Grumpy returns to Hartsop

Easter was a bit strange this year with schools finishing a clear two weeks before the festive weekend, which meant those of us who work outside of the education system had a problem fitting our modest allocation of holidays around the more generous leasure time of our offspring. It also meant the hotels and hostelries in the Lake District had a full two weeks to charge a hundred pounds more than they do normally.

As in previous years my destination for an early break in the Lakes is the little hamlet of Hartsop, and a Scandinavian style cabin set in a bowl of craggy hills. As usual these days, when I travel more than twenty miles from home, I wondered if old Grumpy was going to make it without literally blowing a gasket or slipping a disc, but we made it in one piece, the final section of the run being over the Kirkstone pass on a beautiful sunny Friday evening – which bore much promise for the weekend ahead.

As usual I packed up a load of gear I thought I might need, most of it battery operated, so I had to lug all the chargers as well, and as usual the only thing I actually used was my camera. I’d put a copy of my current work in progress on the iPad, thinking I might crack the problems I’m having with it, but in the end I didn’t touch it – becoming bound up in the detoxifying feel of this heavenly place instead, and simply letting the everyday details of my life dissolve back into a state of pure being.

The first reminder you get, when you come to a place like this, that you’re living in an unnatural way is when the sun goes down and the stars come out. You see more stars, and you are better able to perceive their colours, so that the heavens shine and glitter as they should. Also, the cabin being generously overhung by its eaves, tends to be a shady sort of place, so that when the lights go out the blackness is like that of the deepest cave. I remember waking up in the small hours and opening my eyes, but the action made no difference so that I wondered if I’d gone blind and had to grope for my watch which lay under the bed so its luminous dial could reassure me.

There are some massive walks converging on Hartsop, all of them stunning in what they reveal of the mountainous nature of this corner of Westmorland, but there are also plenty of modest hikes that give you an opportunity to view the mountains at a safer distance. I tend not to walk the high-fells when I’m with the family, as I seem to be alone in my hill-fever, so it was the modest jaunts I sought out fro this weekend and none can be finer than the circuit of Brother’s Water. This is a couple of hours of perfectly flat walking on good paths. Setting out mid-morning, you can plan the perfect pitstop at the Brother’s Water Inn for a drink or an excellent bar lunch. On our walk we were especially lucky in spotting this little creature:

He’s only about six inches long, one of our native common lizards, just woken up from hibernation and looking for a sunny spot to bask in – he just happened to pick the same spot I’d chosen for a rest, and was dozy enough from his long winter sleep to pose for photographs. At any other time of year they’re hard to spot, and faster than greased lightning.

I have to admit to feeling a bit rubbish this year. It was a grim winter, old grumpy’s set me back a thousand pounds so far in repairs, petrol is becoming truly, frighteningly expensive, and there have been some unsettling changes with the day-job as well. All told I’ve not been as bright and positive as I’d like, so I was ready for a break. I think the negatives have been affecting the writing too, refusing to allow me the peace of mind to blast through the block I’m having on the work in progress. I scanned through it briefly on the Sunday of the weekend, but set it aside, untouched, and took a short hike from the cabin to sit an hour beside the most sublime waterfall instead.

It takes a place like that to remind you of the truly elemental things in life. For an hour everything was stripped away and I was just this human being tuning in to the white noise of the crashing water while the sun shone and the spirits of this delightful place gave me back my sense of self and sent me home the next day with the feeling that all was right with the world.