Due to a mix of work and a wet forecast I had kinda written this weekend off but I guess the lure of Lakeland gripped me during breakfast on Sunday morning. The forecast had predicted heavy rain, low cloud and fog, the kind of forecast that should have kept the best of walkers at home, however, after last weekends excursion trying to reach High Raise through thigh high snow my legs; days later reminded me of the pain I had put them through which you would think is all the more reason why I should have sat this weekend out but, it never works the way you want it, not when you have a free Sunday ahead of you I guess there was only one thing to do and that was to kit up from scratch.

It was around 09:30am and the minutes that followed were pretty frantic as I got my kit together noting that I hadn't even prepared a meal which was catered for by my local petrol station. Socks were thrown on as to were my waterproof trousers and single mid layer, within ten minutes I was heading north doing that subconscious 'kit check' over and over making sure I hadn't forgotten anything, which if I had, it was staying at home and I'd do bout.

I had chosen to walk in the valley of Troutbeck for two main reason's one of which was because I hadn't summited Troutbeck Tongue for nearly four years (wow how time flies) today I was going to change that along with a recky which would coincide with my Walking the Wainwrights in 30 walks project.

It all started at a very damp Church Bridge just outside Troutbeck.

I wasn't holding out much hope for the forecast which meant I wasn't too surprised when I left the M6 at junction 36 to be greeted by low cloud and drizzle, the cloud was so low in fact at some points it obscured the tops of the trees and lampposts along side the A591 right through to the village of Ings where I took a right off the A591 for Moorhowe Road which in parts had its fair share of localised flooding and from where, not even Orrest Head escaped the low cloud.

I didn't pass a soul along Moorhowe Road with the exception of an empty car that had parked up at the bottom of Dubbs Road, continuing on I soon arrived at Church Bridge grabbing the last parking spot amongst half a dozen parked cars, I found it a little odd given the forecast but they like me must have seen the bright side which I found a tad difficult as I laced up all the while large droplets of rain were running down my forehead as it fell from the branches above.

I put on my jacket and place my hood up, if only to keep the rain out of my face.

Fully waterproofed I lock the car glancing down at the wet tree roots that my tyres had just spun over, a mental note is taken to remember to back up before attempting to leave my parking space later.

Instead of heading straight into the valley of Troutbeck I decided to head through Limefitt Holiday Park first then pick up the Bridleway that runs east of the valley up until reaching Troutbeck Tongue some two miles in, but before all that I pass through some very expensive holiday homes which boasted names like 'Patterdale' or 'Kirkstone' along side hard wood decked areas and fancy wicker furniture, all very nice although I would admit, those homes perched on the banks of Trout Beck must have come very close to being washed away during the December storms.

Before long I arrive at a barrier with a sign that read I had to report to the reception should I wish to continue, I'm sure this was meant for the owners or visitors but I reported all the same 'morning' I smiled at the cleaning lady 'ok If I pass through? help yourself love she replied, see all it takes is a bit of courtesy, besides, for those few seconds, I wasn't being rained on.

After passing Long Green Head Farm I happened across a heard of Galloways who were probably more nervous about me than I was about them as they itched there way forward towards the steel gate which I needed to pass through.

This was never going to happen though.

Beyond the gate half a dozen Calfs are grazing which I didn't want to disturb, instead I pick my way up the fell side over cattle trodden ground so deep in mud I almost slide all the way back down again, between me and the Calfs now stands a precarious razor wire fence which I straddle while trying to keep my balance, my left foot is now doing a rendition of all shook up by Elvis Presley while the other is trying its best not too, not the most graceful of fence crossings but I'm sure we've all been there.

Once the fence is crossed I dip down and cross a wide stream, then clamber my way other more mud onto the bank on the other side, the path is close but to get to it there's more mud to wade through first, a quick check on the Galloways and they've long forgot about me! not to worry there's plenty of running water about where I can swill out my boots.

It was less than a mile of pleasant walking until I would reach the bottom of Scott's Rake, the thought of climbing higher towards Thornthwaite Crag did enter my mind but the limited views and also lack of day light soon quashed that thought...

Anyway, no need to change an already great route.

The path is soon picked up and I am able to enjoy the peace and quiet all the way to the summit whilst watching the now brisk wind carry the cloud across the summit width with only the sound of a distant car engine every now and again breaking the silence.

The summit cairn is soon reached as any plans for my recky are put to rest for at best, my views are limited to around fifty yards once more, beyond that, nothing just the swirl of the cloud.

It's no hardship, being here is payment enough for getting out of bed this morning.

Which doesn't resemble a lane as we would recognise, yet in times gone by Truss Lane would have been used by local farmers to transport livestock to and from the village of Troutbeck

If only walls could talk.

After reaching the top of Truss Lane I was thrust back into reality as Truss Lane comes to an abrubt stop once Kirkstone Pass is reached where I was presented by two means of getting back to Church Bridge, one was to walk against the traffic or the other alternative was to cross the road and follow the signs posted for the Mortal Man pub.

From the cross roads only the distant lights through the murk were seen of the Mortal Man, if anything it was a little eerie but warming all the same. Here I head left through the green pastures as I follow a narrow fenced off path that will lead me towards the rear of Jesus Church.

I enter the church yard glancing at the old Grave Stones as I pass by, the main doors of the church open up in to a vestibule which us where I deshoudler and leave my walking sticks, the floor of the Church is covered by a hard wearing light in colour carpet as I wipe my boots across the entrance mat making sure I leave no boot prints. It's difficult to describe the smell of church which always brings me back to my childhood, inside the heating has been left on there isn't a stir as I make my way towards the Alter if only to take in the wonderful stained glass windows stopping at the first pugh where I take off my baseball cap if only to take a potrait photo.

It's quite dark inside and the shutter speed isn't set correctly on my camera, for some reason I get the feeling I shouldn't be messing about inside a church, especially one so quiet so I retrace my steps before arriving back at the entrance.

Walking poles are hooped for the last yards of the journey as I leave the Church Yard via the lynch gate back onto the Kirkstone Pass, it's stopped raining by now as I reflect upon just because it's raining it doesn't mean you can't enjoy a day in Lakeland, I mean, just look at how well today's walk turned out which just goes to show, it's not all about the views.

Now...where did I leave me cap...