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BB2524
: Don't Tell Him Your Name
Wednesday
3rd July 2025
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Mike
B made us laugh and he wasn’t
even with us. Often on
a BOOTboys
outing, we send a photo to our
WhatsApp group and ask the question,
“Where are we?”
Today
was no exception. The
photo was the plaque on a trig
point. It was correctly
identified by TV Mike, (who,
obviously, also wasn’t with
us). This led to a response
from Mike B who had recently
been to a Dad’s Army revival.
Don’t
tell him your name, Kentmere
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I
did wonder about building into this report
in as many Dad’s Army sayings as I could
but you will be pleased to know I decided
against it. Do you think that’s wise?
Our
target was Harter Fell. On our last
visit, (BB2316
: Apologies For Any Inconvenience),
we had been frustrated by roadworks and
an ugly looking brute with whom it certainly
would not have been wise to argue when he
made it clear that any further advance would
be severely rejected. Today, I feared
a repeat as the entrance to the narrow lane
up Longsleddale to Sadgill was blocked by
an oil tanker. Fortunately it moved
on and we were able to continue our way
up the appropriately named Longsleddale.
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When
we eventually reached Sadgill, we parked
and began the long, long ascent of the stones
and pebbles of Gatesgarth Pass.
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It
is a cruel walk, despite the splendid scenery
with the beck tumbling down a series of
waterfalls.
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It
gets progressively steeper. Each bend
reveals yet another climb. Eventually
you reach a gate and breathe a sigh of relief
for having reached the Brownhowe Bottom
level bit but then it starts winding and
climbing even more.
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At
the top of the pass, off you go again on
a serpentine climb to the summit of Harter
Fell, passing a great view of Ullswater
en-route......
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.....
and then the High Street range.
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That
was the hard work over.
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After
a brief rest we pressed on to the next summit
where I took the Whatsapp photo of its trig
point and we ate lunch. Opposite us
was the western side of the horseshoe, displaying
YIFT.
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Thereafter
it was a long but gentle descent on grass,
occasionally having to devise a way round
peat ponds. Sadly, Kentmere reservoir
was not in view. All was pretty easy
until the final drop down from Shipman Knott
which is quite steep and awkward- much easier
to climb than descend. If your name
is Stan, you skip down it. If you
name is Don, your bottom gets wet. Not
sure about Martin, I didn’t examine his
trousers.
Back
at the car, we leapt in and headed for the
Tap. There, over a pint or two, Grandad’s
Army chuckled once more at Mike’s WhatsApp
posting “Don’t tell him your name, Kentmere”.
Why?
Simply
because our location had been Kentmere PIKE.
Geddit?
Don,
Wednesday 3rd July 2025
PS
This week's choice of music? What
else could it be?
Who
do you think you are kidding, Mr Hitler?
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