Day 3: Rosthwaite to Grasmere

Too exhausted to type. Long walk. Lovely. Here are better words than mine…

Thomas Gray, ‘Journal in the Lakes’, 1769, October 8th said:

“…now begin to see Helm-crag distinguished from its rugged neighbours not so much by its height, as by the strange broken outline of its top, like some gigantic building demolished, and the stones that composed it flung across each other in wild confusion. Just beyond it opens one of the sweetest landscapes that art ever attempted to imitate.

The opening three stanzas of William Wordsworth’s, ‘Lines written at Grasmere On Tidings of the Approaching Death of Charles James Fox’ are also worth reciting:

LOUD is the Vale! the voice is up     

With which she speaks when storms are gone

A mighty unison of streams!  

Of all her Voices, One!          

 

Loud is the Vale;—this inland Depth     

In peace is roaring like the sea;         

Yon star upon the mountain-top         

Is listening quietly.     

 Sad was I, even to pain deprest,        

Importunate and heavy load!

The Comforter hath found me here,   

Upon this lonely road;           

 Stonethwaite

Stonethwaite