Waters, lakes and meres

I was never very good at pub quizzes. Not that it's something I've done much of. But there are one or two questions that seem popular. And for which I know the answer. The mainland's most westerly point: Ardnamurchan. I like that one in particular because I've paddled around it. And then there's the one about how many lakes there are in the Lake District: One. The rest being waters or meres. But whatever you call them there's no shortage of water just now. In fact at every turn on this day there was evidence of the floods - landslides big and small, gravel and rocks heaped along the edge of normally diminutive becks giving them the appearance of alpine rivers, trees torn from the banks and banks which are quite simply no longer there - it has been a hard if warm winter so far.
Looking down the lake (this one's a Water) - a gusting wind rattling through the valley and the fells half hidden in the clag, the scene was one I'm more familiar with at water level, reminiscent of a Highland sea loch...
...this feature in particular reminding me of several camps on trips among the Highlands and Islands - rain, wind, clag and all. Leaving the rocky and equally boggy path along the lake to contour slowly around Melbreak, the high point of the day being the wind swept southern end of the ridge, the route then dropped rapidly back towards the valley floor characterised by the alluvial plain that separates Crummock Water and Buttermere...
...after a brief, wet and chilling stop to inspect the falls of Scale Force.
A last look along what remained visible of Crummock - the steep flank of Melbreak looming above, waterfalls cascading down sodden slopes - before running on, crossing the plain beneath Sour Milk Gill, cascading in white, wild abandon from Bleaberry Tarn.