I'm not good at doing nothing, I get fidgety, I get restless and as you can probably tell I bore easily and after spending last weekend in the house due to a poor forecast I was itching to get boot back onto fell, it wasn't just me getting under the feet both Rod and David was to meant of joined me on this walk last weekend and earlier this week Rod emailed to ask did we fancy giving it another go the weekend coming. By Monday morning my Lakeland withdrawal symptoms were at their peak so before I even switched my computer on I asked my boss was I ok booking Wednesday off, why he asked? didn't walk I I answered, the bosses eyes rolled to the top of his head followed by "where you going" and that was it, I had my day off. I cleared it with Rod and David would they mind I do the Bannisdale Horseshoe without them and they returned my email with "no problem" "having Bannisdale to yourself on a Wednesday David said, would capture everything the valley is all about" go for it. With work being so busy I hadn't given anytime to craving a little solitude, I guess I've been in 'work mode' but that peaked along with missing my fell time last weekend, I simply had to get out and put my cravings to rest and after today, I owe a debt. to the Bannisdale valley.

With the best of the forecast reserved for the morning I left home around 7:00am and arrived in Bannisdale just an hour and a half later still not quite believing that it takes just as long to do my morning commute to work. After leaving the A6 I followed the narrow hedge lined lane before arriving at Dryhowe Bridge where I was surprised to find myself behind a queue of construction traffic, up ahead my would be parking spot had been taken over by a transit van with orange beacons flashing on the roof while workers in high viz jackets wondered about, it was clear despite not knowing what was going on that I wouldn't be parking at Dryhowe Bridge this morning. Luckily I had spotted a grass verge about 350 yards back up the lane which I had to reverse to while the workman looked on, great an audience.

Having tucked my car into the verge I checked my location on the map and found that I had actually reversed past the point at which I would gain the hill side. The morning air is cooler than of late but it's bright and better than I had expected. Today I'm wearing in a new pair of Scarpa Delta boots which up until now I'd only worn during local dog walks, it's my first pair of Scarpa's and I was hoping they'd live up to their high expectations. With my car locked I headed back down the lane towards a gate and a steep wall which climbed the fell side over on the left, a knotted rope secured the gate closed and through bracken beyond I could see a trail had already been blazed. To the left of the gate, a post minus its sign which I am told used to read 'Private Land' On closer inspection of the rope I could see that it had been tied using a large knott, the grass below the gate hadn't been disturbed for weeks which told me this gate is rarely opened. Ok, I'm not one to walk over Private Land and after checking with my pocket Birkett Fells book it was clear I was in the right place, perhaps when Bill Birkett walked this round it was open land or perhaps he didn't give it a thought to mention, either way I need to scale this gate which I did hastily. Rod had forewarned me about the sign and like a school boy I picked my way through the steep sided hill side not wanting the farmer to see me whilst wading through thigh high bracken all the while keeping the stone wall to my left. The fell side steepens below a cairned knoll which Birkett mentioned, at least I thowt, your in the right place.

I thought I had heard something coming up behind me but with a strengthening wind paid it no attention, it was only when I heard the farmer call his dog back who by now was running towards me did I see the quad approaching, blimey that's the quietest quad I've ever heard! Well, what can I say about this farmer, a true gentleman who at first I thought I was going to get a roasting from after after starting the walk on his private land. As the quad approached I stepped aside with my hand up as if to say Hi, the farmer stopped, cut the engine and started chatting about what a wonderful day it was "come far" he asked "Wigan" I replied "aye just up for the day then?", "aye" I says "did you see all the workers down in the valley he asked?" "I did aye, they're re-routing Bannisdale Beck, only trouble is the council (laughs out loud) forgot to put in planning permission and they're three months behind, all the bloody nice weather we've had", "the becks been dry and now it looks like it'll take-em into Auntum when the beck will swell again, all this to save Kendal from flooding" he laughs, the same place where the town hall forgot to apply for planning permission! Can't mek it up!

We went onto chat for about five more minutes before he started his quad again, it was there I took my right hand from my walking pole strap and shuck his hand, I didn't get his name although his Collie was named Meg.

A much wider path traced to the east corner of Borrowdale Head before a sharp grassy descent was required to reach the grassy col which divided Borrowdale Head and Lamb Pasture, it was here I spotted an area of long grass which had been trodden down much like you would find in a crop circle, at first I thought it was a place where cattle or sheep would bed down but with no droppings, tracks in or out of the area I found this a little strange.

Time to ring Mulder and Scully me thinks.

I left Lamb Pasture as instructed by descending the summit to the right from where I picked my descent through thigh high bracken, below the terrace track that the construction workers used to gain the valley while just above the track a cluster of boulders beckoned from where I broke out lunch. This morning was the first time this Summer that I had started and ended a walk wearing a wind proof and glad I was of it in certain places but here, back at valley level Summer had returned which saw me remove my jacket before I tucked into lunch. A warm breeze dried the remaining sweat on my back as I tucked into two bacon sandwiches which I had bought from the petrol station the night before followed by a minty chocolate bar for afters. After lunch I flung my pack over my shoulder and walked the last half mile back to the car, most of which was up hill passing this mornings starting point.

With one last look over White Howe I packed my gear back into my car while soaking the last of the silence which was suddenly broken by the sound of a motorbike approaching over the brow, the bike appeared to only have one gear as the farmers boy rode by whilst raising his left hand from the handlebar to say Hi.