Category: Lake District
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Wansfell to Kirkstone and Rosaâs Vanishing Echoes
A gentle stroll today, nursing our tired legs from previous heroics. Here is Wansfell, gazing northward at a line-up of Red Screes, Kirkstone Pass, Stony Cove Pike, High Street, and Ill Bellâquite the roll call. Kirkstone Pass, that lofty col between Ambleside and Patterdale, lent its name to an inn that once basked in the…
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Charles Goughâs Fatal Ascent and his Dogâs Vigil
It has been some time since I last dragged myself up Helvellyn via Striding Edge. Definitely before the pandemic chaos. This photograph, taken around midday, gazes slightly east of south. St. Sunday Crag and Fairfield flaunt a dusting of snow. A marvellous day: cloudless peaks, sub-zero temperatures, and a wind that was brisk enough to…
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Pikeawassa
The sun, in one of its rare moments, shines through a gap in the clouds, casting a spotlight upon the charmingly named Pikeawassa, a ridge of modest distinction dividing Martindale and Fusedaleâperhaps two of the quietest dales in the Lake District. What history led to this delightful collision of syllables? The etymology of âPikeawassaâ is…
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The Bungalow
Another day, another fell. Todayâs offering: Beda Fell overlooking Martindale, a place so tranquil one might almost forget the raucous spectacle of last night, when the local Red Deer stags continued to engage in their all-night rutting contests. Nature, it seems, never takes a night off. Now, let us move on to the red roofed…
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Angle Tarn
I shall be delightfully cut off from the modern world for several days, ensconced in some least known dale of the Lake District, where civilisation has yet to impose its trifles like electricity, mobile reception or wireless internet. A blissful retreat, I assure you. Now, having ascended to Angle Tarnâa really charming spotâI thought I…
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A Day at Lingy Hut
One of my favourite races during my dalliance with fellrunning was the Lake District Mountain Trial, an event of some tradition that is held annually on the second Sunday in September each year. My engagement has dwindled over time to the modest role of manning a checkpoint, a role that usually entails little more than…
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Avoiding the Plunge at Buckstones Jum
I seem to have become a regular visitor of open-water swimming spots, though Iâve yet to sully my person with an actual dip. I am sure that one need not plunge into icy water to commune with nature. The gentle rustling of the murmur of streams, and the occasional squelch of boggy earth beneath one’s…
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Slate, Sheep, and Silence: The Legacy of Tranearth Quarry
The tranquil Tranearth Quarry, where wild swimmers now glide through waters once surrounded by industry. Amid Bronze Age cairns and abandoned slate, nature reclaims what human ambition left behind, watched only by sheep and time.
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High Wray Bay: A Picture of Purity Beside Tainted Waters
A morning walk by Windermereâs Wray Castle reveals the grandeur of a Victorian retreat built on industrial wealth, while downstream, untreated sewage serves as a reminder of modern neglect.
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Harrop Tarn: A Tale of Heroic Miscalculation
Recalling a previous visit to Harrop Tarn, armed with a map and misplaced confidence. Faced treacherous fells, dreadful weather, and my own ineptitude. The result? A near brush with hypothermia and, naturally, fond memories.