The Great Outdoors – August 2019

[previous spread] Never mind the sodding river! Dropping down Red Pike towards Ennerdale[above] The hummocky upper reaches of Ennerdale Valley

Stacks. Instead, realising that if we can’t
beat the water we may as well join it, we cast
around in an attempt to find the path of least
resistance down to Black Sail.
It’s at this point that a man in a red jacket
catches up with us, materialising out of the
gloom like a visitor from another realm.
The interloper’s name is Mark, and he
immediately endears himself to the group.
He’s a community pastor from a deprived
area of London, who – in his spare time – is
lead singer in a rock band, and who has
a penchant for wearing his baseball cap
backwards. Mark, who is walking all of the
Lakeland ridges in nine days, guides us onto
the right path – not with divine inspiration,
you understand, but a GPS device.
It’s almost completely dark by the time
we approach Black Sail, and we nearly bump

in to a man coming the other way. This

turns out to be James, from the YHA, who

is fretting about the safety of his final three

guests for the night. That’d be us, then.

James ushers us into the cosy, pub-

like building, and we receive a rousing

welcome as minor celebrities of mountain

misadventure. Above our heads, the beams

are festooned with sopping garments.

“You’re going to say ‘your dinner’s in the

dog’, aren’t you,” I enquire of the meals we’ve

ordered.

“There’s a problem with that...” James

twinkles back. “We haven’t got a dog.”

Result!

Later, Mark and I muse about the trail

we make through life, and how lyricists

such as McLean, Springsteen and Stipe use

water as a metaphor for making meaningful

progress. If the river is still flowing, they

seem to say, then follow it for as long as

you can. The way Mark tells his life story,

it sounds like a preordained path, a river

that flows directly from source to sea. In

comparison, my stop-start tale is full of

meanders – and half of these have turned

out to be oxbow lakes.

“It’ll be sunnier tomorrow,” says Mark,

teasingly, as he heads out for another night

under canvas.

DAY 2: CAPTAIN KIRK

The next morning, our gear is still sopping

wet. Martin’s phone, which spent the night

sleeping in a bowl of rice, reboots with the

warning ‘Moisture detected’. “Yeah, I think

we can all say that,” he opines, dryly.

Just as the sun’s rays break through

The Great OutdoorsAugust 2019 61