Spring appeared this week, may be only for a week?
Being indoors was tantamount to torture.
High pressure kindly hung around till Friday
I even added sunscreen to my, as usual, ridiculously heavy backpack.
Allowing time for the inevitable photo stops on the way past Troutbeck Tongue.
Then more, as an intriguing fold of cloud flicked over the pass and the fickle Cumbrian weather ended the show.
As I drove into thick cloud!
And so it remained. Over Kirkstone and down to Deepdale.
No wonder we’re obsessed with the weather with micro climates divided by a pass of less than 600m.
Still it was a different route up to Gavel Pike. Exercise with limited views.
Things slowly started to look better and hopes rose with height.
Up to Gavel Pike
White thinned and turned blue and before long the world had changed.
Below us a sea of white cloud. Hills piercing the film.
The cloud clung to the valley floors and some how added higher definition and greater clarity to the folds and scoops on the mountain sides.
After lingering too long on St Sunday we descended briefly through ethereal mist on Deepdale Hause. No sign of Grisedale tarn.
Cofa Pike above Deepdale Hause
Patches of snow hindered the climb up to Fairfield where we loitered even longer.
Westward there was no sign of cloud and the coast reflected in a thin silver glow towards the horizon.
Another day to stand and stare.
Our descent was not nearly so dramatic.
As we went down over Hart Crag and Hartsop above Howe, the cloud surreptitiously changed places.
Sitting on top of St Sunday, a dull grey day with no memory of the previous glamour.
Hartsop Above How
And a few more images.