Captain's Log

Coniston

I heard the familiar patter of rain as I woke up at Coniston Hall campsite. I hoped it wasn't going to be another wet day. There was another fellow in the toilet block. I was just about to ask him whether he got much sleep through last night's...well, and this morning's rave, when I looked at his age and tattoos and figured that he probably had been one of the participants. Unavoidably, I packed a wet tent and my rucksack felt very heavy as I set off on my last day on the Cumbria Way, with my route taking me southwards to Ulverston. Near to the shore of the lake I found some empty, discarded cider cans littering the area. Obviously last night's party had been far more extensive than I'd thought. I felt a lot happier once I'd walked some distance from the campsite.

It was a grey day and so still that Coniston Water was just like a mirror. I could've just imagined Donald Campbell taking Bluebird out for a spin on such a day. A Heron preened itself as it stood on a fence stretching into the lake. The path was initially easy going, but soon after passing Torver, it became rougher, with undulations and exposed roots hindering progress. Another issue was that there were plenty of ferns overhanging the path, that had been soaked from this morning's rain, and soon my clothes became saturated. The water ran down my legs and into my boots and within the hour my socks were squishy again. I should have put on my overtrousers, but it was a very muggy day. The path diverted away from the lake before reaching its southern end. It felt like I was turning my back on the Lake District, as indeed I was.

An Amazon Of Ferns And Trail Frustrations

The path headed off into low fells that were carpeted in ferns. It would have been impossible to go off-piste. The extent of the ferns was astounding; it felt like I was looking over an Amazon rain forest. Ironically, even though it wasn't raining, I was as soaked now as I'd ever been during those horrendous 48 hours of downpour between Caldbeck and the Langdales. The ferns were just loaded with water and it was impossible to avoid touching them. The track gradually ascended up towards Beacon Tarn. Looking back northwards I could see the Coniston fells capped with a thick mist.

Beacon Tarn was a pretty oasis in a sea of ferns. It was quite a large patch of water and I stopped for a break at its southern end. This actually turned out to be a watershed moment on the walk, since after this point, the route became less defined. Sure, most of the tracks that formed the route were recognisable as footpaths, but the Cumbria Way as a logical trail seemed to evaporate. If the Cumbria Way had ended at Beacon Tarn I'd have felt a happier man. In reality, there was another half day's worth of walking consisting of what seemed like random routes through fields, farm yards and roads. I spent most of the subsequent time just looking at the map on my phone to try and work out whether I was actually still on the trail or not. Some of the footpaths weren't even signed as footpaths. Many of the stiles or gates were hidden in hedgerows. The gpx mapping on my phone ended up being essential just to find my way out of a field. Half a dozen times I put my phone map away thinking I was on the correct path. Big mistake! I ended up having to backtrack on those occasions And the cows! Yes, there were fields and fields of cows. I think the biggest problem with that last section of the trail was that you never seemed to be getting anywhere. There was nothing you could focus on as an endpoint. At least if you were doing the route from south-to-north you'd get glimpses of the Coniston fells to urge you onwards. Having said that, I met a dozen or south-to-north walkers and they seemed as frustrated as me. My annoyance with the walk grew and grew. A good trail shouldn't require you to be constantly looking at a map.

Ulverston

The path finding difficulties continued right up until the very outskirts of Ulverston. As a finale, a farmer had enclosed about 20 young cows in the tiny last field of the trail. I had to walk through nettles to avoid them following me.  I have to confess that it was with a feeling of anger, rather than joy when I walked down the pathway know as The Gill into Ulverston. I went over to the metal cone sculpture that signified the end of the Cumbria Way. 'Can you take a photo of us please?' A couple of runners wanted their photo taken near to the blue plaque that says 'Start Of The Cumbria Way.' I complied with their request and asked them where they were heading today. 'The Langdales' said the English member of the team; the other guy was American. It was already 15:30 and so it would be a very long day for them. 'Do you have a Plan 'B', if you don't make it to the Langdales?' I asked them. They looked a bit taken aback and said that they hadn't. I told them about the route finding issues, the hidden stiles and gates and the frisky cows that liked chasing after walkers, and especially runners. They looked undeterred and so I left them to it. I noticed that they'd started talking to somebody else after I left them and so I don't know what time they actually set off and whether they got to the Langdales.

I wandered into town and bought some grub from the Tescos Express on Market Street. I sat on a bench to eat my sarnie and looked down the old cobbled road. For some reason, many brightly coloured umbrellas had been strung across the street like buntin. It seemed a bit of an odd thing to do, but at that moment it felt like a wonderful representation of my rain drenched journey along the Cumbria Way.