Leave it to Bessy.....

OK......so......if I were to whisper in your ear the words Bessyboot, Tarn at Leaves and Glaramara .....would you nod appreciatively or sidle away a tad perturbed.

To tread steadily up the course of tumbling Little Stanger Gill, early doors, enfolded in ancient woodland bedded on steeply sloped fell side, to emerge breathless and sweated in effort to a glorious view of an impossibly perfect Cumbrian vale.

To catch glimpse of a startled Jay fleeing in white rumped flash through Oak, Beech and Ash (yes, Ash)..

.To carry on up narrow gorge path to reach pastured, deeply contoured plateau of characterful fell with only wandering Herdwick to notice.

To rise onto the shoulder of the bouldered highpoint but still well below the airy soaring altitude of a watchful Buzzard.

To walk the ridge and undulating outcrops chasing a teasing Wheatear flitting the way forward.

         

To gently discover the hidden bowl cradling the still bracken-waters of a secret tarn.

To rise further across the deep combe of heightened slopes leading up to the fortress rocky peak with 360° vistas encompassing distant peak, ridge and valley. To descend the long tired softened edge to meet and follow beck side paths down into the boundary walled lower fells, eventually to meander through wooded field and farmland to a waiting de-booting at the car.....and a sock-padded shuffle into welcoming hostelry....and a late afternoon pint of ale.....
So.....if I were again to whisper...Bessyboot etc.....