So Wet, Even the Cows Came Home Early

Left the green slate mine for a nice downhill walk on the tarmac to the quaint slate village of Rosthwaite. A local man pointed to the B&B on a quiet lane where he said Prince Charles comes for a bit of walking every February. Soon we walked over a small stone bridge turning toward our destination of Grasmere, one of the more popular towns in the Lake District. Ascended 2000k feet in rain to the col eventually making our way slowly across the vast dale before ascending another slightly higher col. Even up high the turf was so soggy our boots sank nearly to our socks. Crossed some growing streams carefully. Despite the rain, puddles and mud, my socks were thankfully not that wet until one unlucky leap where I landed up to my knee in muck. Took the high route undulating on top of the ridge to the base of Helm Crag, the prominent fell overlooking Grasmere. With the rain continuing, we were very happy to discover a variant trail leading directly to our farmhouse about 800 ft below in Town Head. The path turned into a green carpet like a golf course on a steep ski hill. And it was lined by the cutest sheep you've ever seen, like fluffy stuffed animals. Needless to say we were ecstatic to arrive on time at 4:30 pm having walked without a break for 7.5 hours. Our hosts at the farmhouse set out tea and cake, then left us to bring their cows home, 3 weeks early, from the higher hills due to the heavy rains this season. They disappeared on a tractor down the wet country lane as it was turning to dusk. Tomorrow's forecast calls for lesser showers and getting better as the day goes on!

Autumnal Start at Irish Sea

A two car train chugged across the northern part of England to drop us off eventually outside St Bees. As the Irish Sea came into sight from the partially open train windows, the first hint of the weather pattern to come started: strong gusty winds with on again, off again, rain squalls. The grey and frothy sea was a beautiful and lonely sight. With pouring rain we left the train fully laden with rain gear for a short taxi ride to our first village and overnight in a comfy B&B. St Bees on the northwest coast looks at the Isle of Man, thirty miles out to sea. After finding an appropriate pebble to place in the backpack for the 190 mile journey to the North Sea we began by climbing the stairs to the magnificent red cliffs overlooking panoramic sea views, walking some four miles north along the coast until turning east, inland. Having eaten a full English breakfast that morning we were ready to walk but the weather presented some unanticipated challenges like mud and wind. Buffeted by 40 mph wind gusts and rain showers, we proceeded through the thick coastal shrubs mesmerized by the forbidding sea. On a nice day (probably infrequent!) this walk would be outstanding birding through its nature reserve, protecting among other species the black guillemot. Soon we were hiking right through a marshy flood plain and the trail now covered by one foot of water. We hopped amongst grass clumps and navigated several trail junctions noting that the English don't seem to believe in marking their trails to retain the natural beauty of the landscape. But DS found the route, actually a delightful path winding its way across fields, roads and lanes in the verdant English countryside. The gentle sheep, white with some black, dotted the green pastures. Luckily the rain held off for most of the morning but became heavy as the afternoon wore one. Took a short break in the only pub en route with a few stout members of the local rugby team. After about 13 miles we found our farmhouse for the night, a bucolic setting and a farm originally traced to the 1500s. That night we made our way to the local hotel for battered cod, salad and potatoes. Met the friendly couple from Canada we saw at the start of the trip. Shared stories of hikers getting lost in the challenging conditions. But with map, compass and a few bearings you can't get too far off route. (At least not yet!) Honking domestic geese bathing below the window woke us early. Another wonderfully prepared breakfast of poached egg, fried tomato and mushrooms, hash browns and toast. Boots dry, we set off for the 10.5 miles to just over Honister Pass. Traversed the side of the long Ennerdale Water stretching for a couple of miles up the deep valley. Stone fence borders kept the sheep and cows in their place. Purple heather across the hills appeared. After a brief lunch the rain squalls set in, the sky darkening like night at shortening intervals. Pulled into the Black Sail hut just in time as sleet came down. A cup of tea and the rain stopped momentarily. Set out for the ascent to the pass above next to a green slate mine. The wind literally blew us up the hill. And on top we followed rock cairns across the higher plateau. I had to grab DS' arm because the strong winds were blowing us around like tumbleweeds and the next squall produced more driving sleet at our backs. But soon enough we were home to our youth hostel, safe and warm.