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”
I’d long dreamed of exploring this valley and camping somewhere remote in its upper reaches to enjoy the majesty of England’s highest mountains surrounding me, but the reality was damper, mistier and more precarious than I’d imagined it would be.
The first thing I saw as I stepped off the bus at Rosthwaite, a stop short of where I ought to, was Eagle Crag, one of my most favourite fells, peering out from behind Rosthwaite Fell. This just reminded me … Continue reading The 10-in-10 (ish)
A trip with the express purpose of having my first wild camp. I chose an area I’d visited before, with reasonable options for a bail out if needed, but which also gave the opportunity to revisit places I’d not been for a while, some favourite places and to mop up some fells missing from my bag. Continue reading “My First Wildcamp”
I woke (yes actually woke, thereby signifying that I’d actually slept!) early and stuck my head out the door to see if there was any sort of sunrise going on. Not much happening of interest, so I had a lie in. Sleep had come courtesy of no musical wind, a better set of nocturnal sartorial arrangements and I guess out of sheer tiredness. Mind you, I’d slept again in double base layers and a zipped up down jacket, and put my Skins on for a bit of downstairs warmth. I’d still been cold, but by not moving about too much I’d managed. Continue reading “My first wild camp – Part 3: Drawing the Line”