30th July 09 Burnmoor Tarn
Another long, soggy underfoot climb up from the The Woolpack Inn, this time arrived at via the extremes of Hardknot Pass where the lesser motorist reversed gingerly from inclines and bends that proved too great. Richard, however, knew the road, although I was glad to arrive and park up.
Walked up passing Eel tarn again, now seemingly nearer in the brighter light. We likened it to a daily commute along a familiar route.
New boots bore me well along sodden floating ground and running streams. Black beetles fought battles for control of small piles of sheep shit in heroic struggles that had the appearance of mating rituals.
Before we set off, Richard shared with me the fact that there were pike in the tarn. He said he did not want to carry the knowledge alone. I thanked him for sharing the information. All the way up, my brain could not let drop the image formed and it was only when I had entered the water – clear and brisk under the westerly wind – that I let go the anxieties with more immediate, existential matters on which to focus.
The walk back down was twice as hard going and we both felt the distance after a good cool swim. A chilling breeze, even in warm weather, makes demands that are not always immediately apparent. We wore warm hats and jackets where other walkers out that day looked sideways at us in their short sleeves.
The pub was consistently refreshing and we made the return route via a different, easier road.
Two days later my legs still struggled up and down stairs.
Paul
23rd July 09 Stony Tarn
A long drive into Eskdale across changing landscapes of mixed woodland, open fell side, and near and distant crags brought us to the walk up to Stony Tarn. We walked past Eel Tarn, feeling relieved we had not chosen that one to swim in. It was full of weed and lilies (and presumably eels) and looked very shallow. After the clarity and depth of Seathwaite Tarn, I had realised just how much I prefer the clarity, purity and depth of high water. I also thought how Roger Deakin would have loved to feel the sensation of the underwater growth and the touch of aquatic creatures on his skin.
Richard and I had been discussing the difference between lower water, prone to farmland run-off producing an ecology able to sustain weed and other life forms, and the high tarns where few nutrients gathered. Purer water.
We climbed higher, away from Eel tarn and arrived over boggy ground and thick ferns at Stony Tarn. We had brought snorkels to enable greater viewing of the underwater space, filled with large clumps of weed and single strands reaching upwards with horizontal strands flowing in the current.
Water boatmen swarmed like midges on the water surface. Film was shot of the state of the water. Eventually, a linked film of all the surfaces from all the tarns will be edited together.
The descent brought on a thirst that only a pint brewed in the microbrewery of the Woolpack Inn could quench.
Paul
14th July 09 Seathwaite Tarn
Arrived at the reservoir after a walk up the sodden tracks from the road below gaining a first sight of the reservoir’s dam from down the valley. As we approached, the sound of overflow water grew louder. A slight wind drew choppy waves away from the dam towards the closed wall of hills that lie at the far end – a wall that conceals a pass into the valley beyond.
We approached the island just off the shore and saw that the water was so clear. We decided the stake with the stones from Moss Eccles Tarn should be planted on the island, on a slope facing inwards looking over the water towards the far shore.
The swim across and back was glorious. The water was so pure and clean it meant very high visibility, the sun increasing its clarity. The turquoise water, darkening slightly with depth, was astounding and made watching Richard swim from below the surface so easy. With each underwater sweep of his arm or a kick of his legs, trails of air bubbles followed the movement emphasising the dynamics of propulsion.
Afterwards, we walked onto the top of the dam and watched the water roaring over the wall. Looking down, it seemed as if the falling water was flowing upwards and becoming like fire as the white water hit the pool at the bottom. Perceptions had been altered.
Paul
Stony Tarn
Thursday, 23rd July – parked at the Woolpack Inn, Eskdale, and took path up to Eel tarn along jumping brooks and through high furns. The wonderful atmosphere of this area began to assert itself as we approached Eel tarn and skirted it. Waterlilies and reeds festooned half of it and the imagination fed on what might lie beneath the dark surface – Eel tarn refers not to eels but to an old Norse word for ‘evil’ (will-o’-the-wisps hang over it in autumn – wow!) . The far away hills towards the west were coloured in a blue/mauve that gave rise to an immense yearning to abandon the swim and travel to them, explore them, live there forever, and be happy.
Instead we went on up to Stony tarn where the land got boggy and beautifully wild. We arrived and got changed below a towering crag. The sun was out at times but not over us. We got into a dull, sap green water that boasted big umbrellas of weed that hung in the depths quivering at the slightest hint of current or movement. We had snorkels and spent time in this underwater landscape having more confidence to allow ourselves to see what was really there – I came away with a store of images which, I guess, will filter into the art work we do for the exhibition or recycle in my brain for years.
Afterwards we had great difficulty in collecting sediment from the bottom of the lake to use in our paintings and experiments – it was so Stony – what did we expect?
Richard
Seathwaite, Wednesday 15th July – passing clouds as we walked up from the Duddon valley. The water was enclosed by a high circle of hills and we walked on to where an island lay not far off the shore. No people around and the scene had the wild remoteness that I crave. Swam to the island and Paul placed a post on the far side.
Under the water the stones were a creamy colour and the water seemed turquoise when the sun shone. We swam across to the far side, to a rock face that plunged straight into the water and we found a small shelf to rest on and as the sun beamed down on us we looked back to the island straining to see the post. Underwater we saw visions of churning bubbles as we swam back.
On the way back to the valley we made a stone sculpture in a small abandoned quarry – by this time we were beginning to discuss which pub to go to…..
Richard
