AP and I are in the Lake District, far in the north of England. This is the country of Wordsworth and Beatrix Potter. It’s the place of many hills and mountains and in case you hadn’t guessed it…lakes.
The north of England is a little cooler, a little wetter, and a lot more remote than the busy south and people come here to walk and ramble through the hills and dales. This place is full of people with backpacks, waterproof trousers & jackets, and big hiking boots.
Therefore, we came (more or less) prepared to go on a few walks in this beautiful countryside and AP studied the map and chose a walk which was reported to be one of Wordsworth’s favourites.
We found the starting point, marked by a little bridge, and so our country walk began. I led the way. Roughly 50 yards into the walk this is what I found:
I turned around and simply said, “I’m not. No way. Nope.”
We had to find another walk. AP was shocked at my reluctance to try and traverse this pit of mud but I wouldn’t attempt it even in solid hiking boots (of which I do not own.)
A nice, sensible footpath, do you not agree?
Here are a few more photos but they really don’t capture the beauty of this place. I’m having internet connectivity problems up here so this is all I can post at the moment.