Walking, Walking, Walking, Walking . . .

My feet have been screaming at me all afternoon, saying “What are you doing, Woman?”

I’m listening to a cuckoo calling as I walk into Patterdale, the rain that chased us over the pass from Grasmere catching up with us again, this time with thunder and hurling sheets of water.


I’m going out after dinner when the sun breaks through racing clouds, crossing a bridge and walking up a lane, admiring the beautiful gardens. A friendly British woman says, “We feel like we live In Heaven.”

I’m traversing what seem like endless moors, dipping into deep valleys criss-crossed with tall stone walls and dotted with old stone houses.


I’m taking the low route, as we have every day, because the tough climb and descent over Kitsdy Pike is socked in with clouds and rain showers and blasting winds. We didn’t get to any high peaks in the Lake District but walking from Patterdale to Shap we don’t mind. We walk along Lake Ullswater as rainbows arch over the whitecaps and scitter down wind with us.


I’m following aged weather sign boards pointing through farmyards and village alleys to the muddy and grassy and soggy and boggy Coast to Coast track.


“Okay, Feet,” I say. “you need to get on board and stop complaining. You have seven more days of this to do, and I’m sorry you can’t see it, but it’s gorgeous.”


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