Jumping into the Drink

Sometimes there is a perfect day in January, in the Lakes. This was one – blue sky, bright sunshine and only a light breeze. Just the ticket for walking with a friend and following her romp of a black spaniel up the steep grassy scramble from the water’s edge and along between the winding ramparts of Rannerdale Knotts. The indigo ink of the lake bordered by fox-russet dead bracken could have been lifted from a wheel of complementary colours at this low place of the year’s cycle. We sat on the heights with our backs to a rock drinking coffee, bathed in such bright light our eyes watered, whilst the dog’s eyes yearningly followed the soaring flight of a raven as black as himself.  


It was too good to leave when we descended at midday, and the water still looked as blue. By the margin the wind-raised ripples broke in lines of crystal bubbles, forming on the curl and popping in hissing drops on impact with the grey gravel beach. A foot or two further up, a static line of dark oakleaves marked the curve left behind by a few days of receding waters. Skip over it, crocs flooding with cool at the first striding step in. Yes! Today wild swimming is as good as it gets – a running plunge into iced-bilberry champagne topped with a glistening lemon sun skewered on a stick high above the rim of the fells. 
Here's cheers to a hint of warmth mixed with a Northern breeze and life effervescing, from a cold kick-start.