Bored with My Blog

 

Sometimes I think I’ll run out of words.

Run out of inspiration.

The Lake District. 

Yet again. 

Another walk. 

The same hills.

A slightly different route but …. same, same but different.

 

Each time I venture up a hill our fickle weather wraps its way around in a very different way.  Changing the walk as dramatically, yet more simply than a film set.

Once the haunt of Golden Eagles Haweswater is the more remote side of High Street.  Not the most popular way up to the well trod path.

Stripes of gold and green sharpened by low autumn sunshine.

Riggingdale is wet. Beck filled and boggy.

South, the line of hard crags left by ice make a more challenging route.  Infinitely more visual and your feet will stay dry.  

A series of ‘crags’.  Rocky outcrops with a degree of scrambling. 

Swine, Heron, Eagle and Rough.  Redolent of previous residents. 

Things flatten out a bit at Caspel Gate. With a tiny unnamed tarn to fill in the gap, before the final scramble up to High Street.

All the way up clouds played around the tops.  Occasionally drifting down to Haweswater or obliterating Kidsty Pike. Adding to the atmosphere of the occasion.

Then a spliced sky.  Held up by a narrow band of visibility over the Roman Road.  Which we followed briefly, as it wanders northwards.

The promised wind now hitting us with no barriers to impede.  Bar a wall to hunker behind while replenishing our energy.

Wind whipped us off Kidsty Pike and we swiftly headed down to the more diminutive Howes. A background of muted blues bringing that fine mizzle which fills the becks, soaks the peat and drips from everywhere.

It was a good time to go down.

The Route.