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Updated: June 27, 2025
He spread the map on the top of a wall, and they stood side by side inspecting it. 'We must take something to eat; I'll provide for that. And at the Wastdale Head hotel we can have dinner about three or four, probably. It would be enjoyable, wouldn't it? 'If it doesn't rain. 'We'll hope it won't. As we go back we can look out the trains at the station. No doubt there's one soon after breakfast.
The Persians have another name for it 'the grandmother of all buckets. I was once in Wastdale with a dean of the Church of England, respectable, sedate, and a D.D. It had poured for days without ceasing; the roads were under water, the passes were impassable, the mountains invisible; there was nothing to be seen but waterfalls, and those in the wrong place; there was no literature; the dean's guide-books were exhausted, and his Bible, it is but charitable and reasonable to suppose, he knew by heart.
All that day she had cherished the hope that it would be possible to bury Angus over the hills, at Gosforth. It was in the old churchyard there that her father lay-her father, her mother, and all her kindred. It was twenty miles to those plains and uplands, that lay beyond the bleak shores of Wastdale. It was a full five hours' journey there and back.
"So you'll take them on Wastdale Head, then, eh?" said Liza, turning her head aside as though in the abundance of her maidenly modesty, but really glancing slyly under the corner of her bonnet in the direction taken by the mourners, and wondering if they could be overtaken. Joseph was a little disturbed to find that he had unintentionally disclosed so much of the design.
They know that if Ralph is at the top of Stye Head he will be on the lookout for the procession, and must see them as well as it." "It's true, it is," said Sim. "They will, as the blacksmith said, go through Honister and Scarf Gap and over the Black Sail to Wastdale. They will ride fast, and, returning to Stye Head, hope to come upon Ralph from behind and capture him unawares.
We shall not find Gaspard there to-night Gaspard, the gay and intrepid guide from the Dauphiné, beloved of all who know the lonely inn at Wastdale. He is away on the battle-field fighting a sterner foe than the rocks and precipices of Great Gable and Scawfell.
Only two days of abiding sunshine; for the rest, mere fitful gleams across a sky heaped with stormclouds. Over Wastdale hung a black canopy; from Scawfell came mutterings of thunder; and on the last night of the week when Monica fled from her home in pelting rain tempest broke upon the mountains and the sea.
'If your strength fails, said Everard merrily, when for an hour they had been plodding through grey solitudes, 'there is no human help. I should have to choose between carrying you back to Boot or on to Wastdale. 'My strength is not likely to fail sooner than yours, was the laughing reply. 'I have chicken sandwiches, and wine that maketh glad the heart of man. Tell me when hunger overcomes you.
There was no sign of him on the Wastdale side of the mountain; and, getting more and more alarmed, they went on to the summit. There they discovered a crushed-up Daily News and two or three stained pages of a guide-book. Glad of any clue, they followed the track down towards Dungeon Ghyl, and at last came upon the poor fellow, fairly exhausted with hunger, fatigue, and rheumatism.
He could then get in between the Kirk Fell and the Great Gable long before they could round the Wastdale Head and return to the pass. But how weak he felt! How jaded these few miles had made him! Sim remembered that he had eaten little for three days. Would his strength outlast the task before him? It should; it must do so.
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