I arrived at the long layby north of Grasmere around 07:10am to find there were only two other cars parked up, and one of those looked like it had been there all night. The other was parked on the Grasmere side of the layby was a solo walker who was kitting up behind his car. Given how I had the choice, I chose to park at the north end of the layby and even managed to spin the car around so it was facing the right way for my return later. It was quickly noted how chilled the morning air was, confirmed by my frozen finger tips and the fact that I could see my own breath. It would seem that Autumn is well and truly here, which got me thinking about a walk I did from Loweswater this time last year during a heatwave. Bonkers, isn't it. If It was this cool at valley level, it was bound to be colder across the tops, so I doubled up my base layers and topped them up with beanie and gloves. Perhaps a tad extreme, but I haven't felt this cold since last Winter. Kitted up, I locked my car and crossed a deserted A591 towards Greenhead Gill. 

The light was still low as the sun hadn't climbed high enough above the neighbouring fells as my lungs billowed chilled air. I joined the tarmac lane, where my ears were treated to the roar of Greenhead Gill and arrived at the top of the lane out of breath due to the steepness of the incline then got stuck into the equally steep stone staircase that rises along side the pines behind Michael's Nook. I was making good pace when I noticed the solo walker from the layby was gaining ground on me; unlike me, he wasn't stopping to take photographs, so I dropped my pace intentionally so he could pass. We were of similar age, but the guy had legs like telegraph poles; his stride equalling two of mine; no wonder it took hardly any effort for him to catch me up. Behind me, the sunlight was beginning to catch the tops of Silver How and the fells as far north as my view would allow, it was magical. I really do love this time of year coupled with the early starts.

My descent was quiet feeling like it was a random day in the week rather than the Saturday morning it was. I continued zigzagging my way down letting my poles take the strain until I reached Grisedale Hause. Where was everyone? To reach the Tongue Gill path I crossed the Hause before passing through a break in the wall which could have been easily missed. Here the path twists its way over boulder and rocks with the odd rock step thrown in too. I felt rain in the air and muttered, 'It's here' to myself. The ground eventually gave way prior to reaching Tongue Gill falls, where for a few moments the heavens opened; the rain falling heavy and vertical. It was also here I bumped into the first of seven American's walking the C2C on route to Patterdale, and we joked about the British weather. I can't help but respect anyone who travels half the way across the world to walk through Lakeland and beyond - total respect.

It stopped raining, followed by a burst of sunshine before clouding back over again. 'That's your lot' I said.  Further down the path, another group of American's were adding waterproofs. One chap in particular stopped to ask me did I know where Ullswater View was, which caught me off guard, quickly realising that this must be the guest house he was staying at, but he also missed the 's' from Ullswater doubled this with his American accent; it took a few seconds for the penny to drop. I didn't know the exact whereabouts of the guest house, but seeing as it was called Ullswater View, I told him that once he had passed through the Grisedale Valley to head left for Glenridding, advising that less than half a mile divides Patterdale with Glenridding. I later found out that the guest house was closer to Watermillock almost five miles from Glenridding, oh shit.

My hands and ears had warmed up now as I continued my descent accompanied by the sound of Tongue Gill cascading through the valley. I was soon passed by half a dozen mountain bikers riding E-bikes; some of these were high-end Whyte, Santa Cruz, and Pivot bikes worth north of 6k. I'm really fond of this path, and I always feel the experience is over too soon once the two wooden footbridges over Tongue Gill are reached, one to pass over the gill and the second to cross the Ford. I pass over the first bridge and swill my boots out in the Ford before passing through the gate, my path flanked by dying bracken on both sides. Views open out from an old stone building across a muddied field towards Steel Fell and the Greenburn valley where I crossed my arms across the top of a wooden gate staring blankly through the rain drifting into deep thought. The view made me realise that even after all these years Lakeland hasn't changed that much, just the people in it.