1st February 2025, a return to Scout Scar On Scout Scar escarpment a lone figure stands looking west over the Lyth Valley toward the fells, south toward Morecambe Bay. Wait a while, perhaps he’ll share the moment and what it means.
Peace, often we seek peace.
Here is Eden. a lady told me once. She had come to Kendal to care for her mother and would take home to her a benediction from Scout Scar.
We locals gather on Brigsteer Bridge, looking forward to seasonal highlights. Skylark will return to breed. mid-February. Lambs on Kendal Race Course. Elderberries, to make wine- the speaker showed us her choice elderberry bushes.
For me, About Scout Scar: Cloudscapes, vistas and panoramas from the ridge. Illumination, darkness and light. Sunlight on frost and snow. Volatile fog and a temperature inversion.
1st February 2025 and we’re reunited with a beloved place, with the countryside on our doorstep, with our community, This last eight months, through enforced absence, we've learnt how precious these things are. So I’m here to celebrate freedom, independence, agency. From over the years, moments of euphoria and epiphany come flooding back.
Spring 2020 saw Covid lockdowns and, for many, it was a harrowing time of loss. Lockdown: we might venture 50 yards from home, observing a safe distance. So Scout Scar was our salvation. That spring saw glorious weather with adder sightings galore and we shared our wildlife finds. Being on Scout Scar is an opportunity to discover the values we share with our neighbours, the things that matter most.
As for me, I'm a Nature writer, an existential Nature writer.
Candlemass, Sunday 2nd February. A cloudy, slightly mizzly day, but we’re here- and that’s enough. There are more folk venturing forth today, as if the good news of bridge reopening is spreading. I meet several residents from the new homes at Brigsteer Rise, directly over the bridge, and from Greenside. They chose to live here because of the proximity of Scout Scar and within weeks of arriving the bridge was closed. So we all feel as if an oppressive dark cloud lifts at last. And everyone is eager to share their stories.
I’m eager to welcome back Skylark and it’s an opportunity to share with new residents how precious they are, this small population of ground nesting Skylark and Meadow pipit- essential if the Cuckoo is to thrive here. A new information board at The Mushroom Shelter suggests how we can help protect the wildlife of this Site of Special Scientific Interest, keep to paths, keep your dog on a lead. There's an image of a Skylark with his distinctive crest, a Linnet. Not sure they're mine but Hoary Rockrose certainly is and in late May, early June flowers open to the sun on the limestone cliff of Scout Scar escarpment. Skylark and Meadow pipit lay their eggs in tussocky grass, no protective nest structure, so they'e vulnerable. Their song is uplifting, inspirational, and once they've settled in they'll be singing loudly. Even on a blustery day they'll sing but you have to listen for them. Look and listen, you will find the place infinitely rewarding.
For me, About Scout Scar: Cloudscapes, vistas and panoramas from the ridge. Illumination, darkness and light. Sunlight on frost and snow. Volatile fog and a temperature inversion.
1st February 2025 and we’re reunited with a beloved place, with the countryside on our doorstep, with our community, This last eight months, through enforced absence, we've learnt how precious these things are. So I’m here to celebrate freedom, independence, agency. From over the years, moments of euphoria and epiphany come flooding back.
Spring 2020 saw Covid lockdowns and, for many, it was a harrowing time of loss. Lockdown: we might venture 50 yards from home, observing a safe distance. So Scout Scar was our salvation. That spring saw glorious weather with adder sightings galore and we shared our wildlife finds. Being on Scout Scar is an opportunity to discover the values we share with our neighbours, the things that matter most.
As for me, I'm a Nature writer, an existential Nature writer.
Candlemass, Sunday 2nd February. A cloudy, slightly mizzly day, but we’re here- and that’s enough. There are more folk venturing forth today, as if the good news of bridge reopening is spreading. I meet several residents from the new homes at Brigsteer Rise, directly over the bridge, and from Greenside. They chose to live here because of the proximity of Scout Scar and within weeks of arriving the bridge was closed. So we all feel as if an oppressive dark cloud lifts at last. And everyone is eager to share their stories.
I’m eager to welcome back Skylark and it’s an opportunity to share with new residents how precious they are, this small population of ground nesting Skylark and Meadow pipit- essential if the Cuckoo is to thrive here. A new information board at The Mushroom Shelter suggests how we can help protect the wildlife of this Site of Special Scientific Interest, keep to paths, keep your dog on a lead. There's an image of a Skylark with his distinctive crest, a Linnet. Not sure they're mine but Hoary Rockrose certainly is and in late May, early June flowers open to the sun on the limestone cliff of Scout Scar escarpment. Skylark and Meadow pipit lay their eggs in tussocky grass, no protective nest structure, so they'e vulnerable. Their song is uplifting, inspirational, and once they've settled in they'll be singing loudly. Even on a blustery day they'll sing but you have to listen for them. Look and listen, you will find the place infinitely rewarding.
Wednesday 5 February
Yesterday saw rain most of the day so down in the Lyth Valley there are floodwaters. Each day, each moment, the light changes and today there's a dramatic chiaroscuro effect of dark clouds and fleeting light. There are streaks of snow on the distant fells to the north.
I meet locals I've known for some time, and strangers, and the reopening of Brigsteer Bridge is so recent it's the topic of conversation, along with the freedom of being here and the loveliness of the day. Everyone is glad to be here. But uncomprehending. Why close the bridge for eight months to reopen it after monitoring but with no work having been done, only a weight limit and a sign to advise it's a weak bridge. Nothing to prevent heavier vehicles from making the crossing.
Yesterday saw rain most of the day so down in the Lyth Valley there are floodwaters. Each day, each moment, the light changes and today there's a dramatic chiaroscuro effect of dark clouds and fleeting light. There are streaks of snow on the distant fells to the north.
I meet locals I've known for some time, and strangers, and the reopening of Brigsteer Bridge is so recent it's the topic of conversation, along with the freedom of being here and the loveliness of the day. Everyone is glad to be here. But uncomprehending. Why close the bridge for eight months to reopen it after monitoring but with no work having been done, only a weight limit and a sign to advise it's a weak bridge. Nothing to prevent heavier vehicles from making the crossing.
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