Day Eleven

Overcast. Typical. It was sunny the day before.

Mike posted stuff home (maps, a big pot, the old hat) home to save weight. We didn’t need the big pot now Keith was part of the rockery at the nice old lady’s guest house.

Strange fungus

We also picked up breakfast and lunch. The postmaster reminded me of The Fonz, out of the 1980’s TV show. Even down to the accent.

A steep trudge up St Sunday saw us enter low cloud as the heather gives way to rocks and grass. Drizzle. Mist. Low cloud. This made for a very long day. We made the top but saw no point in climbing Fairfield, as we barely saw anything of Striding Edge.

“Me cold? Nah…!” Advanced rain coat techniques

Well, most of the time we saw precious little of St Sunday! We opt for the path down to Grisdale Tarn.

Despite the weather we still saw a few people up there, including a skinny man with his zip-offs around his ankles. David had a theory that as he gets all sweaty in his waterproofs, he won’t wear them. Even when it’s raining. Thereby doesn’t get his waterproofs wet and doesn’t get sweaty! Simples!

There was a lonely, windswept little Akto at the tarn. By that time we were beginning to tire and after the water-fall at the pass, it turned into a long trudge down Tongue to the road.

Very comfortable, if expensive, night at Broadrayne Farm independent hostel. £27.50 each). Our host was a deaf lady who despite our London accents could still read our lips!

An excellent meal at The Traveler's Rest. Above the fireplace there were pictures of the landlord and friends walking the C2C.