Limestone...If You Like That Sort Of Thing.

      Somehow found the time on an exhaustively hot late Friday afternoon, to get a quick hike up onto Whitbarrow Scar. I'm not totally unfamiliar with this area, even though it is a little off my usual beat, it is quite handy for places like Kendal and Grange. It depends how you come to this hill, for myself, I'd been doing some work in Grange and came up the A590 and drove in the direction of Crosthwaite Village, up some particularly narrow but fortunately quiet lanes. There are some really splendid properties in this area, not quite properly in the Lakes, but just far enough outside to get away from all that commercial hub-bub.

      Due to a little good fortune, perhaps the odd time of day, I was able to park at the old Lime Kiln, on the nor-nor-west edge of the range, from where there is a good track up onto the lower north point. From here on its a good march south, along rough lime stone pitted tracks, through a desolate sparse landscape.

      Amazingly there are other people up here as well, I met a lone female jogger, who happily gave me a cheery "Hello" then a male walking his dog, they stopped to chat for a few moments. Later, out of the warm haze, i saw two people and some dogs coming towards me, yet as they got closer, I only then realized it was in fact another lone female and three dogs. She also stopped for a few moments, whilst the dogs ran around in excitement.
      After this, it was time for my big push, to this fairly prominent stone cairn, known as Lord's Seat. 666 feet, give or take a few inches. Revd G.A.K. Hervey 1893-1967. Founder of the National Trust, Natural Historian, etc. It was only then, with my water gone, did I realize that I was only at the half way point of my walk! I reasoned that I would need at least a couple more hours to get to the southern most point and back, without water and the evening coming on. So not for the first time in my life I decided to retrace my steps and take this hill on once again later in the year. Having said that, it was still something of a slog, back to the car and with a fairly breezy wind against me. Still, there are some wonderful views across to Brigsteer, Levens and down to the coast.

Cartmel and Grange South West Lakes

      As I walked out one sunny morn, from the medieval town of Cartmel, don't get carried away, there isn't much else beyond this archway, the market-cross and of course the abbey. I'm sure someone will tell you there's so much more.
      We set out, myself, my friend Stewart and his dog Bruce, down the track to Holker, via the Racecourse and through the fields and woods. We are on the famous Holker Estate (pronounced Hooker). Holker is an interesting little village, in that all the estate properties are painted blue, which is in fact most of the buildings. It's also worth mentioning that what pavements here can be very narrow, awkward and unkempt. These are not pedestrian friendly streets and here as most other places, the roads are more or less given over to a race-track.
      The route takes us through Cark, then onto Flookburgh, staying upon the road. Our destination is Allithwaite but instead of following the direct road, we took the route down to the old airfield, branching to the left, by the Cartmel Sticky Toffee Pudding Factory, I could smell this heavenly place back in Flookburgh! We're now on the quiet Willow Lane, which leads onto Holy Well Lane. We're not far from the sea. Now we took a series of footpaths, well marked, which gave us a couple of minor view points and took us down to the beach and across a lot of arable land, Brucie was never off the lead. I also collected a number of nettle stings, due to my passion for wearing shorts on warm sunny days.
     The path lead us onto the outskirts of Allithwaite through a local stable, where we were able to see a newborn foal, still very uncertain upon it's feet, I was able to give the proud mother an apple and some sugar and a scatch of her ears. There were also a pair of young calves, resting in the shade, their mother came over and unexpectedly licked my fingers, possibly for the remains of the sugar. We now faced a hard little climb up the steep Jack Hill and then onto Kirkhead Road, which then dropped us down into the southern end of Grange Over Sands. And the Kent's Bank railway station. Not far along Kentsford Rd, there is a footpath that leads down onto a excellent path, which soon leads to the promenade. This is a section i really enjoy, as about a mile along there is a beach side cafe, at which we call upon every visit for a mug of coffee and a piece of chocolate cake, so nice after the morning's hike.



      This break and especially the cake gets us going again and we are easily stroll up the rest of the Grange seafront, past the old lido and up to Grange railway station, where we are able to cut back onto Main Street and make a planned visit to the Hazelmere Cafe and Bakery. It may well be passed noon but really it's time for breakfast, or more likely, The Mountain Man's Breakfast. Which is a huge "Gastro" Breakfast. I will happily forgive all my previous gastro experiences, for this delicious little feast. Of course the Strawberry Vanilla Slice and various cups of coffee didn't go amiss either.

Grange-Over-Sands, or Over-Grass, as it is known locally.

      How did we manage to set out again after that monster feast, well only with a struggle of course. We made a fairly rapid ascent up Grange Fell Road, past the Golf Course on one side and the Cemetery, on the other. A rapid though tired march down Haggs Lane and in no time we are back in Cartmel. Just time for a quick look at the Abbey.

Those Roses of Summer

          These are the Roses photographed from my bedroom window, in the warm (not hot) midday sun. It's been a good year for the roses, considering the bush was planted in 1948 by my Grandmother. Not sure about the variety, perhaps something of a Pink, or Schreurs, as they say, a popular pink. Originally the bush was about a foot tall, now it's up to the window, without any major attention, certainly a hardy variety.