This particular adventure began in my car where I had spent the night dreaming of the upcoming adventure on the rocky trails above. My car was not a comfortable vehicle to sleep in by any means but it saved me from being burdened with a wet tent in my haversack on the big day. The weather was looking good the night before but the facade was lifted in the young hours of the morning when the heavens opened up above me. The sporadic dance of droplets lasted on and off until about 8 o’clock; when I decided to awake from my slumber and face the challenge ahead.
A Wandering Mind
I was excited alright, As I looked up to the rocky giants above me, they were all concealed with illusive masks of a thick eerie mist. Shining a precarious yet enticing gaze upon me, absolutely dwarfing me in comparison to them.
On a bleak winter’s day, this wouldn’t have been a very pleasant experience at all, I had imagined to myself. But the light drizzle complemented the warmth of the air around me in a way that you thought you were lost in a long forgotten land. One minute you can barely make out the path ahead and then the next, the clouds opened up. like a large drape in a colossal theater they slowly drifted apart revealing a spectacularly elaborate stage that engulfed me.
Windermere and Haweswater reflect elegantly in the sun with colours that have no name having their last dance in the final windows of light. Beyond through the fractured cloud The Irish Sea, barely visible, the resting behemoth, the unknown. This projects an immense emotion upon me, quietly fueling my curiosity for more exploration and my drive to carry on. Is the quest for the unknown what drives us?
But these spectacles of nature’s beauty didn’t last long, these views were well-earned and the mountains let me know that, with every long intermission between the short breaks of light.
An Adventure
The goal was straightforward. I had two days to complete a fairly short 25-kilometre circular walk, But simple isn’t exactly my forte. In my opinion, Without deviating from the plan and making rash decisions you’re not really on an adventure. But sometimes, that’s okay for the majority of people.
After squaring my kit away, off I went towards Yoke, my first Wainwright of the day. Heading northeast from the start and termination of my journey, a small settlement called Troutbeck. Moving through the moorland I was quickly engulfed into the enchanted temples of high mist, almost as if I had stepped through a portal of a world far more mysterious than our own. The land was devoid of people, which is rare for the Lakes at this time of year. To this point, I had only seen two others. By the looks of the equipment they were carrying, it looked like they were on their way home from a wild camp. A very saturated night it would have been for them.
It was a somewhat pleasant change to have the fells all to myself, although I love meeting new people, I valued the silence and tranquility above all else on this particular endeavour.
Before long, it was lunch time. I stopped and rested by the cairn on the summit of Ill Bell. A handful of dry roasted peanuts and a flapjack should suffice for now. When I had finished, I swiftly packed up and headed down towards Frostwick, or so I thought. When a figure appeared through the mist. Another wandering soul. She spoke, “Where are you heading? I didn’t think I would see anyone else out here today!” After some small talk, I realized that I had made a rookie error. Dazed and confused by the thick fog my sense of direction was thrown off and I was going back the way I came from. Luckily for me, I had only gone 100m or so back down and there was a very convenient sheep track on my right that skirted the contours around the summit. I was back on track, ‘how long until I realised I took a wrong turn?’ I pondered for a while. My encounter was a hidden blessing in the unfamiliar mist, I thought to myself.
Nothing much happened for a while. Silence echoed off the white walls around me.
I arrived at Grey Crag sometime later. Then, the skies lifted their illusive veil. The mountains were rewarding me, or so it felt. When spectacular views come into place on nature’s bright canvas, changing with every second. then back I was. A brief reminder of where I was. not in the heavens itself, but very close.
I had crossed onto the highest Roman road in England, High Street. Standing on the peak of 828 meters made me feel like a lonely Legionnaire from an ancient age and a simpler time pearing off into the vast nothing, imagining what may lay around me hidden by the clouds of time. What was it like back then, before all the technical hiking equipment and the complexity of modern life, I thought to myself. Navigating would be impossible on a day like this without modern means unless you had memorised the land. A love for the beauty of the land isn’t all lost but unappreciated in our modern world. Most people today see the Lake District as just another destination, but for the Romans and the Native Celts, it was their livelihood and a hub for spirituality.
–The mountains call my name
Better than fortune and bigger than fame
I can somewhat resonate with that. A truly magnificent place, Even when shrouded by fog I am still inspired by its secrets and stories, lost and untold.
As I wandered further and further down into the valley, the staircase that was the next six peaks marked the end to the first leg of my journey. As my visibility became clearer and more evident after each and every summit. the mountainous segment was over before long, I was in a quaint yet unfamiliar town, Kentmere.
A Hitchhiker’s Guide to Nothing
The next segment will be trodden on the tarmac rather than the trail. This part of the walk was 16 Kilometers. It was already 6 o’clock and I was shattered. I was carrying all of my equipment in case I was to camp on the fells. Quite a bit of weight if you’re not used to it.
It was evident that hitchhiking would be my best friend on the next leg of my journey.
I had walked about a mile through winding roads in the picturesque valley before I saw the first car heading in my direction, I stuck my thumb out and I got picked up! I felt an overwhelming feeling of gratitude and luck, any hitchhiker who succeeds on their first attempt knows this feeling.
The man who picked me up owned a Coffee Business in London and had a holiday home in Kentmere, he was heading for Stavley to get some supplies. We talked for a while about nice Coffee and the stark contrast between Cumbria and The City we then parted ways before long. He wished me luck on my travels as we shook hands.
I’m always extremely grateful when I get picked up and I always try and return the favour when I can but there isn’t a big hitchhiking culture here in England.
I think people always assume the worst whenever you tell them you hitchhike or that you pick hitchhikers up, but it shouldn’t be that way. People’s fear of the unknown the ‘what if?’ scenario that plays over and over in our heads, shutting this off if a gift and a curse. Maybe my risk-taking will bite me in the backside one day, but that is a risk I am willing to take.
The town of Ings was my next place to rest. nobody would pick me up on the busy A591 road. But I couldn’t let that stop me.
Feeling rather parched I briefly visited the Watermill Inn and Brewery for a swift one. What a fine libation it was. A dark ale of seven per cent, with a sweet and fruity taste. No time for savoring the moment though, It was getting dark. The lane I was heading down was narrow and treacherous, with no public footpath, it would be a stressful journey to endure through the night. I grabbed my belongings and left.
Putting one foot in front of the other, I continued ahead down the winding B road. You could tell it was summer alright, there was a vast spectrum of diverse flora on either side of me a truly magnificent and joyful sight. The hedgerow is a beautiful microbiome, I think to myself trying to contemplate the thousands of species hidden in plain sight to the distracted eye. The sun was gently warming my arms and face as it made a final ensemble of colour on this ever-so-murky day.
A few cars had passed me at this point, but no luck. About 4km from my destination I caught my second ride of the day, and better late than never I thought to myself. This time a family of three picked me up They were local to Windemere and knew the area very well. They were on their way to Penrith along the Kirkstone Pass, we only got five minutes to chat but when I got out of the car I shook the driver’s hand and waved his family off. These brief but precious five moments in time restored my faith in humanity and I laid eyes upon my finish line, my conclusion.
A Duality of Man
My Father always sees the good in people. More so than anyone else I know, he is convinced most people are naturally good. But I remember one day passing a hitchhiker in the car and I say “Why don’t you pick him up Dad?” and he replied somewhere along the lines of “I would if I was alone but I have you in the car and I wouldn’t take the risk of you being harmed.” I sat and I thought about that for a while. That moment resonated with me when the man and his family picked me up.
Kind people exist all around us and it pays to be this way. It helps me to be happy, kind and friendly in all of my adventures, if you don’t smile and wave at the potential ride you may never get picked up. This adventure turned out to be a lot more than a 25-kilometer loop but a 40-kilometre lesson.