Grasmere and Keswick...

Jimmy and I enjoyed our stay at the Chestnut Villa, where we had a large room with cool vintage furnishings...

...and a nice view.

It was hard to tell from the other photos, but Carlin and I had our hair braided the morning we flew to England as a test for Nepal. While Carlin had taken her braids out by the first night, I kept mine in until the following weekend.

We had originally planned to trek again on our final day, but rain was predicted and I was beat from yesterday’s arduous trail, so I was relieved to be off the hook. Instead we packed up, hopped in the car and headed for a walk through the village of Keswick.

It was a charming little town...

...with lots of shops and some pretty buildings, including Moot Hall, originally built in 1571 and rebuilt in 1813...

...and this little church.

Although Jimmy had gotten a run-around over the entire weekend about where his bag was, we were shocked to find out that it was delivered to our neighbor’s house while we were on our return flight. If anyone should have known that we wouldn’t have been home at that time, it should have been KLM. While we understand that bags go missing and were thankful to get it back, we wrote a scathing complaint in the multitude of ways that they had messed up and thanks to the EU Passenger Bill of Rights, KLM paid for Jimmy’s new fell running shoes.

Don’t Intellectualize, Just Do It...

We weren’t 100% sure that we followed the official Corridor Route the entire way as we noticed that some folks were following a different path.

The big shock was when we came to this sheer cliff face with an up arrow painted on it (I didn’t take this photo as my camera was safely packed away in my backpack). Needless to say, I was terrified. Kent scrambled up while Jimmy stayed behind me and the two of them managed to talk me through grabbing onto the right spots to pull myself up the cliff. Rather than thinking about the danger, I just concentrated on getting through this obstacle in one piece. Kent’s advice was perfect: don’t intellectualize, just do it.

The rest of the route was a long slog, but that was to be expected since we went up 3,000 feet (916 meters) and then back down in one day. There was definitely a big feeling of accomplishment when we made it back to the car. Little did I know at the time what good preparation this hike would be for Everest Base Camp. That evening we had a nice pub dinner with Kent’s uncle and aunts.

Summiting Scafell Pike...

Thirty minutes later, we made it to the summit. Jimmy arrived just in time for the final push up the steep hill, and to join us for lunch...

...and to take some photos of us.

While the start of the Corridor Route looked very rocky...

...it quickly evened out into an actual walkable path.

We were surprised by the large number of people coming up towards us, but apparently we were crossing the path in from Wasdale Head, the shortest route which attracts more than 100,000 hikers per year.

The Corridor Route, however, quickly turned another way. Little did we know what was still yet to come.

The first bit wasn’t bad, but there were several very steep and rocky parts with some minor hand scrambling (personally, I prefer to hike with my feet rather than my hands).

Reflections on our 13th Year - Part 1....

Our 13th Anniversary of living in the Netherlands was on November 22, but our celebration was delayed until December 27 so Veronica could join us. As per our tradition, we had dinner at La Lanterna in Scheveningen, the same restaurant where we ate on our first night 13 years ago. Also continuing our tradition, we made a list of our highs and lows over the last year. As usual, here are our lows first:

• Feeling bad for family members: Grandpa due to shoulder problems, and Buddy and Debbie for relationship complications
• Climate breakdown and impending sense of doom 
• White family brownie experience
• White girls’ knee troubles
• TRUMP
• Jimmy: new non-profit, The DIG, struggling more than anticipated; disappointed that efforts at Amsterdam H3 haven’t panned out; lack of time to run the Lakes District; missing disco house mornings when Ashlynn is away
• Melissa: boulder fields in Lakes District; lack of flat in Nepali Flat; getting sick in Nepal; losing Kindle on flight; scared of winding roads in Madeira; missed out on seeing Ashlynn leave to start working as a full-time model; also missed out hashing in Paris and Athens; sleeping on floor in Ashlynn’s studio apartment in Paris
• Veronica: getting her heart broken; leaving London; having to clean-up after sloppy housemates; no longer having an income; snow disrupting trip on sleeper train; dissertation; Brexit; not windy enough to go paragliding in Madeira; dropping her camera
• Ashlynn: wallet being stolen in Paris; missing Kati, friends and family togetherness; life being so expensive, especially food; Kavos complications; deep concern after Indonesia earthquake

Those Damn Boulder Fields...

The fun stopped when we reached the boulder fields.

If you look closely, you can see how tiny the people look compared to this massive boulder field, which turned out to be just the first of three that we encountered.

While I saw many people just joyfully skip across these giant rocks (which is what Jimmy did when he arrived behind us), I used my trekking poles to gingerly scope out the flattest bits of the rocks to step on. It was a slow process during which I got increasingly agitated by the lack of ground to step down on.

By the middle of the third boulder field, I’d had enough. I sat down and said I didn’t want to go any further.

It didn’t help that I saw that the trail dipped down before going straight up. Kent was incredibly patient. He very calmly said, “No problem,” but then reminded me that we’d have to retrace our steps across those same boulder fields we’d just crossed. I was suspicious that he was just trying to trick me to the top and then we’d have to retrace our steps anyways.  

Kent then explained that we would be taking an alternative path from the top called the Corridor Route. Another hiker overheard our conversation and confirmed that there was indeed another path accessible from the top and encouraged me not to give up when we were so close to the summit. That was the encouragement I needed to plow on ahead. 

Next Stop: England’s Highest Point...

The following day was challenging, making the hike to Helvellyn feel like a walk in the park. Rather than join us for the drive to Seathwaite, Jimmy decided to run from Grasmere.

Our goal was to summit Scafell Pike, England’s highest peak at 3,209 feet (978 meters).

Much like our hike to Helvellyn, we couldn’t spot our destination for much of our journey.

The path started out interesting enough with several stream crossings...

...sweeping views...

...and waterfalls.

Tackling Helvellyn...

Our goal was to summit Helvellyn, the third highest peak in England at 3,117 feet (950 meters).

Once at the top of Dollywaggon Pike, we saw that the trail continued up and up some more. As you can see, it was steep but at least no hand scrambling was needed.

As we neared the top, we finally saw Striding Edge, the daunting ridge that can be taken as an alternative route down to Patterdale.

It was cold and windy at the top...

...and the fog came rolling in incredibly fast.

After summitting, we had lunch on a bench behind a stone wall, which helped protect us from the wind.

Later we stopped for a snack along the tarn.

Luckily the fog didn’t follow us down the mountain, so the weather got better as we descended. 

Carlin couldn’t resist taking a moment to lay down when we reached the first waterfall on the way down. Overall, we both enjoyed the hike a lot.

After discovering that there were no buses running from Grasmere, Jimmy had a first time experience on his way to Keswick to go to an adventure store to buy fell running shoes: he hitchhiked. He then caught a bus to get closer to Helvellyn. His starting point was different than ours and he eventually reached the summit behind us. He thoroughly enjoyed his 13-mile (21-kilometer) run, especially that he didn’t see another person for over two hours. He eventually met me at a pub near our B&B and then we met Carlin and Kent for dinner at their hotel.