- Out in the open, a searing sun and high humidity. I evaporate in a shower of dripping and trickling sweat. Bare arms protest. Factor 50 isn’t enough. Water weighs heavy in our rucksacks but will it last? I'll shrivel up like the sphagnum moss of the boggy sump about Skeggleswater. Sphagnum moss made of water, now unmade.
Now and then a faint breeze reaches us. Ripples pattern the water of the tarn, arrested by rafts of pondweed spiked with flower- stems. Pastoral of the farther shore: cattle tranquil beneath an ash, sheep on a fellside.
Cloudscape and fellside reflected in Skeggleswater, intermingling with damselflies and pondweed Skeggleswater soothes with ripples and sheen, soft harmonies of colour. I'd like my camera to be eye-level with the water boatmen amongst the leaves of pond weed, imaging the surface of the tarn.
I crave cloud and water in a landscape, refreshing, revitalising.