Day 3: Longthwaite to Grasmere, 8 miles (Gordon’s Version)

Photos

Our tired, beleaguered, unthanksful bodies rose with much difficulty this day. We had just done 21 miles and had what appeared to be a meagre 8 more for today. Things seemed to be going pretty well as we cruised quickly by the riverside from Longthwaite up to Rosthwaite and then headed back down toward what we thought was the third city in the trio of the Borrowdale valley, Stonethwaite. Much to our legs’ disappointment we ended up right back at the bed and breakfast where we had stayed the night before! Whoops! No problem though, in a little over half a mile we were back on the right track hiking next to the stunningly beautiful Stonethwaite Beck. A ‘beck’ is a common word used for river in parts of England and this was no ordinary beck. The river we followed descended quite rapidly from the mountains we were steadily climbing. There were a few ‘forces’ or waterfalls, along the way that splattered over the shallow rock bed as we ascended. This part of the journey was quite easy. Huge boulder-like outcrops of rock hung precariously on mountaintops across Stonethwaite Beck to our right as we scampered up the left side of the river, through stone walls, across tributary stream and finally to to top of the hill dotted with drumlins. Though this hill was not by any means the end of the climb. As we would find out quite frequently during our little expedition, one hill usually hides behind it a second, third, or fourth climb that is invisible on the ascent of the first hill. So standing there before us at the top of Stonethwaite Beck was a steep climb up to the top of Lining Crag. I, Gordon, was not very happy with the prospect of what lay before us, especially with yesterday’s immense tiredness still running through my jello legs. It was all I could do to keep up with Lisa as she scurried over the not-so-well-worn path to the tip top of the crag. But once we arrived, what a view to behold. Even in the mist we could get glimpses down all the way to the Borrowdale valley where we had stayed the night previous. Even more important than the views, were the people we ran into at the top. For the first time we met four friends from California, who we were to run into daily for the rest of the trip. They were Gary and his sister Jen, and the married couple Jeff and Sarah. They set out before us, Gary particularly noticeable hobbling away amicably with his walking sticks and knee problems. We passed by the four again on the descent from Lining Crag after a little break savoring the view. Our path from here led across a boggy, boggy field extra moist from the misty air. Attempting to dodge the hidden sink holes that ravenously bit at your feet (and probably had swallowed some walker’s dog at some point), we made our way to safer ground and a more clear cut path after a mile of plateau walking. The descent in to Grasmere was equally as beautiful as the ascent to Lining Crag, this time with a meandering beck to our left, instead of the right. Down, down, down we walked. By this time, Gary’s knee problems had apparently been caught by me, as for the first time on the trip I could feel a slight twinge of pain in my left knee. But, alas, the walk must continue and we made our way down the moutain town a Grasmere, one of the most touristy, yet most pleasing villages on our trip. We pulled into the YHA Butharlip Howe (don’t ask me for a pronunciation guide here) and rested a bit before replenishing our famished stomachs with sandwiches, ciabatta and gallons of hot tea. We shopped around a bit, attempted to wash clothes, showered and laid down to rest for the night, unaware that the ‘drying room’ at the hostel did little of which its name suggest, the moniker ‘mildew room’ being a bit more appropriate. So we awoke in the morning to wet clothes and another day of misty mountain climbing.