The people's mountain – without the people

Blencathra, Lake District In the whole time I tread its slopes and ridges this evening, I don't see another soul

In a bright, breeze-ruffled Derwentwater, a shoal of swimmers moves towards the shore. Dozens of wet-suited arms arc rhythmically above the water like small sea serpents, churning the lake as they go. A gauzy light filters down through high streaks of cirrus and ranks of towering cumulus look like smoke thrown up over the fells from a giant cannon salvo.