Sticks and stones above Ullswater

https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2017/may/17/sticks-stones-above-ullswater-country-diary

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Bump. A stick bounces off my scalp. I touch it with a finger. Blood! More sticks rain down. On goes the beanie hat. A cacophony of harsh cawing ensues. Rooks are robbing their decrepit old nests of twigs to add to more recent homes they are refurbishing on adjacent treetops.

Squabbles break out, triggered by the arrival of jackdaws. A tug-of-war occurs as a rook’s pickaxe bill grabs one end of a crooked stick and a jackdaw just half its size seizes the other. They twist and tumble in mid-air until the twig breaks free and twirls, like an ash key, down to the churchyard.

Here on the col topping the hause (an old word for a mountain pass), St Peter’s Church stands guard above the bends that snake their way up 100 metres of steep fellside. Howtown’s chimney pots and Ullswater’s steamer pier are a pebble drop below.

St Peter’s, having been built in the 1880s, is known locally as “the new church”. St Martin’s, which lies in the valley on the far side of the col and is more barn-like, dates back to the end of the 16th century and is blessed with a 1,300-year-old yew tree.

As well as being closer to Heaven for worshippers, St Peter’s – and its car park – is only a short walk from the summit of Hallin Fell, which offers magnificent views of the lake. Alfred Wainwright called Hallin the “motorist’s fell”, remarking that there were those that climbed it “in slippers”.

But the sheep-cropped turf soon changes to a rougher upland trod, and cleated-soled boots or grippy fell running shoes are much to be preferred. And on muddy days the boot scraper in St Peter’s comes in handy.

Several years ago, badgers wreaked havoc here, ploughing up the ground between the granite grave surrounds and burrowing below the very tombstones. Today, all such signs of desecration are gone.

I mention this to two walkers who have just descended the snooker table green path from Hallin Fell. “The sett probably just died out,” says one, opening her car boot. “Divine providence, eh?”

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