Friday in February

Langdale was quiet at 8 am.

I wound my way in to the valley while a tractor,

just ahead, 

scattered sheep feeding in the hedgerows. 

No one else was around the old Dungeon Ghyll. 

For most part I had a day of blissful uninterrupted isolation.

Only five crossed my path.

The sun chased me down Mickleden. Rising behind and washing both sheep and Langdale Pikes with a soft glow.

Everything was still. No wind. Only the sound of a shepherd on his quad, with sheep scurrying down the other other side of the valley, broke the silence.

After nearly an hour I started the climb up to Esk Hause. A relentless stair case which I’ve been down several times at the end of long days. Easier on the knees to go up.

Reaching the top, spring disappeared abruptly. A sudden wind whipped in, cloud dulled the sky and my steps crunched across frost coated grass. Winter was back. So cold than Angle Tarn was set solid and grey.

Up again to the shelter below Alan Crags. Snow filled but just enough space to squeeze in and hide from the wind a while.

I toyed with the idea of venturing on to Great End, but as the cloud couldn’t make it’s mind up whether to stay or go I parked the idea and left for Esk Pike.

Snow filled all the gaps. Anywhere it was possible to walk. I was glad to have some spikes to put on my boots. An ice crust covered everything. There were previous foot holes in the snow, but I made barely an imprint. Little to show I’d even been there. Heading in the right direction made even more interesting when the cloud filled in the gaps. For a while.

Clearing as quickly as it arrived as I left Bow Fell behind.

Just as abruptly as it appeared, winter disappeared.

The Band was clear, and in the valley the hedge rows were bravely trying on a little green.

Maybe it is spring?

The route