Rapid change of plans today. The forecast said the rest of the week will be monsoons, basically. So I decided to get a day's walking done while it was only raining occasionally. Scrounged a lift off Gav to Coniston and set off on the same lane as yesterday. Well, actually I set off on a different lane initially, but all my walks begin in confusion. Crossed the stream on an extremely old and quaint miner's bridge and took a path climbing up the hillside out of Coppermines Valley. Got wet on the lane with the shelter of the trees; got absolutely drenched in another shower on the exposed hillside. The top of my target, Coniston Old Man, was resolutely covered in clouds and I did start doubting my decision. Soon reached the remnants of the old mines, a few interesting derelict buildings but a hell of a lot of spoil heaps too. And what with the parties shrieking up and down the mountain, I was soon agreeing with Wainwright on all points. A reliable sign of old age, I'm told. There were some views as I got higher, allowing me to witness every other part of the country save mine bathed in sunshine. And they vanished as I broke the cloud barrier. Slogged through increasingly grim country; got lost, thankfully surrounded by people getting equally lost so I
felt less silly; passed some spots which I'm sure would have yielded spectacular views if, you know. The summit offered uplifting sights of a party of gets taking the only shelter from the phenomenal wind which appeared from nowhere. It now has my fags and lighter, which I dropped in a protracted moment of confusion. The sensible thing would have been to just go back. So I set off on the ridge path, thankfully well marked by cairns, towards Swirl How. And it was odd – the wind, the isolation and the total lack of visibility, or indeed point, somehow made it enjoyable. This feeling rather vanished when I was hit by a shower with drops the strength of a hailstorm. But gradually, grudgingly, the cloud started to lift. Eventually I was getting more views of Coniston; still in sunshine, the bastard. Even better was the sight of the Real Lake District on the other side, a mass of looming peaks. Swirl How was another trudge up but the descent was fun, a semi-scramble down something called Prison Ridge or thereabouts. The pass below was where I originally intended to begin the descent. But that isn't how my walks work and the peak ahead, Weatherlam, looked too inviting. It turned to to be a bit further than I thought but there were even better views, the cloud having lifted from the top of all the peaks. Including the Old Man, but never mind. Descended on a path which simply vanished half way through. You could see where to get to but there were some sharp drops with apparently no safe way down, and all around the hillside there were people staring at it with quizzical expressions. Finally got down, reaching a path curling back to Coppermines Valley and safety. A surprisingly good walk by the end. Less hearteningly, I've got both a bugger of a cold and a seizure on the way.
felt less silly; passed some spots which I'm sure would have yielded spectacular views if, you know. The summit offered uplifting sights of a party of gets taking the only shelter from the phenomenal wind which appeared from nowhere. It now has my fags and lighter, which I dropped in a protracted moment of confusion. The sensible thing would have been to just go back. So I set off on the ridge path, thankfully well marked by cairns, towards Swirl How. And it was odd – the wind, the isolation and the total lack of visibility, or indeed point, somehow made it enjoyable. This feeling rather vanished when I was hit by a shower with drops the strength of a hailstorm. But gradually, grudgingly, the cloud started to lift. Eventually I was getting more views of Coniston; still in sunshine, the bastard. Even better was the sight of the Real Lake District on the other side, a mass of looming peaks. Swirl How was another trudge up but the descent was fun, a semi-scramble down something called Prison Ridge or thereabouts. The pass below was where I originally intended to begin the descent. But that isn't how my walks work and the peak ahead, Weatherlam, looked too inviting. It turned to to be a bit further than I thought but there were even better views, the cloud having lifted from the top of all the peaks. Including the Old Man, but never mind. Descended on a path which simply vanished half way through. You could see where to get to but there were some sharp drops with apparently no safe way down, and all around the hillside there were people staring at it with quizzical expressions. Finally got down, reaching a path curling back to Coppermines Valley and safety. A surprisingly good walk by the end. Less hearteningly, I've got both a bugger of a cold and a seizure on the way. 
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