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BB2633
: The
Kentmere Pilgrimage
Upon the First Day of October, Anno Domini 2026
Whan Octobre’s first morn did breke the skye,
The Boot Boys gathered, stout of heart and thigh,
To walk where Kentmere’s ancient waters lie,
Beneath the misty fell and clouded sky.
There was John, with beard like bracken grown,
Who marched as though each muddy path were known.
And Mike, whose pockets held a mighty store
Of snacks, spare socks, and gadgets by the score.
TV Mike, in waterproofed cloak arrayed,
Described each puddle, stone, and view displayed;
Whilst Robin, maps and flask held proudly high,
Declared each wrong-way turning “planned thereby.”
And Holly, faithful hound of cheerful mien,
Did scamper through the mud, both brown and green.
No puddle, beck, nor bog could make her cease;
She chased each scent and barked at sheep in peace.
Few mortals did we meet upon our way,
For Kentmere seemed deserted on that day.
Yet one brave fellow, encountered on the fell,
Did hail from Sunderland — and all was well!
For TV Mike, that son of Sunderland true,
Found kinship in the Northman’s words and view.
Two northern souls beneath the Lakeland rain,
United briefly on the mountain plain.
Two horses stood majestic by the track,
And two bold cyclists pedalled forth and back.
But none appeared to challenge our renown,
Nor overtake the Boot Boys’ mighty crown.
The path rose steeply through the rugged stone,
And every man declared his legs were prone.
“Behold,” quoth Mike, “the descent is easy-peasy!”
Whereat the others muttered words quite queasy.
At last they reached the vale, both tired and glad,
With boots well soaked and appetites immense.
And then, to make the glorious ending complete,
A wonderful Fell beer made all things sweet.
So ended our expedition, full of cheer,
With friendship, laughter, mud and excellent beer.
Thus proved the Boot Boys, by ancient love,
That walking is but friendship, Holly, hills,
And Feld beer sent from heaven above.
Mihangel
Ab Ifans, 1st October 2026
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