R*n 654: Lindale

Lindale. Sunshine. Bliss.

A select gathering of hashers parked up at the Royal Oak high up the village.

Only 300 yards in and we're lost. A retrospective look at Twisted's satnav shows a fan-shaped tracery of checking, but is is Morticia who puts us right, front-running up an unlikely urban street.

A lung-bursting hill takes us into the country-side. It's a bit slippery but nothing like the mud of recent weekends. We weave through a mosaic of trees and limestone-walled pastures up to the hamlet of Hampsfield.

We plunge down a woodland trail to reach war and peace written in flour. Trouble is someone's kicked through it. It's a back check with thorough instructions albeit wrong instructions. The hares cannot count, so we still go the wrong way in Mereleywood when our route should be Bishop's Allotment.

Up and down we go repeatedly. We lose count of the ascents and the Hares are clearly determined we should get exercise (yes its a split infinitive Tom Tom). Higher up and the Beast from Siberia is making itself felt: something feels as though it is biting my head off.

The tide is well out revealing the grandeur of Morecambe bay softly lit through an atmospheric haze.

Rambos and Wimps split for a while and allegedly the beer stop is hidden in a thicket three minutes from the convergence. Ha, at least 10 minutes plus injury time retrieving the rucsack from the defensive thorns.

Five bags of flour used? Where? Another long search and we're on the return leg on the opposite side of Hamps Fell getting a totally different view towards the Lakeland Hills generally and Coniston Fells in particular. Despite the generally good conditions, there were at least 3 crashers.

Absolutely top notch location, weather and route.

On-On

Lurch.