By a Mossy Gnome

Choices, choices….

In fairy tales, the hero may find himself at a junction like this one near Elterwater, having to choose between easy and difficult options.  Only if he chooses the hardest route will he win the princess, or kingdom, or treasure, or a combination of all three.  The cycling prince-hero will have to choose the challenging route to Coniston, ignoring the easy ones.  No doubt he will have to battle a dragon or giant on the way, or outwit a witch who sets riddles, but as a reward, instead of a fairy kingdom he gets to relax in a pub in Coniston afterwards, perhaps by a warm fire.

Of icy winds and ladies dressed as Christmas puddings.

The wind from the north was cold enough to bring tears to the eyes and fingers would start to lose their feeling if gloves were removed.   Black mud crunched under foot, being full of shards of white ice. This was near the summit of Lingmoor on Saturday. 

I returned to Ambleside too late to see Father Christmas arrive by boat at Waterhead, or the lantern procession through the town, or the switching on of Christmas lights, but managed to arrive in time for the firework display in Rothay Park.   There were crowds there, and in the light of the fireworks, strange costumes became visible - clowns and a fairy all in white.   Walking round the town afterwards, admiring the lights, I was passed by two ladies dressed as Christmas puddings. 

Bald on top

Walla Crag is bald on top.  Perhaps all the undergrowth has been worn away by the feet of the vast numbers of visitors who have stood there over many years, gazing out over Derwent Water and Keswick, or - as here - into Borrowdale.  Heather and grass have given up trying to grow there.  The summit of Catbells is in a similar state, probably for the same reason.  The two fells are like two bald little fellows, facing each other across the lake - two very popular bald little fellows, who attract many admirers.

A cold wind on Walla Crag

Oh, it was cold on top of Walla Crag.   The weather seemed mild down in Great Wood, where the walk started, and it felt even warmer on the steady, steep climb up the rocky path to the summit.  Once on the top, however, the wind blew all warmth away and it was too uncomfortable to stand on the rocky plateau for very long.   Even the surface of Derwent Water below seemed covered in goose-bumps as the wind blew over its surface.  There was little time to admire the view before being forced to retreat to a sheltered spot for lunch.   This picture was taken from there - Derwent Water,  Bassenthwaite Lake (the only lake in the Lake District!) and Keswick.

Trees still sprinkled with gold

The trees are still sprinkled with gold here and there.  Some of the leaves in the woodland near Coniston remain green.  It’s not winter just yet, in spite of shorter days and fading light, and heavy rains produce spectacular waterfalls.  If clouds cover the mountain tops there are always some good low level walks.  A footpath leads from Coniston through these lovely woods, passing the back of Yew Tree Farm (call in for coffee), past Yew Tree Tarn, and onwards, towards Skelwith Bridge.

Colour co-ordinated farm animals?

After finishing a pot of tea at Yew Tree Farm at the weekend, I stopped to admire the half-timbered spinning gallery.  In front of the barn, two black and white turkeys looked curiously at me.   Then I saw these by the stream which runs near the barn:

In the lane nearby, I encountered those little black and white pigs -

A short distance away stood some Galloway cattle -

And in a field behind the farm, Herdwick sheep - too far away to see clearly here, but they have dark bodies and white faces and legs -

On the way back, I glanced towards the barn again, to see a black and white Border Collie resting in a doorway.  Is there a pattern here - colour co-ordinated farm stock?  Very smart.

The great escape (foiled)

Some inquisitive and friendly little pigs have appeared at Yew Tree Farm.  It was wet on Saturday morning, so what better to do than sit by the fire and enjoy a pot of tea at the farm while watching the rain through the window.   I encountered the pigs in the lane afterwards.    As I approached the gate the sound of rapidly trotting hooves and grunting noises followed me.   Here is a translation of the grunts:

“Now is our chance to escape!  When she goes through the gate, make a run for it!  Dart out from between her feet.  Then make for the road.”

“Yessir!”

“Damn, she must be on to us.  She’s slipped out and closed the gate quickly.”

“Bad luck, sir.”

“Well, it’s back to Plan B, I’m afraid.  Get the wooden horse.  You and the chaps jump over it while I hide underneath and dig an escape tunnel with my nose.”

“Yessir!”

The only good thing about a wet summer

I haven’t been to the Lake District for a couple of weeks - just had the occasional glimpse of  mountains in the far distance.   This was taken on the approach to Coppermines Valley a fortnight ago and no doubt most of the leaves have fallen by now.  The only advantage to a wet summer seems to be the resulting bright autumn colours when it is over, and they were very vivid this year.

The Pudding Stone

In Boulder Valley, among the Coniston Fells, this is the king of the boulders – the Pudding Stone.  It deserves a grander name than that.   Normally a pudding stone is one made up of bits of gravel and small pebbles, like raisins in a pudding which has been baked to a very high pressure somewhere under the surface of the earth over a very long time.   I don’t know enough about geology to be able to identify this as pudding stone, or whether the name was given to it for some other reason.   It was obviously, at some point in its career, part of the mountainside, torn away by a glacier during an Ice Age and deposited a distance away.   So it was cooked and then frozen.   It now provides photo-opportunities for walkers, and is an inviting place for climbers.  Take a picnic by it, and remember to include some pudding.