The Great Outdoors – August 2019

the start of the walk! After no more than
15 minutes, the absurdity of our task
overwhelms us, and we simply take route
one to the beck. We follow it through an old
quarry, but just can’t stay on our feet. Both
Martin and I end up in Twister positions
on the slick rock, uninjured but no longer
unaware of the risk.
Nearby, William spots a curl of smoke,
then a chimney, and wants to investigate.
We’re don’t know of a bothy in the area and
wouldn’t want to disturb someone at their
private bolthole, but we’re so wet that any
shelter will be welcome. Inside Warnscale
bothy, a couple greets us warily. We debate
the best route to take in the conditions –
usefully, the woman seems to know the local

paths. As to whether we should continue

to follow the beck down into the valley,

the range of opinions is as follows: Maybe

(Angelo); probably not (Martin); an implied

no (William); and good god no (Emily).

Certainly, a slip on the narrow path would

be ruinous, for our bags could drag us down

into the rapids.

Ultimately, I decide not to go on alone,

but instead turn back with my companions.

We head into Honister for a hot drink and

a rethink. We consider returning to Black

Sail (fully booked), staying at Honister YHA

(which feels like an enforced battening

down), or catching the bus to Buttermere

(which feels like cheating). We decide that

the only soggy rabbit we can pull out of our

saturated hat is to walk along the road to

Buttermere.

Despite the persistent piddle, it feels

good to ignore the acid rain that the lemons

of bad luck are squeezing on us – although

in this case, it’s not so much bad luck as

Lakeland weather. Thankfully, Honister Pass

is looking truly dramatic in these conditions

• a great scree-sided, U-shaped glacial
  valley, riven by the bulging waters of a beck,
  patrolled by a kestrel and a buzzard, and
  coolly observed – from a crag – by a heron
  with its great question mark of a neck.
  Following a drizzly walk alongside
  picturesque Buttermere, and another coffee,
  I try my best to resurrect the original quest,
  but it proves to be as popular as Theresa
  May’s Brexit deal, and is voted down again.
  One or two more nights in wet clothes, in
  a wet sleeping bag, under a wet roof, aren’t
  selling it to anyone.
  Regrettably, we decide to cut the trip
  short, heading back over Red Pike and on
  to the car at Bowness Knott. Ultimately,
  the M of mountains – and the glimmering
  prospect of a spectacular vista – wins out
  over the more reflective W of water.

Buttermere beneath the cloud

64 The Great Outdoors August 2019