Today's walk was a cracker. Nine miles in comfortably less than three hours, despite damp and sludgy conditions. Felt good throughout and despite the fast pace had energy to spare at the end. I also had a new walking companion: Walking Dave's Dad, Alan. Having been inspired by The Unlikely Pligrimage of Harold Fry, Alan has decided to walk the 170 miles or so to Devon in time for his daughter's birthday, the timing of which puts his schedule more or less in-line with mine. Fair play.
Dave suggested we compare notes and maybe do one or two walks together. We did our first one on Thursday evening, although I spent much of the time on a conference call with work so we didn't get to compare many notes. Alan was very gracious though, explaining that he needed to get used to walking alone!
I'm pleased to report that we did better today. Alan has a plan that hangs together. He's going to take a lightweight approach to avoid the need for every-day baggage transfers, more Raid on Entebbe to my Siege of Leningrad. After comparing notes as planned we set about putting the world to rights, and despite coming from quite different ends of the political colour spectrum I feel we put together a pretty decent manifesto.
I'm pleased to report that we did better today. Alan has a plan that hangs together. He's going to take a lightweight approach to avoid the need for every-day baggage transfers, more Raid on Entebbe to my Siege of Leningrad. After comparing notes as planned we set about putting the world to rights, and despite coming from quite different ends of the political colour spectrum I feel we put together a pretty decent manifesto.
Kenilworth Castle, 2013
I have to admit that the damp greyness of the season and the day-in-day-out tramping of the streets and fields around Kenilworth is starting to wear a little. I long for some spring brightness and a more inspiring setting. In some of my solo outings just lately I have allowed my mind to wander.
One of the summer mountain memories that often comes to me is from a couple of years ago at the start of a wild camp with Rob. We'd driven up to the Lakes, enjoyed the ceremonial last good meal in a cafe in Ambleside and parked the car at the foot of the Wrynose Pass. It was a warm sultry day, with low cloud cover and a slightly odd light, brighter than expected on such a dull day. The walk up to Great Moss was uneventful and we set up camp on a raised platform near Sampson's Stones. We prepared and ate supper then lazed in the warm late evening discussing our plan to tackle Scafell the next day.
Then all of a sudden the cloud cover begin to break. Over the next hour we were treated to a spectacular light show accompanied by funnels of cloud swirling in the hills beheath our camp. Rob captured the show with some wonderful photographs whilst I scribbled in my journal.
One of the summer mountain memories that often comes to me is from a couple of years ago at the start of a wild camp with Rob. We'd driven up to the Lakes, enjoyed the ceremonial last good meal in a cafe in Ambleside and parked the car at the foot of the Wrynose Pass. It was a warm sultry day, with low cloud cover and a slightly odd light, brighter than expected on such a dull day. The walk up to Great Moss was uneventful and we set up camp on a raised platform near Sampson's Stones. We prepared and ate supper then lazed in the warm late evening discussing our plan to tackle Scafell the next day.
Then all of a sudden the cloud cover begin to break. Over the next hour we were treated to a spectacular light show accompanied by funnels of cloud swirling in the hills beheath our camp. Rob captured the show with some wonderful photographs whilst I scribbled in my journal.
Thursday 9.50pm. Still a little light out. The clag around us has cleared, and collected in the plain below. We can see clearly up to Esk Hause and the Scafells, and beneath our feet a sea of soupy cloud.
Quite an eerie display now the light is going. The way cloud clings to rock faces in long bands, or small break-away clusters, or swirls around the valley looking for something to hold onto.
Left is clear. Right is fog. Now the basin of Great Moss is almost completely filled up with mist. Can barley see the river through the murk.
The fog now looks to be forming into a neat queue as it moves down the valley. The feed of fog from Esk Hause has stopped. Maybe it will clear altogether when this train has passed through?
Quite an eerie display now the light is going. The way cloud clings to rock faces in long bands, or small break-away clusters, or swirls around the valley looking for something to hold onto.
Left is clear. Right is fog. Now the basin of Great Moss is almost completely filled up with mist. Can barley see the river through the murk.
The fog now looks to be forming into a neat queue as it moves down the valley. The feed of fog from Esk Hause has stopped. Maybe it will clear altogether when this train has passed through?
A bank of cloud is heading straight at us from our left, like a wave rolling in, just at our eye level.
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