Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Breakfast the next morning was a tense affair. Pete had urged us to be prompt as we had a
daunting walk ahead, but the inn-keeper uncharacteristically, had overslept, and there was
no “full English” to be had for a while, no aromatic coffee, not even any hitherto ubiquitous
tea. Once suitably fortified, we set off, accompanied this day by Judy, whose mother had
had to admit temporary defeat and ride the luggage van to Shap, our destination for the day.
(The name derives from “heap,” rather than the omnipresent sheep as I had guessed.)
The reunion with Beverly had put a spring in my step, but I was wistful too, looking back.
As fate would have it, we were climbing much the same path Beverly and I, and a few other
giddy teenagers, had tackled many, many years before. Before all the heartache and the flush
of pride. We had walked that day from the primitive Helvellyn Youth Hostel, up to Angle
Tarn and down again to the rather luxurious Patterdale Youth Hostel. We had arrived, proud
of ourselves and exhausted. Today, we were at Angle Tarn by elevenses, (Mars bars and Lu-
cozade), and were pushing on to Kidsty Pike, the highest point on the walk.
View over Haweswater
Needless to say, it was invigorating on the top of Kidsty, with the blue sky, puffy white
clouds, the wind in your hair, and by the by, the temperature was right around 70!... So re-
cently we had set off, and already we had walked through the rugged and beautiful Lake
District, through some trials and into companionship. Chris with his outsider's eyes had ob-
served dryly, “Why do they call it the Lake District? It's really the mountain district.” An
Search WWH ::
Custom Search