Day 27: Hartsop - Troutbeck

The night in Hartsop was good. No strange noises, no unexpected visits, no sheep doing guard duty. We slept like dormice. Well, I was more like a dog curled up in his favorite blanket, but you get the idea.

In the morning, the car park was full to the brim. Cars everywhere. But nobody came to kick us out or ask if we had a reservation. On the contrary, it seemed that everyone was more occupied with preparing backpacks, walking sticks and waterproof boots. Good mountaineering atmosphere, without stress.

The sky was still grey, but we decided to ignore it. Today was a good trail. We got in the car and, after about ten minutes of curves and scenery, we parked at the Patterdale Hotel. There is a pay car park there, five pounds for the whole day. Reasonable price, although the machine looked like it came from an archaeology museum. It only accepted coins. Luckily, the hotel reception staff were very friendly and sold us the ticket directly.

And right behind the hotel begins the path to one of the most emblematic peaks in the park: Helvellyn, the third highest mountain in England.

We set off with energy, following the path clockwise. At first, everything was very cute: a damp little wood, farms with indifferent sheep and the odd stream. I was smelling everything, of course, in case a squirrel had left a message. But soon the landscape changed. The little tree was gone, the wooden fences were gone, and the bare ground began, with stones and slopes that make you doubt your life decisions.

We climbed. And we climbed. And we kept climbing.

Before the summit we made a strategic stop. Sandwiches for Daddy Edu, water and food for me: kibble with pâté, served on a stainless steel plate with brutal views. I ate so fast that I didn't even have time to see if anything had fallen on the floor. We had to hide behind a rock because the gale was the kind that combs your hair back and uncombs it at the same time. But the view was super pretty, the kind that makes you feel small and giant at the same time.

From there, the last stretch to the summit of Helvellyn was epic. Up there is a commemorative plaque that left us all a little with a face of "is this really true?". It turns out that in 1926, a guy landed an Avro 504 plane right there, on the ridge. And not only that, the next day he took off again from the same spot! The landing was part of a bet and, of course, he won. It gives me chills just thinking about it, and not because of the wind.

In addition to that one, we saw other plaques along the way, remembering people who have lost their lives on this same mountain. Some very old, others more recent. They didn't say much, but they said everything. That kind of thing that makes you slow down a little and look around with more respect.

After taking the obligatory photo at the summit, it was time to decide where to go down. As expected, Daddy Edu said: "Let's go this ridge, it looks good". And of course, the most complicated route.

The descent down the ridge was... intense. It wasn't a path, it was a collection of stones strategically placed so that you had to jump, climb, crawl or curse. I was going full throttle, with my miniature mountain goat style, but there were sections where even I had to stop and think: "Really, this way?". That said, I didn't give up. Not a single complaint. Although I think Edu let out a "Mother of God, Chuly, you're a crack!" in one of the jumps.

After that crazy stretch, the path smoothed out a bit. It was still downhill, but with less drama. When we found a clearing with tall grass, soft as a five-bone hotel bed, and less wind, we did what any wise dog would do: we lay down. A short, but glorious nap. We had earned it.

In the end the whole circuit added up to almost 18 kilometers. I don't know how those things are measured, but what I do know is that we arrived at the car exhausted but happy. We went back to the camper, opened the doors, stretched our legs and let the silence of the valley caress us for a while longer.

We would have loved to stay and sleep right there, but the car park ticket was only until midnight. So we packed everything up, got into our ship on wheels, and looked for a new place to sleep.

And we found it: next to a road that you can hear but doesn't bother, with a bit of a slope, but without cars or wind. It's not the most glamorous place, but after today, any flat place is paradise. Tonight, for sure, we'll sleep like rocks. Or like dogs who have conquered a mountain.