Subtitle: Oh Hel(vellyn)!
We woke up to the sound of the pitter patter of little raindrops on the windows of the Grasmere Hotel. In coast to coast terms, the reaction is "Oh @#$%^&&!!!" It was a dark and rainy night and a clammy and wet day. Even your undies will be soaked in these conditions.
But like the Boy Scout my husband once was, we came "prepared." First, breakfast. Then a donning of the raingear. Then application of stiff upper lipstick and we're off to the mountains of England. For anyone who saw the not particularly good film, The Englishman Who Went Up a Hill amd Came Down a Mountain, I assure you that no one made Helvellyn the highest point in the UK by piling trash on it. It's a real live mountain of a bit more than 3000 feet. Not much by Rocky Mountain standards and about half a mountain in my neighborhood, but such quibbling is only done by those not climbing the thing!
After our 1.5 mile walk through Grasmere to the "bridlepath," we commenced a steady uphill climb. Waterfalls were our constant companion, as were creekbeds and the ever present sheep.
One thing we have learned (besides that attempts to avoid sheep poop are futile---and we have been assimilated) is that these sheep have been around here a good long time. They automatically return to the place of their birth to lamb and stick around for several months thereafter during which clever sheperds sheer them. So if you are a smart sheep herder, you build your farm to suit the sheep. Additionally, we have been amazed at the rock wall pens. It looks like someone (probably a serf owner) has built these pens up and down hillsides, even on Helvellyn. Not a minor feat.
After a gentle climb out of Grasmere, we eventually reached an "annoyingly steep" ascent to Grisedale Tarn up the Tongue Gill (I know...it's a whole other language), we were in mist and rain in spits the whole way. Just before reaching the top, we were literally walking in smoke. As we passed over the saddle of the mountain, we could see little. Then there was a heavy wind that cleared some of the mist and we saw the beautiful Grisedale Tarn--a clear and wide mountain lake. Absolutely stunning. Paul and I stopped for a short time to honor my mom (It's the second anniversary of her passing). We both thought it was a fitting spot as it is one of the prettiest places we've seen thus far on the hike. Then we started downward toward Patterdale--Downward has been the path most dreaded. Thus far downhill has been a dodge of treacherous boulders, slick rocks and muddy bogs. No different today for the first half or more of our journey, but we persisted. We had lunch in a pasture full of sheep under a tree-- a ham and pickle sandwich. They are all about the pickle here! We continued on in an occasional drizzle to Patterdale, a tiny berg with a few hostels and B&Bs beside the Ullswater. Very picturesque. We are staying the night at the Old Water View Inn, theoretically a favorite of the originator of the Coast to Coast, Alfred Wainwright.
They have coast to coast ales locally brewed on tap and a hearty dinner fare served by the owner Ian's 11 year old daughter. (The food, not the beer!) His nine year old, Rachael has walked the coast to coast three times. Makes me feel even more of an underachiever!
Paul's Ponderings: Total mileage today was about nine miles, a "short" day. And the climbs up and down were not as bad. But, it was a bit rainy and windy the entire hike this time around. Tomorrow we move on to the highest point on the hike, but not the highest point in the UK. I think the tarn was the best local view of the hike so far, differentiating it from the view from high points that showed massive valleys back to the sea or whatever. Definitely a beautiful site in the wind, rain, and mist.
We woke up to the sound of the pitter patter of little raindrops on the windows of the Grasmere Hotel. In coast to coast terms, the reaction is "Oh @#$%^&&!!!" It was a dark and rainy night and a clammy and wet day. Even your undies will be soaked in these conditions.
But like the Boy Scout my husband once was, we came "prepared." First, breakfast. Then a donning of the raingear. Then application of stiff upper lipstick and we're off to the mountains of England. For anyone who saw the not particularly good film, The Englishman Who Went Up a Hill amd Came Down a Mountain, I assure you that no one made Helvellyn the highest point in the UK by piling trash on it. It's a real live mountain of a bit more than 3000 feet. Not much by Rocky Mountain standards and about half a mountain in my neighborhood, but such quibbling is only done by those not climbing the thing!
After our 1.5 mile walk through Grasmere to the "bridlepath," we commenced a steady uphill climb. Waterfalls were our constant companion, as were creekbeds and the ever present sheep.
One thing we have learned (besides that attempts to avoid sheep poop are futile---and we have been assimilated) is that these sheep have been around here a good long time. They automatically return to the place of their birth to lamb and stick around for several months thereafter during which clever sheperds sheer them. So if you are a smart sheep herder, you build your farm to suit the sheep. Additionally, we have been amazed at the rock wall pens. It looks like someone (probably a serf owner) has built these pens up and down hillsides, even on Helvellyn. Not a minor feat.
After a gentle climb out of Grasmere, we eventually reached an "annoyingly steep" ascent to Grisedale Tarn up the Tongue Gill (I know...it's a whole other language), we were in mist and rain in spits the whole way. Just before reaching the top, we were literally walking in smoke. As we passed over the saddle of the mountain, we could see little. Then there was a heavy wind that cleared some of the mist and we saw the beautiful Grisedale Tarn--a clear and wide mountain lake. Absolutely stunning. Paul and I stopped for a short time to honor my mom (It's the second anniversary of her passing). We both thought it was a fitting spot as it is one of the prettiest places we've seen thus far on the hike. Then we started downward toward Patterdale--Downward has been the path most dreaded. Thus far downhill has been a dodge of treacherous boulders, slick rocks and muddy bogs. No different today for the first half or more of our journey, but we persisted. We had lunch in a pasture full of sheep under a tree-- a ham and pickle sandwich. They are all about the pickle here! We continued on in an occasional drizzle to Patterdale, a tiny berg with a few hostels and B&Bs beside the Ullswater. Very picturesque. We are staying the night at the Old Water View Inn, theoretically a favorite of the originator of the Coast to Coast, Alfred Wainwright.
They have coast to coast ales locally brewed on tap and a hearty dinner fare served by the owner Ian's 11 year old daughter. (The food, not the beer!) His nine year old, Rachael has walked the coast to coast three times. Makes me feel even more of an underachiever!
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| Grisedale Tarn in the mist and rain |
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| The End Of The Day |
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| View Back Up the Valley After Hiking Down |
Sounds like you are certainly making memories.
ReplyDeleteWow! What a great adventure. Enjoy, Enjoy, Enjoy!
ReplyDelete