The Lakes

After a glorious 1-1 draw against Portsmouth, who had nothing to play for unlike us scrapping over the last play off place, we headed off for a pub stopover to get this little adventure underway. We’re both ready for a break after a few weeks of kitchen refurbishments and decorating.

Staying in Derbyshire we stayed over for a night at The Yew Tree at Cauldon Low, a quirky proper pub. We were made welcome and directed to park up in a lay-by, no idea if the pub owned this but we were charged £8 for the night. Fair play I say. The 300 year old pub is an Aladdin’s Cave of antiques, curios, music machines and motorcycles. The collection includes a pair of Queen Victoria’s stockings, a 3,000-year-old Grecian urn, Penny Farthing and Bone Shaker bicycles. There is also the ‘Acme Dog Carrier’, an array of unusual musical instruments including an ancient Serpent. The seating is equally interesting with antique benches, church pews & settles. Had to send my beer back though, from the jug it may be, but it was like drinking vinegar. No quibble though, “it’s gone off” said the pleasant bar lady and just swapped it.

Next day, a straightforward, but rainy, journey up the M6 took us to the beginning of our tour in the Western Lakes. No idea why we picked a site just 3 miles from Sellafield, the huge nuclear reprocessing site, a city sized scar on the west coast, maybe we were hoping to gain super powers or grow extra limbs. Can’t fault the site though as it’s immaculate and welcoming, situated just outside the surprisingly well equipped small village of Gosforth. 4 pubs, a hotel, 2 coffee shops, a pizza place and a supermarket. Geared up for 3 headed contractors with webbed fingers working in the nuclear plant.

On our first full day here I fancied a walk down to the coast, the countryside from Gosforth gently rolls from the dominant peaks and fells to the sea. It was a pleasure to walk the tracks , crossing fords and fields passing tranquil hamlets, with the occasional glimpse of the scar created by Sellafield. Before reaching the coastal path we encountered a high razor wire topped fence, with cctv watching us and snipers poised protecting this nuclear storage facility. No idea what exactly is being stored, but we didn’t hang about. The gorse covered dunes led us down to the wild and wide beach, midway between Drigg and Seascale; which sounds exactly as it looks, a grim shit-hole. Mrs H did not relish the walk along the beach and lagged behind, ready to get back to easier going paths. After a lunch looking out to sea, and surprisingly the Isle of Man in the distance, we crossed fields back to the village. We were lucky with the weather and thoroughly enjoyed a few beers in the pub before dinner.

On the Tuesday we set out to do a 9 mile round trip to Nether Wasdale, I’d kept quiet about my intent to extend this to see the glacial formed Wasdale Water, the deepest lake in England at some 260’ deep. This would make the trek around 13 miles, and take our coast to coast total to about 12 miles, although Mrs H remains unconvinced. The walk was, in my opinion, wonderful. Gently rolling countryside gave way to the gravitas of the hills rising above the deep lake, with the screes of Whin Rig and its bigger brother of Illgel Head at just over 600 metres tumbling into the clear waters and the as yet unseen, Scafell Pike at nearly 1,000 metres sitting with a foreboding dark presence at the head of the lake. The changing views looked at their best when edged in the vivid yellow gorse, which is flourishing at the moment. After following the lake’s edge which Daisy loved as she swam alongside us from the stony beaches, the return path climbed to about 250 meters, edging Blengdale Forest in a straight relentless stony track before rejoining the muddy seldom used path to Bolton Hall & back to site.

After a decent walk yesterday we decided to take the bikes out on this sunny, bright Wednesday (with a forecast of a horrible looking week ahead, reminding us of why we don’t normally bother with the Lakes). To some degree retracing our walk we followed the road down to Wastwater, where we stopped for lunch in the spring sunshine before we then struck further east to the head of the lake. This is the starting point to the ascent of Scarfel, not sure we’ll do this whilst here as the access road is a little narrow. Today would have been perfect though, a bright blue sky contrasted the clear peak of the highest point in England and the adjacent peaks.

The road comes to an end at the pub at Wastwater Head and before making our U turn we stopped to talk to a friendly couple who also had a BuddyRider, their pooch though proudly wearing “Doggles” as if that were perfectly normal. Our 20 mile circuit was completed by following the western side of the lake down to Santon Bridge after a pleasant coffee stop at The Sawmill, then back to the van and then beers in the sunny beer garden at Gosforth Hall Inn again. A good day and after a long walk yesterday, and a cycle ride today we should swim the lake tomorrow to complete our triathlon.

Our last day here coincides with a forecast change to the weather with rain on the way pretty much until we go home. Taking the opportunity we did a 10 mile walk up to the wonderfully named Ponsonby Fell. I wanted to go off piste and bag this peak of just over 1,000 feet. We were rewarded by spectacular views from the coast and inwards over Scarfel and Great Gable. The way down to resume the marked footpath was across very boggy moorland, which upset Mrs H a bit “this is not a f&&king walk, it’s f@&ing ridiculous” she gently remarked as she disappeared up to her knees, Vicar of Dibley in a puddle style, into a particularly smelly bog. I don’t think she was too impressed with my navigating skills. I redeemed myself by successfully getting us back on track through the very pretty Blengdale Forest which Daisy loved as the track followed the tumbling rocky and shallow river, giving her lots of paddling opportunities. Despite it being a breezy day it was a sun trap in the shelter of the trees.

Overall I’ve enjoyed it here, it’s an area we’ve not been before and wouldn’t hesitate to do so again, and stay at the same site. So far, neither of us have developed super powers, grown additional heads or webbed feet.

I was in two minds about continuing writing these diaries but I love to write, put down my thoughts, journal the adventures we love and write my stories. I’ve rekindled a long forgotten enjoyment and maybe even arguably a talent in writing, and strength from my long forgotten schooldays, as a harmless hobby in my retirement as opposed to spending hours on the golf course and the like. It also keeps the brain ticking as I’m frankly terrified of consequences if it stops ticking, having seen that first hand. I’ve no idea if anyone is too interested or cares, but I have had moderate success and I’ve valued that. As is inevitable with us all I’ll not be around one day, hopefully of course not for some time! I want to leave a little legacy in my writing which may mean something to those dear to me. As an ex colleague once kindly wrote in a review, they could hear my voice telling the story. That meant a lot, and summed it up nicely, so for now I’m hoping I can keep losing myself in my scribbles & maybe as a bonus earn a few shillings.