Outings

Hello, furiends. I am joining in with the Nature Friday blog hop this week, for the first time in quite a while.

Dru and Stephen wanted to show me around the lower lakes area of this county of Cumbria. There was a big burst of sun during the month of May, so a few outings were called for!

One day we went to Arnside - that's where we saw the boat called Driftwood that you saw in last week's post. It's a grand sort of place. 

It has something of a seaside resort feel to it, although it is really on more of a wide estuary, where the River Kent joins Morecambe Bay. (It's the estuary with the summery shimmer that I am showing you - the luscious red sporty wheels are incidental... any day dreams of riding the lakesides with the wind in my fur are my business and mine alone....ahem....)

Another day was a ramble on Barbon Fell. This was a little bit more familiar to me. Hillsides and burns - or as they are called around here, 'becks'. Little runs of water not quite big enough to be called a river. Barbon Beck was a welcome sight for hot paws.

My new hubro, E, did take me up two local Wainwrights another day. That was definitely more of a challenge and closer to the sort of outings Gail would take me on. I really enjoyed that and, despite the dry weather, managed to get a bit of ditch-diving done. That's the only photo I have from that outing...

I like Wainwrights. It's not quite the same as Corbetts or Monroes, but it's still a good workout. I was quite ready for a nap when we got back.

Now you are wondering about the names? Well, the 214 fells documented in Alfred Wainwright's "Pictorial Guide to the Lakeland Fells" range in height from 300 meters (985 feet) for Castle Crag to 978 meters (3210 feet) for Scafell Pike. 

By comparison, Corbetts are Scottish mountains over 2,500 feet (762 metres) and under 3,000 feet (914.4 metres), with a drop of at least 500 feet (152 metres) between each listed hill and any adjacent higher one. There are 222 summits classified as Corbetts, and they are named after John Rooke Corbett, who originally listed them. 

Then there are the magnificent Monroes. A Munro is a Scottish mountain with an elevation of more than 3,000 feet (914 metres). These lofty peaks take their name from Sir Hugh Munro (1856–1919), whose groundbreaking list of the 283 highest mountains in Scotland was first published as Munro’s Tables in the Scottish Mountaineering Club’s journal in 1891.

I wonder what the highest hill/mountain is that any of you have walked/climbed?

Other than this, the daily walk near home often brings us along the Lancaster Canal, where, once again, I can have a refreshing and cleansing dip!

Special Delivery

Dru-mum, why are you at the pooter again?
There are balls to throw, you know...

Yes, Nobby, but this is important. Don't you remember that we had a couple of things for Aunty Yamini in memory of Gail? They need to be sent to her, so I'm making this parcel and need to organise the courier. Is that okay with you?

Oh, yes, I remember. Thank you for helping with that.
As we are thinking of YAM-aunty, why don't we post the photo we took of that boat here? Aunty really, really, really likes boats!

If you are interested, you can read about what was in the parcel over at YAM-aunty's blog. 

In other 'administrative news', Dru and Stephen finally wrangled all the re-registration needed to become my true, proper, and permanent Peeps. They truly are my pawrents now!

See you next week, friends, for a Nature Friday post!

Toodle-pip...

Daily Doings

Just getting through the day can seem mundane, but it's also meaningful, don't you think? We all have the 'everyday' to deal with. 

For example, the other week, I asked Dru...

Whatchya doin' at that pooter when you 
could be throwing balls for me?

Well, Nobby, she said to me, apart from my own work and household needs, I have to tend to yours. First, there is the matter of making your next grooming appointment (and seeing my ears droop and eyes go wide, she distracted me by rushing on with...) and I have to order in a batch of your foodables. All the stuff that Gail left you is gone. 

Food is most important. I was glad to see, when it arrived, that it was substantial...

Dru discouraged me from emulating my good blogpals, Da Phenny and Da Nelly, by making mince of that box.

Anyway, there was that. Then there is the daily exercise obtained from throwing, chasing, hunting, and returning my balls. I demand a minimum of twenty minutes a day, but I'll take as much more as Dru or Stephen can provide. I have several balls of varying sizes...

...so I am not short of choice. However, whichever one I choose for the day has my total focus. That one and that one alone is my playmate for the session. I will follow it wherever it goes. Sometimes, that brings the risk of taking a leap... but Dru isn't too happy with that, so she gets down on her tummy to execute the extraction on my behalf. No photo of her doing that, but there is one of me making shapes enough to encourage her intervention!

Hehehehe, our peeps are so easy to train, aren't they?

Mind you, we do have to tolerate some nonsense in return, like the grooming malarkey. I endured it once more but put up a bit more of a protest about my whiskers being fiddled with. I'm going for the Steampunk Hipster look. (On a side note, did you know the term 'hipster' comes from the days of the British Empire's opium trade, when all the takers in the dens would lie on their side to smoke their pipes? That's your bit of trivia for the week.)

Anyway... all that debate with the groomer took up a bit of energy. I needed a nap when I got home! 

See you next week with more about events in the Lake District.

Popping Up

Just a wee postcard shot showing you one of my new fave spots... in the porch, sunpuddling! I have to say, the new accommodations are very... well... accommodating! Hope your spring is full of light.

Give Me A Reason

Hello again, furiends! 

As you saw in last week's repawt, I have been keeping quite busy around my new yard and local area, not without the occasional disagreement with the new humans. It's going to take a wee while to find our mutually acceptable boundaries. I mean, they can't have it all their own way... ...can they? 

Take Stephen, for example. Like my darling Gail, he is very active and tends to the athletic. However, he confounded me when he thought that I might take up running with him.

Now, don't be fooled by the stance of the fellow into thinking he was holding any form of enticement, the better to encourage enthusiasm for what, to me, seems an entirely pointless activity.

Yes, I run around the garden - but that is with some proper purpose behind it. Bunnies, or balls... or both. Perhaps a squirrel. Sticks, pull-toys, and other such things add purpose to movement beyond a standard trot. I even took to running somewhat when Gail took me to agility. In fact, that was about the only time that Gail herself would be found running. Walking, yes. Cycling, yes. Swimming, yes. Running? Not her thing either. Not without good reason. (Long timers here may recall Gail's reaction when I did think it might be worth attempting to beat Uncle Max's record at a Peak District Parkrun.)

So I looked at Stephen...

Give me a reason! Even if you did have liver bits in those cupped hands of yours, you'd need to be leaving them like the trail to the gingerbread house for me to consider following. 

You could try the ball on the stick a la donkey and carrot, but I guess that would cramp your running style. 

Tell me, furiends, do your peeps do activities with no apparent productive end to them? Do you go with them?? Why???