Microadventure: Cooking Sausages in the Rain
10 May 2013
I love Alastair Humphreys microadventures idea and it works great with my kids. If I say lets go for a walk its the same as if Id said please hack your leg off with a blunt sabre. If I say lets have an adventure at least they ask what kind of adventure, which means we're actually talking about it.
The best kind of adventure for my kids involves cooking something bad for you and stopping up late. So at 7.00pm on Saturday night we headed off to Derwent Water to cook sausages until it got dark.
| It was raining.|
Not just a little bit.
But were Cumbrians. We live 20 miles from the wettest place in the country. Rain is not an issue for us. The kids strongly disagreed with me as we got out of the car under the shadow of Catbells and the rain smacked horizontally into our faces. Theyre only young, their love of rain hasnt matured yet.
Itll be fine when we get down to the lake.
We trudged down through the forest. Trudge isnt a very positive word, but its the right one. When we got to the lake we found a great location on the shoreline. The wind was blowing the lake and the rain directly at us.
| Its easing off a little, I tried.|
Thank goodness for the dog, she was loving it. You know when dogs get wet and go mental, zigzagging until their brains hurt, thats what she was doing. She raced up to the lake, licked it and then belted round three trees and back to the lake for a lick. Repeat.
It was at this point I unfurled the secret bit of kit I havent told you about. I have a lot of camping stuff for lots of different weather conditions but theres one item of equipment that, Im embarrassed to say, is perfect for an outing like this. I threw my daughter's Gelert Quickpitch SS Tent (its pink) into the wind, it popped up and we had an instant tent to shelter in - once wed chased it down the shoreline for a while and caught it.
This was the turning point.
We sat in the door of the tent looking out onto the lake. There was wind, there was rain, there were mountains, there were waves, there was rustling trees and there was us - no one else, just us. The kids were laughing, mainly at the dog dragging sausages out of my rucksack, but at least they were laughing.
Once I wrestled the meat out of the dogs mouth and got it onto the stove they were even happier. The dog got the chomped ones, I think, although mine did taste a bit pre-chewed. I didnt care. Theres is nothing tastier in this whole world than sausages, cooked in the rain, on the shores of Derwent Water... mmmmm
damn, Ive just slavered onto my keyboard.
By the time all the cooking and eating and burping had been done, it was 9.45 pm and it was getting dark. This seemed a reasonable time to make up a story about the spectre of St Herbert, from St Herberts Isle, who to this day haunts the Derwent shoreline looking for children eating sausages
Shut up, Dad, thats rubbish.
A fair comment.
Id forgotten our head torches, so before it got too dark we packed up our stuff and legged it back up the hill through the woods. It was still raining. By the time we got home it was nearly 11.00pm.
So did you enjoy yourselves, I asked them as they were cleaning their teeth.
Ppfffgghhhhssshhh they replied.
I waited until theyd finished cleaning their teeth and asked again.
Yes, it was great, but you did record Britains Got Talent didnt you?
Luckily, my wife had.
Thanks for reading.