Hawes to Keld

 When I started travelling on business, I assumed that one of the benefits would be chatting to fellow travellers. I soon realised that most business people are wary of entering into conversations with strangers, especially on long haul flights, cautious of being trapped by a crashing bore. There were exceptions, such as the well-publicised case of the Canadian telecomms executive who allowed her passion for a fellow passenger free rein during a transatlantic redeye with predictable consequences. On the PW, sensitivity to the preferences of other walkers is polite. Many solitary walkers guard their status jealously and don't welcome overtures of friendliness. Groups of walkers can afford to be more flexible as they have a greater buffering capacity for uncongenial company than individuals. On the Coast to Coast I encountered a set of four friends and, after a screening interview during which it was established that I shared an alma mater with two of them, I was admitted to the group. I walked with them for a couple of days and we shared convivial dinners. Fell runners are in a different category altogether. They rarely deign to acknowledge plodding walkers and would not waste breath on conversation. Clad in T-shirts, running shoes and the briefest of shorts, they skim along effortlessly, paying no more attention to the path with its rocks and bogs than if they were on a treadmill in a gym.
On the long climb to Great Shunner Fell today, I was followed by a lone walker who eventually overtook me. We grunted the usual acknowledgements but after a few minutes he paused to allow me to catch up. He pointed to some stones on the path and explained that the patterns were fossils of prehistoric ferns and that related specimens could be seen in the collection at Kew. I took a photo (see below) and he beetled off towards the next summit.  
The route was easy to follow and I tuned into Radio 4. There was a programme about Tolkein, which interested me as I used to live in the part of Birmingham which was reportedly his inspiration for Lord of the Rings. Supposedly hobbits were modelled on the local inhabitants but fortunately there is no record of their accent.  
When I reached Thwaite, my erudite companion was sitting outside a cafe, airing his feet. He showed me a photograph in his guidebook of the fossils we had seen and said he'd picked up a loose piece. He passed me a flat rock and I could see the characteristic indentations. "A great souvenir of the Pennine Way" I said. "Those regular dimples almost look like the pattern on asbestos sheeting." He examined it carefully and turned it over. The back was machine-smooth. He tested the edge with a fingernail. Small flakes fell off. He looked up, smiled and tossed it into a nearby bin. "Just as well you didn't take it to a museum for carbon dating", I commented.

© David Thompson 2012