Lord Elrond, & the Archbishop of Canterbury

It promised to be a calm, uneventful evening watching Lord of the Rings. But then Trefor walked in. I'm not saying that he is entirely to blame for the conversation which ensued - had I not been there he would have been alone. We spent quite a while trying to work out how old Lord Elrond was, & where he placed in the history of the world (ignoring the barrier between fiction and reality). We soon decided that, in order for everything to make a bit more sense, we needed to add a couple of extra days onto the creation story. One to allow for the creation of Middle Earth, and another, day nine, to allow for the creation of Elrond. We both agreed that the best course of action would be to write a politely worded letter to the Archbishop of Canterbury, asking if he wouldn't mind making these small, insignificant alterations to the book of Genesis. I'm pretty sure he will make the announcement when he delivers his special Christmas message on the 25th (and take all the credit for the idea). That wasn't the end of the great ideas, though. I had a sudden thought for what we could do as our next staff activity - let's all go Orc hunting! Tref hastily agreed, but suggested that we shouldn't rush in to it, as these things need to be carefully planned, and a risk assessment would almost certainly have to be written. Rhys and Zach were also keen, and immediately started discussing what they would use as weapons.  We were almost Lord of the Ringsed out when I asked Trefor if he had ever lived in a cave. 

"Well, yes." 

"How long for?"

"Three hours." 

I don't think these special people will ever cease to amaze me. Rhys, for example, putting on a funky remix version of Chris de Burgh's Lady in Red (just because he knows how much I love it). & Bianca, sat at the table eating angel cake for breakfast (not so much because she had just had a wisdom tooth removed, but because she wanted to eat cake for breakfast). & Glen. Well I don't really know where to begin! But my favourite quote of his from this last week has to be, "I don't normally talk to people that I can't see." I'm sure that's the essence of wisdom, right there. To be fair, though. Glen was brilliant when Hanna decided to remove a section of her finger - he was the only one who wasn't fainting. 

Orla (of Keswick hostel & general fame), called into the staff house one day, & asked, "Has anyone seen my axe?!" It was only after she had taken the time to recommend buying PJs and hats for Christmas presents, & asked if anyone wanted the chest of drawers which were currently in the car park, that she added a little clarification about the missing item. Turns out it wasn't a murdering kind of axe that she was missing, but an ice axe. The atmosphere noticeably relaxed after that.  

This last week has not exactly provided ideal conditions for skinny-dipping. Either I have run in the daylight (in relatively busy places), or I've run at night but with company. I met up with my friend Imi one evening, it was dark (as you would expect), raining, and I managed to get us a little bit lost. Imi kindly referred to it as nothing but an exciting detour (of which every run should have one), & it was amusing when the person who stopped to give us directions was clearly more wildly lost than we were! We weren't that lost at all really, I'd just got a little bit carried away talking about something or other, & missed the turning. Midway through the run I did point out a good swimming spot, & even though Imi said "don't let me stop you!" I thought it best for everyone if, this time, I stayed out of the water! 

 

I'm now away from the Lake District for a couple of weeks - time to be spent with family, and in Scotland. It is unlikely that I'll post again until the New Year, so I'd like to take this opportunity to wish each and every one of you a wonderful Christmas, and all the best for 2017. This time we have together, it's all we have, and it's so incredibly precious. Lots of love. K x

Skinny dipping, & hitching lifts

It was really good to get back to Borrowdale, the people here, and the place. Timing couldn't have been more essential in fact; I walked in the door to find Glen worrying about what a long way it was to Keswick. I was able to reassure him that, 99.9% certain, Keswick was exactly the same distance away as it had always been. & everything was going to be alright. I then added that he must be really glad that I'm back. He started laughing and said, "Yes. Because no one else in the world would possibly imagine that I've spent the past week panicking at the idea of Keswick getting further and further away!" It's good to know that I can be a great source of comfort at such troubling (fictitious) times. 

My departure from Scotland was not quite as smooth as anticipated - the handbrake on my van was stuck on, & it required some standard Al Dargie 'driving' to get things underway. It seems that my cousin is making a habit of having to rescue various members of the Shaw family from the Scottish Highlands (in vehicle related mishaps)! Thanks. I booked my van in for a much needed service when I returned, & sure enough the brakes were number one on the list of things that needed fixing. I hitched a lift back from Keswick with a lovely couple who dropped me right at the doors of the hostel (even though they weren't going all that way). To make things even better we had to stop to let four massive deer cross the road, & they had a story tape (CD) playing in the car (even if the plot line seemed to be about someone being murdered by a stranger). 

It would seem that the skinny-dipping episode in Scotland was far from an isolated incident. I went for a nighttime run up the valley to Seathwaite, & onto Stockley Bridge. It was cold, wet, but the pools there were so enticing I just couldn't help myself. What I hadn't bargained for though, at nearly 9pm, was four guys with head torches walking down off the mountain. It's safe to say that they got far more of a 'view' than they were expecting, and there really wasn't anything I could do - apart from a spot of naked waving. The same thing (minus the audience) happened on a Moonlit run up Honister Pass, & again in Derwent Water last night. It seems that it might have developed into a bit of an addiction, to the point that when I come back into the staff house the first thing Dave ever asks me now is, "did you get naked?" But perhaps more worryingly than that, someone has actually asked me if they can pay me to take them skinny dipping, & show them which way north is. No. 

With my van still in the garage, Bianca very kindly gave me a lift into Keswick one evening so I could have a blood test. She asked if I had everything I needed, to which I gave a moments thought before replying, "Yes. I have my arms right here still." It took a little while to actually leave the hostel though, as Bianca announced that she was not very good at parking, or un-parking (the term now used to describe reversing). It was no time at all though in comparison to how long it took us to set off back to Borrowdale - I wasn't sure of the etiquette of being a passenger and having to tell the driver that they need to turn the engine on before they can hope to go anywhere! Thankfully though, Bianca figured it out in the end. I might have been safer however sat in Booths car park for the rest of eternity - it was slightly alarming when, half way back, Bianca suddenly said, "I really must remember to put my hands on the steering wheel when I'm driving at night!" Three days later my van was ready to pick up. Chris kindly gave me a lift in to Keswick, & the cheerful chap at High Hill garage informed me that everything was now fixed. He did warn me however to be careful when stopping at a junction - "when you put your foot on the brake pedal, you'll find that it actually works now! So don't put your foot down too hard, or....!!" Noted. 

It is really good to have wifi access at Borrowdale - I have been able to keep in touch with folk a lot more readily, especially Rachel (in deepest darkest Eskdale), and Tom-Tom & Evie who are currently in Bali. To the casual observer, Rachel and I have developed a thing for writing inappropriate messages on each other's Facebook profile. I can't remember who started it exactly, but I'd hazard a guess at it being Rachel when she used the greeting, "Hey big tits!" Evie, meanwhile, is having a great time travelling, although I think I have tempted her into changing her flights home so that she can have Christmas dinner at my mum's (I explained how my mum had asked me if I just wanted chocolate for Christmas dinner). Tom-Tom on the other hand was far less chatty - he simply sent me a message which read, 'update on life in general please'.  To which I replied in kind, 'I'm spending a lot of time naked.' 

The wild places of the world, and the heart

Sometimes it's what you need, a week, some quieter time away to think. Not always about something in particular, but a chance to reset, to regain your centre. I found life so wonderfully busy with friends, work, and adventure, that it had been a while since I last stopped and cut loose a bit. Scotland has always been the perfect place for me to do that, to be however it is you happen to be, feeling sad, blue, hurting, happy, full of love. So I drove north in the low cloud and rain to Aviemore where my cousin & his family live. Staying with Al & Naomi has long been an incredibly warm experience - it is somewhere I feel so welcome, & totally accepted. You can't choose your family, but I'd choose the family I've already got anyway. 

I couldn't wait to get out running on the forest trails of the Cairngorms National Park, & within a few hours of arriving I had my head torch on down by Loch an Eilein. I couldn't see a lot of the magic, but I could still feel it. The smell of the pine, the sound of the last bits of ice cracking, and crashing into boulders. The cold spell had broken a few days previous, and the weather was now suddenly unseasonably warm. After the run I sat down on a bench, with the moon, looking up at Orion and wondering about my place in it all. Something so strong, and me, well I felt at once so connected but yet so distant and small. But I think that's probably how it's supposed to be, I think that's probably how it always really is. 

A few days later I headed to Glen Feshie, to once again experience the transcendence of that place. I ran out along by the river, heading into the wild places of the world, and the heart, to do battle with the wind, and my demons. I realised, at some point along the way, that there are things in life which are impossible to un-feel, and that the truth sometimes belongs to just one other person. You could tell it to everyone, but no one could possibly understand or even hear it. There were bridges here that had been washed away, and a landslide, from the storms of a year ago. But all such things can be overcome - cold, wet feet are a small price to pay, push on through. On the way back I headed up into the forest, to the hidden, magical waterfalls and pools. It was totally unplanned, and before I really knew what I was doing I had taken all my clothes off and gone in for a quick dip. It was cold, as expected, but invigorating and utterly liberating to be naked in the middle of the Scottish mountains. There was no one else about, I should probably add! 

On my last full day, I went for a run around and up by Loch Morlich. I had an overwhelming feeling of being engulfed by emptiness, in my legs, in my soul, and by the landscape. It was a struggle in more ways than I can relate, and when you get so worn down there is that tendency to dwell on your failures, mistakes, and above all (perhaps) the hurt you have caused people along the way. Redemption seemed a million miles away, and self-redemption was even further adrift. I sat and watched the sunset, sat and watched as an elderly couple scattered three bags of duck feed on the shore. For a moment it had all felt pretty final. But the things I thought I'd lost turned out to be impossible to lose, and any sense of loss was the sadness that often comes with love, and growth. I knew then that I'd be back, and in time, back again in every sense.

A Borrowdale Nativity, & The Woolpack Inn

Before heading off to Eskdale for a few days there was time for one more night of madness. I'd been out walking in the dark with all of my hopes & affirmative answers to hypothetical questions, and returned to the staff house to find Rhys and Dave still awake. They talked for a while about life working in a factory, and then we turned to arguably more important matters - planning a YHA Borrowdale staff nativity scene. I was straight away given the role of Mary, which I think has more to do with the fact that I was wearing a blue Berghaus jacket (and being the only female in the room) rather than having any profound acquaintance with an angel. Rhys said that Dave would make a good Joseph, and we decided that Tref would make such a good shepherd (must be the beard), that he could play shepherd number one, two, and three. When we spoke to him in the morning about it he wholeheartedly agreed, & asked excitedly what he should wear for a costume. Bianca asked if she could be a sheep, and Glen said he'd be more than happy to be an angel. All of this meant that, by process of elimination only, the three wise men would have to be Chris, Rhys, and Zach. It was almost 1am before we decided that all the details were in place to make the ultimate Christmas card, and that we could therefore now go to bed.

I headed over to Eskdale the following afternoon, and as I drove along the valley I caught myself smiling like a lunatic. It felt so good to be back, and later that night I went for a run along the river. I asked Mick and Rachel if they'd like to join me, but they were too busy trying to work out anagrams of number one hits by the Spice Girls. Fair enough really. They actually had a pretty lucky escape, as it turned out to be a fairly hazardous run. There may or may not have been an incident involving a number of sheep nearly knocking me over in the dark. That was nothing though in comparison to Rachel's long tale of woe about how many aerosols you can legally send in the post, not to mention something about a power cut, a fire alarm, and incurring a groin strain while tripping over the dog in the dark. I only went away for three weeks....!! 

I seemed to spend a large proportion of each day hardcore drinking peppermint tea in front of the fire at the Woolpack Inn. It was lovely to catch up with Harry, Paddington, & Ellie, as well as chatting to a few of the folk staying there. My brother Rory & his wifey Jen came up to visit for the weekend, announcing their arrival with a big coo-eee coo-eee what's up?! We got a fire going back at the hostel, and spent the evening listening to Chris de Burgh, & witnessing Jen's conversion to said musical genius. She was so serious about the whole thing that she insisted upon undergoing an initiation ceremony or baptism. This basically involved draping herself in a red curtain, and posing for a photo (which unintentionally made it look like she was stood behind it with no clothes on). Making the most of her current state of euphoria, I managed to persuade her to 'run' up Harter Fell with me in the morning to watch the sunrise. It was pretty chilly on top, but the views were utterly stunning. It was absolutely worth getting out of bed for, and the photos I took are going to be in the next issue of the Live More YHA magazine. I was pretty wrecked for the rest of the day, but summoned the strength to go up to Hardknott Fort with Rory in the afternoon for a sword fight. As we walked up to the walls, he turned to me and said very seriously, "I've never gone into the mountains carrying a sword before. I'm a bit worried about visiting Eskdale again, I seem to end up doing slightly crazier things each time, and I'm usually a really cautious kind of guy." I suggested that it is the type of place which can have that affect on people, but for some reason he seemed to think it was more to do with the fact that I was here. 

One of many exciting things to happen over the weekend was Mick building a bed (recycled from a clapped out caravan) for the back of my van. It really is incredible, and I can't thank him enough for all his help with it! There is definitely going to be some sort of house warming party - probably comprising of a challenge to see just how many people it is possible to safely fit in the back of a transit connect (the safety element here simply refers to not spilling any tea). 

Upside down jumpers and the KGB

I'd always put Trefor (deputy manager) down as being a quiet and reserved kind of a guy. That was until I spent an evening in the kitchen with him. It started fairly mildly at first, with Tref detailing his specific dislike of tartar sauce, or anything else that goes in a ramekin. But it soon escalated when later on he informed me, somewhat out of the blue, that he had never assassinated anyone in Johnny's Wood (out the back of the hostel). Trying to change the subject slightly, I asked him what his favourite movie was. With accompanying hand gestures, he explained that there was no way he could give an answer like that off the top of his head. But he clearly went away and thought about it, as when I saw him the next day he walked up to me, shrugged slightly, and said, "Die Hard." I'm beginning to wonder if he wasn't actually joking when he told me that he has been living in Borrowdale all these years hiding from the CIA and KGB. All thoughts of this were thrown from my mind though when Dave walked in looking for a plaster. He opened the box, had a search around, and then exclaimed loudly, "This is an excellent First Aid kit, it even contains a door wedge!" 

Life is the staff house is never dull, especially when Tref wanders through the lounge and treats Bianca and I to an impromptu rendition of Phantom of the Opera. He didn't stay to watch the film with us though because he was disappointed to hear that it had neither car chases nor aliens in it. Earlier in the afternoon Dave appeared, and as I glanced up at him I just had to ask, "have you put that jumper on upside down?" To me it looked like a double A rather than a W with a line through it. Dave laughed, but was clearly a little put out...."what are you trying to say? That I have an enormous neck?!" One thing is for sure, you can always count on Glen to lighten the mood. He had returned from walking up Blencathra, and had picked a few things up from the shops on his way back. I asked him how much I owed him for the milk, but was a little shocked by his reply. 

"Eight pounds." 

"Eight pounds, for milk?!"

"Yeeeeh, it was from a really good cow. And it's only actually a shot of milk. It wouldn't let me have four pints." 

"Ok. Well here's a pound, and I'll make the rest of it up to you in Knock Knock jokes." 

On the morning of my last shift, Chris asked me if I'd like to rearrange the drinks cupboard. I really don't think he could have given me a better job to do. But just as I was thinking that the day couldn't possibly get any better, the post arrived and Tref excitedly told me that we are one step closer to getting YHA themed bins for the hostel. Although my three week stint at Borrowdale has come to an end, it is thankfully only a temporary end. I'm taking two weeks off before returning as a volunteer. There are a couple of projects which I'm really looking forward to working on over the winter, not to mention my happiness at being able to spend more time with such lovely people, in such an incredible place. Big thanks to Chris for making all this possible. In the intervening weeks I will be spending a few days in Eskdale with Mick and Rachel (if Rachel can tear herself away from the delights of Egremont), and then up to Scotland to visit family.