Early in the morning I woke. I could still hear the rain hitting the walls of my tent and so I decided to doze a little more until eventually the characteristic sound stopped and it was possible to step outside without any fear of getting wet. I stood in complete solitude at the edge of Grisedale Tarn just below cloud level and brushed my teeth. It felt like I had the most enormous bathroom and washbasin ever! It was certainly one of the most amazing moments of the trip so far.
I set off at 10:30 and, with the cloud as low as it was, saw no reason to take anything other than the quickest and easiest route straight down the valley to Patterdale. As I descended the weather perked up and I looked back with some regret at Helvellyn and Striding Edge. I seriously considered setting up camp in Patterdale, leaving most of my kit there and then undertaking a horseshoe of St Sunday Crag and Striding Edge with a vastly reduced load. But in the end I decided that I would have to return to the Lakes some other time to do that, I had a different adventure to be getting on with!
Before reaching Patterdale I had the most desperate requirement to do a number two. So, for the first time ever in my life, I found a secluded spot to relieve myself in the wild. I didn't find the process terribly enjoyable and couldn't help but feel slightly bemused when, five minutes further along the path, I arrived in Patterdale to see a most luxurious looking public convenience. A wry smile decorated my face.
I stopped at the shop in Patterdale to stock up. When I went to pay, the assistant gave me a look as if to say "Is this ALL just for one?". I sat opposite the shop in the sunshine and ate a lovely Callipo ice cream and then drank a milkshake followed by a bottle of Lucozade. Across the way I saw the Australian sounding couple who I had met in Rosthwaite and I gave them a wave. I turned on my mobile phone to see if I had any reception. I didn't, so letting people know I was alive and well would have to wait a little longer!
At 13:00 I picked up my pack, now heavier with the fresh supplies, and began the next ascent. On the way up I suddenly got mobile reception and so took the chance to send a couple of text messages, much to the disapproving looks of my fellow walkers!
It was a slow plod upwards but it was worth it to see Angle Tarn: a truly lovely piece of water. By the tarn I spoke briefly with a Father and young son who had come up from London for three days. They kindly took my photo.
After Angle Tarn the trail split and a wizened man (who said he had been one of the first 100 people to do the Coast to Coast) advised that I take the left path. This appeared, after some time, not to be the right route and I found myself having to detour to get back on track. Once back on route I stopped and sat behind a wall for a while with all my warmest clothes on (the temperature was dropping) and I ate a little lunch including a lovely tin of fruit salad.
After my break I soon made it to Kidsey Pike which was to be the last high peak I would encounter. Unfortunately cloud had moved in and the views were restricted. I found myself grateful that I had completed the last major climb of the journey although, looking back, it also marked the end of the most magnificent scenery on the walk.
I made my way rapidly down from Kidsey Pike towards the western end of Haweswater Reservoir. Walking along the large expanse of water was pleasant enough although perhaps not quite as flat as one might imagine! By halfway it was beginning to feel like a long haul and I could only keep going by promising myself a cup of tea when I reached the dam at the far end. This I did at around 19:00. I took off my pack, sat down and prepared my well deserved cuppa. It was a lovely break!
My march continued towards Shap. The scenery was now less interesting but I encountered some amazing streams and trees. I snapped one with my camera but I am sure that a photographer could spend days there.
Shortly before Shap there was a field filled with numerous caravans. The sun was setting and I was tired so I asked if I could camp there. I was told (in the nicest possible way) that it was members only. But the gentleman was kind enough to direct me to the Bulls Head where I was able to pitch my tent. I crawled inside and cooked myself up a couple of tins of chilli con carne which went down very well. My feet were sore from the four days of walking that I had undertaken so far. As I drifted off to sleep I contemplated how much more demanding (both physically and mentally) the walk was than I had envisaged. All the muscles in my body, from my legs up to my shoulders, were feeling stiff and had done every morning and every evening to date.
Needless to say, the combination of my tiredness and the safe cosy feeling of camping in the back garden of a pub, meant that I slept very soundly indeed.