Painting of Skiddaw and Thirlmere Lake District through a hail shower A Painting by Rob Miller RSA

Skiddaw and Thirlmere through a hail shower viewed from Hellvellyn
Mixed media on Arches Paper
51cmx34cm

I climbed up here to the summit of Helvellyn  wearing my Paramore gear which I thought would be okay for a breezy early Autumn day but I was cold.  I stopped a few times  to do a drawing and I also stopped to read a section of Wordsworth's poem based on this very hill.  Needless to say, I became colder still despite a hot coffee from my flask. How tough was Wordsworth and his lady companion?  Very tough I think to wander at will up fell and down dale (include an ascent of Snowdon for Wordsworth leaving at the dead of night) in the clothing and boots that were available in his time and to stop ponder and pen a quick sonnet. 'He was a proper northern lad. ' The walk up from Thirlmere  takes about five hours there and back and is uphill for most of the way, you pass a couple of great places to paint around Dollywagon Pike but its the expansive view down the valley either north or south that captures the attention most. Heres a good guide by the go lakes website. Wordsworth. Ive attached the poem beow with thanks to bartley.com great books online.

I love to read these poems in situ, the expanse of the landscape, the wind on the cheek and the moving clouds bring me closer to those who loved this land and who considered the land a crucial mode for understanding human nature and human plight. True whichever land is yours by birth or by right.

To ——, on Her First Ascent to the Summit of Helvellyn

William Wordsworth (1770–1850)

Inmate of a mountain dwelling,
Thou hast clomb aloft, and gazed
From the watch-towers of Helvellyn;
Awed, delighted, and amazed!
Potent was the spell that bound thee,	5
Not unwilling to obey;
For blue Ether’s arms, flung round thee,
Stilled the pantings of dismay.
Lo the dwindled woods and meadows!
What a vast abyss is there!	10
Lo the clouds, the solemn shadows,
And the glistenings,—heavenly fair!
And a record of commotion
Which a thousand ridges yield;
Ridge and gulf and distant ocean	15
Gleaming like a silver shield!
Now take flight; possess, inherit
Alps or Andes,—they are thine!
With the morning’s roseate spirit,
Sweep their length of snowy line;	20
Or survey their bright dominions
In the gorgeous colors drest
Flung from off the purple pinions
Evening spreads throughout the west!
Thine are all the coral fountains	25
Warbling in each sparry vault
Of the untrodden lunar mountains;
Listen to their songs!—or halt,
To Niphates’ top invited,
Whither spiteful Satan steered;	30
Or descend where the ark alighted,
When the green earth reappeared;—
For the power of hills is on thee,
As was witnessed through thine eye
Then, when old Helvellyn won thee	35
To confess their majesty!