The Lakes

A few days in the Lakes has become an almost annual ritual.  Spectacular though it is, in the summer months I find it intolerably busy, the hotels over-priced and the car parks full – hence my preference for late February. The problem with this time of the year is that the only thing predictable about the weather is its unpredictability but that is probably true of the Lakes at any time.

Consistent with tradition, one night was spent at the cinema followed by dinner at Fellini’s. This year it was Lion, a remarkable true story designed to exercise the tear ducts – casting the human equivalent of Bambi as the the five year old Saroo only serves to enhance this effect.  It certainly put things in perspective – compared to some people’s lot, moaning about the weather doesn’t seem appropriate. Anyway, who wants blue-skies in every scene – except for the first two sunsets at Waterhead, the remainder were taken on a walk between Ambleside and Skelwith Bridge:

The sun going down ...

The sun going down ...

Lily Tarn ...

Ranbows over ...

Loughrigg Tarn ...

Snow on the tops ...

Windermere ...

What time …

do you call this!  From nowhere my mum came back to life this week when these words rang out from my PC speakers – ‘What time do you call this’ was the constant refrain of my upbringing.  It started with my elder sister who was subjected to this interrogation every Friday and Saturday night throughout her teenage years. As the irritating (much) younger brother I took quiet delight in her scolding, little realising that I would be subjected to deeper hot water when my time came. The price of schadenfreude.

My teenage reaction was ‘how can parents be so unreasonable, were they never young, were they never just a little wild and carefree!’  And the answer for my mother’s generation is, almost certainly not.  Only just sixteen when war broke out, mum was married with a one-year-old by the time of VE Day, seventy years ago yesterday.

The picture was taken by my dad somewhere in the Lake District in 1942 – a few days escape from fear and conflict.

057-The Lakes-1-wordpress

The context of the lyrics is not right but the repetition of the phrase is perfect. I have seen no reviews but a film that also features The National on the soundtrack at least has to be good to listen to:

Groundhog Days

In late February we stayed overnight in Ambleside at the Salutation, walked up to High Sweden Bridge on the first day, went to the cinema in the evening, ate at Fellini’s after the film and walked up to the head of Stockghyll Lane in the morning.

This week we went back to the Salutation at Ambleside, walked up to High Sweden Bridge on the first day, went to the cinema in the evening, ate at Fellini’s after the film and walked up to the head of Stockghyll Lane in the morning.

The differences:

Back in the Lakes ... Back in the Lakes ... Back in the Lakes ...

I spotted this on the return leg and was reminded that I will not be seeing Top Gear this weekend 👿

Kankku Defender ...
(click on the images to enlarge)

Borrowdale

Travel theme: Shine – Last week, in celebration of my birthday (nothing significant, one of many), we drove over Hartside Pass, down into Penrith, across to Keswick and south to Borrowdale.  The sun shone the whole time which disproves the theory that it shines only on the righteous 🙂

We had one night in the perfectly located Borrowdale Hotel, walked, ate, drank and were merry before returning home the next day.  A short and sweet break in a fine location – much quieter than Ambleside:

Borrowdale Home on the range ... Perfect Day Borrowdale

 

Elterwater

Travel Theme: Wood. This week we escaped to the Lake District, staying for two nights in Ambleside. There is much to be said for visiting out of season: the roads are quiet, the shops almost empty and there is no problem getting into restaurants, always assuming they have not put up their shutters for the winter. The downside is the weather but wet weeks in the Lakes are just as likely in August as in January. Nevertheless, this was a particularly sodden few days – the sound of running water was inescapable.

On Wednesday we went for a six mile hike around Elterwater where the primary objective was to find a route that was reasonably solid underfoot.  Elterwater is almost onomatopoeic or should that be mimetic. Either way, helter skelter water describes and sounds like the place and its weather perfectly.

On the OS map, Rob Rash is marked as adjacent to the village. This, it turns out, is a National Trust wood and not a skin complaint.  The woodland must appear in these photographs (click on the images to enlarge):

Rob Rash wood

Elterwater

Elterwater