Eventful Langstrath

I tried not to look too shocked that nine miles was on Dad’s agenda today! I can keep up, I thought. (I’ll have to!)

It was great that we both felt sprightly enough for another outing given the weather forecast was stonking. 

We set off for a valley walk, first to Rosthwaite along the River Derwent and branching off a little further along down Stonethwaite Beck. The cloud was high although a band was hanging in a beautiful line over Skiddaw further north. 

We chatted to a few people (and dogs) along the way who were all happy to be out in such lovely weather despite the snow staying further south. For us, it would have made a long walk less likely so we were making the most of another dry day. 

There were a fair few robins for company and between us, we managed to pick out a nuthatch calling from a nearby treetop.

A few minutes along from Stonethwaite, with open views, we started to hear the sounds of distant jets echoing into our valley. As the noise suddenly increased, we spun round to find a fighter jet tearing towards us through the valley, right above our heads. We were both hoping for a second one, having often seen them in twos, but the third was unexpected and enhanced the crazy experience of the RAF’s low flying aircraft on a training run. It was like being in the middle of Top Gun Maverick and we looked at each other laughing, open-mouthed in shock! 

Not long after, another smaller training plane came through at speed, giving us two flybys so it was a pretty memorable stretch of the walk.

Where two becks meet, we came out of the shadow of the mountains and walked back into blue sky and sunshine. Crystal bubbling waters added a new dimension and we noted the little things all around that created the big feelings inside.

Dad remembered that I had walked down here some time in my early childhood and been up over Eagle Crag and Sergeant’s Crag. As I’m writing this, I’m wondering whether Rich and I climbed Sergeant’s Gully which the guidebook said you had to be ‘as keen as mustard’ and another report I just found online says, “Dark wet dirty filthy horrific climb, the end can't come soon enough, and when you finally emerge covered in grunge and slime from the opening at the top you feel like an orc being born from a pit of Mordor. Great day out.” I remember Rich sitting on the rock that he’d belayed to because everything was unstable and on the next pitch, putting his walking socks on over the top of his climbing shoes for a bit more friction. It was a crackingly good and desperate day out!

We were doing nothing as 'keen' today but took ourselves along the Langstrath valley where it started to open out and enjoyed the incredible colours, a herd of herdies and a lunch stop behind the shelter of a wall where you could actually feel warmth from the sun.

Turning round, we almost retraced our steps, with just a couple of variants and a pause to watch a dipper in the river. I only started yawning when dad mentioned relaxing in our rooms before dinner. We had a quick venture into the church in Grange which was small, simple and beautiful before arriving back as the clouds were turning pink over the hotel.

After a chill out, we met for our G&T and a grand finale of a dinner. Dad pointed out we’ve talked almost non-stop. It’s been another outstanding adventure and I feel hugely lucky to be able to share another Lakeland trip with my dad.