All day Monday I could see and hear the storms circling around and learned later the girls had experienced torrential rains on their way across to Ambleside. My path this morning was bedecked with flowers – honeysuckle, roses and orchids and the walking was quite delightful as far as Ennerdale Water. Here Wainwright directs the walker along the south side of the lake, but says that there is and excellent path along the north side. The south path was, for its whole length, so beset by large pieces of rock that ones eyes had to concentrate on ones footwork and so this track became pretty wearisome, and I was glad to reach the end of it and get on to the forest road, sorry that I hadn't gone along the north side. The next stretch, through the forest, I found exceedingly pleasant, with a fine river tumbling below on the right and magnificent mountain views, especially of Pillar Rock. The sun shone and I was tempted to bathe – plenty of ideal places for that. At the end of the forest I was really in among the mountains. At the Black Sail YHA hut a handsome young man pointed me on my way. At the foot of Loft Beck I paused for a rest and dozed off to sleep. My thigh muscle was giving me a little trouble today – I wondered if I would be able to complete the journey. Steps and voices woke me – two young men looking and listening for a man with a horn. No, I had not heard or seen him. The climb up Loft Beck was easy enough and likewise the traverse to Honisten Pass. I met the man with the horn and gave him information about his friends. The descent to Seatoller proved hard on my joints but the cafe was open – it was about 4pm – and ordered tea and a second pot of tea and wallowed in the luxury of it all. A couple of smoking ‘walkers’ received a brief lecture from me on the joys and values of walking and the cafe proprietress received commendation for the tea and scones and vivid damnation of the awful jam – made by Coopers of all people – and she promised to try to improve on it. I felt fresh and strong walking on to Chapel Farm and after tent pitching, walked to Rosthwaite for supplies and bought milk from Mrs Weir. A period of rain ensued – but I was snug. Later I walked down and telephoned my wife. I should have known better than to camp on a campsite. A group of four young men – students surmised – had a tent near to me. They returned from the pub at about 11 and shouted their heads off until midnight – in totally uninhibited language. Further away was large party of girls and their shrill voices went on even longer.