Losehill

 
Yesterday I was left on my own. Shirley had headed out to a regional meeting of The Women's Institute in which she is quite involved. 

The sun was shining again and I was ready for some exercise. I didn't wish to travel far so soon I was back in the village of Hope. I parked Clint by the primary school and laced up my walking boots. My target destination was the summit of Losehill - often written Lose Hill. It stands 1,562 feet above sea level.

The last time I aimed for the top, snow was covering the entire Hope Valley. Beyond Lose Hill Farm the snow was compacted and very slippery so sensibly I turned back. This time the land was dry and new lambs were frolicking in some of the green fields.

Three men - presumably volunteers - were installing a brand new gate on the pathway and I complimented them on their work. 

A good thing about solitary walking is that you can pause whenever you want to without having to apologise or explain to anybody else. You find your own pace and yesterday afternoon I was very much in the mood for an easy ascent.

On the way up, I met Rod and Eleanor from Norfolk. They were in Derbyshire on holiday. At the top, they asked me to take a photo of them using Eleanor's smartphone. I am useless with those things. The camera has an on-screen "button" but whenever I press, the camera seems to refuse to click. This time it took three gos before I actually registered an image.

It was much easier coming down - no need for little stops to catch my breath. I had been away from Clint for two and a half hours but I had had a good workout. Blood had pumped through my veins and I felt righteously tired. There was a flask of water in Clint's boot (American: trunk) and I poured half of it down my neck before returning home to make a chicken stir fry with boiled rice for our tea (Elsewhere: dinner or supper).

from Yorkshire Pudding https://ift.tt/KqCyHjA