Sunday 16 August 2009
We kind of all got up around half seven-ish and brewed and stuff and we were on our way by just after eight, I think.
The climb up to the top of High Pike was uneventful, but Netty’s (snigger!) rucksack cover disappeared towards Galashiels from the summit. And we descended easily enough – just frightening a few horses with our rucksacks. There was some kind of riding-about event going on.
Ultimately, we turned up at Caldbeck and parted company – they towards the fleshpots of Dalston and me to the only fleshpot in Caldbeck that was open – the tea room and basket shop.
We kind of all got up around half seven-ish and brewed and stuff and we were on our way by just after eight, I think.
The climb up to the top of High Pike was uneventful, but Netty’s (snigger!) rucksack cover disappeared towards Galashiels from the summit. And we descended easily enough – just frightening a few horses with our rucksacks. There was some kind of riding-about event going on.
Ultimately, we turned up at Caldbeck and parted company – they towards the fleshpots of Dalston and me to the only fleshpot in Caldbeck that was open – the tea room and basket shop.
I'd enjoyed the company, though, even perhaps as I wasn't too sociable at night and fell asleep by about nine... But they didn't complain to me, though.
In the teashop, I now considered both a corned beef sandwich and the problem of wild camping the next night on the flat bits of Cumbria that begin near Wigton. I spotted a couple of likely places on the map and marched off to investigate. The sandwhich received fatal damage, I have to report. Strange food. Not dried or anything....
The first had good water but was very wet and boggy and exposed, and it was raining again…. Raining yet again….. it was bloody raining again… AGAIN..
Ahem – and the second was in a pasture with some sheep but was nicely sheltered and had better water than the other place. It was now heaving down.
I will have to be slightly circumspect about where I ended up because the people who let me camp there don’t want anybody else asking about it. But it had a toilet and a tap.
Brian texted me and we spoke on the phone. He’d been in Caldbeck when I was in the tea room. He couldnl;t find me, though. We arranged something for the next morning.
I slept well, apart from some kids whispering outside the tent “There is somebody in the tent” “There’s a man living in the tent” and “Hello? Is there anybody in the tent?” They went away after I explained that I was making coffee. They seemed quite satisfied with this activity.
9 miles, 900 feet, twenty seven thousand gallons.
In the teashop, I now considered both a corned beef sandwich and the problem of wild camping the next night on the flat bits of Cumbria that begin near Wigton. I spotted a couple of likely places on the map and marched off to investigate. The sandwhich received fatal damage, I have to report. Strange food. Not dried or anything....
The first had good water but was very wet and boggy and exposed, and it was raining again…. Raining yet again….. it was bloody raining again… AGAIN..
Ahem – and the second was in a pasture with some sheep but was nicely sheltered and had better water than the other place. It was now heaving down.
I will have to be slightly circumspect about where I ended up because the people who let me camp there don’t want anybody else asking about it. But it had a toilet and a tap.
Brian texted me and we spoke on the phone. He’d been in Caldbeck when I was in the tea room. He couldnl;t find me, though. We arranged something for the next morning.
I slept well, apart from some kids whispering outside the tent “There is somebody in the tent” “There’s a man living in the tent” and “Hello? Is there anybody in the tent?” They went away after I explained that I was making coffee. They seemed quite satisfied with this activity.
9 miles, 900 feet, twenty seven thousand gallons.
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