A very fine day was had in the Lake District. Even the sheep seemed to be enjoying it, and this ewe poses readily for the camera as they often do, with High Pike behind. A shame her lamb did not feel like joining in too, but one can’t have everything. (For more pictures from today, see my Wainwrights blog.)
A weekend away with the family. Corse Hill sits in the middle of a gigantic wind farm and although not a dramatic spot, was a nice place to break the journey north to Scotland and did become my 32nd county top — and Clare and Joe have picked up a few as well. C. looks suitably satisfied, Joe’s checking his phone, but that’s what he does.
The first non-English shot since 18th September 2020, which was day 3,312; thus, a run of 259 English-only shots comes to an end.
A glorious Sunday in the Lake District. The title of the post has layers of meaning. My walk today (see my Wainwrights blog for the details) involved a circuit of the placid and remote tarn of Devoke Water. It was a feature in multiple photos taken along the way, of which this was the last of the day.
But as I walked back to the car, I mused — is this perhaps the last ever? I have visited some of these marvellous places multiple times as I have gone round and round Cumbria over the last 12 years, but the project will end at some point (next year probably), and after that — will I find an excuse to return?
Some might say, that is in the hands of God/Inshallah/fate/whatever you believe. But in the end, I believe it is up to me. If this blog does make it to, say, day 8,000 — perhaps we will see this place again. I certainly hope so.
I went out on a walk today: the last day, officially, of my Easter break. I saw no reason to stay at home. I don’t know quite why I like this picture, except that it was one of those that worked out as anticipated; this is the picture I hoped it would be when I pressed the shutter. The road is the A1, a mile or so east of the town of Chester-le-Street, in County Durham.
Those nice people in Authority have promised not to threaten arrest for doing something as subversive as going on a walk, on one’s own, in countryside that doesn’t happen to reside within spitting distance of home. So Joe and I went out on a walk. I bagged my 600th Wainwright and Joe, his 50th. (Full details soon to be posted on my other blog.) Both those milestones came on Wether Hill, but that is a rather unphotogenic lump — Steel Knotts, its predecessor in each sequence, was rather better. It’s appeared before on the blog, too: pictured from a distance on 6/2/17.
From no direction do these rocks look particularly like a cow and its offspring, but that’s what they’re called. It doesn’t matter; it’s a dramatic spot, with the creatures grazing on the heather above the town of Ilkley, which can become the 339th different identifiable place to feature on here. No, I wasn’t at home.
This walker knew just what she was doing when she saw me pull out my camera. She called over afterwards, saying ‘don’t mind me…’ — but I assured her that I had got the shot.
For more pictures of today, being my latest attempt to stay sane and healthy, see the page on my County Tups blog. Also, as this technically counts as being in Bolton, I now have to award that place the title of ‘location to have the longest gap between appearances on the blog’. It’s 2,539 days since its first, and only other, appearance on the blog thanks to Bolton Wanderers’ stadium featuring on day 933 (15/3/2014). At over 1,000 feet in height — not to mention that its base is itself 1,440 feet above sea level — the TV mast seen here is one of the tallest structures in the UK.
January 2021 hasn’t featured a football match, a visit to a pub or a night away from home — and I sincerely doubt February 2021 is going to differ in any of these ways. But I have done my damnedest to have it feature some healthy exercise. This gets no less healthy if one travels more than five miles from home — in fact, for those who live in urban areas, the opposite may be true. This fact seems to elude those who find it blithely OK that the government has removed freedom of movement within our own country.
For more pictures from today’s bout of exercise along with the usual accompanying self-reflection, see my County Tops blog.
From back to front: the big monument on Stoodley Pike; Heptonstall church; and the war memorial near Pecket Well, built in obvious mimicry of its bigger brother in the background. Nineteen and a half years I have lived here and until this week, had never been to this spot. Yet as with many days recently, there was a need for some leg-stretching: the guy walking his dog surely concurs.
Being 42 