PHIL CALVERT: The joy of having the world to yourself first thing in the morning

Over the last few months I have made a special effort to get out of bed early, with 6 a.m. being typical.

Generally speaking I have been successful in this and slowly but surely my body clock has turned back, meaning I am usually ready for bed around 10-30 a.m.

A major incentive at first was to get up quickly and downstairs before our new dog disgraced himself. He came to us un-house trained, despite being 18 months old, but quickly sorted himself out and now has no problems at all.

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Indeed he seems to pop out first thing to see what the weather is like, stretch himself, have a drink of rainwater from a plant pot, before almost as an after-thought, spending a penny.

Returning indoors, he stretches a little more, then starts to pace around, inpatient and ready for the off. That usually means a few miles of running alongside me on the canal bank while, red-faced, I pedal away furiously.

The early start suits my purposes as usually we have the canal to ourselves and we have few interruptions from other dog walkers who usually appear nearer 8 a.m.

Not only that, there is much less traffic around on the roads and motorways, the cattle and sheep are often still at rest in the fields and there is a great feel of peacefulness. After the cool of the night there is a freshness to everything, and often the valleys are filled with mist which has usually burned away when most folks arise. Monty and I seem to have the world to ourselves. It is a special time of day.

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There was a time, many years ago, when Wifey and I used to go fell walking in the Lake District. While Bowness was heaving with holiday crowds we would head for the relatively quiet charms of the north-western fells, west of Derwent Water.

These grassy mountains had all the exhilarating qualities of the central fells around Langdale but importantly, we often had them to ourselves.

We are still pretty active, and I can still get up a mountainside pretty quickly, but I find the descents very punishing on my creaking knee joints. Consequently we now usually explore the gentler contours of the valley bottoms and lake shores, which we had shunned in our younger days.

The last thing I want, however, is to be part of a human traffic jam, shuffling around the lake shores playing follow-my-leader. That means go out of season and get up early.

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Last Sunday evening we drove up to Keswick in very light traffic before finding some accommodation in Borrowdale and enjoying a delightful evening meal. It was then that my body clock kicked in and just after 10 p.m. I could feel my eyes growing heavy. Time for bed.

I awoke around 6 a.m. and got out of bed. It was still dark outside but I pulled on my cycling gear and slipped outside and went for a ride.

In the half light, I rode down to Grange-in-Borrowdale, over the bridge and up through the sleeping village on the steadily rising road beneath the slopes of Catbells. I turned into the Newlands Valley, a place without a lake but with a timeless charm, and headed in the direction of Buttermere.

A perfect morning was spoiled only by a few mechanical problems with my bike. Everywhere was beautiful, peaceful and very, very English. I tootled around Little Town then over to Braithwaite. I had seen no one, but the world was starting to wake up and so I popped over to Keswick and then down the lake shores to Borrowdale, a shower and breakfast.

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Frankly the kipper I ordered was a disappointment. Tasty enough, I have seen bigger tadpoles and so I had to fill up on fruit and toast. Stoked up, the three of us set off for the duckboard crossing of the Borrowdale wetlands. Monty was in his element, running like the wind, stopping only for the odd sniff, before hurling himself into the waters of the lake.

The circuit of Derwent Water was probably old Rory’s favourite walk and he was rarely out of the Lake. Little Monty would not go in water a couple of months ago but he seems to be developing similar traits. Once apparently bored by food he too now gets excited at meal times, but whereas for old Rory eating was his favourite hobby, I suspect Monty would rather skip meals occasionally if it meant a few more miles of exercise. Wish I could say the same about myself.

Only around midday did we meet significant numbers of people, but even then pedestrian traffic was light. We got back to our digs around 2-30 p.m. having had a beautiful peaceful stroll. The early start and the out-of-season timing (a Monday in late September) meant we had had the place very often to ourselves. A superb walk.

As the days get shorter, the gardening trade goes very quiet around now and so I am hoping to take more time out over the next few weeks and explore more places while they are quiet. That means that I will only be at Reedley intermittently after this weekend until Christmas tree time at the end of November and so it is advisable to phone me on my mobile (07740 429108) before making a journey.

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I will be calling in at work regularly, but if the Lakes, Moors and Dales beckon then I’ll be off. Even though the days are short, with early starts and Monty at my side I am determined to squeeze as much into every day as I can. After all, this life is not a rehearsal, it is the main event. Besides, with Monty around, lazing about is not going to be an option. So little lad, where shall we go today?

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