...for the LORD your God is bringing you into a good land, a land of brooks of water, of fountains and springs, flowing forth in valleys and hills...
Deuteronomy 8:6
0904 After yesterday’s excursions, almost constantly on the move from 8am until 10pm I am looking forward to a relatively quiet day today with just one major obstacle...to get out of bed!...and there is the small matter of a certain fell to climb. Firstly, though, I stoke the boiler with a cooked breakfast: I am afraid I was spoilt by the last b and b because this is nothing special, but the view from the conservatory where I take breakfast is stunning. The clouds over Blencathra are clearing and forecast is for a sunny hot day.
1045 A short cycle ride through quiet lanes running alongside the main road takes me to Scales Farm at the foot of the fell, where happily I have booked in for the next night. This means I can dump my heavy gear and proceed up the fell with just light luggage. The proprietor seems a cheery soul and not from around these parts – home counties I would judge. The footpath starts off right next to the farm, shaded behind a stand of conifers...this is the last shade I will see for the rest of the walk.
1121. Exhausting climb, very hot and humid, following the East side of the fell. I am still not in sight of Sharp Edge but great views. The name Blencathra is derived from blaen (a bare hill top) and cathrach (a chair). This would give a meaning of "the bare hill top shaped like a chair" Wainwright’s ashes are scattered up here - I think it was one of the great man's favourite fells.
1150 Turning a corner Sharp Edge appears in the distance. Frankly it looks impossible from here. There is a clue is in the name because the rock strata are exposed in a spiky outcrop running up the steepest side of the hill at a near-vertical incline for two hundred metres or so. Either side are sheer drops so you are literally climbing up the edge.
1200 I rest for a while on this humid day at Scale Tarn just before the ascent on the Edge. The level is low hence the beck flowing from it is a mere dribble. The water surface is smooth like dark, green ice and two children are throwing pebbles, trying to make them skip. Refreshed, I think it is time to do Sharp Edge...
1321 I am sitting on top of Blencathra having just climbed the Edge. Though I would not like to do it on a windy day, it wasn't as bad as all that, the strata of the slate rocks lie at 45 degrees so there were handholds and footholds aplenty. I am amazed at the number of scratches on the rocks signifying the passage of countless climbers and there are many people here today. Whoops!..I nearly lose my cycle helmet just saving it from cascading 200m into the Tarn. Now I am up here, the aspect is amazing with 360 degree views over the Lakes all the way to Scafell Pike and beyond. I don’t think I could have chosen a clearer day so I feel lucky.
1327 I don a jumper to counter the chill wind at the summit - there are lots of tiny flies though not of the bitey kind thankfully. The South side of the ridge is covered with grey scree, patched here and there with brownish moss and grass. I stroll around the flattish top taking photos, admiring the view and watching other walkers clambouring up by various routes.
1546 I choose to make my way back down a zig-zag path, pausing only to photograph a couple of interesting lichens and I make it back without too much stress on the knees. Scales Farm guest house seems very comfortable with a room which is well decorated, and a stocked fridge – that’s a first. They seem trusting too, because you simply help yourself and leave the money. I intend to relax for a while until the temperature drops so I put my order in for tomorrow’s breakfast – my landlord blanches a bit when I ask for brekkers at 0745 to give me time to cycle into Penrith.
1630 I sit outside the blue and white farmhouse reading and listening to a chaffinch making a racket and flitting about, not singing, just screeching monotonously. A coal tit visits the feeder and there is a nest of swallows in the eaves of the old cottage opposite – the parents find plenty to food on this hot sunny day, looping about like a couple of dogfighters. A variety of bee and bumblebee feed on the Cotoneaster by the bench where I sit.
1835 Sitting outside on this warm evening at the whitewashed Horse and Farrier pub in Threlkeld, I am replete from a large plate of cod, chips, mushy peas and salad. The cycle ride from Scales was all downhill so doing the journey back on a full stomach will be interesting, and I am in no hurry to return. Besides, the near fells to the South replay the colours of the evening sun and simply look gorgeous. If tomorrow goes to plan I will be in Chester by this time...as I sip a drink, read my book and relax in the middle of the Lakes, just now it seems a million miles away.
1045 A short cycle ride through quiet lanes running alongside the main road takes me to Scales Farm at the foot of the fell, where happily I have booked in for the next night. This means I can dump my heavy gear and proceed up the fell with just light luggage. The proprietor seems a cheery soul and not from around these parts – home counties I would judge. The footpath starts off right next to the farm, shaded behind a stand of conifers...this is the last shade I will see for the rest of the walk.
1121. Exhausting climb, very hot and humid, following the East side of the fell. I am still not in sight of Sharp Edge but great views. The name Blencathra is derived from blaen (a bare hill top) and cathrach (a chair). This would give a meaning of "the bare hill top shaped like a chair" Wainwright’s ashes are scattered up here - I think it was one of the great man's favourite fells.
1150 Turning a corner Sharp Edge appears in the distance. Frankly it looks impossible from here. There is a clue is in the name because the rock strata are exposed in a spiky outcrop running up the steepest side of the hill at a near-vertical incline for two hundred metres or so. Either side are sheer drops so you are literally climbing up the edge.
1200 I rest for a while on this humid day at Scale Tarn just before the ascent on the Edge. The level is low hence the beck flowing from it is a mere dribble. The water surface is smooth like dark, green ice and two children are throwing pebbles, trying to make them skip. Refreshed, I think it is time to do Sharp Edge...
1321 I am sitting on top of Blencathra having just climbed the Edge. Though I would not like to do it on a windy day, it wasn't as bad as all that, the strata of the slate rocks lie at 45 degrees so there were handholds and footholds aplenty. I am amazed at the number of scratches on the rocks signifying the passage of countless climbers and there are many people here today. Whoops!..I nearly lose my cycle helmet just saving it from cascading 200m into the Tarn. Now I am up here, the aspect is amazing with 360 degree views over the Lakes all the way to Scafell Pike and beyond. I don’t think I could have chosen a clearer day so I feel lucky.
1327 I don a jumper to counter the chill wind at the summit - there are lots of tiny flies though not of the bitey kind thankfully. The South side of the ridge is covered with grey scree, patched here and there with brownish moss and grass. I stroll around the flattish top taking photos, admiring the view and watching other walkers clambouring up by various routes.
1546 I choose to make my way back down a zig-zag path, pausing only to photograph a couple of interesting lichens and I make it back without too much stress on the knees. Scales Farm guest house seems very comfortable with a room which is well decorated, and a stocked fridge – that’s a first. They seem trusting too, because you simply help yourself and leave the money. I intend to relax for a while until the temperature drops so I put my order in for tomorrow’s breakfast – my landlord blanches a bit when I ask for brekkers at 0745 to give me time to cycle into Penrith.
1630 I sit outside the blue and white farmhouse reading and listening to a chaffinch making a racket and flitting about, not singing, just screeching monotonously. A coal tit visits the feeder and there is a nest of swallows in the eaves of the old cottage opposite – the parents find plenty to food on this hot sunny day, looping about like a couple of dogfighters. A variety of bee and bumblebee feed on the Cotoneaster by the bench where I sit.
1835 Sitting outside on this warm evening at the whitewashed Horse and Farrier pub in Threlkeld, I am replete from a large plate of cod, chips, mushy peas and salad. The cycle ride from Scales was all downhill so doing the journey back on a full stomach will be interesting, and I am in no hurry to return. Besides, the near fells to the South replay the colours of the evening sun and simply look gorgeous. If tomorrow goes to plan I will be in Chester by this time...as I sip a drink, read my book and relax in the middle of the Lakes, just now it seems a million miles away.
No comments:
Post a Comment