Woke up and found that some slugs had slithered into the remains of my pasta and promptly died from the amount of salt in there. I disposed of them and washed up. Then I tried to prepare some porridge but I burnt it. So I disposed of that and washed up again. Then I managed to prepare some porridge without burning it. Eating that got me warmed up and ready for the day which, although overcast, was dry. I filled up my water bottle with some rather cloudy looking water from the farm tap, struck camp and paid the farmer four pounds before bidding him farewell and setting off on my way at about 11:30.

On the road down to Ennerdale Bridge I suddenly found myself face to face with a familiar looking car containing two even more familiar looking occupants (i.e. my parents). They were on their way to see the stone circle. They stopped and we had a quick chat and a hug.

All the shops in Ennerdale Bridge were shut (yesterday and today were bank holidays for the Queen's Jubilee) so I was pleased that I had packed good supplies of food. The walk around Ennerdale water was lovely and, at the first stream I came to I tipped away my cloudy tap water and refilled my bottle from a fresh Lakeland stream which tasted a damn sight better.

At the head of Ennerdale water I had the option of two possible routes: an easy stroll up the valley or a somewhat harder stroll over Red Pike, High Style and High Crag (keyword: High). Feeling young, immortal and foolish I settled on the second option with little thought. The initial 600m ascent of Red Pike was entirely on a grass slope. It was hard work and my pack weighed heavily on my shoulders.

Once at the top however I had a great view of where I had come from and the distance I had travelled. I continued the walk along the ridge enjoying the views and feeling like this was what walking was all about! Towards the end of the ridge I saw some people camping by the mountain tarns. It all looked very idyllic.

I bore left a little too much and soon realised I was off track when I came to a disused quarry. A glance at the map told me that I could follow a disused tramway to bring me back onto Wainwright's route.

Once I was back on course I stopped to brew myself a cup of tea. Getting up after my rest it felt like a hard slog to the camp site at Rosthwaite where I arrived at about 21:30. I had pasta for dinner again and slept very soundly indeed.