The wonderful lakes

So here I am in the Lake District, my favourite part of England, with my extended family for a week of walking, laughing, more walking and lots more laughing. Now I’m not a seasoned pro when it comes to walking, and my dodgy knees are likely to complain as I cajole them to drag my not insubstantial frame up and down hills and fells. On the other hand I just love to walk. Leave the car parked behind the rented house and search out a footpath to follow up and over a peak, or preferably these days, around one.

I’m fully kitted out for these sojourns into the wilderness of the Western Lakes. I have my GPS (that the thing that tells me just how lost I am), I have my whistle (although with my young great-nephew in tow, one is not often in need of anything else that would fall into the broad category of “loud-noise-making-device”), and I have my walking pole, waterproof jacket, walking shoes/boots (depending on terrain, weather and blister count), embarrassing hat (not to me but to those with whom I walk) and most important of all…. fruit cake. No adventure is complete without a suitable piece of fruit cake to enjoy on the way.

So why do I do it? If I end up with sore knees and sore feet and temporary deafness (don’t forget the nephew) why do I keep walking? Well I guess it’s because I enjoy the walk and I enjoy getting slightly lost and found. Unless I’ve walked the route before (and that offers no guarantee) I usually take a wrong turn here and there. The GPS has been a great blessing over the years I’ve had it. At least now I can look at the position and check where I am on the map. I’ve never been great at map reading anyway, the GPS helps solve that problem.

Discovering an old path, getting back on the right path and emerging at your final destination after anything from a few miles to too many miles, is just plain simple fun. And then there are the views. If you’ve never explored the Lake District, you won’t know what I’m talking about, but if you have, or if you know a similar hill strewn landscape, you may well know the joy of climbing a few hundred or even a few thousand feet just to see what it look likes from there.

The other great delight is the food you can eat, because you know that tomorrow is another calorie burning adventure. So, as I write I can hear tonight’s chefs rummaging in the kitchen. Very soon the air will be filled with the wondrous smells of “Italian night”, and the pastor gets to eat the pasta!