THE famous English poet William Blake wrote that "Great things are done when men and mountains meet". Having scared myself witless trying to climb England's third highest peak last week, I feel he could have added: "But don't forget to pack some waterproof trousers, and perhaps a toilet roll."

This picture, right, was taken by John, a friend (or he used to be) and qualified mountain leader, who took me on a six-hour trek to the summit of 3,118ft Helvellyn in the Lake District.

As you will notice, my expression is one of suffering.

I'm attempting to traverse along the side of Striding Edge, a spectacular and perilous ridge used by the more adventurous walkers to reach the peak.

It was a particularly tense moment - I believed I was on the brink of an icy death. The 1,000ft drop to my right had something to do with it. Not great timing then for happy snaps.

I was shouting at John in colourful language that I wasn't prepared to go a step further until he had scrambled a mountain rescue helicopter at the very least.

Such drastic measures were avoided after some gentle coaxing. Steadying myself with an ice-axe and relying on the grip of some borrowed crampons, I eventually mustered the courage to inch along the narrow path and, after a few more hairy moments, scramble to the top.

It was only then that I could truly savour the breathtaking snow-capped peaks, illuminated by the winter sunlight. How good it was to be alive, I thought, between mouthfuls of energising toffee flapjack.

Every able-bodied urbanite should experience this exhilarating taste of the great outdoors once in a while.

But any Lakeland tourist prepared to swap the tea rooms and ferry rides for a day in the mountains should be alert to the dangers.

I interviewed a York climber only this week who suffered his first mishap after more than 20 years trekking.

Ironically, Mark Mills had to be airlifted to safety by the Patterdale rescue team after breaking his ankle descending Helvellyn. His situation was greatly helped by the fact he had packed extra food and warm clothing in the event of an emergency.

According to the Lake District Search & Mountain Rescue Association's most recent figures, teams were called out 390 times in 2004. Forty-one of those incidents were fatalities and 211 involved various levels of injury.

The 400 climbers who volunteer for the national park's mountain rescue crews are a hardy, brave bunch risking life and limb for others. Leafing through the association's annual review of accidents, both tragic and comical, I came to realise that they need an abundance of patience.

I can't imagine what members of the Kendal rescue team thought of a walking group from Wimbledon who enlisted them to search for their missing friends.

The report details the outcome: "Party failed to turn up at agreed rendezvous in Troutbeck. They had gone to the wrong pub and sat for three hours waiting, then got a taxi into Windermere!" The would-be rescuers were not amused.

Another team spent three hours searching Cunswick Fell for a 30-year-old man, according to the log-book.

This is what they found: "Subject (who is 22-stone) collapsed unconscious on walk after having drunk three-quarters of a bottle of whisky."

My favourite is the report of a Carlisle woman airlifted to hospital after fracturing her ankle while walking alone along the Catbells, near Keswick. Her age? 104.

The underlying message, then, is preparation, preparation, preparation.

That's all very well, but being prepared can bring its own problems. Wearing crampons is like having daggers under your feet. One false step and... ouch!

Now did we remember plasters?

On the subject of walking, it was lovely to hear Chris Wooldridge, the man who treads York's Bar Walls every day to open and close its historic gates, featured on BBC Radio Four. The Home Truths programme picked up on his remarkable story following his appearance in this column. Chris suffers from autism and has a remarkable gift of memorising any facts or figures, such as every route in the AA road atlas and the Top 40 music charts going back decades.

In an engaging and amusing profile, BBC reporter Ken Cooper walked the walls with Chris as he locked the gates at dusk and later interviewed his mum, dad and brother. You can listen to the programme by logging on to www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/hometruths

Updated: 10:40 Friday, March 17, 2006