Rolling Rolling Rolling Hills

On the way to somewhere I was going to walk Arlo I changed my mind and stopped at Gladhouse, the sun shining persuaded me. We walked clockwise going round the south of the reservoir, somewhere where I only ever recall walking once, about 20 odd years ago, and I don't know why we stopped and turned back.

The path took us past several beaches and around a marooned island and past a few holes in the dyke wall with sheep on the other side, eek, but the boy was fine. In the way back I try to block one of them up a bit with the stones that had fallen. Must return another day and see how far we can actually go around, and I expect all the way.