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is more than just the mountains; it’salso the hustle and bustle of a
village, the agricultural rhythm, and the ebband flow of tourism.
But despite the charmof valley life, it wouldn’tbe a Lakeland
adventurewithout baggingat least one peak. So,aer a rather
sweaty, lung-busting slog up to Honister SlateMine and beyond,
we emerge atthe summit cairn of Fleetwith Pike.
“I lovethis view – it’sone of the best,”I pronounce confidently,
and spot three nods of agreement. It’sa scene of mountainsand
lakes arranged to perfection,as if carved by a knowing hand.
Buttermereand CrummockWater,glossy and stillin appearance,
stretch out sumptuously towards the horizon, locked in symbiosis
with their surrounding peaks. Mellbreakand Rannerdale Knotts
touch Crummock Water,while High Stile and Robinson shelter
Buttermere.
Wemake a knee-crushingly steep descent of FleetwithPike’s
nose, an arduous section made more palatable by the unerringly
delectable views, before a gentler amble around the north-eastern
shore of Buttermere. e latter is achingly pretty, with Haystacks’
knobbly succession of turrets – like the knuckles of a giant’s
clenched fist – impossible not to ogle.But we don’t stop for too
long. e campsite is just around the corner and we’reall ready for
some evening R&R.
A GOURMET DINNER
“Right, four gourmet dinners please chef,quick quick,”I tease,
as Harrison lights his stove and pulls outa never-ending array of
fresh produce from his backpack as if it was Mary Poppins’ magic
handbag. Shallots, carrots, garlic, celery, parsley, flour and oat milk
all appear in quicksuccession. “Wild mushroom risotto with garlic
butter flatbreads is on the menu, sir – is that toyour liking?” asks
Harrison. “Do you notdo burger and chips?”I reply.
Our four tents areerected in a rather misshaped circle, in a
quiet patch of flatground between grassy knolls. In the middle of
the circle is Harrison’sal fresco kitchen and four camp chairs, our
mini base campfor the evening. Dappled dusk sunlightpaints
Syke Farm Campsite in an aureate glow. A recently sheared,
skinny-looking Herdwick wanders through the grounds with her
lamb and Mill Beck babbles away below us, creating a white noise
backing track to this rustic idyll. It’snot quite wild camping, but it
feels pretty close.
Wesit and eat. Wedrink and chat. And we share the good times
as the sun sets behind distantmountains. e halcyon weather will
soon change and the following morning we’ll be plastered in Gore-
Tex, plodding along rain-battered Crummock Water to our finish
line, but with compensation arrivingin the formof fantastic food
at the Kirkstile Inn in Loweswater. But none of us are thinking
about tomorrow right now.We’re living in the moment, laughing,
joking and just having fun.
“Aday without afriend is likea pot without a single drop
of honey le inside,”Winnie the Pooh once said. Coronavirus
emptiedthat pot for a long, long time. Butnow it’sflowing yet
again – and the honey tastes even sweeter.[above]Harrison cooks up a feast at the SykeFarm campsite38 The Great OutdoorsAugust 2021