So we are here in the Lake District! I honestly thought I’d never make it.

Firstly the last week has been horribly hectic and I have been away in London (work) for four days. Therefore, just keeping up with life, the universe and everything is about as much as I can manage – being a reasonably newly single person these days is taking it’s toll! Secondly, the weather is utterly atrocious, yes even for the Lake District.

Before I left yesterday the forecast said that we could expect “the biggest storm of the year” with torrential rain and winds of 70-80mph. Perhaps not the day to tackle Striding Edge then! But I was undeterred by any of this, and I have been looking forward to it incredibly. Me and my daughter are away for the weekend together for the first time – I will be happy regardless of anything you want to throw at me.

I didn’t however bargain on the road conditions. Now the Lakes from where I live is about 250 miles or so, and should take around 4 hours with no traffic. Alllowing for picking up Becca along the way (and that it is a Friday evening) this should still mean that if I set off at about 3.30 then I should be there comfortably for 8.30-ish. Time for a bite to eat, and a pint of something nice in my favourite pub, The Golden Rule then. Wrong! As I set off in my very unpractical (for the conditions, in fact for most things) car, the rain is horrible. Nasty, wet rain it is. Then there is an accident, then there is another, and just to get onto the motorway (should be 20 minutes) takes an hour and a half. I ring the traffic update service and am told that there is another hour and half delay on the motorway due to a four car pile-up, and decide that this is almost doomed already. I therefore take a detour cross country to try to get to the M1 from the M40, and then there is another accident – a lorry has overturned in the high winds – the road ahead is closed! So to cut a long story short, three hours after I leave I am actually further away than when I started! Oh yes, and it is Friday 13^th!

After a while I seriously consider turning round and heading home. I tell myself however how much I want this weekend, and what a ridiculous waste it would be to drive for four five hours just to get back where you started from and put those thoughts out of my head. I shall cut an even longer story short, and tell you that I got to pick Becca up at about 8pm, and we get to the Lakes shortly after 11pm. The rest of the journey actually wasn’t too bad – the winds were really strong and when we eventually got to the Lakes there was an awful lot of standing water on the roads, and I was so tired by that time, but we made it and that is all that matters.

So straight to bed then! No Golden Rule, no dinner (actually a snatched sausage roll and a bag of Minstrels from a motorway service station when I stopped for petrol), and not even a drink of any kind (which is let’s just say a shock to the system for my body, but I suppose I will have to get used to that by the time Kili comes around).

I woke up on Saturday morning way too early (where is my headache?:)), and half expecting to see blue skies, views of the fells and smell that lovely clear Lakeland autumn air. Who am I kidding? The clouds are so thick that you can just about see across the street, the rain is stotting (good old North eastern term that one) off the pavements, and we could be in Burnley for all I know.

Anyway, after a hearty and very tasty breakfast we asked the landlord as to what he reckoned the weather would like on Fairfield today. He said, very very straight faced, “do you have a map and a compass?”. I said I had neither, and he gave me one of those “mmmmmm, I can’t recommend this to you, because if you die up there it’ll be my fault” sort of looks. Or that is what it looked like anyway. So after going to buy a map (a compass I decided is beyond me if I am in blanket cloud, I’ll just get on my hands and knees or something and hope for the best), and stocking up on Mars Bars, sandwiches and water etc., we duly headed for the hills.

So the route was the Fairfield Horseshoe, an outline map of which is below:

We decided to do the route clockwise, starting up the western flank, but by the time we had been walking a mile or so I realised that I was slightly lost (so much for the map then), and was off even the eastern flank by a good few hundred yards. This made it interesting, as it meant we were above a very full flowing beck, or stream, which is on the far right of the map above. The water was coming down in torrents:

This also meant (I found out afterwards) that this would add another 900ft of ascent and about a mile and half to the walk – which at 10 miles and 3,500ft of ascent was already going to be a challenge – oh well, in for a penny….

So my main concern for the day (apart from not getting lost and drowned and swept away by 65mph winds and keeping Becca safe (which should be the other way round I reckon:)) was whether my feet would hold up! My new boots were being christened after all!

As we led our way up the path out of Ambleside the weather sort of calmed down, and it became almost warm. This was obviously (as it would later prove) to lull us into a false sense of security. So here is me at the start – note my nice new ‘waterproof’ jacket:

And this is the path at the start out of the village of Ambleside itself:

Which looking back to the village looks like this:

And so we tracked on for a while and were rewarded by some quite nice, and indeed better than expected views back down towards Ambleside and also Rydal Water:

The hills are alive.......

That is Becca towards Ambleside, and here is a shot of Rydal Water:

Rydal Water

After a mile or two it started to rain, but we didn’t mind much. Here is a picture as we sort of reach the start of the horseshoe – the ridge in the distance over my left shoulder is the start of the Western flank of the horseshoe, and the lower ridge over my left shoulder is the start of the Eastern ridge, showing you how much we missed it by!

The rain cometh...

So after this bit the path opens out and we were headed for the start of the ridges and peaks themselves. The rocky bit at the top of the picture below is the bit which you cab see on the map earlier in this section below Low Pike, so it will probably be at about 1200ft or so:

Move out of my way, I am coming through....

Becca and I were the only ones on the path. In fact in about five hours altogether, we saw I think three other people all day – perhaps they had read the weather forecast…..

The next picture is of Low Pike in the foreground, with High Pike in the background. High pike is at about 2,000 feet, and you can see how wet the path was getting. We know now why this area is called the Lake Dictrict – these fells are there to make the lakes!

Low Pike and High Pike...

The looking from here to the west is a better view of Rydal Water, showing that we had climbed a fair way already:

High Pike was a good ‘pull’, pretty steep in places, and with water running at you from every direction (up as well as down) it was a challenge. It is 2,155ft (or 656m) and here is a view looking back towards Low Pike. You can see how the weather was starting to really close in on us:

From the top of High Pike - the weather beckons...

As we then turned from High Pike towards Dove Crag, we were then into the clouds, and it started closing in on us. This is about as far as we could see, and I think my camera could see more than me:

There may be trouble ahead.....

It was at this point that I was glad that the wall was there, for it was becoming obvious that we were not going to see the summit, even if we stumbled upon it, as the rain started to lash us, and the wind began to really blow hard, hail and all sorts were coming at us. This is my brave face:

"Where did you say the pub is the pub again?....."

Shortly after this we made to Dove Crag, at 2,600ft the 47th highest mountain in England apparently. Had we made it to Fairfield, we would have been only 260ft higher, on the 17th highest mountain, but this here was going to be the end of our upward travels. The wind now was gale force, the rain and sleet in our eyes, it was freezing, my map had turned into a ball of mush, and we could not see a thing at all. Apart from that it was plain sailing up there! We had no choice but to turn round and head back the way we came. There was literally no other choice to make – to go on would have been reckless at best, especially as the time was already past 1pm, we were not halfway, and had probably only three hours of daylight left.

Coming down was very hard going at first. As we had gone up the wind was at our backs, but now it was straight in our faces, and blowing furiously. Thankfully it was not long before we had made it past Low Pike again, and from there the worst of it was over. In fact from there the wind just dropped suddenly, and the walk down from there was much calmer, to the point when we got back to Ambleside it had almost stopped altogether. Here is a shot on the way down:

Heading the right way this time, i.e. down!

There was nearly a nasty moment on the way down, as Becca lost her footing on a slippery steep part, and did what she later called a “sonic happy slappy death slide” (or something like that – I am sure she will correct me later). Anyway she did go about twenty feet, and ended up putting a hole in her waterproofs:

Apparently rocks are sharper than plastic....

As we got back to close to the bottom we stopped for a quick breather by a bridge – you can see how much of a torrent the stream is, and also you might notice that I am holding on to the fence as my legs are a bit wobbly after doing 9 miles for the first time in ages – the smile is in fact a grimace!

"..So how far is the pub now?..."

So as we got to approach Ambleside it was very much calmer, and the clouds started lifting again:

So shortly after this we got back to base. Tired and happy, (very) wet and happy. I was really pleased for one thing, in that my new boots held up brilliantly. It wasn’t perhaps the most sensible thing to break in an entirely new pair of pretty stiff walking boots for the first time on a nine mile walk up Fairfield in a gale and the rain, but hey were outstanding. Despite being in water several times up to three quarters of the way up my boots, my feet were bone dry, and more importantly blister free.

A lot lot more importantly than this was that me and Becca did our first big walk together, just me and her. There have been lots of other walks in lots of places, but this was the first one just the two of us. It was the first weekend away together that we had had just me and her. We had a great time, and it was perfect in every way.

So we didn’t make it all the way round the Fairfield Horshoe. So we got soaked. Does that matter? Not a bit of it. It was all part of the adventure, the experience, and for me the togetherness.

We both vowed to do it again, and that is a certainty. No matter how many walks I go on though, wherever they are, and whoever they are with, they may never be as special as this one.

So thank you Becca – for making your old Dad very proud, and ridiculously happy. I love you.

So my daughter and I are talking on Skype the other day as she has recently finished her Duke of Edinburgh Silver Award, for which I should say here a hearty “well done”. I am slightly guilty of not knowing exactly all that she went through to get it completed, but I know it was really hard work. I intend to talk about it with her a lot next weekend, as she and I are going to spend our first ever weekend with ‘only’ each other, i.e. just her and me and nobody else – how exciting is that?

The Skype conversation basically went as follows: {Becca} “Dad – will you take me up to the Lake District?” {Me} “Yes!!!” I should put this in context and tell you why I mention this here as I have. For the last 16 years she has almost never asked me for anything, even when prompted. Every Christmas it is usually “what would you like for Christmas?” followed by “Umm, I don’t know…”, then birthdays “Umm, I don’t know”, and when we are in a restaurant the question “what would you like to eat?” is almost invariably followed by the same answer. Now some Dads would find this frustrating, but as I know she gets it from me (I am as indecisive as all get up) then I really don’t complain or mind. So given the fact that she actually came and asked me for something must mean she really wants it, so how could I say no? I have to say that I wouldn’t have even considered saying no for a whole host of reasons, the most important one being that I love her with all of my heart, and therefore to spend a whole weekend just me and her is like a dream come true.

Plus she wants to go walking in the fells! I think I said in a previous post that I dearly wanted to get back up to the Lakes after some years in the wilderness, plus I haven’t actually put my new boots on yet, despite having bought them over 6 weeks ago, and so this is the best excuse that I could get to go and christen them.

Now the Lake District, for all of you that know it, is most certainly known for its weather. It certainly gets lots of it. Walk past any typical touristy shop in the Lakes with postcards outside, and you will see the ubiquitous postcard entitled “summer in the lakes” and the front of the card will be just plain black. In fact here is a statistic that I just found when googling:

“..The Lake District is England’s wettest region. This is because of its location on the north western coast of England and the mountainous geography of the region. The average annual rainfall for the Lake District is more than 2,000 mm; there is, however, a great local variation with some areas of the region receiving considerably more rainfall than others. For example Seathwaite in Borrowdale receives on average of 3,300 mm of rainfall a year, making it the wettest inhabited town in the United Kingdom; whereas Keswick situated at the end of Borrowdale receives 1,470 mm of rainfall every year; and Penrith receives only 870 mm annual rainfall.

Sprinkling Tarn is the wettest area of the Lake District and receives over 5,000 mm of rainfall every year. The wettest months of the year are October through January and the driest are March through June, but the low level areas show little difference in rainfall between months…”

OK, so we are going to get wet it seems, but I don’t really mind – you sort of get to accept it there. We are going to stay in Ambleside, which is my favourite place in the Lakes. It also contains my favourite pub in the whole world, The Golden Rule, of which more in a subsequent post. Oh and the Lakes has many other things that I love – one of which is my favourite shop (which sells my favourite thing to eat:)):

http://www.grasmeregingerbread.co.uk/

Anyone who has ever had Sarah Nelson’s gingerbread (actually with only one exception that I know of personally) just wolfs it down and cannot get enough of the stuff – I absolutely love it. Seems my son does too, as he made a point of asking me to bring some back for him, and he was probably 7 years old the last time he was there as far as I can remember, and is now 18.

Oh and then there is my favourite artist – Alfred Heaton Cooper. His family (there are several of the Heaton Coopers) studio is in Grasmere, which I also love. Here is the website:

http://www.heatoncooper.co.uk/eshop1/

In fact if you look at the first page there there is a picture in the middle of the screen of Ullswater (which happens to be my favourite Lake:)), and that same picture has been in my possession for as long as I can possibly remember.

So anyway, enough of my ramblings for now – I will save more on the Lakes for another day. The trip is booked, we will be there next weekend. The question is which walk to take? I think that perhaps the Fairfield Horseshoe awaits. Or maybe we should do Hellvelyn, or the Langdale Pikes, or Scafell? In fact, Ummm, I don’t really know………:)

Did I tell you before that I love Oxford incredibly? Well if I did then you already know, and if I didn’t, then I’m going to tell you why in this post. It could be a very long post, as it is just an incredible place, and there is so much to inspire you. Having only been in the vicinity of it for a few months now, I find that I try to visit as often as possible.

Here immediately below for example is a picture taken in what is more or less the centre of the city, of All Souls College, designed by Christopher Wren I believe. Is that incredible, and beautiful, or what?

So here are a few of the things I like about Oxford:

1. It has the most incredible history. There are just so many facts and figures that I don’t know where to start. But it does just bristle with that incredible feeling of what it has seen through the ages. It apparently dates back to around 4000 BC, and whilst apparently largely overlooked by the Romans, there is so much to the place that it boggles the mind.

2. The colleges. There are 38 of them for those of you who don’t know that (I didn’t until I came to live close by). They themselves of course ooze history. The oldest, Balliol, or University, or Merton, depending on who you believe, was founded in 1249. They are fantastic, and I have been in four of them so far – New College, Merton, Christ Church and Brasenose – I want to go into them all in due course. If I had been to university here I would not have failed to have been inspired I hope. Here is a picture of Brasenose, isn’t it just great?:

Brasenose College:

3. Great restaurants. I have not had the chance to sample many of the culinary delights of the City yet, but there are places aplenty. Of course you don’t have to go a long way out of here to find Le Manoir Aux Quat’ Saisons, Raymond Blanc’s flagship, and one of the top restaurants anywhere. In town you are spoilt for choice, from Jamie Oliver’s latest offering (imaginatively called “Jamie’s” :)), to Shanghai 30’s, a top notch Asian offering in a 14th century building, to the likes of The Grand Cafe, the ubiquitous Loch Fyne, and a whole bunch of places like Gees, which just serves damn good food. I can recommend Fishers too, a fish place funnily enough.

4. Pubs! I have been to a pub or three in my time it is fair to say. In my experience, city centre pubs are always hit or miss at best. You will usually have a few scruffy offerings, a few touristy places, a few decent places for the locals, and maybe the odd hidden gem if you are lucky. I know from my many dips into the Good Pub Guide over the years, that there are very few really good pubs in any city, other than the odd  one here or there. Oxford I can say is the exception to beat all exceptions. I think I have been in about 10 or so pubs so far, and am yet to find one that isn’t just great. Wow! My favourites so far, in no particular order, are The Turf (hidden down a back alley, very low ceilings, great selection of beer, good food etc etc), The Kings Arms (great real ales, good little snug rooms, very good food, great atmosphere), The Old Tom (combination of cosy ambience, well kept ales, and shit-hot Thai food), and The Eagle and Child (Tolkien, CS Lewis and various others used to drink here, what more can I say?):

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Eagle_and_Child

5. Museums – I had forgotten that museums can be so great. It is so long since I went to one, and when I went on a Walking Tour of Oxford a couple of weeks ago, it was a recommendation of the guide that they should be seen. And so today I went to three. I did the Science museum, the Natural History Museum, and the Pitt Rivers, which is Anthroplogy and Archeology. The Science Museum is apparently the oldest museum in the world; the Natural History museum easily rivals London’s, and the Pitt Rivers museum is just brilliant. There are apparently over 500,000 exhibits. I could have spent forever there. Here’s a picture of the inside:

Inside Pitt Rivers Museum

Oh and apart from what I saw today, let’s not forget that Oxford is most famous for it’s Ashmolean Museum, which is the oldest University Museum in the world, and contains da Vincis, Raphaels, Turners and Michaelangelos. That’ll be for next time then.

6. Oxford is literally full, at almost every twist and turn, of fantastic things, be they architectural (witness the Radcliffe Camera, Christchurch Cathedral, The Sheldonian Theatre to name but three, and it is known as the City of Dreaming Spires for good reason ); natural and beautiful (the rivers Thames (known as the Isis locally) and Cherwell flow right through it and are full of rowers and punters); to the surprising and amazing (the stunningly beautiful Magdalene College has a 200 acre deer park within its grounds, and Blackwells bookstore which looks tiny from the outside has a 10,000 sq ft room in the basement which is the largest floor in any book shop in the world).

So there, just to name a few, are the things that I so far seen and learned about Oxford. When I come into the centre (Broad Street, by the gates of Balliol College is my favourite spot I think), I sort of get goose bumps, and get consumed by it all. It gets me interested, inspired, excited, and quite driven and challenged even, to see and do more more. To that end, it makes feel a lot like a certain mountain in Africa does……………

Some of the dreaming spires.