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The Golden Gown of Gribdale Gate
Ah, another splendid day graced with the magic of Autumn! In this view from Gribdale Gate looking down Lonsdale, the summer’s lush bracken has begun to don its golden-brown gown, though the purple heather still manages to tinge the valley side. Beneath the vast, cerulean sky, the air sparkles with the seed fluff of Rosebay…
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Bagged for Your Convenience
After a return from just a few days away in the Lakes, I was delighted to find that the National Trust, in their usual brilliance, had thoughtfully helicoptered in around 40 large bags up the main path of Roseberry. Each one, of course, containing roughly a ton of aggregate to ensure they did not have…
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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 I’ve 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 Windermere’s 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.
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The Rise and Fall of Cod Beck Reservoir
Given the recent weather, I was quite taken aback to find Cod Beck Reservoir so low, although this is by no means unprecedented. I have a sneaking suspicion that Yorkshire Water has intentionally carried out a water release, perhaps as part of a scour test or some other enigmatic plan. I’ll resist from drawing any…
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Grenfell — Reflections
While following a trail carved out by mountain bikers through a dark plantation in Hutton Lowcross, I came across upon this lively burst of green pushing its way through the thick blanket of fallen larch needles. I believe it might be the northern buckler-fern, Dryopteris expansa. But meanwhile … The report into the Grenfell fire…
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Lilac Cottage and Other Euphemisms for the Necessary
This humble structure, built around 1780, at a discrete distance from the Warren farmhouse, was none other than the privy – or, as we might say today, the lavatory. It served the necessary purpose of waste disposal, likely relying on what was known as an “earth closet.” Now a Grade II Listed Building, it has…
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