Our holiday at the Lakes is drawing to a close. Tomorrow will be our last full day in the beautiful town of Keswick on the edge of Derwent Water.
The Lake District has inspired artists and writers for centuries from Wordsworth to Ruskin, Turner to Constable. And it’s easy to see why.
In all directions there are magnificent and beguiling mountains enshrouded in mist that have stood proud for millions of years. Ferns and heather line the banks of streams that meander across them. To the south is Scafell Pike, and to the East, Helvellyn — two of the tallest ranges in England.
Today we climbed England’s sixth highest, Skiddaw. Just a couple of miles north of Keswick it overlooks Derwent Water to the south and Bassenthwaite Lake to west. With a summit of 931 metres it is often said that Skiddaw has its head in the clouds. And so it was today. As we reached 700 metres the mist drifted in with the east wind. And soon enveloped us completely.
There is a well worn path of rock and slate that wends through fields of fragrant heather. It is steep at first before settling to gentler climbs to the summit. At a certain height all you hear and feel are the cold, howling winds. But despite this it was an invigorating walk. And it was enchanting to be surrounded by nature on all sides with endless breathtaking views in each direction.
I haven’t written much while I’ve been here, and have not researched as much as I intended. Next week things will recommence, but tomorrow life can wait a little longer among the pour of tor and distances here.
Pictures from Skiddaw