Category: Lake District
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The Weather According to a Dead Bishop: Forty Days of Rain
Climate change deniers blame nature for everything. Heatwaves? Natural. Floods? Just weather being weather. Human emissions? Nothing to see there. Meanwhile, chemtrail believers take a different route entirely. For them, extreme weather is no accident but a masterstroke of global puppet masters, quietly spraying secret cocktails into the sky to bend the climate to their…
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Potter Tarn: Providing Water for Paper
If Wainwright had not seen fit to include Potter Fell in his The Outlying Fells of Lakeland, few beyond Kendal would know it existed. Potter Tarn, however, is another matter. Along with Gurnal Dubs, it is one of the fellâs more prominent tarns. Both are favoured for wild swimming, though anyone entering Potter Tarn does so…
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A View from Alcock Tarn: Grasmere and Helm Crag
Another view from our recent trip to the Lakes. This surprisingly hibernal scene of the Grasmere valley, with Helm Crag taking centre stage, was captured from Alcock Tarn below Heron Pike. The green pasture fields in the valley provide a pleasant contrast to the lifeless, bracken-covered, rock-strewn hillsides. Helm Crag is often called âThe Lion…
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Tarn Hows
Yesterday, I reflected on my perceived sorry state of Tarn Hows, now resembling the aftermath of a minor apocalypse. The larches, felled due to the ravages of Phytophthora ramorum, are gone, and the recent storms have left a trail of destruction. One might be reminded of those eerie photos of the Tunguska event. While the…
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Rose Castle Revisited
A few days of nostalgia at Rose Castle, once part of the Monk Coniston Estate and now within the National Trustâs Tarn Hows property. There is a certain sadness in the loss of its quirks, though not for the old toiletâthe one-holer, the thunderbox. Electricity and piped spring water are welcome signs of progress. The…
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The Skiddaw Hermit : Eccentricity on a Mountaintop
Many of you have likely heard of Millican Dalton, the so-called hermit and adventurer of Castle Crag in Borrowdale. In the 1920s and 30s, he managed to carve out a reputation by living in a cave and offering guided walks and canoe trips for tourists seeking a bit of excitement. A hermit in name only,…
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The Bleak Back oâ Skiddaw
Itâs been a wet and windy day in the Lakes, so naturally very little was accomplished. Instead, here is a photo from yesterday. The âback oâ Skiddawâ offers little to marvel atâa few sheepfolds dot an otherwise featureless landscape. Any rock that dares to stand out gets christened and turned into a boundary marker. This…
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The Colours of a Rainy Dawn
âRed sky at morningâ is not always the âshepherdâs warningâ or, for that matter, the âsailorâs warning.â Sometimes, just sometimes, it promises a pleasant day for the shepherd and a dry fleece for his sheep. Naturally, so the shepherds say, this depends entirely on whether the red sky âgoes overâ or stays sulking in the…
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Storms, Sunlight, and a Trespass to Remember
Given the grim weather forecast of strong winds, we opted for a walk that would not risk life and limb. The summit of Latrigg offered a theatrical view: a single beam of sunlight, no doubt feeling very pleased with itself, pierced through dark clouds to spotlight a few houses near Keswick, with Bleaberry Fell lurking…
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Windermere and its History No One Wants to Discuss
It was a bit wet this morning in the Lakes, so here is a photograph from yesterdayâs walk up Wansfell instead. This is, of course, Windermere, Englandâs largest lake, famed for its picturesque scenery but cursed with a history no postcard could capture. And I donât mean the recent sewage discharge debacle. A favourite with…