This weekend we headed off to the Lake District on Thursday afternoon (yes, Thursday does count as the Weekend). The plan was to walk up Scafell Pike from Borrowdale on Friday (a 13 mile round trip from our camp site at Seatoller) then do a shorter (8.5 mile) low-level walk on Saturday.
Friday was a glorious day with fantastic visibility. Both the hills and the locals (of the fleecy variety) were at their photogenic best….
There was a slight disaster on the way back down….. Luckily we were only a couple of miles from Kampington at this point and Mark found a suitable bungee cord at the bottom of his rucksack to hold everything together for the time-being……
Back at the campsite, Mark settled down for a spot of people-watching…..
The boot situation put paid to Saturday’s plans for another walk, so we headed into Keswick. I made some enquiries about boot repair (apparently it’s possible to restick the soles but it’s best regarded as a very temporary repair) and as a result, tried on a couple of pairs of new boots. I’ll restick the old ones and see how long they last, but I don’t really want to head off to Peru with a repair that might come unstuck at any minute – so new boots will have to be acquired 😦
The young lad in Cotswold was particularly amusing. He skipped over wanting so assist, as they do….. I got out the better of my two old boots, explained what had happened to the other one, and said that I was very happy with my old boots so was essentially just looking for the current version of the same boots. He looked at my boot in condescending fashion, sniffed theatrically, and pointed out that there had actually been a model inbetween my boots and the current model, so I had clearly had mine for quite some time. Oh the shame! Fancy missing out a complete model of Scarpa walking boot!?! All I could think was that I bet he always has the latest IPhone….
Whilst in Keswick, the Pesketeers insisted on having their ‘photo taken for Sally….
Here’s Mark in standard “Tenty-Folk Watching” position back at the campsite on Saturday evening. Later in the evening, the mug of tea is replaced by a bottle of Stella. There is generally a running commentary (“oooooh, they’re taking all the pegs out again…… they’re moving it a few inches to the left…… she’s looking worried…… ” etc etc). Just as this weekend’s victims of choice finally managed to get their tent up (well, the second tent – the first had gone back in the boot of the car and a smaller simpler tent had come out instead) and get the stove out ready to cook their tea, the heavens opened – much to Mark’s ill-concealed delight…….
On Sunday, we set off early and met up with Clive and Gwenda at Blackpool Pleasure Beach. The weather held up well, though my plans to go on the Big One a second time and take a photo from the top were foiled by (apparently) high winds, meaning that the ride was closed for the rest of the day. I hadn’t been to Blackpool since I was at school. All of the old rides I remembered were there, though the Revolution seemed to have shrunk by about 80% – funny how something that was absolutely terrifying back then seems quite tame these days. The Big One was the highlight of the day, but it was good to see the old-timers still running. I loved the Grand National, but the Wild Mouse was just painful (Mark moaning “oooh me spine” and me complaining of whiplash). The Steeplechase is much more modern (1970s) but was a good laugh. The Ghost Train was sooooooo dated it was comical, but still worthwhile in the sense that it really made you think about how easily impressed folk were in decades past. Valhalla (one of the modern rides) was good – although we all ended up completely drenched. We didn’t have time to go on the ride (from 1905 I think) that promised to take you around the World by boat – including Peru. Pity – looks like I’ll just have to go see Peru the hard way now….. 🙂
Off to York next weekend……