanted to go home. The route was well within the my  climbing grade, and so i set off anyway, jamming my fists into the crack and slithering my way up the slab. I figured the quicker I climbed, the quicker I could get to the pub and then into my sleeping bag.

But then I was in trouble. Only a couple of meters from the top, the crack became increasingly damp and greasy. I began to struggle. To slip. To thrutch. To jam my limbs into the crack with a sudden panic and intensity. The rock was wet and I was losing my grip. I looked down to my belayer Mick who suddenly seemed a very long way away. I had placed a single camming device, wedged in the rock about somewhere below my flailing feet. It looked sad and lonely jammed into the crack.

I made a quick mental calculation in a state of increasing panic. I was probably 2 meters above the device, and so would fall at least 4 meters. Mick was at least 8 meters below me. So with an allowance for stretch and slack in the rope and as long as the cam held, I was safe.

“Take” I shouted as I let go of the wall, expecting the familiar rush of a few meters of free fall followed by the springy grab as the rope caught my weight. I expected to end up breathless and rather embarrassed, hanging a couple of feet above Mick’s head.

There was no pain immediately. But my foot was now at ninety degrees to my shin. I looked down to Mick and Martin at the belay station. “I think I’ve just broken my ankle”. I shouted.

A silence came from below as the pair looked up at me dangling from the rope from the solitary cam. “Perhaps it’s just dislocated” came back the reply.

I’d made  a conscious decision to try and slither down the rock and not jump cleanly away from the face as i fell. I’d worried that swinging out from the rock would place a bigger shock load onto the single cam in the wall protecting me, and i was well aware that a a ground fall could be deadly. What I hadn’t accounted for was the risk of my legs hitting the bottom of the crack, and that is a miscalculation I will live with forever.

I took a deep breath, and still hanging on the rope I straightened by ankle. The pain was only about to begin. Life had changed forever.