Copyright Oggbashan May 2021
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
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"Rory? If I haven't rung you by five-thirty tomorrow, please tell the mountain rescue people."
I spread out my large scale map and showed Rory where I would park my car and the route I intended to take across the moors weather permitting.
"OK, John, will do, but you shouldn't need rescuing, surely?"
"No. I shouldn't. I'm experienced, properly equipped, and as you know I sometimes volunteer with the mountain rescue people. But I could always have an accident, sprain an ankle, or break a leg. That's unlikely but the call is just a precaution."
"OK, John. I'll call if..."
Last night the weather forecast had been for a bright, sunny February Saturday, with the possibility of a light shower or so after dark, but a storm was approaching for Sunday.
I wanted to get out and do some exercise that I had been missing since I was bruised by falling off my bicycle in mid-December. I packed my rucksack with more than the essentials but didn't include my tent. It would be too heavy for my first real outing since my injury.
I listened carefully to the weather forecast over breakfast. It had been the same.
I set out for a short walk on the North York Moors, having told my friend that I should be back before dark and I would ring him when I was off the moors and back at my car.
I was pleasantly surprised that I could walk so well and I went further than I had originally intended, passing through a Forestry Commission plantation of pinewoods before reaching a high point from where I had good views in the bright sunshine. As I started back down through the forest, later perhaps than I should have done, the sun was shining through the trees.
As I emerged from the trees on to the maintenance track that ran around the forests, I could see heavy clouds cresting the uplands on the other side of the valley. They were threatening more than the light shower that the forecast had suggested. Although the track seemed inviting, I knew it ran for miles, over a pass and only reached civilisation about ten miles away. My route back to the car was downhill on ill-defined paths with some rocky scrambles. I noticed something else that worried me more. About four miles away was the village of my destination. Despite the gathering gloom there were no lights visible. Were they experiencing a power cut?
I got out my mobile phone. No signal. I got out my back-up phone, a basic one with two sims on different networks. There was no signal on either. What should I do?
If I continued, the approaching storm would catch me long before I reached my car and that could be dangerous. If I retreated into the trees, there could be a heavy snowfall that could bring down branches, I had to find shelter and wait until the storm had passed, but I had no tent.
On the other side of the track there were the remains of a dry stone wall with a corner standing. If I used my large tarpaulin, together with the standing walls I would have some shelter from any snow. I took my rucksack and dumped it before returning to the edge of the forest and dragging several cut-off branches that had been piled for later collection.
Hurriedly I trimmed the branches to make poles for a roof after building a third wall and part of a fourth wall from the loose stones scattered around the standing parts. My walls weren't as well built as the original, but twice as thick. I put the poles across to make a roof that would support my tarpaulin. If that had been unsupported, the weight of any snow accumulation could have torn it. It was pleased that I had a brand-new and very large tarpaulin.
The snow was beginning to fall when I finished the basic structure. I had a shelter about fourteen feet by twelve feet and seven feet high. My bright blue tarpaulin covered the whole, held down by more stones on top of the walls and falling to the ground where I had left an entrance, away from the wind which was increasing. When I had bought the tarpaulin I thought it was stupidly large. The store only had two sizes in stock - one of two metres by one and a half metres, too small, and an enormous one at six metres square. But for its size it was strong but light. Now I was grateful for it.
As the wind increased my tarpaulin was flapping noisily. I took my ball of nylon cord and went outside, tying the eyelets as securely as I could. Even as I worked, the side against the wind was white, covered with snow.
Inside, I lit my small paraffin-fuelled hurricane lamp. I moved all the loose stones on the ground to make a shelf across the wall facing the wind, before I spread my smaller groundsheet to cover the grassed floor.
I emptied my rucksack and surveyed what I had. I was pleased that I had made myself a very sound shelter and I was well equipped. I had a small Primus stove and ample supplies of paraffin. I had food, mainly dried packets but acceptable. The only thing I might be short of was water. I had half a litre in a bottle and no more, but I could melt snow.
But once the snow covered my shelter I would be invisible. If I had a fire? I went outside and dragged some more branches across the track. I built a stone windbreak and started a fire with the offcuts from trimming the roof poles. It burned well and I added heavier logs to keep it burning. I went back into my shelter and ate a cold tin of baked beans. I filled the empty tin with snow and put it close to the fire.
I spread out my survival bag, my heavyweight double sleeping bag, and my all-season single sleeping bag. Even if I were to be stuck here for two or three days I would be sheltered, reasonably warm, able to feed myself and safe.
I checked my phones again. Still no signals on any network. How would Rory respond? Would he ring mountain rescue as soon as I had not contacted him, or would he assume, because there was no mobile signal, that I was on my way but couldn't ring him?
I lit my primus stove and made myself some instant coffee with melted snow. I was pleased with myself. Even if no one found me, or maybe wasn't even looking, I could survive in comfort. If I had brought my tent, I wouldn't be as secure as I was now in my makeshift hut. I had now filled an empty one litre water bottle with more melted snow.
I strung a line across one edge of the shelter and turned back the groundsheet. I hung my outer coat to drip snow onto the exposed grass.
I put out the hurricane lamp and got into a sleeping bag to settle down. The noise of the wind outside was still loud but being gradually muffled as layers of snow drifted up on the windward side. When I came back in from fixing the cord to the tarpaulin the snow had been about a foot deep against the exposed wall. Now? It might be five feet or more and nearly to the top. My only worry might be the weight on the top but I thought my poles would hold the weight because most snow would just be blown over the roof and down beyond.
I looked at my watch. Normally, because I had my mobile phones with me I hadn't bothered with a watch, but for some reason I had put it on this morning. I was pleased that I had. It was half-past six, after dark and dawn would be late tomorrow.
About eight o'clock I lit the hurricane lamp before I put on my outdoor clothing and went outside to add fuel to the fire. That would be the only way people might find me now that my shelter was just a white mound. The wind was still blowing hard and the snow was drifting. In places it was eight feet deep and getting deeper. I wouldn't be able to see the rocky parts of the path I needed to take. But I could stay where I was. I wouldn't be a priority for mountain rescue. They would assume, correctly, that I had found shelter. It was other people who might have been caught out by the storm coming a day early that would need their help first.
At the time, I didn't know it, but the mountain rescue teams had problems of their own. The storm had brought down some telegraph poles and cut their phone lines, and until a police motorcyclist brought them a police radio, they had no way of knowing who needed help. The calls to the mountain rescue service had been diverted to the Police call centre and messages were being passed by the police radio system. Apparently, calls from friends had shown that twenty people, including me, had failed to return from walking on the moors. The locations of several were very vague and in the conditions, finding them could be very challenging.
I built up my fire until the flames were four feet high. I added some large logs that should keep the fire alight until the morning. The snow drift against the wind break was melting. I wondered just how far my fire might be visible in the conditions. Twenty yards, thirty yards? Certainly not far.
I was just about to go back in my shelter when I heard someone shouting from the edge of the forest. I shouted back.
"Come towards the fire!"
Two snow spattered shapes emerged. I pointed towards my shelter and they followed me inside. When they were inside I could see they were two women, reasonably dressed for the bad weather but obviously cold and tired. As they looked around inside the shelter I lit the Primus stove.
"Coffee?" I asked.
"Yes, please, but this place is amazing. It couldn't have been better if it was a hut. Was it here?"
"No. I made it a few hours ago, just as the snow started. I am pleased with it. It should keep us safe until the storm goes. I am John. You are?"
