On our first day in the north of England, we met the ubiquitous sheep. I, with all due respect to our woolly friends, determined that if a sheep was willing, I would very much like to pet one. I was told that no sheep would be willing. One of our number, a frequent traveler to the UK, informed me that she regularly brings students to the UK. On these trips there are always some who try to pet the sheep, they all fail. She guaranteed me that my quest to pet a sheep would also come to naught.
I’d like to say that I’m not competitive. Most of the time I am not. In this case, however, the gauntlet had been thrown and I picked it up. Most of my early attempts to pet these wonderful creatures roaming the moors were half-hearted at best. I had no interest in torturing or even disturbing these noble animals. They were not there for my entertainment. However, as the failed attempts continued to mount and my compatriots continued to inform me that I would not succeed, secretly, quietly, I became quite determined to make this happen.
I approached the sheep with soothing sounds. I got down on their level so as not to intimidate them. I even bought some feed and took to carrying it on each of our outings. There were sheep everywhere. At first I assumed, eventually, my time would come. It had been almost a week of failed attempts, and this day was our last day in the Lakes. After this, we would return to London, and our time with the sheep would come to an end. I’d like to say that at this moment I maintained my confidence in my abilities, but I was beginning to lose faith. The sheep of England were simply uninterested.
Then we went to Hardknott Fort. It’s a Roman Fort that sits in the middle of the Lake District. Here you can still clearly see the Roman road that bisected the country. Hardknott was situated here to gather tolls from travelers. It is an amazing place but seldom visited. It’s a bit out of the way even by the Lakes standards, and the road here is steep and narrow. Our driver, a man I had come to believe could drive us anywhere, said that even he wouldn’t brave this road if it was raining. The rain, however, stopped that morning so I guess we were ok. (Somewhere there is a video of this drive because even without rain it was one of the most intense vehicular moments of my life.)
Once we arrived at Hardknott we were free to explore. The fort sits up on top of a bluff and looks down on the valley below. (Have I mentioned how frustrating it is to not be able to capture the beauty of this place with a camera?) We traipsed in and around and through history. It was another wonderful if a cold and wet day in the Lakes.
Then. It. Happened.
There in the remains of a Roman tower were two sheep. My friend Peter alerted me to their presence. I climbed down amongst them, and I, there, with the crumbling rocks around me I was able to pet my first English sheep.
I would say it was a high point of the day, and that would be true. This day, however, was just one high point after another. I was there with colleagues that had become friends in the places that Coleridge and Wordsworth had walked. Everywhere was beauty. Deep, rugged, make you believe in something greater beauty. Oh, and I got to pet a sheep.
