I like a companion when
I go a-walking. "Give me a companion by the way," said Sterne, "if it be
only to remark how the shadows lengthen as the sun declines." That is about
enough. You do not want a talkative person. Walking is an occupation in
itself. You may give yourself up to chatter at the beginning, but when you
are warmed to the job you are disposed to silence, drop perhaps one behind
the other, and reserve your talk for the inn table and the after-supper
pipe. An occasional joke, an occasional stave of song, a necessary
consultation over the map--that is enough for the way.
At the head of the Lake we got in a boat and rowed across Derwentwater to
the tiny bay at the foot of Catbells. There we landed, shouldered our
burdens, and set out over the mountains and the passes, and for a week we
enjoyed the richest solitude this country can offer. We followed no
cut-and-dried programme. I love to draw up programmes for a walking tour,
but I love still better to break them. For one of the joys of walking is
the sense of freedom it gives you.
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