There is a feeling – as Lake Windermere falls away below – that you are leaving behind one realm and entering another – one dominated by a sky-god.

Within minutes we were climbing strongly, part way up the road that snakes over the hill and down to Hawkshead. Fed by the traffic from the chain-link ferry, it climbs steeply, twisting and turning its way through Far Sawrey: the once-home of Beatrice Potter, the famous children’s author and co-creator of the National Trust, much of whose original land she gifted from her own estate.

The Saturday morning of the Silent Eye’s 2023 ‘walking workshop’ – Circle-Water+Cross, was in ‘full-climb’ and began in glorious sunshine. We had opted for the road-based ascent because its gradient was less steep than the direct but tricky trail that winds up from the Claife Viewing Station We wanted to minimise the risks, and allow our muscles to bed-in for the long day’s walking.

The journey would take as high over Claife Heights, along most of the northern length of Lake Windermere and eventually down to a mystery destination on the shore, several miles north.

With a nod to Tolkien, we turned right at the Cuckoo Brow Inn, to gain access to the steep and stony track out of the village of Far Sawrey and, finally, up onto Claife Heights.

There are various pathways across Claife Heights – not everyone wants to stay close to the lake. Between them, and confusingly, they seem to share only four destinations: Hawkshead, Belle Grange, High Wray and Blelham Tarn. It makes a big difference to your day to pick the right one… But the signs indicate paths that sometimes cross-cross each other.

There is no substitute for knowing exactly where you’re going, and, as I found out on the day, that may take more than one preparatory visit! At least we now had the lake on the right to keep us straight. I knew the path we were on – thankfully not too muddy – would take us down to Belle Grange, from where it was under two miles to our mystery location by the lake.

We just had to keep an eye on the time…

On a previous walk, when Bernie and I were carrying out a final recce, we had struggled to cross a long muddy section that I now wanted to avoid. Unfortunately, at the next divergence of paths, I couldn’t locate the photo (on my phone) that I had taken as a guide of what not to do at this juncture.

So we ended up right back in the (at least familiar) mud… Mercifully, the track had mainly dried out, and we passed through to the highest point on our walk without further difficulty. We’d been walking for about two hours at this point.

We had now worked our way back to the eastern edge of Claife Heights, and Lake Windermere was often visible through gaps in the trees. It’s reassuring to see familiar landmarks on the opposite shore. Our diversion up the Sawrey Road had costs us about 30 minutes, but we were making steady progress.

No-one else knew how far we had to travel. I had kept quiet about the final stages of the day’s journey…

The final part of the climb is marked by a place we collectively called the ‘blasted heath’ – a desolate peak where everything seems to be dying – see photo above. In fact, the place is the subject of a programme to restock the heights with indigenous broad-leaf trees.

From here the path began to descend for the first time. After a few more minutes’ walk, we came across a recess beneath trees that was perfect for our late-morning stop.

The essence of these outdoor weekends is spontaneity. We had an important task to perform – drinking tea from the giant flask I carry in my backpack for such occasions, and – for those I could persuade to do so – eating Kendal Mint Cake to keep our energy reserves up. It’s amazing what a bar of concentrated sugar can do for the spirits!

Humour aside, having exercised our legs and lungs, and now refreshed ourselves, we needed to shift our attention to the core of the workshop – the inner emotional state, and the power of this beautiful landscape to affect it.

Surround yourself with beauty … and it will do the rest.

Ancient Sufi Wisdom

We were taking two journeys. The outer one was to literally flood our sensual consciousness with beauty. In parallel with this was an inner, emotional journey involving the a kind of ‘sensual flowering’ of the centres in the belly, heart and head.

To assist with the focus, we had begun, on Friday afternoon, with each companion selecting a polished stone from a full bag, and associating that stone with the location and ‘feeling’ of the belly centre – located about three fingers below the navel and two-fingers into the body.

It was time to select an additional stone and associate it with the heart centre.

Collectively, we held the belly-centre focus and felt it ‘warming’; then allowed the restoring energy to rise in an organic shape so that its upper ‘branches’ surrounded the heart like a tree around the sky-picture of the sun.

It was only later that I realised our mental and emotional actions exactly mirrored the green, sheltered arbour in which we carried out the exercise.

We set off down the final stage of the descent to Belle Grange, on the lake shore, but one of the party had received a message from a long-standing friend of the Silent Eye – Barbara. She was having a struggle with a condition that required help and had asked that, since we were all together, could we consider sending some healing.

Briony, who is a trained shaman, offered to lead the group in diagnosing and then treating the condition. I will not divulge her methods, but she invoked her travelling tarot cards to ask the underlying nature of Barbara’s problem. This done, and joining hands, we set about visualising an energy response to this ‘diagnosis’.

Feeling recharged with the peaceful energy such endeavours bring, we set off along the remaining descent to Belle Grange.

The healing had cost us a further half-hour, but had been well worth it. But we now had problem. I no longer held out any hope of us completing the day as originally planned. Moreover, I had noticed that our pace was dropping. We were getting tired.

A drastic revision was needed if we were to avoid a most disappointing turn of events…

I held back, extracting some Kendal Mint Cake from my bag, and did some serious thinking as I weighed up what the group could best cope with…

A large marine clock was ticking.

To be continued in Part Five

This is Part Four

Part One is here….

Part Two

Part Three

©Stephen Tanham 2023

Stephen Tanham is a Director of the Silent Eye, a journey through the forest of personality to the dawn of Being.

http://www.thesilenteye.co.uk and http://www.suningemini.blog