Lumbering side to side like a baboon because…
my back is so tight, I’m desperate for blankets and pillows to bolster my body. But inside the Inn’s slim amoire, there is only one teeny weeny pillow. The kind a designer would sew a bright red cover around and toss on a couch to look at.
Except it was naked-white, without any coverlet, most likely left behind by someone else— AND MAGIC.
Before we left, I had asked friends for prayers, and if they weren’t into prayers, to send good thoughts our way, please.
Part of those wishes arrive in the Perfect Little Pillow which fits in crooks, hollows, and snuggles beneath bones, keeping everything aligned as I sleep. Hallelujah! In the morn,I feel good enough put on my boots and consider walking another day. After an hour of stretching, we leave the Inn and I leave the little magic pillow in the amoire for the next person. I’m pretty sure I can handle this next stage—a supposedly easy trek over the hilltop—after all we’ve hiked bigger mountains in the States. Little did I know….
Day 2: Ennerdale Bridge to Stonethwaite–14.5 miles
These things start out innocently, like they always do. A flat walk, long walk beside a

Photo by Houmous Monster
long, long lake. The Inn packed a big, fat lunch for us, and I am already snacking on homemade flapjack which is a buttery, carmelly, chewy granola bar, and this one is packed with pineapple, raisins, dates and nuts.
But we are going to do this long walk sanely. Stop often and stretch. So we duck into the first Youth Hostel we come to at Mile 5 for a cup of tea, and there is the young, 24-year-old Kim. We’re thrilled to see she’s made it safely this far (after being lost when we met her) and that she’s found another person to hike with, so now I won’t have to worry about her getting lost anymore. (Since my own kid isn’t around, I adopt others to worry about).

The clouds cover the peak, of course, so weary hikers won’t give up if they see how far they REALLY have to climb beside that stream.
After a heart-pounding climb, from the lake into the mountains, we stop at another Youth Hostel for a cuppa. “Look at that lovely stream, coming out of the mountain,” I point with my trusty trekking pole. “I hope we don’t go up there.”
(As the days of the hike progressed, I learned that anytime I looked at the horizon and thought: I hope the trail doesn’t go that way. That was ALWAYS the way the trail was going to head.)
The thin path parallels a crystal, splashing stream. And kind souls have laid stone all the way up the mountain, (perhaps 100 years ago?), so we are actually climbing on a stairway to the heavens. (There are other routes that travel even higher, but I’m just interested in keeping my heart from exploding through my chest,so we stay on what is considered the lower trail.)
The long, steep descent on the other side of the mountain is pocked with deep cavities of the slate mines. The tramway that used to haul the slate is the path, except the rails have been pulled and replaced with stones the size of grapefruits and slick from the drizzle that has started. (This is the wettest part of the U.K. Average rainfall= 185 inches per year)
The old mines (shut down in the ’80s) are now a visitors center. As soon as I make it to the curio-shop, I latch onto a hot
chocolate, a brownie, and a banana. I’m eyeballing the buses that pull up to collect the white-haired seniors on a day-trip. I’m pretty sure I can overpower at least one old gal and get on the bus in her place.
A taxi pulls away with the mother of the hiking family from Hong Kong. She has wheedled her way into the cab, her mouth going a million words a second and the driver still shaking his head. Her daughter and husband hike down the road after her.
Dallas Cowboy Fan insists we stick to the official trail. I longingly look at the hikers below us who have taken to the road. It will cut out a half-mile, especially the section in which we slip and slide past the roiling Stonethwaite Beck (river) on moss -slick rocks by clinging to a wire attached to boulders. Hoo-boy. We’re having fun now!
When we finally stumble into a settlement, Dallas Cowboy Fan asks a man getting into his car, “Is this Stone-wait?”
“Thuuh-Wait,” says the man, his tongue poised on his front teeth blowing thuuh sounds. “Thuuuh-Wait.” He pronounces it a couple more times. “It means clearing, so this is a clearing of the stones. Stonethwaite.”
“Are we there yet?”
“Yes,” he says more gently, “you’ve made it.”
The Langstrath Inn has wi-fi in a 3-foot square spot. We wait in line to stand in the spot and get our email. There’s no phone signal. Our luggage is sitting in the bar, waiting for us. But SURPRISE SURPRISE, the Little Pillow is bouncing along the outside of my suitcase tied on like a limp balloon. Someone at the Shepherd’s Arms has sent it along. (Thank you, everyone, including the Head of the Universe).
And tomorrow will be a short day.
Or so I thought. It will also be one of those “husband” days that Dallas Cowboy Fan will NEVER live down for the rest of the trip (and probably even longer).
NEXT: Day 3: “Remember? You Said To Go This Way.” : Stonethwaite to Grasmere
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haha I wish I was travelling with you! I am going to Paris next year and stoked beyond words! 😀 Hopefully I will get to do a bit of England too. The husband and I are so excited!
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Whoa.I feel as if I’m huffing and puffing along with you. What a trip! Glad you’re taking it for real amd I’m simply reading along.
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Go you! I’m ready to hear more.
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What an amazing adventure. I’ve subscribed so I can keep track of you.
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Pingback: Are We Even on the Trail? (or It’s Longer Than You Think): Day 1: Walking Across England, Coast to Coast | Before Morning Breaks
Sometimes I go on little hikes and think “What made me think I was young enough for this!” I remember when I was over there we saw one area (from a tour bus!) which looked like a thousand Galapagos hiding under green grass! Rather large lumps! You survived the trip! So kudos to you!! Did you ever get another massage/ I would have requested one every evening!!
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Yeah, Rose. You can request one every evening, but all you may get is a hearty HA HA Ha and a “Have another pint of cider.”
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Wow.
I hope that skinny little pillow came home with you, and is now ensconced in a suitably plush cover.
Loving travelling with you. And I would definitely have mugged an old lady or two. Good practise for my life in the nursing home…
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YOu know how people look at you, then quickly look away,hoping you won’t see them? Well maybe you don’t know because it’s never happened to you…but one old gal on the bus did that very thing, and I have to admit…I was eyeballing her seat with a hard and heavy look. Fortunately for her, the bus was FULL of seniors, but she looked punier than me. If I ever come to Oz, you and I can practice pitching people off the bus. We ALL must get ready for the nursing home someday, and I can’t think of anyone better than you who’d be more fun to practice finagling seats.
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Seats. And beds, and food, and booze…
Oh the fun we would have. So long as we have someone to bail us out.
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This is fun. I’ve never hiked vicariously and it’s not at all tiring! Sending good pillow thoughts your way.
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Yes, hiking vicariously is good time management. And it’s strange how priorities change when hiking. Suddenly that pillow (which I assume was someone’s castoff) became very important….as did having enough water and food on me at all times.
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Those pictures are great. Despite your misgivings, you look like a world-class hiker!
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Awwww…shucks, Al. You’re kind. But we both know that hikers look like they do because they need a shower, a foot rub, and a couple of beers. But still, you’re kind. Each time I look at these pics I think to myself that I look like I’ve been through a clothes wringer (if you’re old enough to know what one of those was.)
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Doing good. My hat’s off to you.
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To heck with your hat. Take off your wallet and purse and send money.
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So far, your trip has been Ennuithwaite. Very interesting, and invigorating. What an adventure! Sounds like you should patent that little pillow and make a mint. I think we could all use a magical pillow.
Hmmm, I take it your hubby’s sense of direction takes a hit in the next installment? Oops.
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You know how in a relationship the ledger tips back and forth? Well, the ledger tipped in my direction after the next stage. Thanks for reading. I’m going over to your site to catch up with your life right now.
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You are a brave soul. I would have knee-capped that little old lady and taken the bus.
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I agree with Elyse! 🙂 I love every step of your adventure from a nice comfortable office chair. Mighty thoughtful of you to take us along. And I especially love that photo of you with staff, smiling triumphantly against the mysterious and slightly ominous mountain backdrop!
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Thanks for the kudos. I’m grinning like a monkey because I had no idea what lay ahead. The good thing about climbing into the clouds was that I couldn’t see how much farther I had to go.
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You are stronger than I will ever be – bravo!
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I don’t think so. I read your blog, even though I don’t always comment. Strength comes in different forms, and you sure have it.
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