Pretty much exactly 12 months Gemma and I decided to spend the May Day long weekend in The Lakes District, a National Park in the Cumbria. It is famous for it's glacial ribbon lakes and rugged fell mountains. Now, I am not going to lie, I still haven't the foggiest what a fell actually is but it seems to have something to do with moutainous...
Mountains! In the Lake District! With Snow! (which makes me question why we came here...)
As with our stay in the Peaks District 12 months prior, we decided to camp. Unfortunately, the May Day weekends have not poduced weather that is particularly accommodating to our plans. On this occassion, the rain was so thick on the Friday evening that halfway to the Lakes we decided it was probably best to head back home and try again early on Saturday morning!
Gemma and Baiky on a bridge across over the Micklden Beck. Why they just can't call a creek a creek I do not know.
The next day dawned considerably dryer and much brighter, even if our campsite in the Great Langdale was a sodden mess. We set up camp and proceeded to check out the local walks. I was pretty keen to make my way to the top of Scafell Pike, the highest peak in England, but first Gemma and I wanted to walk up to the Stickle Tarn, a nearby glacial lake.
Gemma dn I stop for a bit to eat on our way up to the Tarn.
The view of the area was pretty amazing from the Tarn, and it was here I decided to take the scenic route home and run back over the Lagdale Pikes (I think a pike is a rocky outcrop in the top of a peak, in the end, they always have amazing views).
The stickle Tarn.
I scrambled my way to the top of all the pikes. I kinbd of got stuck on the Pike of Stickle as it was a tough scramble to get to the top and didn't really know how I was going to get down. I then caught up to some adventourous runners who were prepping for the 10 peaks challenge (cheats were using GPS) for a bit of company across the Martcrag Moor. They took a route off the beaten path and we pretty much immediately fell knee deep into a quagmire, which hampered our progress. After which they pointed my towards to Cumbria walking path where I ran as hard as I could back to the pub to catch up with Gemma's drinking.
This is where I got stuck. The trekkers at the foot of this rock heap were of no help either.
Sunday dawned soaked in clouded misery so we drove to some nearby towns Grassmere, Ambleside, and Windermere. Grassmere hosts the founder of Grassmere gingerbread, which has stayed in the family since 1854 and is widely known throught the UK. It also is the resting place of William Wordsworth (at the local church, not the gingerbread bakery). 
Another photo of Baiky and the Stickle Tarn, because I just didn't take that many photos.
Ambleside is home to the Applice Pie Cafe and Bakery where I indulged in my favourite dessert, the humble apple pie! We got to Windermere just as it was closing and spent our time on the lake.
This is looking back across Sticle Tarn and over the Great Langdale. Our campsit is somewhere down there.
Finally Monday rolled around and I rose bright eyed and bushy tailed ready to make my run to Scafell Pike, only to be greeted by fog so thick I could barely see the map in my own hand. Reason won out over desire and I decided not to go on a run through unfamiliar territory with no visibility and so Gemma and I packed our car and sludged our way out of the Lakes, with Scafell's untouched peak beckoning me back for another trip...
View from the top of the highest point I made it too.
