Remote, abandoned and hidden in plain sight

Upper Eskdale, Lake District This is England's answer to a Himalayan sanctuary, a stark citadel of rock and earth that collects the holy waters of the Scafells, Esk Pike, Bowfell and Crinkle Crags

Built from rough-cut, closely packed igneus rock, the disintegrating dry stone wall looks like a pile of crude cannonballs glistening darkly in the rain. It has lost a lot of height, but its half-life is long; perhaps a hundred years old or more, it still looks robust enough to outlive me.

For an area of about 10 square miles in the heart of the Lake District, these unattended, mostly abandoned walls are virtually the only human structures. We opt to camp on a snug bank between one of these and the river Esk, stern solidity on one side and the boundless energy of a wild river on the other. Usually I fall asleep to the susurration of traffic beyond the window; this time it is the symphonic, hypnotic sound of cold water cascading over rocks. Strange how we have reframed simple things as rare luxuries.