On a long scorching day when one glutton for punishment walked right across the district, from Pooley Bridge to the coast, climbing all the bumps in between, I staggered, profusely perspiring, to a modest height, seeking cooling breezes. It was the late General Bruce, leader of early Everest expeditions, who, seeking to bring down his weight, declared that the ideal state – which he had never quite achieved – was when the drops of perspiration falling from the tip of his nose united into a continuous stream. This nirvana – for him – I attained the other day.
An arduous ascent in record heat
The ascent of Sergeant Man from Langdale is a far from demanding expedition on any ordinary day but, with all-time heat records tumbling, it might have been one of the labours of Hercules. I thought of a bathe in Stickle Tarn but finding the shore littered with tents and picnic parties, decided that my costume-less state more befitted some mountain pool – eventually discovered at the back of Tarn Crag.
The ideal state: immersed in a shady beck
This, I finally concluded, was the ideal state to lie immersed in a shady beck, with the sound of tumbling waters in your ears, and thoughts of a cool, shadowed inn less than half an hour away. In the meantime, the summit of Sergeant Man had been reached, a refreshing breeze encountered and the rather disappointing view, spoiled by heat haze, dismissed. How much finer are summit views in spring or winter.
