Whiteout
Created | Updated Aug 23, 2005
It started off as a fine bright, but cold March morning. Arnold Bennett had packed his ruck-sack early and said goodbye to his wife Jo and two daughters before setting off on a mornings walking. He would be back for the family Sunday lunch at one thirty as normal.
The route he was going to take he had planned several day previous. The walk would be taking in some of the best footpaths in this part of Easy Yorkshire, The Wolds Way, The Hudson Way and the Beverly twenty too name but a few. It had been nearly three months since last he had trampled the footpaths around his home and he looked on the days walking with anticipation.
Prepared for all weather his body was clad in thermal underwear and waterproofs from head to toe, the conditions were notorious for rapid change up on the hills at this time of year. When walking it was vital you were prepared for all conditions.
For two miles he followed the road through three different villages, but now it was time to head off into the numerous wooded arrears on the Wolds. The footpath was steep, the backs of his legs began to ache as he slowly laboured up Spout Hill. Half way up he had to stop and take a breather, this was also an excellent viewing point. What a sight it was. Below was the village of Brantingham, the church spire which looked so high was now way below him.
The sun shone, it was a warm morning, a welcome change after the cold winter endured over the last few weeks.
Minutes later he was beneath the protective canopy of the trees. Underfoot the ground was soft, mud stuck to his boots increasing their weight two fold. The soft ground made the climbs difficult, but not as difficult of the descents. He found it easier to run down the hills then walk. This was from a man who hadn’t run anywhere for at least ten years. He had had no need to, college life was a slow dignified affair, no need to rush about, not at his senior level anyway.
By the time 11 o’clock came he was far out as the village of Hotham. He sat himself down on a grassy bank and searched in his ruck-sack for something to eat. The feeling of hunger never occurred to him while walking, but as soon as he stopped to admire the view the empty feeling in his stomach returned, it was time for a pre lunch snack.
As he sat eating his apple he looked out at the panoramic view the location. This had to be one of his favourite places, it was so quiet here. The only noise to interrupt his thoughts was the occasional bird song high up in the trees.
As he sat there something touched his nose. It was cold, icy cold. He looked up into the sky, snow had started to fall.
From his back pack he took his woollen hat and pulled it over his head, tossing the apple core away he once again set off down the hill to find civilisation before the weather turned too bad.
His watch showed one o’clock, but the sky was black. Before he could get down the hill the snow had started to fall heavily the large flakes laying quickly on the ground. It was not only the fact that the snow was now dense but the wind had picked up and was blowing the snow almost horizontally into his face.
Arnold knew that he would have to find some kind of shelter and wait for the storm to calm down.
The greatest protection against the elements were the plantations which run alongside the footpath. Setting himself against a tree he watched the storm from the relative comfort of the wood.
Several times that afternoon he tried lighting a fire. In his meagre survival kit he carried a box of safety matched, unfortunately he couldn’t find any dry material to burn. In the end he gave up. He could feel the cold starting to effect him. The overwhelming feeling to fall asleep hit him hard, he knew that if he did his body temperature would drop and he may never wake a gain.
The snow continues to drive across the valley, now he couldn’t see the other side, visibility was down to zero, no chance of moving now.
His head nodded one to many times. Quickly he woke himself and made a conscious effort to stay awake.
Then he realised, the snow storm had stopped as quickly as it had started, the sky had cleared, “That’s strange.” He said to himself, he had never seen weather change as quickly as that before.
The lights of the Hotham Arms shone in the valley below. He could make it there without too much effort. His boots crunched in the newly laid snow. Footing was difficult. The ground was still soft and muddy under the fresh snow.
Eventually he made it, cold and tired, but he was there in one piece. His faced job once the life had returned to his fingers was to ring his wife and tell he was ok and he required a lift home.
The main entrance door to the bar closed behind him. The heat of the open fire hit his face turning his cheeks bright red.
The room was empty apart from two Policemen standing at the bar, both were looking at a ordinance survey map.
Arnold sat himself down by the fire. He had been here many times before and knew the landlord would offer table service when the pub was quiet, so no need to stand at the bar.
The two officers of the law didn’t offer any greeting on his arrival, but to be honest he didn’t really care, he was just happy to be by the fire.
A few minutes past with still no sign of the landlord, must be changing a barrel? Arnolds’ body had started to thaw out now and a call of nature was required.
On his return from the toilet he had just resumed his fire side seat when the front door opened, a blast of cold air rushed in followed by a snow covered body. As the newcomer crossed to the bar the landlord appeared from the cellar door.
“Alan, how’s it going out there?”
“We’ve found him, looks as though he’s a gonna though. Their bringing him down now. An ambulance is waiting on Dale Road.”
“Where was he?” asked one of the Policemen breaking into the conversation.
Someone must have got lost on the hills, Arnold thought to himself.
“Up on top of the Dale.” Alan replied pointing a finger toward the corner of the room.
“You would have thought an intelligent man like that would have had more sense then to be out on a day like this.” The second Policemen said entering the conversation.
“Who was he?” Alan asked as he removed his snow cover coat.
The landlord had been pouring a glass of brandy from one of the many optics during the discussion. “Here Alan.” He said placing the glass next to him while Alan sat on a barstool.
“He was a lecturer at the local University, his wife rang us saying he was normally home by two o’clock.”
Arnold span round in his chair, if he was from the university then he probably knew him.
“Bennett,” continued the Policeman, “Professor Arnold Bennett.”
FINI
The route he was going to take he had planned several day previous. The walk would be taking in some of the best footpaths in this part of Easy Yorkshire, The Wolds Way, The Hudson Way and the Beverly twenty too name but a few. It had been nearly three months since last he had trampled the footpaths around his home and he looked on the days walking with anticipation.
Prepared for all weather his body was clad in thermal underwear and waterproofs from head to toe, the conditions were notorious for rapid change up on the hills at this time of year. When walking it was vital you were prepared for all conditions.
For two miles he followed the road through three different villages, but now it was time to head off into the numerous wooded arrears on the Wolds. The footpath was steep, the backs of his legs began to ache as he slowly laboured up Spout Hill. Half way up he had to stop and take a breather, this was also an excellent viewing point. What a sight it was. Below was the village of Brantingham, the church spire which looked so high was now way below him.
The sun shone, it was a warm morning, a welcome change after the cold winter endured over the last few weeks.
Minutes later he was beneath the protective canopy of the trees. Underfoot the ground was soft, mud stuck to his boots increasing their weight two fold. The soft ground made the climbs difficult, but not as difficult of the descents. He found it easier to run down the hills then walk. This was from a man who hadn’t run anywhere for at least ten years. He had had no need to, college life was a slow dignified affair, no need to rush about, not at his senior level anyway.
By the time 11 o’clock came he was far out as the village of Hotham. He sat himself down on a grassy bank and searched in his ruck-sack for something to eat. The feeling of hunger never occurred to him while walking, but as soon as he stopped to admire the view the empty feeling in his stomach returned, it was time for a pre lunch snack.
As he sat eating his apple he looked out at the panoramic view the location. This had to be one of his favourite places, it was so quiet here. The only noise to interrupt his thoughts was the occasional bird song high up in the trees.
As he sat there something touched his nose. It was cold, icy cold. He looked up into the sky, snow had started to fall.
From his back pack he took his woollen hat and pulled it over his head, tossing the apple core away he once again set off down the hill to find civilisation before the weather turned too bad.
His watch showed one o’clock, but the sky was black. Before he could get down the hill the snow had started to fall heavily the large flakes laying quickly on the ground. It was not only the fact that the snow was now dense but the wind had picked up and was blowing the snow almost horizontally into his face.
Arnold knew that he would have to find some kind of shelter and wait for the storm to calm down.
The greatest protection against the elements were the plantations which run alongside the footpath. Setting himself against a tree he watched the storm from the relative comfort of the wood.
Several times that afternoon he tried lighting a fire. In his meagre survival kit he carried a box of safety matched, unfortunately he couldn’t find any dry material to burn. In the end he gave up. He could feel the cold starting to effect him. The overwhelming feeling to fall asleep hit him hard, he knew that if he did his body temperature would drop and he may never wake a gain.
The snow continues to drive across the valley, now he couldn’t see the other side, visibility was down to zero, no chance of moving now.
His head nodded one to many times. Quickly he woke himself and made a conscious effort to stay awake.
Then he realised, the snow storm had stopped as quickly as it had started, the sky had cleared, “That’s strange.” He said to himself, he had never seen weather change as quickly as that before.
The lights of the Hotham Arms shone in the valley below. He could make it there without too much effort. His boots crunched in the newly laid snow. Footing was difficult. The ground was still soft and muddy under the fresh snow.
Eventually he made it, cold and tired, but he was there in one piece. His faced job once the life had returned to his fingers was to ring his wife and tell he was ok and he required a lift home.
The main entrance door to the bar closed behind him. The heat of the open fire hit his face turning his cheeks bright red.
The room was empty apart from two Policemen standing at the bar, both were looking at a ordinance survey map.
Arnold sat himself down by the fire. He had been here many times before and knew the landlord would offer table service when the pub was quiet, so no need to stand at the bar.
The two officers of the law didn’t offer any greeting on his arrival, but to be honest he didn’t really care, he was just happy to be by the fire.
A few minutes past with still no sign of the landlord, must be changing a barrel? Arnolds’ body had started to thaw out now and a call of nature was required.
On his return from the toilet he had just resumed his fire side seat when the front door opened, a blast of cold air rushed in followed by a snow covered body. As the newcomer crossed to the bar the landlord appeared from the cellar door.
“Alan, how’s it going out there?”
“We’ve found him, looks as though he’s a gonna though. Their bringing him down now. An ambulance is waiting on Dale Road.”
“Where was he?” asked one of the Policemen breaking into the conversation.
Someone must have got lost on the hills, Arnold thought to himself.
“Up on top of the Dale.” Alan replied pointing a finger toward the corner of the room.
“You would have thought an intelligent man like that would have had more sense then to be out on a day like this.” The second Policemen said entering the conversation.
“Who was he?” Alan asked as he removed his snow cover coat.
The landlord had been pouring a glass of brandy from one of the many optics during the discussion. “Here Alan.” He said placing the glass next to him while Alan sat on a barstool.
“He was a lecturer at the local University, his wife rang us saying he was normally home by two o’clock.”
Arnold span round in his chair, if he was from the university then he probably knew him.
“Bennett,” continued the Policeman, “Professor Arnold Bennett.”
FINI
