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Time: 5.25h. Up: 600m. Down 615m.
Distance: 13km. Difficulty: easy Day 3: Rosthwaite (100m) to Grasmere (85m) The day dawns with high clouds but no rain… not that any of us see the dawn because, after the exertions of the previous day, and with a short and easy hike ahead of us, we have agreed to a 10AM start. Dave, completely recovered after a night’s sleep, and I are alone together in the second B&B and at breakfast we get to talking… thereby losing track of the time and thus show up half an hour late to be met by some irritation. That’s the trouble with large groups, I tell the others, someone is always late. Good news! Oliver has recovered sufficiently to hike again. We set off. Today is a simple up and over hike… up to a ridge, then down to the lovely, albeit somewhat touristy village of Grasmere. Wordsworth lived there for many years, and it attracts hordes of visitors as a result. A different kind of visitor than us… much more couth. I think we shocked a number of them at dinner that night. I see that Dad is still somewhat tired after yesterday and I resolve to slow him down. That’s Dad’s big problem: he can’t pace himself. His natural tendency to rush forward leaves him panting and needing a break every 100m (330 feet) of climb or so… and thereby much more tired at the end of the day than he would be if he walked at a sensible pace. So I position myself in front of him on the narrow path and climb sensibly. It works but I feel a bit bad for subjecting him to the sight of my backside the whole climb and decide I’ll have to find another strategy for tomorrow. I do discover one small problem to slowing Dad down. If he slows down too much, then he can talk. And if he can talk, he puns… and he makes the most awful puns. I’ll give you an example from the trip… at some point Miles says that Russ might start feeling grumpy, and Dad says he’ll take Snow White. To avoid such abominations I find I have to go fast enough to keep him unable to speak, but not fast enough so as to tire him out. It is an exacting task, demanding much concentration, but the world is better for it. The terrain is a little boggy at times, but the path is hardly ever in doubt, the scenery beautiful (Borrowdale makes you feel as if you are in Jane Austen’s time, and Grasmere is picture-perfect), and everyone enjoys themselves. At the top, there are two options for the descent, one simple and direct down the valley, the other along the undulating ridge – Helm Crag – to the north, longer and more strenuous, with a steep descent at the end, but with spectacular views. Russ, suffering I think from some more chafing, Oliver, looking to get to a pub in time for the beginning of the England World Cup soccer game, and Dad decide to take the shorter route. Miles, in a fit of over-exuberance decides to take the longer route with Sally, Dave, and me. He will pay later, but keeps up manfully today. Everything goes as planned, and we meet up at the Harwood Hotel before going to the Red Lion Inn for dinner. A slightly stuffy place with a slightly stuffy clientele, we provide at least 90% of the decibels in the dining room. I see Confit de Canard on the menu and order it, forgetting the fourth rule of dining in English restaurants: unless you have reason to believe they know what they are talking about when they offer foreign-sounding food, don’t order it. Stick to things they probably know how to cook. The Confit is… strange. Oh well. England won, everybody had a great day, the weather was cool, which was excellent for the ascent / descent, and the food although not tremendous was edible… another successful day! Summary:
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C2C: The Coast to Coast Hike