Mark and I went up in the XR 4x4 and Jerry travelled alone so that he could return on Thursday evening to watch the General Election (sad or what!!). We had a good journey despite torrential rain most of the way, and arrived at the Kings Arms, where we had arranged to meet Jerry, at about 2pm and settled down with a pint of Theakstons. It was only £1.32 a pint, and absolutely excellent! Five minutes later Jerry arrived. We did some shopping in the Co-op, which was the only real shop in Shap, and settled in at the cottage.
The Theakstons that evening was again excellent but the Kings Arms didn't do food, and the chippy closed at 8. The landlord directed us to the Leopard. It was a nasty soulless place, with no Theakstons, although the Tetleys was reasonable. The food was OK but my 'home made' S&K pie came in a dish with a bit of flaky pastry perched on top - know what I mean? Having eaten, we went back to the Kings Arms for some more Theakstons.

It was quite a nice day, bright and sunny. We walked along the road to Keld and then up above Tailbert before turning left towards Swindale. Our intention was to climb up through Truss Gap and then return over things whose names I have forgotten, but the paths round here are rather curious. They start off as broad tracks, obviously used by farmers' quad bikes, but then peter out in the middle of a bog. Just when you think you're lost, you spot another track a hundred or so yards away. When you reach it, it does exactly the same as the first one. Progress is therefore rather disjointed. We eventually became so confused that we just wandered round and then headed back in the general direction of Keld. Returning along the lane, we found the footpath which we had suspected might exist, and it brought us back to the end of the track by our cottage.
We got home with some hours to spare before the pubs opened, so went for a drive along the A6 over Shap. The Kings Arms was closed at 6, so we went to look at the other pubs in search of some food. The Crown was also closed, but the Bull had a ‘Coast to Coast’ bar and advertised bar snacks, but was dirty and not very pleasant. The Theakstons was keg, but surprisingly good. We tried the Crown, without much hope of success, because the visitiors’ book at the cottage had the entry ‘didn’t like the Crown because there was too much swearing’, but when we walked through the door we were confronted by an empty pub and a menu consisting of items like ‘Large Yorkshire pud filled with beef casserole’, etc. The landlord was very friendly, and so was his wife, when she came down from her bath. We were offered free bread and butter while we waited. The Theakstons was also keg, but again, very good.

We woke to rain, and inspired by the weather decided to walk over to Wet Sleddale. Once again we were almost thwarted by the strange behaviour of the tracks, but eventually made it to the ridge on the north side of the valley. The path down was much more reliable, and led eventually to the road above Keld.

The weather in the morning was not good again, so we decided to have a drive round. We went up the A6 to Penrith, and took the A66 to Keswick, where we stopped and wandered round the old haunts. Then we returned via Ambleside, Kirkstone, Ullswater and Penrith. In the afternoon the weather had cleared up, so we did a bit of the Coast to Coast. (towards the east; can't remember names. Oh dear, old age has finally caught up).

The weather had improved considerably, and it was very hot sunny. We drove over to Haweswater, parked at the head of the lake and went up Nan Bield to Mardale Ill Bell, High Street, The Knott and High Raise, returning over Kidsty Pike. Jerry, who doesn't have much in the way of natural protection, was suffering from sunburn on his head.
The only slightly unpleasant part of the walk was the descent of Kidsty Howes, which is very steep and rough. As we passed the end of Riggindale we kept an eye open for eagles, but didn't catch sight of them, although the RSPB hut had a fine gathering of ornithologists.

Once again it was hot and sunny, but with a bit more breeze. We drove to Pooley Bridge, where Mark and Jerry bought sun hats, and then to Howtown, where we were lucky to finf a parking place at the public launch site. We had intended to do Loadpot Hill first, but instead found ourselves heading for Bonscale Pike, which in retrospect was the best way of doing the walk. From Bonscale Pike we went to Arthurs Pike, and then along the gentle grassy track to Loadpot Hill. The descent to Fusedale was very steep on dry grass, and we found the best way down was to slide on our bottoms, although I found the friction generated some uncomfortable heat! We were very impressed with this side of Ullswater; it was so quiet and peaceful, completely unlike the holiday camp air of Glenridding. Jerry went home later that afternoon to watch the election (!!??).

With our cook safely back in Wiltshire, Mark and I couldn't be bothered to make a full breakfast; instead we fried half a ton of bacon and pigged out on bacon butties. The weather once again was blazingly hot; probably the hottest of the week so far, and with hardly any breeze. We parked in Rosgill and walked across the magnificent bridge over the Lowther before taking a track which was part of the Coast to Coast and heading for Swindale. All went well until the main path went straight on to Haweswater and we turned left. Once again the tracks annoyingly appeared and disappeared, but we manfully struggled across bits of bog, making steadily uphill to the ridge overlooking Swindale. We found a path leading down to the valley near the water works, but soon realised it was a private farm track. We asked a young shepherdess, who said it was OK to continue, and were soon down to the ridge over Swindale Beck. The path rising up on the other side of the valley was reassuringly easy to follow, and we soon found ourselves on the rolling, grassy countryside above Tailbert. We had one confusing moment negotiating the farm at Reyside, eventually just heading across a field in the general direction of Rosgill, but soon found a pretty little packhorse bridge which led from one empty field to another; considering how well it was built, I assume that it must once have had a higher purpose.

And so the week was over. My lasting impression of Shap was how friendly the locals were. We could walk into the Kings Head and be greeted like old friends. 'Hello lads, where've you been today?'. It was also rather a sad place, still remebering former glories when it was an important staging post on the busy A6. The building of the M6 killed that, although it now attracts some tourism from being an overnight stop on the Coast to Coast.

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