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”
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 creature stepped from the bog, covered in jet black ooze, spread its arms wide and started to lurch in my direction. I took out my secret weapon and brandished it in front of the foul wretch attempting to fend it off… Continue reading “A Tour of the Tarns with a Damsel in Distress”
I looked out through the tent doorway and watched the crepuscular reflections of the fell’s upper ramparts on the tarn a few feet away. Barely a ripple disturbed the surface and I sat alone enjoying the evening burst of colour in a location where the predominant colours are usually green and grey. The sun sunk lower and the colours and reflections faded, bringing the coldness of night. I retreated into the tent and settled down for another night alone on a Lakeland fell.
Some say that it’s the wettest place in England. Many would say that it’s not a great fell. All I know is that it is one of the places I most dream of being in the Lake District. Continue reading “Favourite Fells – Seathwaite Fell”