Loughrigg Fell, and so did Dot.

After buying new shoes and setting free the old ones, I again set out for Ambleside, this time for a serious hike. I've got a guidebook called "50 Walks in the Lake District", and had earlier chosen a few to try out.

I started out as directed, somewhere near St. Mary's Cathedral, walking past an elementary school and then a nice park (Rothkay?). On the other side of the park was a bridge and trails leading upward to Loughrigg Fell, the major hill (mountain?) overlooking this end of the lake.

Passing farms and lots of sheep, I took photos here and there as the climb steepened. I had to stop a few times to check my directions, and then proceeded up a few precarious stone steps jutting out of the hillside wall.

It was somewhere after this I got lost. I thought I had read to follow the path to the left in order to make it to the top. I went back later and read the directions, and it was very vague about how to get there, saying only that there were multiple paths, and that if you bear diagonally left, this is the best way to get where you're going.

I ended up following a large stone wall up and down the side of the hill. At some point it became very boggy, and while jumping through some mush and generally avoiding wetness, I slipped and my knee went *squish* into the hillside. After that I decided I didn't like mud anymore, nor this path, and decided to take matters into my own hands.

This is the part of the show where they blank out the screen and say, We do not in any way condone the following behaviours, as they are blah blah blah and this and that.

I stood alone there on the mountain, faced with an important decision.

Being from Idaho, there's always the warnings about leaving the pathway, and respecting nature and yadda yadda slippage or whatever it is with the terrain that makes it fall into rivers. It's important. But so are my ego and my shoes and my pants that aren't to get muddy the first day I bought the shoes and the first day of new clothes after laundry. Plus, I'm a foreigner and this is England and never once did I hear about leaving pathways.

There are no really big scary animals (or really small scary animals, for that matter) that I know of in England, no scary bugs, and definitely no land mines. And the worst I could do is upset some local whose territory I'm abusing (to which I would attempt my very best ignorant Chinese tourist impression).

I stuck it out for a few more meters of mud-dancing, and then decided to take my shoes and my business at a perpendicular angle right to the path, and straight up the hill.

It was a rough journey, and at best I got some glares from otherwise nonchalant sheep, basking in the sun. It took me a bit, but I finally made it to the top over a field of dry brush and weeds. I didn't feel quite so bad when I saw an empty Fox's Glacier Mint wrapper along the way. I spied a rock wall and made my way towards it, fearing the wrath of a group of hikers, pissed I had gone the incorrect way.

I got to the top and... wow. Hello Ambleside. And lake. And hostel. (The hostel is about a mile from the town.) And no one was at the top to greet me with angry dogs or broken bottles. Not a soul. I felt a little more at ease once I had hopped onto a worn path; I jumped onto it gladly and looked around, hoping someone would look and know I was legit.

I have no idea how to describe the feeling I got looking over this place I'd come to, from the top of a mountain. The wind had picked up and at the very top there was nothing to hinder it; it was strong enough that I could hardly stand up. I took dozens of pictures and a few videos of the landscape. This was a cool thing.

I traveled over an ocean and on buses and planes and trains to get here, and now I've muscled my way up a mountain, just because I knew I could.

Pretty cool stuff.