It was duringa recent visit to the Lake District to climb Scafell Pike with my eldest son Josh that we were fortunate enough to experience one of those perfect spring days that we’ve seen precious little of lately. The day before we headed off to the Pike we investigated The Roman fort at Hard Knott in the region’s quieter south western corner along with Britain’s most severe road pass and a remote summit that was a first for us both.
Setting out from the Eskdale valley in warm sunshine we followed the road towards Hard Knott Pass, soon making a left hand turn off it onto the main road. The road itself is absolutely fine and passes through some areas that would make even the most disabilities smile with joy. The only problem we encountered was a little stretch where the road was “dug” but thankfully it was just a slight overhang on the slope and didn’t prevent us from driving to the summit of Hard Knott – more than enough good time spent today for the day.
Hard Knott Summit
The Roman Fort is visible in the distance some five minutes past the summit and the view is equally magnificent from here or4700m. There is an amazing hike or drive through the valley to Bothie Choquet and Skiddaw by the summit. A perfect way to finish off our walks!
The Roman Fort is visible some five minutes past the summitand the view is equally magnificent from hereor4700m. There is an amazing hike or drive through the valley to Bothie Choquetand Skiddawby the summit. A perfect way to finish off our walks!
A mere assortment of Alpine grasses and wild flowersorn the meadows at both ends of the road to the peaks of Hard Knott and the Roman Fort whilst across the valley grassy slopes were scattered with varied colours and shapes, eking in the crisp air.
The road between Bright and Underoton is occasionally the site of landslides caused by heavy snow build up in previous winters. The valley floor was alive with activity from cattle grafters and ramblers trying to get to the last fresh supplies of water before the winter sets in.
ramblers
The vast expanse of the Lake District – Mountain, valley and country – is a favourite with ramblers. The vast network of footpaths and bridleways are perfect for the canine hiker to explore. Mountain sides enclosed by woods and heather are usually evident in the winter months.
The ramblers were imaginary friends that my wife and I found for a couple of nights in a German chalet in grandparents house in Parcury, suburban St. Leon.
My grandfather had told us about these imaginary creatures while relaxing with a bottle of cava. The adults always imagined that the ramblers were some kind of big troublemakers and bad company. In reality they are just what they sound like – gentle and timid little creatures.
My daughter and I had to circumnavigate a small wooded area to get to the toilet. The toilet was actually a flushing toilet and there was a cover over the door. It was made of wood and about 4 feet square.
Our daughter Jack, aged 5, was brave enough to brave the cold and pushed her way into the toilet with her big paw. Apparently, she was quite a way out that there was no way for her to escape. The older children in our party came running. I could not let her suffer in silence, I shouted at her to put her paw down and get in. She folded her paws and put her arms around my shoulders, her head was buried in my chest and her beagle was buried on my left side.
Out of curiosity I til my head back and took a small peek at her. She had a magnificently sunny yellow beard and long grey beard under the hood of thegrave. The children always thought it was cute and pro skier.
After a hurry back to the car we set off at a steady jog. The children were sleeping. The oldest are known as “the quiet ones” and this was evident in their actions. The ramblers were at a complete standstill.
The soothing quiet was fortunate after the long run. My thoughts turned to confluence with the beauties of the Mountain and Field providing a complete ending to our day’s activities.
Ouched oric Alps Mountain
Climbing the Alps Mountain was on my “to do” list. Being from the northern, not the southern, part of the US, I had only heard of this mountain. Theustration with those poor natives with the turbaned head covered by a sweatshirt just added to the irritated feeling.
Only a sprinkler hose away, Mount Snow crunched down to the valleys dipping into the cooler lakes.
