Island of crazy people

     In Grasmere we could see the lake from our bedroom window. And the proprietor, before he fixed fried eggs, bacon, sausage, grilled tomatoes, mushrooms and beans for his guests' breakfast each morning, got up extra early and went for a swim in the lake. No wet suit.  He told me the trick is to exhale as you plunge in. That might be true; I don't intend to find out.

     This is called "wild swimming" and there were other wild swimmers at the B&B, all excited about the mountain lakes they were planning to swim in.  

       It was an arduous day for us too. The trail out of Grasmere goes straight up. And up. The weather was perfect and out of an excess of enthusiasm for the views, ( or perhaps the huffing and puffing impaired our cognitive function) we impulsively chose the high road over Mt Helvellyn, third highest peak in England. Spectacular. 

     However, en route, we had to step off the trail and wait for the crowd to pass. They were running up the damn mountain.  It was 50 km race. 

At this point I realized this is an island of mad men. Walking the C2C trail is one of the saner endeavors people do. 

      The long walk down Hellvelyn and into the village of Patterdale was exhausting.  We stopped at the pub to eat before finding the farm B&B. I love pubs!  It's like a party. People we've met along the trail share stories and strangers chat. You order at the bar and if we share an entree and eat out of the same dish,  no one cares.  You do have to be careful not to step on a sleeping dog though.