The English Lakes: Day One

This morning after handing in my final paper for the University of York at 10am, I headed straight for the station and boarded a train on my way to Windermere in the English Lake District. Now of course to make my journey more adventurous (and lengthy) the train gods decided it would take not one but three trains in order to get me from York to Windermere. So after my second train (from Preston to Oxenholme) was delayed by 20 minutes I missed my connection from Oxenholme to Windermere and got to spend an hour sitting out in the rather hot English sun. Of course Windermere wasn’t my final destination because I wanted to get out into the real village bit of the Lake District, specifically Far Sawrey, and also the location of Beatrix Potter’s Lakeland property. From Windermere I took a bus/walked to the car ferry where I crossed Lake Windermere to Lakeside where I missed the last bus to Sawrey by 15 minutes. It’s only 2 miles so I began to walk. It just happened that the 2 miles were uphill miles, which you all know means its not really 2 miles at all. That’s really nothing though, except I had a pack on my front and a pack on my back, had already walked one mile with my baggage and did I mention it was uphill? Luckily my B&B rang to see if I was alright and to ask what I wanted for dinner, when I told them I was just starting up the “small” hill the head chef (also the owner’s son) came to pick me up after I’d made it halfway and without me knowing they were sending a chauffer. Oh but it would have been worth the climb for this place, I tell you. A slate grey, stone Victorian manor with ivy creeping up the side with a sloping lawn overlooking Esthwaite water and situated right next to Hill Top, Beatrix’s (we’re on a first name basis) former home.

After being shown to my room and told that dinner was at 7 I decided it was time to get out into nature after my daylong journey. I only had an hour but looking at a map in my “Walking with Beatrix Potter” book saw that Moss Eccles Tarn lay only 3km away, a very doable distance. So I set off walking up (yes, uphill again) a picturesque country lane flanked on either side by sheep and cows and with a view of Esthwaite to my right. I reached the tarn after about 25 minutes and was happily presented with a still, clear body of water complete with floating lily pads and surrounded by luscious ferns on the banks. I walked around to a raised bit in the middle and scrambled up to sit and write in my journal while admiring the view. Then I looked at the time and realized I only had 15 minutes to get back for dinner so headed back to the hotel. The dining room is in a conservatory with large windows, obviously because it’s a conservatory, so we could see the mountains in the distance and the glimmering evening sun playing on the lake. I had tomato soup to start, roast duck with garlic potatoes and vegetables for a main, and a lemon pudding for dessert. It was superb. I’m also the only current patron of the hotel under the age of 60, I believe, which I find rather amusing and I think the other patrons do as well. After dinner I wandered into the back lawn to have a look but then noticed that it led down to a road that seemed to head towards the lake. Curious as I am, I had no choice but to follow said road. It led to a bridge that crossed where the lake emptied to a beck, which after I crossed gave access to a woodland path that left the main road and flirted with the edge of the lake. I followed this to find some of the most gorgeous vistas one could look upon. I found one opening along the bank where there had been placed two rocks, one on top of the other to form a ‘T’ shape where I took a seat to watch the clouds playing in their reflecting glory of the water. A solitary figure graced the picture as he slowly rowed across the water, his form reflected amongst the clouds and sky turned peach mingled with soft blue. The sound of the lapping waves complimented the rustling of leaves from the surrounding trees and the distant sound of bleating sheep from a near by field. Oh I could have sat there all evening until the sun set deep below the distant mountains but I knew that I must walk away, so I sat for one more minute just trying to imprint the scene on my memory to have later in life. At the end of her life when she was bed ridden, Beatrix Potter said that she didn’t need to walk the paths and hills for she had committed every stone, view and stick to memory. What a wonderful thing to have.

As I walked back I thought of how this area must have been before the invention of the motorcar and other machines of modernity. At that moment I completely understood Wordsworth’s and Beatrix’s love of the district and how it inspired them to such great works. It was then that I walked across the bridge I mentioned earlier and noticed an engraving on the middle section stating the name of the bridge and that it had been rebuilt in 1907. This set my memory ticking as I recalled writing about this particular bridge in my research paper last year. Beatrix financed the rebuilding of the bridge in 1907, two years after becoming a resident of the District, and offered stone from her own quarry in order to fix the original which had become unsafe and had been there for many decades. It’s funny what a simple thing like that can do to a person. The next thing I knew I was walking along laughing to myself, was I actually here? Could I actually be walking on a road that Beatrix Potter walked along hundreds of times and looking at a view that perhaps inspired one of her famous illustrations? I’ve spent so much time reading and studying about her life and work as a conservationist that, to me, she is like a friend that I’ve never met in person and here I was seeing her for the first time. My laughter then turned to tears, of contentment, of joy, of some kind of realization. It was a beautiful moment for me, one that I will never forget.

I then made my way back up the country lane to the house where I ran into three of the other guests, two women and a man. We got to chatting and I walked with them next door to look at the exterior of Hill Top. I found out they were from Surrey and had been visiting Scotland and the Lake District, they look to be in their 70s, very nice and asking me all sorts of questions about why I’m over here and what I’m studying. They even remarked that I didn’t really appear to have a California accent, which was rather nice to hear. Looking at the time we all headed for our rooms. What a day, I tell you. But now I’m looking forward to tomorrow, which I think will be Wordsworth day in Ambleside and Grasmere and Saturday will be Beatrix Potter day at Hill Top and in Hawkshead. So good night for now.

Photos can be found, as always at Flickr