A magnificent day. We followed the Esk valley. The river was running high, but not in spate.
Lingcove Beck Bridge
Over twenty years ago I came here and saw the river when it was in spate, brown and huge, an elemental force. The noise was tremendous.
The path climbs above the gorge and its waterfalls, with sometimes a fairly precipitous view down into the Esk.
We skirted Great Moss to Sampson Stones:
Before climbing beside Cam Spout:
Looking back at Great Moss and the infant Esk:
As we continued to follow the stream, the slopes on our right looked to be an unpromising mass of wet greasy slabs with no obvious route through them. In fact the path climbs in a small steep gully, full of loose scree and a fast flowing stream. I was in Trail Shoes and once again had wet feet all day, but walking in the stream here was the only time that my feet felt cold. (And no trench foot, fortunately).
The final steep pull from Foxes Tarn was quite a challenge for me, but pretty soon we were on the summit.
We were in the cloud, but brief gaps appeared giving tantalising views of the coast and the Irish Sea. For a few moments through a rent in the clouds we had a view out across a cloudscape below us. As we descended the cloud began to lift and break. Views opened up of Burnmoor Tarn and Wastwater, the Coniston Fells and even the distant Isle of Man.
Two views of Burnmoor Tarn and the Irish Sea
Looking over Harter Fell towards the Duddon Estuary and Morecambe Bay. The lush green of Eskdale still along way away:
In the latter part of our descent we even had a sunny half hour, although there was still some very leaden clouds around:
And clearly still some rain, although not falling on us:
I’m still stiff two days later, but I’m so pleased to have had an opportunity to get out for a proper days walking. It was all the sweeter, given that this time last year climbing the stairs at work, or keeping up with toddlers on a walk into the village were tough going for me.
Bring on the next iron infusion.