A couple of years at school in Carlisle having been responsible for many days that fell a long way short of counting among life’s happiest, it took a long time to succumb to the charms of the Lake District. The whole of Cumbria effectively suffered from guilt by association with its county town until, the best part of a quarter of a century later, the Scotland rugby union squad headed there on a pretour team-building exercise and the drive to that camp was an image changer. In some ways England’s most mountainous region bears similarities to our own Scottish hills, but there is a different, smoother roll to them, accentuated by a version of dry-stone dyking that is more manicured than our own, so lends an extra prettiness.
When, then, three cousins and I finally got around to organising, this autumn, a long mooted get-together, since Andy lives in the south east, while Dave and Steve have both ironically settled in the city from which they knew I had eagerly fled in the seventies (maybe there’s a hint in those decisions that should have been picked up on previously), the Lakes seemed the ideal option for a couple of days’ hillwalking.
To read the full article you can download the pdf – Sunday Herald Life