The winter season at Borrowdale finished for me at the end of February. However, my initial plan of heading up to Scotland on 1st March was postponed by the ‘Beast from the East’. The roads weren't so bad where we were, certainly not impassible. But elsewhere it was a different story, and some places were cut off for days. I went out for a run one afternoon - the snow had stopped falling, the skies were blue, and the sun almost felt warm. Heading to a favourite swim spot in Langstrath Beck I never imagined for a moment that the river would be frozen - but where I usually got in there was a thin layer of ice. Sometimes I head out with the mindset of absolutely needing a dip, & this was one of those times. So I stripped off, stepped through the ice and reached a narrow unfrozen channel. I broke my usually silent swim with a whoop of joy, and as I ran back to the hostel afterwards I was pretty sure that I’d just experienced the greatest moment of my life. The water temperature was just below zero. I was telling my housemates about it when Claire suddenly asked, “How are you not dead?!” I didn’t have much of a scientific explanation other than that my heart was still beating. The weather worsened again the following day, the wind picked up dramatically, and the snow fell in a blizzard. We later heard how one guy claimed to have been lifted 4 feet in the air by the wind further up the Langstrath valley. While men sometimes have a tendency to over-exaggerate length/distance, this story was pretty much believable. Claire & I discovered this when we went out for a run and really struggled to stay upright. She had wanted to see me break the ice, so I thought I better mention before setting off that I don’t wear anything when I go swimming. “I don’t care if you don’t?” And that was that.
What had been a thin layer of ice the day before was now looking decidedly solid and far more widespread. There was no open channel of water, and throwing a few rocks in made little difference at all. So I started using my hands and feet to break through, lifting up and moving aside quite large chunks of ice. Every so often I’d ask Claire if she was ok - I was worried that she’d be getting cold just standing around. She didn’t really seem to hear, and just said, “you are actually insane.” I managed to clear enough ice to have a ‘swim’, and fully submerge a couple of times. On the way home we made a detour to a pool in the river just upstream from the hostel. Apart from at the very shallow edges there was no hint of ice here. Claire, out of the blue, announced that she was going to do it. Before I think even she knew it, she was knee deep in the water, & for a moment she declared, “it’s warmer in than out!” However, this was quickly replaced by cries of, “Oh f**k, f**k, F**K it’s cold!” as she started to swim. “You have to tell them all I did it, K!” When we got back to the staff house Helen started making us cups of tea and offering us a selection of cakes she had been baking. I showed Charlotte some of the photos that Claire had taken - including one of me holding two blocks of ice to cover up my modesty. Charlotte laughed, but then looked a little put out....”I can’t believe Claire saw your boobs before me!”
One of the things Helen had been baking was chocolate covered flapjack as a leaving present for me. It hadn’t turned out perhaps the way she had planned, & she resorted to bundling it up in tin foil so it looked quite like a shiny football. “You better take it anyway. Keep it in your van for emergency rations in case you get snowed in somewhere. Failing that, I reckon it would be pretty good for breaking the ice when you next go swimming....in fact, that might actually be a better use for it!” I was going to miss this lot, miss the craic, miss hearing stories from Kate about the time she accidentally put a rat through the dishwasher. Glen had already left, moved to Hawkshead to start a new job there. Things change, time moves on. Even though it wouldn’t really be goodbye, it’s easy to wish that the very best bits of life could happen all at once and forever. Instead you find yourself split, wondering where you should be, & questioning where you really want to be. But it’s not possible to live one life at the expense of another, it just doesn’t work like that. You’re never missing out, never could be doing something better. It’s hard to get your head around it really. I don’t think it’s predestined, nor happens for a reason, but I understand how they came up with the term. There’s something liberating about it all, though. Something liberating that lets us embrace whatever it is we are doing at the moment. A lot of the time though I default to a way of thinking that makes me dream about another time and place.
A few days later and the roads were quiet and fine. I reached Aviemore with no problems at all, and spent a few lovely days with family there. I had no real plans for this trip, and so when a friend who worked the previous two summers in Eskdale messaged me, I headed over to the Applecross peninsula to catch up and spend a few nights in my van. Jo was staying in the village of Fernbeg - a village in this case being a collection of about ten houses. At first there was no one else around apart from an elderly lady who stopped off there twice a day to walk her small white dog. It soon because ‘busy’ though when a couple arrived at one of the cottages and started flying a drone. I find those things to really be quite an intrusion. One day I headed down the coast to Applecross itself, & I’d got the idea in my head that I’d run to the top of Bealach Na Ba (The Pass of the Cattle) and back. Near the top the snow had been piled up on the side of the road to a height much higher than my head. They’d being doing one heck of a job keeping the pass open all year. From the summit cairn you could see for miles, out over the sea to Skye, to the snow covered Cullin mountains. I don’t normally listen to music when I’m running, but everything about the day had me slightly euphoric. So on the way back down I put on a Bob Dylan live album full blast. The plan was to spend the night in my van at Applecross campsite, and I was so looking forward to a shower when I got there. The place Jo had been staying had no running water over winter, and so I was a good few days without a wash (other than a sea swim). I went to reception to book in and pay, & was met with the news that the boiler had broken so there was no hot water but I was welcome to stay for free. I explained my situation a little, and asked if there was anywhere else in Applecross I could get a shower, asked if there was any water coming out of the showers at all? There was, but it was ice cold, and before I could say that I really didn’t mind, she went to call the B&B to ask if I could use their shower. A moment later she returned, and told me to walk through the field and knock on the door of the B&B; they’d be expecting me. No charge. Nothing at all. Just kindness to a stranger passing through. Which, I suppose, is the best thing you can ever hope for and hope to give in this life.
After Applecross I headed over to Torridon. The weather was fine so I carried on sleeping in my van, but I did call into the hostel there to have a chat with the staff. Seems to be some sort of universal hostel camaraderie, and it turns out the lady on reception was originally from the Lake District. There was still quite a bit of snow on the mountain tops, and not having the correct equipment or experience for the conditions I stayed to the lower levels. There’s something so exciting about looking at a map, and then going to explore an area for the first time. I picked out a track along a river to some waterfalls and set off. I found somewhere to have a dip, and later on wandered down and watched the sunset over the Loch. A few days there felt like a pleasant eternity - off the grid bliss. It’s amazing how much longer a day can be without WiFi, TV, and no place at all to be. I was heating up some soup on my stove one afternoon when a man walked past carrying two dead rabbits on a stick. He paused for a moment to say hello and ‘that looks tasty’ before carrying on. Sometime later a long haul trucker stopped - he was looking for some hatchery or other. I hadn’t heard of it, but I showed him the map and he said he thought he knew where it must be now, thanked me and moved on. I reckon I could have stayed there forever and gained an entire lifetime of little stories like that to tell. I suppose that’s the truth wherever we happen to be.
The last few days of my break were spent visiting a friend (David) in Sutherland, and catching up with my aunt and uncle before returning to Aviemore en route to the Lake District. Another season at Eskdale was about to begin, and although it would be the start of my 3rd year there, it in no way felt stale or old. I was excited, and looking forward to getting back.
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