He ain't heavy - but the pack is

Day 33 was a more pastoral day, on the Cumbrian Way to Carlisle. No big hills, but big packs again – gosh, what a difference that makes! We’re both feeling the effects and feeling doubly grateful to our support crews who’ve saved us from having to carry them most of the way. Highlights today were a swim in the River Caldew for me, a sparrowhawk sighting and a gentle hobble around the cathedral close in the evening.

As we’re nearing the end of the English section of our walk, I’ve been reflecting on the evocative place names that we’ve encountered. We hit the Wall in Staffordshire, and Farewell couldn’t come soon enough, but Derbyshire gave us Hope. In Yorkshire, the climb out of Wigtwizzle set Paul’s hair curling; we wisely avoided getting tied up with Netherthong but couldn’t avoid a descent to Hades, and what happened in Smearbottoms Lane is best left there. We had to Settle for just a nibble of Rye Loaf Hill, but we made a Dent in The Calf. In Cumbria we escaped a Great Cockup, although we did have a small one today when I left my pack open and strewed my dirty washing along the Cumbrian Way.

Track of the Day? Thinking of my pack and of songs including the word “heavy”, I swerved to “He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother” by the Hollies; Paul, this one’s for you but you shouldn’t take the line “I’m strong enough to carry you” too literally!