It is one of those mornings when I ask myself why we are doing this – it’s pouring with rain and to get to the footbridge at Greenodd we have to risk life and limb to cross four lanes of fast moving traffic. One more battered old Cumbria Coast sign points us in the right direction.

We cross a footbridge over the river and set off across the sodden fields, following the contortions of a channel of the River Leven.

The path takes us through an area of woodland – we pass a pond with very strange treacle coloured water, I wonder why.

At a point marked on the map as Low Wood we turn sharp right down a lane and then through more woods in the direction of Bigland Hall. These two beautiful oak trees catch my eye, standing guard over a young tree plantation, one of many established all over the UK, to mark the late Queen’s Platinum Jubilee.

https://www.royal.uk/queens-green-canopy

Another weather beaten sign leads us on to a footpath which climbs upwards through more dripping woods.

The track feels ancient…………

……………..as do the moss covered stone walls and tree roots.

As the trees thin out we catch sight of the large country house that is Bigland Hall. Built in the 16th century, it was renovated and extended in 1809 and is now a listed building. I believe there is a caravan site close by and some luxury courtyard cottages for summer visitors.

Behind the house is a swollen lake, marked on the map as Bigland Tarn.

The path now climbs upwards again to Bigland Heights, from where there is a wonderful view right out to ever present Morecambe Bay.

Yet more woods, green and damp – a hush descends – it has stopped raining.

Out of the trees and on to a hill where the grass is bitten to the quick by sheep. It is at this point Damian’s phone rings so I hang around and stare at sheep while he talks to his doctor. I say “his” but in truth Damian has not darkened the door of the local surgery for the last twenty years but was suddenly summoned for an MOT – all good.

We wind our way up the hill and then following, what a minute later proves to be wrong directions, we climb back over a slippery stone wall and head down into a field of cows!

Avoiding eye contact ,which is easy as I have my hood right down, we slip and slide past most of them and then come to an abrupt halt when we realise there is a cow lying on the ground in front of the gate we need to get through, and worse still she has a calf lying motionless besides her – is it dead?

Anyway, avoidance tactics are called for so we walk away from the gate and over a wall into woodlands which are most certainly private. I quickly realise that to rejoin the path we need to crawl over another wet, moss covered wall, only this time it is much higher. Scanning around me I spy a gap, reinforced with wooden planks which will make things much easier. Damian heaves me over and I manage to jump into the ditch on the other side without falling over (when did I get so stiff?)

Your man now decides to go back up the trail and check out the cow and calf and here’s what happened..

So not dead – newborn – and absolutely nothing to be wary of – mother cow looks exhausted.

After this excitement I’m afraid there are no more photographs as the rain gets heavier and heavier. Through misty glasses and a runny nose I take quick glances at the phone to establish where we are and which way to go. There are few signs of habitation on our route – Speel Bank, Burns Farm, Howbarrow and Long Scar but by now I am so miserable all I can think of is the wood burning stove and the plate of fish and chips which is how we planned to end the day.

Eventually, we pick up a lane which joins the main road just before Holker Hall. It’s then a further squelchy mile to home.

I think the only time I have ever been so soaking wet was when, as a plucky teenager, I took my horse to the blacksmiths, a few miles across the hills. On the way home he developed a limp so we walked home together in the pouring rain, bemoaning our fate.

Distance: 10 miles