To the Top of Hoad Hill

A recent holiday to the Lake District, Cumbria, England, home of William Wordsworth, has inspired a few poems recently. This is the most recent one.
My husband and I climbed the hill to visit the Sir John Barrow Monument. An inland lighthouse which sits atop a 430feet elevation and on a clear day you can see Blackpool Tower (70miles by road) and Morecombe Bay (40 miles by road).
The lighthouse is modelled on Smeatons Tower, which sits on Plymouth Hoe, my hometown. Smeatons Tower, originally built on Eddystone reef, was once a working lighthouse before it was realised that the sea was eroding the ledge it was built upon. In 1877, it was taken down brick by brick and relocated to Plymouth Hoe.
Both Towers are a must-see attraction, in their area.

Below is my poem inspired by the walk, I hope you like it.
We set out to conquer, to roam and to wander.
Uphill, down dale, across moors and yonder.
Our destination, the top of Hoad Hill.
Our instruments, strength, determination and a powerful will.
We started walking, swatting and hacking our way through shrub and bushes, dense and thick.
Our only assistance, the use of a simple stick.
Half way into the thicket, we were rewarded with a sight endearing.
Six black and white sheep grazing in a clearing.
They gave us no drift and turned away.
Snubbed by the sheep, we weren’t the best thing they had seen today.
The rest of the walk was long and steeply inclined.
We had several stops to rest and ready our mind.
Finally, after almost an hour, we reached our destination.
Although lacking a flask or food, we found ourselves somewhat thirsty and nearing starvation.
The reason for our climb, a lighthouse, a monument to Sir John Barrow.
The lighthouse is modelled on Smeatons Tower, which resides, on Plymouth Hoe.
Both Towers a must-see attraction for visitors to go.
The lighthouse was closed due to the pandemic and fog obscured the view.
Greeting us, the skies were a soft grey instead of a cerulean light blue.
We could not see Blackpool Tower or Morecombe Bay, as the poster said we would on a fine day.
But it was worth the climb, 430 feet elevation to the top, the feeling of achievement.
For a moment stood on top of that hill, alone the world stood still, and any pain or suffering were in that moment, given easement.
We set out to conquer, to roam and to wander.
Uphill, down dale, across moors and yonder.
Our destination, the top of Hoad Hill.
And we did it!

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