Scaling Helm Crag

Having arrived on a long, nearly-sleepless one-stop flights about 24 hours earlier in a time zone 8-hours out of sync with California, Julie and I were beat after spending several hours walking the halls and grounds of Sizergh Castle.

Compounding that, we had already imbibed at Strickland Arms after eating our fill at our scenic picnic.

What could possibly follow but counting sheep until slipping softly into sleep?

Well, maybe a cup of coffee first, because at 4:00 in the afternoon in England, that would be 8 AM back home, by which time we normally would have already finished our morning caffeine allotment, and our bodies still had no idea what exactly was going on.

Then again, the kids --- if such a term can be applied to adults already well into successful careers ---  had been in the United Kingdom a few days already, so when Laszlo suggested hiking to the top of nearby Helm Crag, they thought that sounded like a capital idea.

Gina volunteered to stay home with Emma, who preferred to get a little "screen time" at the cottage.

With FOMO --- "fear of missing out" --- overriding our more practical senses, Julie and I were off with the larger contingent, though I poured my mug of instant coffee into the Burger King disposable cup I'd saved from our arrival drive from the airport.

Helm Crag, one of the most well-known sites in the Lake District, which itself is the largest national park in England, happened to be just a short walk from our home-away-from-home.

We trekked past a lodge near the base, where I should have ditched the last sips of coffee and my cup.

I failed to realize there would not be another trashcan until we returned down, so I carried that cup up and down the mountain, something which Amy's friends found amusing when she later tweeted about it.

We came across a little homemade zipline to nowhere, which some tried on the ascent but which I deferred riding until our return.  Not exactly thrilling, it was still worthy of the effort, if for no other reason than to say we did it.

Helm Crag certainly isn't as grueling a challenge as Beehive Basin, but sleep-deprived and pressed for time to make it into the small village of Grasmere before restaurants closed for the evening, it was about all Julie and I could handle that evening.

Not too far into the climb, the kids were pulling away from us, but we kept on going to what turned out to be two-thirds of the way up, when Julie decided it better to take a shorter route back down than continue the trek.

Always torn by forks in the group plan, I decided to push on.

Eventually, I caught up to the group that was sitting at what I believed must be the summit of the trail.

It turns out they were just waiting for me.  The panoramic views from this summit were incredible and well worth the additional effort.

My resting heartbeat gradually returned as my breath caught up with me.

I thought Jay was kidding when he pointed up the hill and said, "There's more."

Though they'd already been resting a few minutes, the group waited a while longer as I recovered.

Then, off we climbed again, with Amy lagging to walk near me, just to be sure I didn't die or worse.

The views in all directions were breathtaking --- or was that just my lungs trying to rationalize my panting? --- and it really was quite fun.

After a bit of confusion at the summit, we finally came to a consensus aided by GPS as to what might be the proper loop trail leading back down, even though it looked very much like a jungle of ferns that had been growing since the Neolithic Age.

Frequently, we couldn't see our fellow hikers or even our own feet, but we carried on, blazing new paths without machetes over the vague remnants of old paths heading in the same general direction.

When we reached the road leading from our cottage to the village, who should we see there?  Julie, Gina and Emma, strolling to meet us in the village at the appointed time.

Julie had doubled back to the house, where she found Gina cleaning up the kitchen and dining room, which we managed to mess up during our first few hours in the rented house.

In Grasmere, most restaurants were open but unfortunately for us, already full, with no reservations available for that evening.

Heeding the advice of one barkeep, we headed for Tweedies, where we found a large table perfect for us in their pub.  That was better for the way the hikers were dressed than the formal restaurant would have been anyway.  Plus, we didn't need to keep our voices down in the lively atmosphere.

We enjoyed delicious pub food and a couple of rounds of drinks, all courtesy of the kids.

Still not finished for the evening, upon returning home, we broke out a deck of cards and played Bridge in the dining room for what would be Amy's last night at our family gathering in England before heading to Germany to visit her boyfriend's sister.

It had been an amazing, very full day.