Friday
We made use of the August Bank Holiday (taking an extra day each side of the weekend), and after a not particularly good start (traffic problems on the M6 meant that it took us over six hours to get there), we hauled ourselves out of the car and sighed deeply. Sykes Farm in Buttermere... a veritable haven from the grime and grind of everyday life. You cant get a phone signal, there are no shops as such, "WiFi" might be what you call your socks after a hard day's climbing, the ground is uneven and littered with sheep poo... but it is utterly utterly charming - the right side of rustic, and some distance to the left of sterile. "Are you the Darwin's?" said Farmer Sykes (not sure if this *is* his actual name, but it will do)... "errrr... no... we haven't booked" I said - all innocent and earnest, trying to clear up any misunderstandings. Farmer Sykes is a tiny gentleman in his seventies at the very least (I hope he isn't 40, and just suffering from a very hard life), who wouldn't look out of place in a French B&W photograph of a farmer - replete with wrinkles the colour of stained oak and a black beret. His eyes twinkled as he looked at the canoe... "aha... I thought you were The Darwins", he repeated, meaningfully. I have to say it took me a full ten minutes to realise that this was a slice of Buttermere humour at its best... not even a smile to give himself away. First night we set up camp, reheated the lentil curry I had cooked in advance, went for a half* in The Bridge Inn (just a short walk from the campsite), and slept soundly... with the sound of the brook lulling us to sleep under the dour watchful eye of our project for the morning.
* Yes - a half! Can you see my halo?
Red Pike:- "Red Pike is a fell in the High Stile range in the western English Lake District, which separates Ennerdale from the valley of Buttermere and Crummock Water. It is 755 m or 2,476 ft (755 m) high. The direct ascent of Red Pike from Buttermere is very popular and the ridge walk from Red Pike to Haystacks is regarded as one of the finest in the area, with excellent views of the Scafells, Great Gable and Pillar."
Saturday
We breakfasted on yummy cereals and fruits, and headed off early to scale our silent friend. The start of the ascent to Red Pike is within staggering distance from the Campsite - which meant that we didn't have to risk the slightly hazardous roads all day. It took us around three hours to get to the top - although we had had an hour long diversion around the lake taking photographs (and generally bickering about the map). It was a magnificent climb - and I felt grateful for my recent spate of gym visits, as it was pretty hard going in places (step after stony step). I had my usual little weep at the top (as the red shale slipped under my feet), and Mark took his usual photograph of me mouthing obscenities at his lens. The view from the top was breathtaking. We ate pies (not part of the diet), although I felt mine was well earned - I wore my Polar Heart Rate Monitor, which indicated that I had burnt off well over 1500 calories getting up there, and a further 1000 or so getting down! (I regretted not bringing along some fudge, or Kendall Mint Cake at the very least...!).
The descent was somehow more difficult than the climb. I always find this... muscles in my legs start to hurt that I didn't even know I had! I never forget when Sofie and I took the train up Snowdownia, and walked down (or tumbled down in Sofie's case) - we walked like old ladies for two days after. We thought we had taken the easy option! Back to Red Pike though...I was slightly perturbed by a young couple though that seemed to be almost skipping down the hill - he with a child of about 18 months in a rucksack type affair on his back, and both hands firmly in his pockets. Perhaps I am getting to an age where I see danger in everything... or just perhaps... I am turning into my Mother!
In the evening, I treated myself to a glass of wine and cooked a vegetarian chilli. The sun was actually quite warm in the evening, and we watched the camping world go about its business - engaging in the strange camping tradition of pretending not to hear our neighbours' conversations, and hoping that they will pretend not to hear Mark's rather loud bodily 'functions'. (Mental note: lentil curry and vegetable chilli do not make for good neighbourly relations).
Sunday
Another thankfully sunny day in the Lake District. We took the canoe, complete with Mark's "modifications" to Derwent water. Mark has spent countless days over the summer making "floats" for the canoe, which apparently in the event of capsize (shudder) will prevent the canoe from filling up with too much water. Somehow, guarding against such an eventuality, makes it all the more likely in my mind. So it was with some trepidation that we (well, only *I* was "trepidationised"?) set off across Derwent water. A stiff breeze made it quite hard going, but it is such a beautiful place - lots of little islands in the lake, which is surrounded almost entirely by mountains. We managed to moor up by a tea shop and get some hot drinks, while watching a group of school children (perhaps from a detention centre by the looks of them!) on a kind of canoe assault course. At lunch time, we returned to the car (more pies!), and then went into Keswick to look around the shops. Man... I love the shops in Keswick! I could spend money there like the proverbial man with no arms... (come to think of it, how does a man with no arms spend his money so fast?!). Anyway... we left a little poorer, but happy with our purchases. Several new pairs of walking trousers, and some flashy spotty walking socks for me - new Ron Hills for Mark.
The evening saw us eating the old camping fave, Pasta and Pesto, and battening down the hatches - for there was a storm-a-coming. We were praying for it to blow away our rather loud and young Yorkshire neighbours (I swear that one of the young lads had a megaphone for a mouth). As it turns out, there is a God after all... we heard their shouts in the night as the gale tugged their tent over, and I confess to smiling a little while cradled snugly in the arms of Morpheus.
Monday
Monday was not a particularly glorious day... in fact it absolutely peed down all day. Not to be beaten though, we turned out in the car, and visited Ravenglass and Eskedale Steam Railway - a day trip enjoyed by Mark several times in his childhood. We joined the mug-of-tea and cheese sandwich brigade, and took the little steam train from Ravenglass to Dalegarth and back. A thoroughly gorgeous 14 mile round trip, taking in lots of beautiful scenery and providing good shelter from the main extent of the rain. In the afternoon, we made another trip to Keswick (not least to get the Histon FC football scores - we won twice over the weekend), and I added yet more stuff to my already bulging wardrobe.
In the evening, we ate at The Bridge Inn just down the road from the campsite, and I treated myself to more than just the one beer. Utterly delicious! I had "jewel" of lamb - like a lamb shank, but even bigger and even more tender. I can highly recommend.
Tuesday
This was our last day, and sadly our day to go home. Mark seemed to hurt his back while having our last walk around Keswick, so it made the journey home a little more painful for him than he would have liked.
We had a fantastic break... If you want to see the photographs from the trip - check them out here!
Love, Peace and "do we have to climb up *that* bit to be at the top?"... as they say on Red Pike.
Hayls
xxx
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