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Friends we had walked with since 1964 on and off kindly invited me to share a farm cottage near Sedbergh for a week. By Carstairs I was worried that I was to be kidnapped by a hen party en-route for a weekend in Debyshire complete with Drag Queen, but they let me go
Tom had dowloaded several Ramblers' walks onto his phone and we hardly went more than 15 miles away from our cottage. The first day we walked from Orton up to Knott and the memorial to Queen Victoria. This weather was not going to last
Well, perhaps just one more day of good weather, from Ravenstonedale to Smardale and a loop back. The old railway is now a nature reserve, but the signposted red-squirrels never materialised
The next day was greyer, but still no rain. We walked along the canal and then over Farleton Knott Crags, very similar to its neighbour, Hutton Roof Crags which I had done as a Marilyn. It was a bit too near the motorway for the first bit, though I suspect some of the noise came from a quarry
Below, looking north from Farleton Knott Crag
The next day we had a very agricultural walk looping out from our farm cottage (hens and donkeys). The hens had amazing feathery legs, we thought they were Brahmas
We met an alpacca, and then some rather scary cows, which did let us past. Having calves was not a good sign and they had wheeled round to face us aggressively.
Lambs were everywhere. They had just reached the stage where they formed gangs and had jumping maatches. This sheep seemed to be minding the creche.
Tom came face to face with a Llama
Finally, back home were the donkeys
The next day rain was forecast. I even got a BBC Weather Watchers Editor's Pick for the first photo
We did a short circiuit including a wettish lunch
before arriving at Sedbergh
I had never visited the mill before. It had an outstanding display of crafts
The final day we caught a bus to a footbridge over the river about a mile north of the Cross Keys Temperance Inn and walked back on the west side of the road. We reached a place where Tom said we needed to ford the river, but I spotted a bridge nearby. The next time we reached a ford, we looked at the map and saw another footbridge between us and the road. Unfortunately it was no longer there, so we had to remove our socks and wade across.
Below, the intrepid Diana tiptoeing across. I did it far less elegantly, but at least didn't fall in.
Below, in a rare interval from the rain, looking down to the road
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Diana's back tends to go into spasm if she climbs anything to steep, but we managed an average of 7 miles a day, and walking every day, that was enough for me at least. Tom (84) is set for a Pyrenean pilgrimage averaging 15 miles per day through the mountains this June, so here's hoping his damaged achilles tendon continues its rehab. I had a lovely time. Diana had done all the cooking in advance, and I really felt spoiled.
Thank goodness the hen party released me.