Trout Fishing in the Corridor

For the second time in a matter of days Eskdale experienced heavy, prolonged rain. The usually sedate and peaceful Blea Beck was turned into a raging torrent. The water rose up over the level of the little wooden foot bridge, and it was briefly possible to go fishing in one small section of a downstairs corridor in the hostel (but the trout weren't biting). Thankfully, that was as bad as it got for us. Being in work I had little idea of what was going on elsewhere in the valley, but Mick and Rachel didn't get far in their van before having to return home. Mick then went back to help Harry at the Woolpack who was doing a grand job of diverting water off the road. Mick told us that it was above welly deep, which was ok until Wooly (the pub dog) tried to launch herself at him! 

Later on that afternoon (when I'd finished work and the rain had stopped) I wandered past the Woolpack, Paddington said hello, and told me that I'd just missed paddle boarding on the beer garden. (That explained why Steve and Caroline from West Lakes Adventures (www.westlakesadventure.co.uk) were walking down the road holding giant surf boards over their heads). Harry showed me the video though, and the ones of the river that had temporarily been formed through their field and car park. Thankfully there was no damage to the building. Sure, the beer garden was still flooded, but the water levels had dropped so rapidly it was hard to believe the state of things earlier that morning. 

Speaking of all things Woolpack, thanks to Tom-Tom I am now the proud owner of a Hardknott Bar & Cafe polo shirt. It was a lovely, surprise birthday present, along with a card suggesting that I should swap teams and become an Arsenal fan. Pffft. It was one of those quietly perfect days with a chocolate Chris de Burgh, Pirates, and Harry Potter cartoons in French. Oh, and discovering that I'd left a window of my van wide open in all this pouring rain. Skills. 

Aside from the freak weather events, the recent days have been fairly normal. We had an impromptu sausage relay one morning, which was a great success as no one dropped the baton. Another day, when it was really busy, Rachel and I locked ourselves away in the self catering kitchen in a desperate attempt to get it cleaned. This was preferable to my idea of staging the world's first showing of 'Apple Juice Live' to deter people from entering the room (this involves eating a pink lady apple and waiting around with a bucket). While we were cleaning, Rachel regaled me with the historical tale of a man who wanted his booking refunded because the hostel was impossible to find. Of course, this impossibility he was referring to was somewhat thwarted by the fact that there were real life people staying in the hostel at that very moment. That small matter aside though, we both agreed that it wouldn't be such a bad idea to set up a fantasy hostel. Surely people would pay good money to stay at a place that doesn't actually exist - the chance to enter a different dimension doesn't come around every day. Rachel took this idea further, and I almost had to stop her running out the door to sell imaginary cups of tea for 10p on the top of Scafell Pike. She did then have a more practical idea, developed from my suggestion of sticking a photo on the end of a telescope to show what the view looks like on a clear day. It involved something she called augmented reality, whereby the hiker can see a 360° virtual map complete with all the routes down the mountain. This way, even in cloud, the walker would know which path to set off on, and this would avoid them getting lost and coming down into the wrong valley (which happens here numerous times). She finished off her sales pitch by saying, "yep, we're in the business of saving lives." We then turned our full attention back to scrubbing burnt on crap off the pans.