Notes from Nick!

Playing Hooky

As the week progressed we watched the forecast with some trepidation. According to the man on the BBC it was going to be a typical British Bank holiday. We had some very Lakeland weather in store, wet and windy.

As Good Friday came the weather was living up to our expectations - wet and miserable. I kissed my wife goodbye and she was off to mother’s, way down in the depths of Derbyshire. I, for my sins had work commitments so missed the trip.

Saturday dawned and looked like it would be a glorious day. The sky a soft, baby blue, the odd cotton wool cloud bouncing haplessly around. The drive to work was both a pleasure and a pain. There were gangs of delinquent young lambs tearing around fields, troubling both their own mum’s and casual bystanders. There were swathes of golden daffodils in the fields, on roadsides and peeping from under the edge of the woodlands I passed. I watched the Old Man bathed in the morning sunlight, dreaming of excuses to abandon my days work.

As I reached Torver, and then Coniston beyond, my trip changed in nature; there was a convoy of cars, large powerful cars being driven by owners who were already regretting the trip. The passengers worrying about the on-coming traffic; worrying about the ever closer appearance of the hedge; offering helpful advice about that cyclist or walker. Neither driver nor passenger completely sure if they were ever going to get to see the villages they were aiming for. The driver’s gaze transfixed by the blinking GPS, following with unerring faith the directions announced by the mechanical voice of their satellite navigation. I felt pity for them, they had passed by the Old Man, White Lady and Yew Tree Tarn, oblivious to the beauty of the landscape in their pursuit of Lakeland perfection.

As the day wore on the weather showed no signs of changing. The sun had clearly decided that the Lake District was the place to holiday this year. Sunday came - a still better day than Saturday, not a cloud in the sky and a warm bright sun. By lunch-time my work was virtually complete and certainly my enthusiasm exhausted. I pursued a colleague we should go for lunch but once in the car twisted her arm to settle for an apple and a drive up the valley. We headed through Chapel Stile and passed the Old Dungeon Ghyll. For a while we seemed to be caught in a cycle race weaving its way down Wrynose Pass; crazy people on a day like today. Far too much like hard work!

We stopped at Blea Tarn, whiled away half an hour or so perched on a couple of rocks over-looking the tarn, munching our apples. The view across and beyond was breath-taking, the Pikes majestic in the warm sun, the tarn shimmering below. What a truly beautiful day.

After what could have been an eternity but was only half an hour. We returned to the car and to reality. There’s a lot to be said for playing hooky!

Regards

Nick