To celebrate turning 50 last weekend I'd booked the week off to do some fell walking but the forecast was having non of it with more cloud than blue skies which is unusual for this time of year. The forecast didn't really improve until mid-week onwards but I couldn't afford to sit on my hands any longer while the Mrs dream't up jobs for me to do around the house.

Todays forecast was slightly better, dry but cloudy and not that fancy high level cloud but grey tops of the trees cloud. Okay, I'm exaggerating but I did have to wait until Lunchtime to begin the walk to allow the cloud to clear.

The afternoon forecast was meant to turn brighter with temperatures increasing into the late teens which gave me the green light to stop weather watching and drive to the south of the District on a walk that looked like the fells were still in Autumn but felt like Spring.

The experts were right when they said the west of the district would see the most brightness as I took in the view over Black Combe basking in morning sunshine in favour of Eskdale which looked like a scene from a Lord of The Rings movie where every shade of grey mingled into one mass of cloud over Upper Eskdale so much so I input 'Whicham' into the car satnav just to see how long it would take it to drive back to the coast, 16 miles, about twenty five was the answer but I stubbornly stuck to my plan, after all it was forecast to turn brighter later anyway. Feeling the relief as I passed empty parking spaces ahead of the narrow tree lined lane I pass over the cattle grid at Brotherilkeld before driving my car into one of two remaining spaces.

With Hardknott Gill flowing below I began my kit up were despite the lack of sunshine it was mild enough to wear just shorts and a technical-T. Just as I was about to leave the last parking space was filled by two lads in their twenties and a girl of similar age. I was ready to leave and I nodded a smile as I passed the back of their car as I made my way up the pass to the corner of the wall where access is gained into Upper Eskdale by the ladder sty ahead.

The mildness of the afternoon ramped up the humidity and despite walking the level path towards Lingcove Bridge I was beginning to sweat so much so I felt like joining the wild swimmers who were enjoying the crystal waters in Tongue Pot below.

I know many friends who can take or leave social media and after deleting my Facebook account some six months ago I can take or leave it too but I am shocked at how many post I see advertising the pools here in Upper Eskdale the popularity of which has risen ten-fold over the last few years to the point paths are eroding much quicker and even new paths are appearing at hot-spots around waterfalls which simply weren't there a few years ago.

No matter how many times I have climbed this path this view never fails to take my breath away, here the giants of Lakeland appear as the path levels alongside the deepest section of the ravine. I'm quite taken back followed by a momentary stomach drop.

Lingcove Beck was heard before it was seen my boots just about keeping the damp, squelchy ground out I sighted the path directly opposite Lingcove Beck bound for the slopes of Yew Bank but the river was either too deep or fast flowing to cross.

Up stream looked slightly better with more rock to use as stepping stones which, on closer inspection were covered in slime, oh-eck. More tramping up stream I found the river narrowed, deep at the edge from where I jumped onto a bank of shale in the middle of the river before balancing my way over semi-submerged boulders onto the opposite bank. Time to track back to my original position.

I made quick time during my descent before taking one last look back at the Scafells which despite the early hour, appeared to be turning in for the night. Milder now as I squelched my way towards the Roman Fort. Behind me, two families are making their way down the pass as well as a group of motorbikes who's gears kick down in recession.

If that wasn't going to bring me back to reality nothing would. By the time I'd left the Fort the motorbikes were passing WHA Eskdale while over head blue skies were appearing. I joined the pass at its last two zigzags which can be outflanked by crossing a grassy bank to the left. Hardknott Gill again this time ravined below while further up the fell side sheep baah'd in harmony in so many numbers you could hardly make the grass out in between.