The Great Outdoors – August 2019

We yomp up the steps on the lower part
of the climb, passing two Asian girls who
warn us that their male friend is behind
them and has a massive rip in his trousers,
then past Rip Van Winkle himself, and on
past a father and son in camouflage who
gleefully tell us how much walking we still
have ahead of us. We pause at a tarn, noting
that William has helped himself to the lion’s
share of the remaining water and biscuits,
before pushing on behind him up the soft
red scree summit of Red Pike.
And, finally, the reward. The grey cloud
has lifted above the summits, and is stuck

at an angle like a curtain malfunction at a

local theatre. Beneath, Buttermere is the

colour of cobalt, Crummock pewter, and

Ennerdale milk; in between, the forms of

Great Born, Mellbreak, Whiteless Pike and

High Snockrigg are dark as wet elephant

seals. Below the cloud, the sun glows like a

crucible, pouring out light that’s as bright as

molten steel.

Later, after a beer at YHA Ennerdale, we

crunch along the track in silvery moonlight.

Having failed utterly, I console myself with

the thought that Bob Dylan follows a river all

the way to the sea in ‘Not Dark Yet’, but finds

only a “whirlpool of lies”.

Perhaps, I say to Martin, given the

ingredients of our supposedly riverine

adventure, an unpredictable outcome

was entirely predictable. After all, if you

take a fencing coach (me), a wedding

photographer (Martin), and his teenage

son (William), add in an inner-city pastor,

a gothic heroine and a Russian mystic, then

shake them all together with a liberal dash

of Lakeland weather, the resulting cocktail

will have a wide spectrum of potential

outcomes. And I, Captain Oxbow, will

happily drink to that.

The Great Outdoors August 2019 65