Horror - the Dog and Gun had changed. Instead of the long bench and row of tables in the back bar, there were now separate tables with high-backed seats which accommodated four people and we couldn't find a table to seat all six of us.
We stomped off in disgust to George Hotel, which wasn't quite the same, but at least we could all sit together in comfort.

Lyn and Sally had brought false beards with them, in order to fit in with the men. (Remember Monty Python's Life of Brian - "Are there any women here?").
We intended to ascend by Hall's Fell, but ended up on the wrong side of the ravine between that and Scales Fell, and so we carried on to Scales Tarn. Jerry and Mark decided they would like to do Sharp Edge, (picture) and Bill bravely joined them. I would dearly have liked to go with them, but an ear infection a couple of years previously had affected my sense of balance, and I now had to avoid exposed places. Instead, I escorted the ladies via the safer route to the left of the tarn (picture) , and we met the others on top. There was still quite a bit of snow on top (picture) , but it was a beautiful sunny day. We returned to the road by Gategill Fell.

We woke to find the weather had taken a turn for the worse, so we decided a low level walk with the option of an ascent would be appropriate.
We parked in the lay by outside Grasmere, and went up Tongue Gill towards Grisedale Hause. It was cold, wet and windy. Jerry, Mark and myself struggled against the wind up to the tarn while the others sheltered behind some rocks. We had a fleeting idea of turning right at the top for Fairfield, but the cloud was down, and Fairfield is no place to be in poor visibility, and so we turned back. We returned to the car and had a couple of pints and some food in the Travellers Rest.

Another miserable, wet day. We did our usual wet weather walk from Lodore to Watendlath, returning via Rosthwaite and Grange, where a cup of tea cheered us up.

We parked in Newlands at foot of Rigg Beck, opposite the pinkish-purple painted house (which is still there and visible for miles) and followed the stream up towards Buttermere. Before long the path rose across a steep scree slope, and the stream was far below us on the left. Scar Crags loomed above us out of the mist.
We followed the valley to its head below Sail Pass, and began our descent alongside Sail Beck. We passed the hanging valley of Addacombe Hole on our right and followed the path across the slopes of Wandope before crossing Third Gill. Eventually we arrived in Buttermere village, where we had a couple of pints and some food in the Bridge Hotel.
We had intended to return to Newlands over Robinson, but the foul weather and the effects of the Theakstons persuaded us not to, so we followed our outwards route again. I always find the large areas surrounded by high peaks quite fascinating - e.g. the Great Moss in Eskdale, Buttermere Moss below Robinson, Burnmoor, etc.

The weather had improved, and Bill, Sally and Lyn went for a trip in the car to Windermere (mainly at Sally's instigation, I suspect. Her knee had been playing up, and she fancied a day off).
Jerry, Mark and I parked at Braithwaite and went up the East ridge of Grisedale Pike. We stopped for a breather on top(as well as several on the way up!), and then carried on down the other side and up along the edge of Hobcarton Crag to the summit of Hopegill Head (I prefer Hobcarton Pike myself). We descended by the same route and went over Sand Hill to Coledale Hause. (picture) The weather had continued to improve, and we actually had a bit of blue sky.
From the hause we followed the stream along the base of Eel Crags (Crag Hill) to the cross roads, where we turned right for Grasmoor. It was cold and very windy on top, but the views towards Buttermere were excellent. We returned to Coledale Hause along the edge of Dove Crags, and made our way down past High Force Crag and Low Force Crag to the valley, following the metalled track back to Braithwaite.

This was Good Friday, and to avoid the crowds we decided to go 'North O'Skiddaw'.
I can't remember too many details of the walk except that it was cold and windy on the exposed grassy summit of Great Sca Fell, and we sheltered behind the stones of an old sheep fold while we had our lunch.
The landscape was very different from the Lake District proper, with hardly any rock except for a few shattered outcrops. Nevertheless, it was very pleasant, and above all quiet.

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