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It was a reasonable afternoon in Loweswater, so much so that we were tempted to ignore the poorer weather of the morning

and venture up the valley towards Buttermere for a short walk today.  The weather within the environment of the high fells

can often be worse during these rainy times but we should be okay . . . shouldn't we ?

Rush hour on the Buttermere Road . . . on a dull day during Lock-Down-2.

They've repainted the yellow lines in the aftermath of Lock-Down-1 when, after the first weekend the public were allowed out

the road was grid-locked with traffic as the world and his wife, his kids, their barbecues, picnic hampers and inflatable boats descended on the Lakes.

Today isn't so sunny, there's virtually no traffic, certainly no queues, so the sheep can wander freely without being chased from the carriageway.

It's a grey day but the trees are still impressive,

their lower branch lengths set by the water level rather than nibbling animals.

Mmmm . . . a storm gathering over the high Fells . . . and it could be heading our way.

I might make it a shorter walk today, though I do have the necessary waterproofs !

Those with a keen eye would have seen Ann's name on the list of credits at the top.

She was enjoying the trip out but declined' the dog walk.

These two were her photos . . . the first of me heading off into the distance and the second of her utilising the 'selfie button' on her mobile phone.

An artistic log draws my eye towards the diminutive Wood House Island.

It looks larger when back-lit against the lighter sky and the steep cliffs of Mellbreak.

The shoreline beyond the meadow turns to mature oak woodland.

Despite the grey clouds the summit of High Stile and Red Pike are still clear.

Looking back from the gate at the top of the field.

The path continues on, in places showing signs of old man-made steps in the shale bedrock

especially around the corner where we drop more steeply down to lake level once more.

More Canada Geese in the bay ahead.

Dougal is more concerned with getting me to throw sticks than admiring the geese.

That weather seems to be getting worse but apart from a few drops of rain down here we're okay.

It seems to be heading off up the valley towards Honister on the strong westerly winds.

I levitate myself above the water to get a symmetrical view down Mill Beck as it enters the lake.

Nether How beach, split by an arbitrary fence line and gate.

The trees to the left have been able to survive on the raised ground that wasn't scraped flat by the glaciers of millennia past,

washed by valley floods or nibbled by sheep.

One tree has fallen on the beach

and after several attempts at stage management I eventually got the two dogs to read the script.

No such problem on the outcrop at the far side of the beach.

"It's a rock . . . we'll climb on it "

Not so much a murmuration of starlings but perhaps a whisper due to a shortage of numbers.

They were however, dancing across the sky for several minutes as I stood and watched.

My route back was the reverse of the outward walk, apart from diverting down to the shoreline by the river.

Ahead is the boat and jetty, with Wood House visible through the bare winter branches of the trees.

The leaden skies and the late hour add a touch of autumn darkness to the scene.

The clocks went back last month (to Greenwich Mean Time) and the nights are drawing in quite quickly now.

As we pass the island once more we can see a car on the Rannerdale Road has its headlights on.