2007: Dales Way and More: Day 2: Coniston to Dungeon Ghyll (13 miles)

Monday 17 September 2007

It was a much better day today. Clear skies and sunshine were to last all day.

Before leaving Coniston and setting out in earnest I called in at Summitreks on Yewdale Road. I’d visited the shop prepared to spend twenty pounds, or more, on a new walking pole. I left the shop with having spent under a pound and getting the old one completly refurbished. Things were looking up.

The walk is glorious. It keeps to low ground, but never wanders far from the high fells. The country between Tarn Hows and Little Langdale is explored before joining the River Brathy at Skelwith Bridge and heading up Great Langdale to Dungeon Ghyll.

Again I had discomfort on the toes of my right foot. I took frequent breaks to air my feet, deciding that the problem was probably caused by the boots being new and not flexing freely. It was easy walking all day and shouldn’t have caused any difficulty.

By the time I joined the Brummies and the Preston couple for a welcome, but grossly overpriced, lime and soda at the Britannia in Elterwater, I’d developed the beginnings of a blister.

I don’t know where everyone had been yesterday in the rain. Today there were many more people on the route. Our little ad hoc party was boosted occasionally by others - an Australian couple, fresh from the Cotswold Way, a solo walker I’d first seen in an Ulverston pub and a blind man being lead along the way by friends.

For the most part, though, I chose to walk alone, meeting the others frequently, but progressing at my own pace and following my little whims at will.

I’ve known the Langdale valley for most of my life. I camped there frequently, with other callow youths (and at other sites in Troutbeck and Keswick). One time we abandoned a tent, literally battered into the ground by incessant rain, to sleep in a barn to escape the flood. During these early visits I developed a lifelong love of the Lakes and of modest mountain adventure.

Then, back in the early sixties, responsible and loving parents saw nothing amiss in allowing their offspring to hitch-hike 80 miles to camp and walk in the mountains unsupervised, with basic, sometimes home-made, equipment. Something about the loss of innocence, and babies, and bathwater, rings at the back of my mind…

I’ve enjoyed the hospitality of the Old Dungeon Ghyll Hotel several times since my first visits to the area, when the sanctum beyond the Hikers’ Bar appeared as the preserve of the wealthy. Whilst still holding the place in great affection, it has faded somewhat, the hotel always vaguely disappoints and seems to be living on its past reputation and glories. The ODG’s position, however, remains unrivalled.