
It’s rained all night – for most of August, to be honest. Our weekly Pilates class has been beset by bridge failures for the past two months.
So.. equipped with our own tea, we’re here early… 18 minutes early, to be exact, and sitting, with kind permission, in the closed bar of Kendal Rugby Club, the place where the classes are held.
Funny how the table number is chuckling at me…
©Stephen Tanham
+ Ancient Landscapes, Collie dogs, Consciousness, English Lake District, Lake District, landscapes, nature, Photography, Places and Prose, Silent Eye School, Silent Eye Workshops, Travel and people, Travel and Photography, Your inner wolf
Above the Lion and the Lamb (part three)
It was past four in the afternoon. We had been walking for over five hours. Despite our best smiles – and Joh’s chocolate – we were tired, very tired.

We were desperately looking for something – a path that should have been climbing up towards us from the steep lower slopes of the glacial corrie below. But paths – this far into a landscape – can be tenuous things, and all we could see, below and west, was the course of a stream, cascading down the valley.

Jon was pointing along the line of our high path, towards what I took to be a tarn, set high against the corrie wall. I had a mental picture of Jon’s map and knew that the far glacial wall was too high to intersect our present course.

“No,” he said, immediately understanding my glum expression, and pointing to a gap in the near ridge just left of my line of sight. “There!”

I looked… there. A small gulley acted as a cut-away to reveal what I had thought was the far side of the valley. But my perspective had been wrong. Revealed in the ‘V’ was a thin strip of path… climbing to meet the track we were on.
With something approaching joy, we powered up our weary feet and walked forward. In the end, we need not have worried; the two paths intersected not far from the corrie wall – which still towered high above us. We had no desire to sample the – undoubtedly stunning – views from its northern edge.
We joined the downward path – just a smattering of stones at this height – and began our longed-for descent.

The descending path was steep. Even worse, the path and the stream crossed each other all the time, meaning we had to pick our way across the larger boulders to traverse.

In places, the stream would suddenly drop ten, or even twenty feet, turning the way ahead into a partial waterfall. We knew that most walking accidents occurred on the way back from the heart of the walk: when the legs are at their most tired. There was still another four miles of the descent before we reached the level ground at the outskirts of Grasmere…

This is the kind of landscape that will constantly surprise you. When the main section of the descent was done, we sat by the stream – now a river – and had the last of the chocolate and the final sips of water. For some reason, our thoughts turned to the idea of a long, cold beer, reminiscent of the John Mills film ‘Ice cold in Alex’. The idea was potent and spurred us on.

Jon pointed to the top of the ridge, which was now above us and to the left. He thought that there may be a figure standing where we had rested so many hours before, looking down, ruefully, at the bridge… and choosing the long walk.

I raised the telephoto lens of the camera and and zoomed in…

To keep our spirits up, we chatted about our favourite sights of the day. Mine had been seeing the Lion and Lamb Rocks from above:

Bernie’s had been the hundreds of butterflies flying around a large but solitary thistle bush, close to Gibson Knot:

Kathy remarked that discovering that there actually was a path back along the valley had “been pretty special”.

Jon remarked that his was yet to come, but he could bear that cold beer calling from Grasmere…
We walked on, knowing that another hour would see us back at our start point in Grasmere.
Around the next bend, a familiar friend awaited us: the bridge we had last seen from nearly 500 metres above our present location.

To show her pleasure, the tireless Tess dashed across it and back to collect us.

We emerged from the glacial Easedale valley and into the farmland around the town. Another half hour to go. But then Bernie looked at her watch and realised we had only fifteen minutes left on the parking ticket.
We reassured her that, at this late hour, we were unlikely to get a fine, but she trotted off, surprising the three of us with her reservoir of energy.
‘Ice Cold in Alex’. The moment will live in our taste buds for ever….


Bernie arrived back with the car at the same moment the beer was delivered to our table. It was the best beer I’ve ever had…
It was 18:38. We had been walking for nearly eight hours – far longer than we had planned. We had covered eleven very difficult miles. But, we had done three of Wainwright’s peaks and made it home in relatively good shape.
What a day!
©Copyright Stephen Tanham
Stephen Tanham is a Director of the Silent Eye School of Consciousness, a not-for-profit teaching school of modern mysticism that helps people find a personal path to a deeper place within their internal and external lives.
The Silent Eye provides home-based, practical courses which are low-cost and personally supervised. The course materials and corresponding supervision are provided month by month without further commitment.
Steve’s personal blog, Sun in Gemini, is at stevetanham.wordpress.com.

I snapped this while walking the collie along Morecambe’s seafront in a strong wind, earlier today.
And then I was reading about WordPress’ new iOS ‘share’ extension for Apple iPad and iPhone, which can instantly convert online content (eg pictures or a block of text) into a there-and-then post.
It seemed the perfect test! However, I was expecting a ‘preview’ dialogue, but apparently not..
But what it does is good, if a little trigger happy! So, rather than shoot it, I’ll leave it there…
And later I added this:
‘The Midland’ is Morecambe’s iconic Art Deco hotel, whose beautiful renovation by Urban Splash became a key event in Victorian seaside town’s regeneration.
The Eden Project’s directors have recently confirmed that they are to site the new Eden North campus next to the Midland Hotel, on a part of the seafront that used to be home to the famous ‘Super Swimming Stadium’ – the TV home of the Miss Great Britain contest that ran from the 1950s to the 80s.
Times have, thankfully, moved on, and the eco focus of Eden North will have a dramatic effect on the town’s fortunes.
We are due to attend an Eden North event in November. I hope to do a detailed blog, then.
Hope you enjoy the pic!
Steve 😎
Stunning image and beautiful thoughts from Solitaire

Your flashing wings suddenly appear on a warm spring day;
Wings quick, turning, zigzagging to catch a micro insect in the warm air.
Then, your brilliant colors flashing wings, delicately enjoying the last days of summer before you disappear.
+ #Cats, #Collie dogs, #FurryFives, #InnerCatPeace, #RagDollCats, #Silenti, Cats, Collie dogs, humour, Pet Heaven, Rag Doll Cats, Silent Eye School, The Inner Cat, Your inner wolf
#FurryFives – Passenger

– Tess, I’m not criticising your driving
Sniff
– I just think….
Sniff, sniff
– I just think we took that corner a bit too fast!
©Stephen Tanham
Sue and Stuart’s enormous journey crosses back into England…
Let us tell you a story… Sue’s post

“Tell me a story…”
My granddaughters and I were sitting on the floor of their pink-painted cabin at the bottom of the garden. I had evicted yet another invading spider and, while the youngest sat on my knee, her almost-five year old big sister was sprawling in the pink armchair.
The three of us had been playing. I had pushed little Imogen on her swing until she giggled with joy and had chased Hollie around the garden, swinging her up onto my shoulders and teaching her to stand on her head in a fairly unorthodox manner. Somehow, small children make you forget the aches and pains… at least until next morning when you try to move again.
By this point though, we had settled down in the playhouse and eaten a meal of chocolate-dipped worms and green slimegrobbels with custard… a menu chosen by Hollie and lovingly prepared by the…
View original post 974 more words
+ Ancient Landscapes, Collie dogs, Consciousness, English Lake District, Lake District, landscapes, nature, Photography, Places and Prose, Silent Eye School, Silent Eye Workshops, Travel and people, Travel and Photography, Your inner wolf
Above the Lion and the Lamb (Part Two)
We were on the Helm Crag plateau, about to climb up and beyond the Lion and the Lamb rocks to reach the start of the ridge. When you’ve just done a steep climb, it’s natural to feel that you’re ‘at the top’. In our case, this assumption was to prove expensive…


It was time to say goodbye to the glorious views of Grasmere – though we were to get one last unexpected view later in the walk.
Helm Crag lies at the southern end of a long ridge. My simple picture, above, shows its location. Helm Crag is the point at which the photograph below, was taken. Our Collie dog, Tess, is looking at the start of the path which climbs up and along the ridge.


The path up to the ridge is quite a scramble – and very steep. One of its pleasures is a view of the A591 – the main road between Windermere and Keswick. Once at the top, the landscape changes dramatically. Gone is the gentle basin filled with the bright green of a grassy plateau, to be replaced with the undulating and rocky surface of a different world.

Once we had reached the ridge at Helm Crag peak, we faced a stark choice: we could take the footpath to the left (orange on the drawing) and make the quick descent to the bridge over Easedale Beck – shown below at the end of a long lens – or we could carry on along the top of the ridge, taking in another two of the famous ‘Wainrights’ peaks – a term that refers to a set of hand-drawn and hand-illustrated guides to hundred of walks in the Lake District.

We choose to risk the ridge, knowing that it would take us longer than leaving the high-ground at Helm Crag and descending to the bridge below. What we didn’t know was how much longer the ridge walk was going to take…

I pointed the camera at the vital bridge hundreds of feet below. The long lens made it look much closer than it was. But it was to be a lot more distant before we had the chance to change direction, again….
The Lion and the Lamb Rocks are visible from below, but it is only from above that you get the sheer scale of this famous landmark.

We had made our decision and now time was passing – and we had a long way to go. We estimated that the walk along the ridge, alone, would be at least five miles. Walking at an average speed of between two and three miles an hour, we reckoned that it would take us at least two hours to pass Gibson’s Knot and reach the junction of paths at the head of the valley below us and to the left.

Our first surprise was that we had to climb, again, to follow the ridge-path. Not only that, but the path that had been smooth and stepped on the lower slopes now became rough and rocky. Walking became a process of carefully placing each footfall… and was consequently very slow.
I didn’t help much, either. The trip was the first outing for my new camera. The telephoto lens was wonderful at reaching into the far distance and I ended up taking over a hundred shots… stopping each time to compose and frame them. The photo below illustrates what happens when you do this and look up to see where your friends are!

To our right (the east) the outline of the vast edge of the Fairfield Ring was becoming clear. The Fairfield Ring marks the high glacial bowl (Corrie) from which one of the largest glaciers carved out the northern basin of Lake Windermere – England’s largest lake.
From this perspective (below), you can only see the rim of Fairfield. The full walk around it, beginning at Ambleside, takes six to eight hours! These are not trivial landscapes!

To our left, the steep sides of the fell showed evidence of less and less habitation, as the ground gave way to the rocky floor of one half of the Easedale valley – known at this point as ‘Far Easedale Gill’

Above: Flashing forward in time… The ridge and valley: the two halves of our eventual walk. The photo was taken when we had finally ended our walk along the ridge – but still had to walk back to Grasmere along the valley floor.
The above photo shows the hidden difficulty we faced: each section along the ridge was a serious further climb; a fact that we hadn’t realised when we left Helm Crag. Locate the second ‘hump’ on the ridge. This is the point we had reached in the narrative…

We had developed a method of making as much progress as our diminishing strength would allow. We would walk for an hour, solid, then stop to sit on a pile of friendly rocks and share water and some fruit chocolate that Jon had resourcefully brought with him. It was only later, looking back, that we realised how much we were climbing in each leg.

The ridge was narrow, and each twist of the path revealed new vistas on the right and left. We were ascending, of course, and could see more of the surrounding landscape from each intermediate peak.

It was only when we realised that we had passed Gibson’s Knot (see schematic) without noticing that we became aware of how fatigued we were becoming. Our tireless Collie, Tess, was doing her best to help us – continually running from the back of her ‘pack’ to the front to keep the herd motivated to maintain their progress to market… a true ‘drover’. The photographer was often guilty of being some way behind the other three!

We took another break and reflected… It was 15:41. We had been walking since mid-morning. We had no choices left. Our only hope was to continue along the ridge. We looked at the diminishing water supplies and watched Jon search his backpack for more chocolate… worst of all, we were still at least an hour from the most northerly point of the valley; in other words, we were still walking away from Grasmere, the point where we started!

A slight panic tends to set in at such times. It pays to think laterally if only to clear the head. I found myself wondering if we could cross the high wall of the glacial Corrie to our north and hitch a lift from a passing 555 Bus, which would take us back to Grasmere… clearly ludicrous, as there were no paths marked on the map.
Then, ahead of me, I saw Kathy turn herself into an aeroplane and try to fly… so I wasn’t alone. Could we camp out on the mountain, Bernie might have been thinking. I could tell by her knitted brows she was worried…
Only Jon seemed calm. And he was studying his map, intently. He looked up and smiled.
“I think I’ve got some good news,” he said. We moved closer, following his pointing finger…

To be concluded in Part Three
Other parts in this series:
Part One, This is Part Two
©Copyright Stephen Tanham
Stephen Tanham is a Director of the Silent Eye School of Consciousness, a not-for-profit teaching school of modern mysticism that helps people find a personal path to a deeper place within their internal and external lives.
The Silent Eye provides home-based, practical courses which are low-cost and personally supervised. The course materials and corresponding supervision are provided month by month without further commitment.
Steve’s personal blog, Sun in Gemini, is at stevetanham.wordpress.com.
+ #Cats, #Collie dogs, #FurryFives, #InnerCatPeace, #RagDollCats, #Silenti, Collie dogs, humour, Pet Heaven, Rag Doll Cats, The Inner Cat
#FurryFives – Fallen

-Tess?
Yes, Misti
– I think we need to practice
Practice what, Misti?
– That piggy-back trick!
©Stephen Tanham








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