Posts specifically about the tarns of the Lake District
Some sad news from home had greeted me at the hostel, and it was in reflective mood that I set off for the last full day of the trip. After 15 miles of walking the previous day, I decreed that … Continue reading March in the Lakes – Part 4: Reflections
I really should have been on the Cambrian Way, but I just didn’t fancy it. For once I wanted to do something I wanted to do. It’s been 6 years since a truly memorable trip to Eskdale, and a couple of years since a less successful one – I was itching to retread some of those paths, re-see some of those views and above all to immerse myself more deeply into the valley by spending some nights camping out there. So I did. Continue reading “The Eskdale Escapade”
From far and wide they came – the south west, the south east, the bit in the middle, and one on foot from Langdale – the Social Hikers gathered near Keswick for our third crack at the 10-in-10 and 5-in-5 in aid of MS Society. Now less a gathering of people who know each other online but had never met face to face, increasingly these meets are bringing together established friends. Old banter and jokes are reworked and the fun continues where it left off last time. Continue reading “The Gathering of the Clan”
This trip had been in the diary for a very long time, ever since the day I signed-up to support Terry Abraham’s Blencathra film in March 2015. With me opting for the VIP premiere tickets package, this meant I knew pretty much what I’d be doing this particular weekend. Hopes of a more extended trip faded as other, art-based, priorities won out leaving me with a Friday to Monday trip. It would be long enough though…
Dirty cloud obscured the rising sun, with just a small distant patch of orange beyond Great Mell Fell and some reflected colour to the west to betray the start of a new day. A cacophony of barking, baying and yelping accompanied the start of my climb above the kennels at Gategill, and I could still hear them some time later from hundreds of feet above. Continue reading “On My Tod”
Cath was on a bus heading home, but I still had another night and a day to go. The weather was stunning for October, and the thought that was foremost in my mind was repeating the previous night’s stunning camp. Could I take another night of fiery sunsets, 360° views and clear moonlit skies. Hell yes. Especially with a full lunar eclipse due. Continue reading “Moon, Mist and Matilda”
The taxi dropped me at Grasmere Youth Hostel, my wallet lighter to the tune of a pony. It was either that or a long wait for a bus. A quick check-in and then a squelch around the lawn in the dark to find a suitably dry spot to pitch the tent. Matilda went up relatively speedily, I threw my stuff in as quickly as I could Continue reading “A night on Madonna’s chest”
Daylight’s fingers crept over the surface of the tent and the wind that had blown malevolently all night finally disappeared. It wasn’t supposed to be especially windy according to the forecast, but it seemed that it must have been funnelled in such a way as to enhance its force. Either that, or it’s just out to get me. Continue reading “And Then There Were None”
The whistling and roaring sounds from outside that I heard whilst safely tucked up in my YHA bunk were all the confirmation needed that I’d made a good call last night. I didn’t feel a bit bad about taking the easy option this time. Continue reading “More Jam Than Hartleys”
A mere two sleeps after getting home from Dartmoor, and I was off again, riding my by now “usual” trains up to Penrith. With a flexible return ticket in my wallet, that was about the extent of the formal planning for this trip. Nearly at the end of the Wainwrights, maybe it was time for a little spontaneity. Continue reading “A Little Bit of Misadventure”
All is dark when I finally arrive in Windermere, after some nail-biting moments on the train journey up, wondering if I would make my connections at Preston and Oxenholme. Not wanting to wait for the bus, when there’s a taxi right here, I hop in the car and minutes later am at Ambleside youth hostel, timing my arrival for a mini-flood of people waiting to check in. Continue reading “Autumn in the Lakes: Nature’s Palette”
I was halfway down a suspiciously unlimey lime and lemonade, when a large blue rucksack came bobbing along the lane in front of the pub. It turned into the “beer garden” and Cath emerged from underneath it, and muttered some words I took to be a greeting. A few minutes later with a pint of ale in her hand, she was more coherent, and I decoded her previous attempt at conversation as being a tirade against the weight of her pack. This would become a familiar gripe for the rest of the trip. Continue reading “The Four Valleys Walk – Part 2: Eskdale, Wasdale & Borrowdale”
The Day After the Night Before No one had seemed that bothered about staying in the pub, helped by the live music act’s rather dubious renditions of what had up to that point been some well-loved songs, and so we … Continue reading Beer and Bogs in Borrowdale
Day 1 – Friday 6 June A few squirts of air into the Airbeam frame of my new Gossamer Gear Mariposa Pack and then I swung it up onto my shoulder and left the house for the short walk to … Continue reading Some Favourite Southern Fells
We climbed on and up, the promised rain holding off but the wind strengthening as we got higher. False summit after false summit nevertheless led us to the eventual top and a struggle to remain upright and on the same … Continue reading Lakes or Bust
