Accommodation: Glebe House
This morning another Full English Breakfast (cold cereal, sausage, fried salt pork - which they call "bacon," fried eggs, beans, toast, and marmalade) and off we went. At the beginning of the trail another walking couple jovially joked that we could carry their bags for them, since we seemed young and energetic. I'm going to call them the Rugby Couple, only because the guy was wearing a rugby shirt. "Are you doing Helvellyn?" we asked. "No, but we're old," the guy replied.
We trudged up and up and up, feeling nervous about how we'd do. New pains replaced the old ones, which would later reappear, like old friends now. D, in a fit of ancient Hebrew poetry, composed this couplet: "Pain will be your companion/ And misery an old friend."
But, strangely enough, it wasn't so bad! Looks like we got our "mountain legs" after all, as an old British prof told D we would. At Nethermost Pike (Dollywagon Pike was stairclimbing hell) we followed cairns through opaque mist - sort of like being at the top of the world - of another planet.
We had our fleeces and Marmots on as the mist was soaking everything. At Helvellyn we stopped at a shelter (rock benches, really- "Shelter! If this is shelter, then one wall and no roof make a house!") and ate some chocolate. The we headed to Striding Edge (with 1 false start, but that gave us the chance to see a guy with the cutest corgi - with pack and all - who was headed down the easier way because he didn't think his dog could "handle it." So cute!). I ended up peeing right off the rock on the scramble down since there was nowhere else to go and the mist was so complete no one could see me!
Striding Edge begins with a spiked rock monstrosity that we climbed and clambered up. I had a few moments of panic - "Where do I put my feet for the next step?!?" Then several more peaks on a sheer ridge of rock - nerve wrecking and soon I discovered that I suffer from acrophobia. The fog sort of made things worse, for though it made for less visibility of the sheer drops it also made me feel like I was on the cold horn of the entire world, with thousands of miles to fall - my imagination filled in all the blanks. I tried to explain this to D, who was not panicking like me: "I see blood everywhere, and my leg sliced open." "You need counseling." We took a ton of pictures - at some peak the batteries of the camera ran out and D had to hand me the last 2 we had: "I'm going to toss it." "No!!" The gales of wind were frightening too - D and I would instinctively lower ourselves/bend down whenever one blew - we could just picture ourselves getting blown off a precipice, our screams filling the air as we dropped into the fog below.
Man on the edge of a nervous breakdown
As you can see, lovely views to be had from Striding Edge
That smile is really hiding raw, primal fear
The last known picture of the explorer D. P. Singh before he disappeared into the fogsAt the last two peaks I decided to quit it - didn't know how much longer I could keep my nerve up. D did them as I took a sideways path. We met at the end and then trudged down, down, down on scree, blasted scree. I hate scree and its crumbly bothersome hatefulness. We scrambled down, jarring our feet and knees, for what seemed like hours until we got to Patterdale and the Glebe House, our B&B. The woman is a bit standoffish - D says shy. The room is a bit musty and like staying in someone's home. But a lovely hot shower!
Dinner at the White Lion pub - mmmm, lamb again. Lamb Henry, actually, with mint sauce and chips. Then we took a short walk to St. Patrick's well in Glenridding, where Patrick supposedly baptized the converted heathens.
Then, because we saw signs ealier and I though, Why not? We went to a "Songs of Praise" service at St. Patrick's Church - an Anglican/Methodist church with a woman rector. It was a lovely service. Just 20 or so people, so the rector had us all move up into the choir loft! A boy of about 8 ran down the aisle at the start of service - turns out he was up near the altar playing the bells for the call to service! he learned today! His grandfather was on the organ. It's been great seeing so many families - we've noticed it all over the place: dads dragging their children on hikes, families of 3 generations at the pubs (with dogs, no less). I'd like that, someday.
Anyway, a woman who had given us directions to the well earlier was there and welcomed us warmly. We sung hymns (only 1 we recognized: "Praise to the Lord, the Almighty") and then the rector and assistant read to us. One part was especially moving, when the assistant read a prayer for the
church and world and peace while we sang - Kumbaya, actually, but I suppose American cynicism hasn't touched this little corner of the world yet, so it was very touching. Then the rector sang a poem (written by a congregant) very beautifully.After service people mingled for refreshments. We met the poet - who had traveled the world and attended Utrecht and Birmingham for his theological training. Also met the rector. She seemed so peaceful and joyful and full of grace.
Lovely walk home in the twilight. And now to bed!
From the top of Striding Edge - note the drenching by the mist!
The view down to Patterdale
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