Is this the end? Bill is taking Sally to Ireland; Jerry can't afford the money or leave after a family holiday in Aviemore; and Mark can't come because of a major new IT project he is implementing. So it's just me; I shall have to get lost all by myself!

I left Home at 8:30 and arrived in Keswick at 12:30, stopping only for a comfort break just north of Manchester. I wondered about a swift pint and some lunch in the Keswick Lodge, but both that and the D&G were packed, so I wandered down to the lake and into Crow Park, where I sat on a rock for an hour or so, basking in the sunshine and admiring the view along Derwentwater.
Eventually I dragged myself away and set off for the Lakes supermarket to do the week's shopping. It took me a long time to work out how to get a trolley. They were obviously available, because everyone else had one, but all the free ones were chained up outside. I considered mugging one of the happy trolley users, but instead resorted to lurking by the trolley rank in the hope of discovering the secret. It was ingeniously simple; you put a pound coin into a little box on the trolley, which unlocked it from the chain, and then when you brought it back and re-locked it your coin was returned. But why? I have no recollection of the streets of Keswick ever being littered by stolen and abandoned shopping trolleys!
When I had filled several bags with essential supplies I decided to drive over to Portinscale and find the cottage. There were still two hours before I was officially allowed to occupy it, but after my experience in 1992, when it took me over an hour to find Skyrack, I thought it best to err on the side of caution. As it turned out I spotted it straight away, and after a few exploratory passes to establish the exact position of my parking place, I homed in on it. When I had unpacked and had a cup of tea and the bowl of pasta salad I had bought in the Lakes, I had a stroll round the village to locate places of interest, such as pubs, shops and post boxes. I found myself gazing at the Farmers Arms, thinking it looked familiar, and then it suddenly came back to me. When I was seventeen, and still at school, a party from the scouts and ACF stayed at a hostel near Seatoller. One day were were split into groups, taken to Keswick and told to make our way back, completing little tasks along the way like finding the time of a launch and getting a piece of paper stamped at Rosthwaite post office. I led my group over the fields to Portinscale where we stopped for a quick pint before making our way to Hawes End and the back of the lake.
That evening I returned to the Farmers Arms and with some trepidation ordered a pint of Jennings, having yet to find an enjoyable pint of it in Keswick. To my delight it was superb, and I found a nice corner to sit in and do my crossword. The next decision was food; it was basically a toss up between the chicken curry and the homemade steak pie. The curry beckoned, but I reasoned that it could take dreadful revenge during the next day's walk. On the other hand I cannot stand the so-called homemade pies which consist of a basin full of gravy and a few lumps of chewy meat topped with a flaky pastry lid. Fortunately the group on the next table ordered the pie, and I was able to examine it before taking the plunge. It certainly looked real enough, made with real pastry and each portion cut from a larger whole. I had another couple of pints (I can't drink after I've eaten - the food gets in the way of the beer), finished the crossword and then made my order. The pie was excellent, with tender meat, a very generous portion of chips and just enough vegetables to relieve the carbohydrate overload.

I made breakfast (4 rashers of bacon, 2 fried eggs and a piece of toast - very healthy), packed my lunch (an apple and a corned beef and pickle roll) and set off for Hawes End and Newlands. My intention was to climb up to the old Dale Head copper mines and test the feasibility of W's route up Dale Head. I crossed the beck just beneath Scope End, but the path petered out among closed and locked gates and walls. I retraced my steps back to the old mine road, but couldn't be bothered to carry on to Castlenook, and in any case I could by now see W's route and decided I probably wouldn't like it.
Instead I returned to Little Town and climbed to Hause Gate. Behind me were a young couple, and as they turned to look back across Newlands I heard the word Latrigg mentioned! When I arrived at the ridge the world suddenly changed; gone was the peace and tranquillity of Newlands, replaced by the raucous babble of family groups and gangs of old age pensioners, obviously inspired by Wainwright who describes the ascent of Catbells as gentle Sunday afternoon stroll, suitable for grannies and small children. I hastily went down the other side to Borrowdale and took the path towards Brandlehowe. I eventually find a relatively quiet place to eat my lunch - a rock in the middle of an area of boggy ground where Sunday walkers didn't care to tread. I completed the walk by taking the launch from Low Brandlehowe to Nicoll End and thence back to Portinscale. Steak Pie again.

I drove to Little Town and parked near Chapel Bridge with the intention of going up Scope Beck to Littledale and possibly Robinson and Dale Head. It was hot and sunny as I trudged up the road to Low High Snab and took a pleasant green track which climbed gently above the beck. The track ended at a disused reservoir which was constructed to supply water to the mines which once flourished here, and then disintegrated into a faint path across the boulder strewn slopes of Robinson. As I gained altitude the clouds descended and the summit disappeared. I stopped and ate my lunch, hoping they would lift, but there appeared to be no immediate sign of the weather clearing, so I turned round and set off back to the car. I had no need to carry on - I had done it before, and these days the prospect of trudging through a gray blanket holds little attraction. As I unlocked the car the skies cleared and the sun came out, shining tantalisingly on the summit of Robinson, as if to mock me for my lack of determination. Although the car park was almost full by now, the only other person I had seen all morning was a farmer at High Snab.
I went back to the cottage feeling unfulfilled and rather cheated, and within an hour I had put my boots on again and set off across the fields towards Ullock and Swinside. At Ullock Farm I briefly followed the road towards Little Braithwaite and then took the path beside Newlands Beck. I followed it until a track turned off to the left to Swinside and a short but steep climb up to the inn. From here I followed the road to Hawes End and thence across Fawe Park and back to Portinscale.
That evening in the pub I learned that there had been rain in Keswick that afternoon, although I had not experienced any in Newlands. The steak pie was once again excellent.

I set off from the cottage to Hawes End and Newlands. Just before I reached Nicoll End I realised I had left my cigarettes behind. I had a brief discussion with myself; yes I could do without them, but no, I wasn't prepared to, so I returned to pick them up. Eventually I arrived at Little Town and took the mine road to Castlenook mines, where I stopped (not for the first time!) for a smoke. I saw where I should have crossed the beck on Sunday, and could trace the path going up the other side of the valley to the old copper mines. I still didn't greatly fancy the route to the top of Dale Head, although the grassy rake traversing its face looked reasonably easy. From here I took the narrow, rocky path leading to the depression between High Spy and Dale Head, and the words, often uttered, 'I'd rather come down this way than go up' sprang to mind.
It had been about twelve years since I had last used the path down past Rigghead quarry, and I overshot it and found myself at Dale Head tarn. I took the opportunity to stop and eat an apple and study the map, and then retraced my steps to the main highway. As I took a long step down from one rock to another I felt a sharp pain in my left ankle. For a few minutes I was unable to put any weight on it, and the thought of a one-legged descent of Rigghead didn't exactly fill me with pleasure, but by the time I reached the stile over the fence at the top of the descent the pain had eased. I was pleased to find the steepest part of the path had been made into steps, instead of being a river of slatey scree, and the descent was easier than I had anticipated. I stopped at the bottom for lunch and then set off past Castle Crag and Hollows Farm to Grange.
It was about 3:15, and I wasn't going to catch the 3:30 launch from Brandlehowe, so I considered a cup of tea, but the cafe was so full that I pressed on. I realised how easy it is to underestimate the distance from Grange to Brandlehowe, and in the end I was walking quite quickly, and caught the 4pm launch with ten minutes to spare; just as well for the next one was at 5pm.
By the time I reached Nicoll End my ankle had stiffened up, and the last couple of miles to Portinscale were something I could have done without. I bought an ice-cream and sat on a bench in the sun to eat it.
The steak pie was just as good.

My ankle was still quite painful, so I took the opportunity to drive over to Grasmere and buy the mandatory gingerbread, stopping in Keswick on the way back to replenish the breakfast supplies.
In the afternoon I ventured forth for a gentle walk to test the ankle, taking the by now familiar path to Hawes End, along the lakeside to High Brandlehowe and then back on the path along the flanks of Catbells.
That evening the barmaid said "You like steak pie, don't you?".

Although my ankle was almost better, I didn't fancy chancing it on anything really rough, so I dove over to Buttermere and walked round Crummock Water. I parked at Cinderdale Common and took the track which leads up to a wooden footbridge at the top of Rannerdale. There isn't really any need to do this; the path down Rannerdale joins the road only a few hundred yards from the car park, but to my mind this is one of the best bits of the walk. Rannerdale is a beautiful little valley, relatively unfrequented and with great views across Crummock Water. The route into Buttermere village makes as much use as possible of the 'old road' in order to avoid tarmac, and climbs up over Hause Point instead of following the 'new road' with its blind bends and no escape route from cars except jumping over the edge into the lake.
From Buttermere I took the stony and often muddy path across the fields to Scales Bridge, where I made the traditional stop for a smoke. From here to the path across the slopes of Mellbreak it is almost impossible to avoid boggy ground, but by making several strategic detours I arrived at the promontory of Low Ling Crag without going over the tops of my boots. The remainder of the walk round the end of the lake and back along the east shore was straight forward on a level path, although my ankle was aching again by the time I reached the car. I drove back via Honister and Borrowdale (my thanks to the driver of the MPV which pulled over to let me past at the bottom of Honister - I made it to the top in 3rd gear).
That evening there was a new barman in the pub, and as I ordered my first pint we continued to look thoughtfully at each other. "Did you used to go to the Dog and Gun in Keswick?", he eventually asked. "Yes", I replied, "and you used to be behind the bar with a girl called Jo". It turned out that Jo was in fact his wife (I remembered later that his name was Jed), and he had left the D&G when the previous owner (Frank) sold it, as he didn't get on with the new landlord.
When I got back to the cottage I watched the weather forecast, which wasn't promising, so I half made up my mind to return home the next day; I was still a bit worried about my ankle, and the traffic would be better.

Sure enough I woke up to grey, cloudy skies, with the threat of rain in the air. I packed my bags, cleaned the house and set off for home. As I posted the key through the letterbox and turned towards the car the clouds parted and the sun came out. Bloody typical.

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