There's something really desolate about this part of Cumbria, every time I find myself in this part of England I struggle for some inspiration. I had camped here for five days due to being sent up for a work course near St Bees so had loads of time to kill after 4.30pm each day until I got bored stupid on my own and went back to the hotel ( which was the epitome of depression itself believe me ). I drove the ten minutes or so to the beaches and searched for something a bit different.. but it took a couple of evenings meandering about till I discovered the hilltop church of St Bridget in Moresby. The building is nothing extraordinary but the eerie remains of the older church, which consists of an ancient stone arch embedded into the ground next to the 19th Century replacement caught my eye in the dusk , silhouetted against the cold April sky. There used to be a Roman Fort apparently over the wall at the back of the church but there's no trace of anything now, I suspect not even Tony Robinson would find anything either. I decided to lie down in the churchyard ( not uncommon for me... ) and get some low angle shots of the arch to exaggerate it further, looming out of the earth like a giants bow. For the next few nights I ventured far and wide but didn't quite make the dawn trip over to Castlerigg I had promised myself because after four nights staring at a hotel wall after eating at various chip shops and mediocre restaurants I had had enough and just wanted to get back home and drop the hire car off ( which didn't even come with a CD player! (Peugeot). It was good to get away.. but I have to say.. even better to get back home.