Day 5: The Heart of the Lake District

August 29, 2024: Checking the weather forecast... I started wondering why I even bothered, but I continued to do so. Perhaps more out of habit than anything. It was quickly becoming apparent to me that they had monkeys throwing darts at a chart to create the local weather forecasts.

But the forecast called for better weather in the afternoon than in the morning and with only 10 miles to reach Grasmere--my goal for the day--I was in no particular rush. And since I could look out the window and see that the weather was gloomy now, I figured I'd rather take my chances with the afternoon weather.

Everyone I talked to raved about this section of the trail, that it was one of the most scenic areas in all of the British Isles. If there was a time you wanted clear and sunny skies, this was it.

As a result, I hung around the hostel until about 11:00am before hitting the trail. 

The trail looped through Borrowdale. It seemed like an unnecessary detour to loop through the whole valley, but I followed it anyhow before the trail started climbing steeply and relentlessly. The number of people I passed along the way surprised me. So far, I hadn't really seen many hikers on the trail, but today it seemed like there were a hundred of them! Not thru-hikers, not all of them, at least, but mostly day hikers. 

The scenery was very nice, but it didn't really live up to the expectations I had in my head after hearing everyone gushing over the scenery. Listening to others talk, this area sounded like it was the most spectacular scenery in all of Europe, but I stood at some nice viewpoints and thinking, "It's nice, but it ain't no Tour Mont Blanc!" I guess I've been too spoiled.

But I was having fun anyhow. I liked being back on the trail after taking two days off, and the weather was nice. The sun came out almost immediately. The wind was crisp and cold, but at least it was dry and sunny.

One guy I met on the trail named John said he was from Seattle. "Oh, really? What part?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Bothell," he replied. 

"That's not Seattle!" I told him. Yeah, well, okay, but I could understand why he would tell people that he lived in Seattle rather than Bothell. Most people in this part of the world would have no idea where Bothell was located.

We walked together for maybe 15 minutes before reaching a junction where we had the choice of two trails into Grasmere--the low route or the high route.

By all accounts, the low route was the easier route, but the high route had the better views. Given how nice the weather was and what a short day of hiking I had, I decided to take the high route.

The high route followed along this ridge. It doesn't look so bad, does it? But it turned out to be terrible!

 

A couple of people were taking a break at the junction and John started chatting with them, asking which option they thought was better. John's wife, he had told us, told him to always take the easier routes, but he was very tempted by better views.

While they were discussing the issue, I waved goodbye and said I was taking the high route.

The route was terrible! So many bogs and rocks on the trail! It was positively exhausting and miserable and I soon found myself wishing I had opted for the low route. The most annoying thing about the low route was that I could see it from the top of the mountain ridge I followed and it looked wonderful! Maybe the views weren't quite as nice as up high, but I don't think anyone has ever been on that trail and thought, "Well, this sucks." Which is what I was thinking now.

My feet were utterly soaked from all the bogs. There was no avoiding it, and the rocky terrain required a slow pace, carefully placing each footstep to avoid a twisted ankle. My previously injured ankle was much improved, but it still wasn't fully healed either.

I looked behind me occasionally to see if I could see John, but I never saw him. Probably took the low route, I thought. I could see people on the low route, but they were too small for me to see any detail. Just dots on the trail. If he was down there, I wouldn't be able to tell which dot he would have been.

The low route descended into this valley and followed that creek more-or-less into Grasmere.

 

By the time the trail finally descended to Grasmere, I was utterly exhausted. It took considerably longer for me to finish that section of trail, and it was already nearing sunset by the time I finally arrived.

I booked myself at another hostel. I had made a reservation from the last hostel, but unfortunately, all of the beds were full. They did have, however, a "landpod" available, which looked like a giant half-barrel that a few people could camp in. I would have preferred a simple bed inside the main building, but I'd never slept in a landpod so at least it would be something new and different. But still, I would have preferred paying 15 pounds for an inside bed than the 45 pounds that the landpod cost! But still better than the 100+ pounds the hotels in town were charging.

I went into the dining area of the hostel for dinner where I ordered a pizza. While eating, a couple of other hikers that I passed earlier in the day arrived, and they joined me. Then John came in and joined the group of us, and we talked the rest of the night away.

Dinner at the hostel!

John, as it turned out, had taken the high route and really sliced up his legs with some ugly-looking cuts and broke one of his trekking poles after plunging deep into a bog. At another point, he slipped and fell into the mud getting a thick, sticky mud all over his clothes and gear. He wound up coming down the ridge in the wrong direction, then walking along a difficult road walk to finally reach the hostel and all-in-all, he said it was a horrible mistake on his part. He should have listened to his wife and stuck with the easy route. The worst part, he confessed, was having to call his wife after finishing the day to tell her that she was right. We laughed. 

The mud, he assured was alive! He had tried to wash it off after returning to the hostel, but it was still lingering on his clothes and gear, perhaps permanently ruining some of his clothing. I assured him that his clothes weren't ruined--they were simply just "hiking clothes" now. =)

Anyhow, later in the evening, we headed to our respective sleeping accommodations. They were all inside at the hostel, but I went to my landpod and wrapped myself up in the thick comforter on the bed in it and quickly went to sleep.

Thus ended another day on the trail. 

The river levels had descended dramatically since the storm from the past two days, but you could still see the high-water mark in them from the grasses that were bent over. In this case, it was very clear that the entire "island" in this river was completely underwater!

These particular rocks reminded me of Agua Dulce. I kept looking around for Captain Kirk battling the gorn!

Grasmere, I knew, was somewhere near that lake! =)

Shops in Grasmere

And this is the main building of the YHA in Grasmere.