Grazed Knees

Today we walked from Grange to Watendlath and High Tove and back, about ten miles, about nine and a half of them with an increasingly painful knee having tripped over a tree root and landed with my knee on a little pointy bit of rock which hurt. A lot. I've decided I'm much safer strung from a bit of wire hanging at a rakish angle from a Via Ferrata.

The light was what proper photographers refer to as 'subtle' or 'gentle',  which I call dull or 'Better hurry up it's about to tip down.'So all my pictures on my little clever phone are a bit rubbish. Grainy, dull and not up to my usual mediocre standard.

The route we chose was partly in order to have a look for LooseCanon's glasses which he lost on Friday night. It was a fruitless mission. No sign. We've narrowed it down to a deep dark pool which we weren't inclined to investigate. We might have to persuade Coffeepotter to dust off her frogman's outfit and flippers, sorry fins, to delve into the murky depths to retrieve them.

I rather like these Belted Galloway cattle. They are up by the cafe at Watendlath.