Friday 2nd November 2018, 1.00pm (day 2,626)
I’m on a three-day weekend (Thursday, Friday, Saturday). I can think of worse places to spend it. In the background: Red Screes, Caudale Moor, Thornthwaite Crag.
The weather was mostly good over these two days and only in the final hour or so was there some drizzle. This came down while I descended, aching and exhausted, from Scarth Gap (the notch in the hillside above) to Buttermere, while these sheep all went up the other way. There is a shepherd and dog just out of shot to the left. I did get some shots of them all coming up towards me as well, but this is the best one.
I am posting this and tomorrow’s pic while lying in bed on Friday morning recovering from a two-day hike. Between 11.15am on Wednesday morning and 3.30pm on Thursday I walked 30 miles, which I calculate as an average of around 1.05 miles/hour even while I was asleep. No wonder I feel a little delicate this morning.
Anyway, looking back — it’s never easy to choose only one photo to encapsulate a day of varied landscapes and experience, but being very close to the delights of Sellafield nuclear power station (or ‘reprocessing plant’, or whatever it is these days) was certainly a significant feature of day 1. i was hard up against the perimeter fence at one point. It hisses, throbs, puts out strange noises and generally dominates everything round here in West Cumbria. So it can feature today, albeit in the background of this shot of the churchyard where I sat and had my lunch.
I’m still off work and have no intention of going back for a few days yet, so time for another Lake District walk. Rather dull, grey weather did limit the photo opportunities, but with this shot, of the fell known as Hopegill Head, seen from the north, there was a rare moment of faint sunlight which caught the clouds and the green fellside below.
On the higher of the two summits of Angletarn Pikes, the gentleman seems determined to draw the attention of his wife towards the less interesting half of the view.
There’s something strange going on with this shot don’t you think? It almost looks artificial, like the two models are in a studio and the mountains are back projected. Brothers Water looks strange too, like all this is a collage I’ve pieced together and then stuck on a bit of tin foil in a deconstructionist kind of way.
While the very warm and sunny weather seems to have come to an end, it was still a fine day for messing around in the Lake District.
I assume, incidentally, that one of the two boats is at least thinking of heading to the island to retrieve the people seen thereon. If not, it was quite a swim to the shore from there.
Today was one of those days where I could take advantage of the fact that my job often requires me simply to read things, in this case a draft PhD thesis; so into the pack it went, and out into the country I went. No thanks to the local train service, but that’s another story. The thesis was read. Well, about two-thirds of it anyway.
“Come on a walk up Scafell Pike, son. It’ll be fun. You can have the pleasure of attaining the highest point in England,” says I, a few weeks back. I’m sure there were points today when Joe cursed me for letting me talk him into this particular hike — particularly here on Ill Crag, one of the subsidiary peaks nearby, and the first outrageous excrescence of boulders into the journey. This picture can also be presented with the benefit of hindsight and knowing that in fact, there’s worse still to come before the summit — all 3,210 feet of it (978 metres) — is attained.
But he made it. And it was a beautiful day.
On a day of ideal walking weather, the Lake District was not a place to go to for the solitude — at least, not the parts of it that I hung out in, namely Great Langdale and the 2816 feet (858m) summit of Crinkle Crags, one of Wainwright’s “Top SIx Fells”. But I cannot begrudge anyone else their enjoyment of the fine conditions today. We are just the same, after all.