June 18, 2006: Skelwith Bridge to Troutbeck
Our party poses on Ivy Crag.
Close to a year passed before the Lees, Margie and I were able to return to the Westmorland Way. We did so as part of a five day Lakeland junket that had also seen us finish the Dales Way – just the day before. I had booked us into the Mortal Man Hotel in Troutbeck and here we had arrived shortly after we had at last reached Bowness at the end of our Dales Way quest. One advantage of spending two nights in the same hotel is that we didn’t have to worry about getting our bags ready for travel today. All we had to do on this very grey Sunday morning was report for breakfast at 8:30.
The Mortal Man has a very nice dining room in a variety of red shades and with a south-facing view that looks down the valley. Here I found the present which the Lees had given me the previous night on the completion of Day 365 in my British walking career (a cap with neck flap) – one which I had forgotten to take to my room. It did not seem likely that any special protection would be needed to keep the sun off the back of my neck today – but at least it was not raining. We ordered our breakfasts and the others tucked into dry cereal and stewed fruit. I always disdained this course on this trip – fearing the effects that such fodder might have on the digestive system. The Lees then had poached eggs on toast while I usually ate scrambled eggs and a sausage. After quite a few cups of coffee we went back upstairs and to get our daypacks ready.
I went outside and wandered around a bit and took a picture of the Mortal Man pub sign, the one containing a short verse on the subject of a toper’s red nose: “Oh mortal man that lives by bread, / What is it that makes thy nose so red? / Thou silly fool that lookst so pale, / ‘Tis drinking Sally Birketts ale.” An ambulance had just left with an ailing member of the staff, whose chalets were perched above the parking lot. This corner had a familiar feel to it – for we had once passed opposite the Mortal Man as we left Troutbeck on the third day of our Roman Way walk – twenty years earlier.
Our B-Line taxi arrived at 9:45 and we were off, Tosh insisting on the front seat after the speeding curves of our arrival journey had unsettled her stomach the day before. In fact we had a much slower and gentler trip today, in part because there was a lot of traffic and also because we had flat Lakeland valleys to penetrate, including that of our old friend the River Brathay. We pulled up at Chesters in Skelwith Bridge, where we had broken off this walk last June, shortly before 10:00 – and after a few minor pack adjustments, including the insertion of Paul Hannon’s guidebook in my map case, we were off.
After crossing a highway junction we began to climb a steep tarmac lane in a northerly direction. We climbed through woodland and turned right at a t-juncton. Immediately after crossing a stream we took the track to Tarn Foot Farm and began moving eastward, our dominant direction for the day, on a series of steep walled tracks. Tosh paused to have a closer look at interesting rocks, and so we often had to wait for her to catch up. I was in no hurry, however, since we had only eight miles to go today – and I didn’t want to arrive in Ambleside with a lot of time to wait around for lunch.
There were a lot of other walkers about, heading in both directions, and so we said hello to all of them. Views improved considerably as we rose ever higher and, in spite of the grey skies, visibility was still good. When we reached the seat below Jenny Crag I asked one of the other walkers to take our picture, all four of us together – a rare grouping.
Then we continued to climb in a northeasterly fashion, first with the accompaniment of a stone wall and then on open fellside, fording Troughton Gill and reaching a kind of saddle where the descent to Ambleside could begin. This was very easy walking indeed, and soon we were accompanied by a variety of walls as the track grew ever more friendly to the feet. On the opposite side of the valley we could see that a large grove of flowering rhododendron had colonized a hillside. This plant was well-establsihed on our side as well, resplendent in bloom at this time of year. Shortly after the houses at Brow Head I tried to stay behind for a quiet pee but the others warned an advancing party of old folks what I was up to and I missed my chance – though I did certainly earn some smirking glances as I emerged from the bushes. “Next time I try for a pee, keep other walkers engaged in conversation,” I now said, “rather than give them my exact coordinates on the OS map!”
Ambleside
Our track had received a coat of tarmac as we neared the bottom and crossed a footbridge over the River Rothay. The guidebook now invited us to use a paved path toward the main road, with an empty green field on our left and woods on our right (here I was able to complete my pee). The path was said to “debouch” into a cul-de-sac and this lead to a long discussion on what “debouching” actually involved. “At any rate,” Harold said, “after six o’clock debouching turns into debouchery.” The cul-de-sac in question led us up to the main Lakeland highway – and here we turned right into Ambleside.
I proposed that the adjacent parking lot might have loos in it and the others tested this theory successfully. On a post was a poignant photo of a lost walker, and this was a somber moment for us. I next proposed that we make one stop on the tourist’s itinerary – having a look at the tiny two-story Bridge House, perched above the nearby stream and serving as an NT information center these days. Margie crowded inside to buy postcards, Tosh went across the street in search of her newspapers and I went behind the structure for a photo. Then the rest of us crossed the street and headed south on the crowded pavements in search of the White Lion Hotel, where we had enjoyed an outdoor lunch while doing the Roman Way in 1986. No one would be enjoying an outside setting here today – for it had definitively started to rain.
There was a large crowd begging admittance as the drops began to fall, but they had to wait outside until 12:00 rolled around. We had taken refuge under a shop awning but now we joined the ruck inside; there was actually a chap directing people to tables and we settled down and Tosh went for our drinks. Waitpersons eventually showed up and I had a very mild curry. Again there was no rush and the weather discouraged an early getaway, but after Tosh had concluded her sticky toffee pudding and the others had swallowed their coffee there didn’t seem to be any reason to dawdle.
We dragged on our rain gear; it was the first time I had used my new blue rain pants, bought in Grasmere last summer, and my new blue rain jacket, bought at Blacks last week. One advantage of the former is that the trousers have such long leg zippers that it is possible to get them while still wearing boots. I was also wearing my Michigan Film Office cap and the effect of this was, I think, to offer too much of an aperture for the rain, which was driving into my face from the moment we left the White Lion. My chief worry, however, was the reliability of my map case. Part of the cloth binding was frayed, I could now see, but this didn’t seem to affect the seal.
Through rain dappled plastic I could see a route heading south along Old Lake Road and, as this Ambleside artery neared the main highway again, we turned off, at first on tarmac, for a steeply rising road into Skelghyll Wood. This provided some cover, but my glasses were soon useless and I put them in a pocket of my rain jacket. I put my camera in the other pocket, after discovering that it was almost impossible to drag it out of my trouser pocket when the latter was guarded by my rain pants.
We continued to rise for some distance but views were often restricted. Visibility improved near Jenkin Crag, but soon we had to leave the protection of woodland behind us as we approached open fellside near High Skelghyll Farm. There were a surprising number of people about, quite a few with dogs, and everybody seemed to have taken this inclemency in good part. Our route circled around a contour in the hillside and approached a gate into the Hundreds Road, an ancient droveway that we followed around a large descending curve on our way back to Troutbeck. I must say that the rain was less intense now and I actually got my glasses out again.
At the post office, the Lees enter Troutbeck.
The latter stages of our descending trackway were quite steep and I moved slowly, not wanting to slip. A layer of tarmac had been added near the bottom of our descent – which brought us back to the pink and white cottages of Troutbeck near the post office. Tosh had been wanting a cup of tea and it appeared that this might have been possible here – but only on some day other than Sunday. Instead we had a trek of almost a mile, having left the Westmorland Way for the day – as we marched northward on the narrow lane that is the village’s main street. The others made a minute inspection of the cottage gardens in this really charming place; they were not even hurried on by my sighting, at last, the outlines of our hotel. It was still raining, though not very seriously anymore. We had covered our eight miles (including a ninety minute stop for lunch) by 3:40 – one of our earliest arrivals ever.
We agreed to meet for drinks at 6:30 and went to our rooms. In mine I used the radiator and the heated towel rail to begin a drying process that included not only my rain gear but my t-shirt and sweatshirt as well. I think I may have dozed a bit before drinks. There were far fewer people in the hotel today and we found seats in the main part of the bar. I was even able to buy Margie a drink outside of the trip budget since Dorothy had been nagging me on the mobile phone to repay a gesture made by our intrepid Bostonian earlier in the week.
I was rather daunted in facing the same menu for a second night, but I persevered with the scallops to start with and then the lamb. Margie again had the chicken chasseur. Before we left we ordered sandwiches for the next day. They were only offering ham, cheese and sausage and so Harold was assigned cheese as the least worst option. Again I had a great struggle staying awake until 10:00 – but this time I made it. It was still raining outside.
To continue with the next stage of our walk you need: