Looking at Wainwright's "Central Fells" ...

This Friday, Deo volente, we'll be driving northwards, to the shores of Lake Windermere - we'll be staying at Low Wray, in a yurt - I've gazed for some time already at the Ordnance Survey maps, delighting in the writhing contour lines, the evocative names of the fells -

I've been to the Lake District a number of times, most recently with Jay - we stayed with a friend of his, Paul, who lived in Penrith - we climbed Blencathra - Paul strolled up the mountain with his hands in his pockets - Jay followed Paul, long legged, with walking poles - we had a feast, overlooking a tarn - Paul's wife smiled her gentle smile - I looked at the icy blue water of the tarn, the brilliant green stars of moss underfoot - we sat upon lichened rocks -

Later, back in Penrith, we took part in a pub quiz - I was amazed by how seriously everyone behaved - each team was determined to win, at any cost - the scoring was determined by arcane rules - our team won - luckily I had intimate knowledge of the horror films of the seventies - we celebrated our victory with music and ale -

So, now, I'm opening up my Wainright's Central Fells - I've watched a documentary about this quirky curmudgeon - Anne reckons he was unhappy at home - but his guides are a marvel - I'm fascinated by the beautiful line drawings, the intricate pictorial maps, the sly asides in the prose -

I reckon on climbing Loughrigg Fell first - the prickly master says it has a wealth of interests and delights - that's good enough for me, I think -