Do you remember those summer evenings after a day in the hills?  The day’s heat floating in the air. The stillness, no wind except for perhaps a gentle breeze wafting some floral scents from below.  The low light is diffused, the summits hazy. Maybe the odd midge or two disturbing your sun flushed face and arms. The stove is purring with the prospect of soup. All is well.

Last night if I closed my eyes I was there.

I was actually in Bleasdale enjoying a stroll around the estate roads. This area is much quieter than Longridge Fell and as I walked through I felt I was the only person on the planet.  It was a perfect evening and I savoured the warm sunshine which brought out those memories of summers past.

It is ironic that this has probably been one of the best few months for backpacking in many years and here we are in lockdown. Still, if I can have Bleasdale to myself  I’m not complaining.


10 thoughts on “BLEASDALE BELONGS TO ME.


    There is something enticing, beckoning, mysterious and uplifting about that fellside beyond the church.

    Your description of those evenings is spot on. Reminds me of my friend Malcolm Lomas one such evening up in the Trossachs after a superb long and demanding day with me feeling pleasantly tired and ready for that brew, but Malcolm saying “You just don’t want to go down do you?”

  2. ms6282

    You seem to be getting out a little further afield lately. I’ve been thinking of straying over that way myself. A change of scenery not too far from home and not many people around. Used to love going up that way in the past.


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