Was almost obliged to go on a walk today, if I still intended to finish my project by the time I go away next year (in case you weren’t aware of this one, see my other ‘214 Wainwrights’ blog). It was tougher than expected today, partly because the forecast let me down – promising decent weather after noon, this was the reality; the last blue sky I saw all day.
I went on a walk today – the fifth-to-last one in my project to walk all the 214 ‘Wainwright’ fells in the English Lake District – and you can read about that on my other blog, and see many photos that are a lot better quality than this shoddy, out-of-focus shot. (Give me a couple of hours and I’ll have them up later today.) So why is this crappy picture the ‘Photo of the Day’, then?
Because this is a golden eagle goddammit. There are two – two – golden eagles in the whole of England. Scotland has quite a few – at least, if farmers and landowners can be exhorted to stop poisoning them (a disgusting example of environmental carnage, which the RSPB have long been campaigning against) – but England has just one breeding pair, who reside in Riggindale. This is a valley at the southern end of the reservoir of Haweswater, in the east of the district.
I was within a mile of that valley today, above the deep and remote coombe of Threshthwaite Cove, near the summit of Caudale Moor (fell #205). I saw this large bird fly through the cove and swoop up onto a promontory. I didn’t think, at first, what it might be, but I’d seen where it landed and saw that the rocky promontory was being touched very well by the sunlight, so I stopped for a few minutes to see if I could capture it. The more I took of it the more I thought, hang on, this is far too big to be a hawk or even a falcon. This picture above was my best effort, as it really was quite a way away and even at maximum (70x) zoom this is as good as it got. But I got enough other pictures, including of its face, to be very sure that what I saw and photographed here is, indeed, quite literally, the rarest bird in England.
I once knew someone who was completely inept at golf, a total novice, but who once flukily hit a hole-in-one, witnessed by many people. Seve Ballesteros went his whole career without hitting one. I feel like I may have done the birdwatching equivalent here. Sorry to anyone who has been twitching for decades and never got one like this, then. But now, at least, you know roughly where to find it.
Another walk today. I snuck it in based on a good weather forecast in the morning, and so it was, but after noon we went back to the same old rubbish. Never mind, it was good while it lasted.
A distinctive feature of the walk was being able to have my lunch sat inside on a very comfortable couch instead of outside on some damp mossy rock somewhere. The reason was the existence of Mosedale Cottage, a ‘mountain hut’ or bothy, some three or so miles from any other building. When I turned up there were these three shepherds having lunch there as well, and why wouldn’t you, it’s definitely the most comfortable place to have lunch for miles around. We shared the room for 10 minutes, moved on. It was as good a spot for lunch as I’ve managed on any Lake District walk.
Third day in four out walking, and between them all I have done 43 miles (nearly 70km). On none of them has the weather been great and today was the worst of the lot. It’s time for a rest…
From A. Wainwright’s The Southern Fells (volume 4 of his Pictorial Guide to the Lakeland Fells): page Hard Knott 2:
“On the south-western slope of Hard Knott the rocky cliffs of Border End fall steeply to an inclined grassy shelf, which extends for half a mile and then breaks abruptly in a line of crags overlooking the Esk. This shelf, a splendid place of vantage commanding a view of the valley from the hills down to the sea, was selected by the Romans towards the end of the first century AD as a site for the establishment of a garrison to reinforce their military occupation of the district….
“One wonders what were the thoughts of the sentries as they kept watch over this lonely outpost amongst the mountains, nearly two thousand years ago? Did they admire the massive architecture of the Scafell group as they looked north, the curve of the valley, from source to sea, as their eyes turned west? Or did they feel themselves to be unwanted strangers in a harsh and hostile land? Did their hearts ache for the sunshine of their native country, for their families, for their homes?”
I’m in the Lakes again. After today, 18 to go. The picture is taken on Middle Fell, near Wast Water, but in the background is Yewbarrow, and if there was a super-dooper 100x zoom you may well be able to see the same sight as depicted way back on Sept 2nd, as that’s Great Door over there. More to come from the Lakes for the next few days, I’m here until Thursday.
I’ve been up 193 of these buggers now and of them all Catstycam is the one that most looks like a child would draw a mountain. It’s really quite a sexy beast – though as I proved today, a relatively easy walk up and down.
Seeing as when I do these walks the landscape photos are collected together on my other blog at 214wainwrights.wordpress.com , I have lately been trying to pick other pictures to put on here, that is, pictures that are not necessarily of the landscape but epitomise the day. Yesterday’s was an example of that.
However, I put a ‘landscape’ photo up here to draw attention to the other big theme of today – the bloody weather. Honestly. Most of the rest of the country had a good day today, but I can assure everyone that on the tops of Kirk Fell; Great Gable; and Green Gable, between 9am and noon today, it was revolting. I found it quite dispiriting and didn’t enjoy the walk until it was finished, when I had a sense of achievement. Base Brown was the fourth fell of the day, and I and these two other walkers watch as it stops having its rare moment of clarity and the big devouring cloud beast comes in again, just as we thought we might dry out for a few minutes.
It’s Sunday night as I post this; I came back in the afternoon from what I could describe as a ‘weekend away in the Lake District’, but that doesn’t really sum it up very well. Actually I have just spent two days walking, through weather that could best be described as ‘mixed’ (see tomorrow’s post). I have bagged 9 – more than a quarter – of the fells remaining on my project and now have only 23 to go.
I broke the journey at the Black Sail youth hostel. Located at the head of the valley of Ennerdale, this is some two miles’ walk from the nearest other building, let alone road. It sleeps about 20 people and was about two-thirds full on Saturday night. It’s a great oasis in the hills. And it serves beer. These two were part of a group who worked in Edinburgh and were all parasitology researchers, or something. They drank wine with me and we played Yahtzee (Lisa, lying down in this picture, won) and we and the other guests could just forget the rain outside for a little while.
Man did I have to get out on a walk at some point or I was going to go mad. I made it, it wasn’t totally dry, but it will do. More details are on my other blog.
Clare likes me to take a picture of a sheep on every trip: and as it is our 13th wedding anniversary today, this one’s for you babe.
Being 42 