There’s different kinds of challenges. I’m used to long walks, hard walks. The Lyke Wake Walk in a Day, the Pennine Way, Coast to Coast, Yorkshire 3 Peaks. I’ve run tough cross country marathons like Beachy Head and Lenham Cross. You get the picture, I’m used to pushing it physically in the hills or on the trails. So the couple of miles from Grasmere up to Easdale Tarn and then back wasn’t going to be a problem. But this was a new challenge, because it was the first time we’d combined a hike with a mid-route dip, and it was a cold day, a very cold day. So it needed thinking about and to be honest I was a bit nervous. I had a lot of what ifs….can’t get warm what ifs…..forgot the coffee what ifs…… is a sandwich enough what ifs……is the Tarn easy to access what ifs…..
I was very pleased with my weather watching as we parked up in Grasmere, after a whole week of torrential rain it was another blue sky sunny winter day. The first part of the walk up the valley is through farm fields, on a maintained stone path. The only sign of what was to come was the flooded fields, and the river bursting it’s banks and flooding the whole path. So we tried to keep to higher, drier ground, walked on walls and did our best to keep our feet dry. In this distance we could see the white of sour Milk Gill, the water rushing full and fast over the rocks, cascading down the valley.
It was only when we passed Little Brinhowe Gill, continuing up Sour Milk Gill to the waterfall that we realised the power of the water forcing it’s way down the valley, the waterfall powerful, gushing, frothing bright white and loudly falling and fighting down the steep hill.
And then, pushing on up the hill and over the lip to the expanse of Easedale Tarn. This was the top for us but Easedale Tarn is nestled in a bowl surrounded by snowy Crags and Edges. It was half in shade and half bathed in winter sunlight light. It was breathtaking.
So we headed to the northern bank, still bathed in light. The usual stepping stones over the stream were submerged under the strong flow down the gill. Trousers rolled up and barefoot we waded across and found our sunlit bank.
All the what ifs vanished, the sun felt warm. Cold as it was, freezing as it was, it was the most beautiful place to swim. And once the brain freeze cleared and my breathing calmed, there was a moment of peace in a beautiful Tarn, on a special sunnny Sunday.
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