The Lake District

Skeletal outline ( Bev will fill in the enjoyments)

Saturday

A Cumbrian breakfast at our Country Hotel, Crow How. Too much to repeat each day. Old buildings, great gardens, and by Tuesday Bev and I were the only guests.

We pursued the whereabouts and historic residences of William W.

Walton? Wilberforce? Wainwright? Ahhhh - Wordsworth!

And bought a dead-trees version of his works, because try as we may, reading it on an iPad or Kindle just doesn't work.

From our hotel, just a short walk to the start of the Coffin Route (Ambleside to Grasmere) with Wordsworth's Rydal Mount (palatial!) half-way along.

The Coffin Route is an exceedingly pleasant walk, as Alfred Wainwright might phrase it.

This took us to Grasmere, where we lunched by the stream.

We postponed entering Dove Cottage at Grasmere as Lizzie was suffering from a raging rash on neck and body, which we eventually narrowed down to her merino singlet having spent the winter cuddled up with some nasty moth-repellant. We sped back to Ambleside and bought out Boots, but it took many hours for the screaming to subside, and there was still some evidence of its cause on Sunday morning.

Sunday

A little more of William and a lot of Beatrix.

Back to Grasmere, poking around in the cramped gloom inside Dove Cottage. W lived there with his extending family 1799-1808, later moving on to Rydal Mount (1813-1850).
The Jerwood Centre at left below is adjacent to Dove Cottage, supports Wordsworth research and has an extensive display of his material.

We had read Beatrix Potter's biographical brochure and watched the film and re-read some of the tiny books (we have the lot, in several formats) before we came over. But being here and visiting the holy sites was still excellent fun.

Hill Top was her first farm, which she eventually used as a studio.

We were only marginally aware of her biological and archeological work beforehand. Much more in the picture now. We have a much more rounded understanding of her as a hard-headed businesswoman who knew what her material was worth and invented the brand extension now practiced by every film and rock band.

Sunday at 6.28, Liz was to catch a train from Oxenholme back to London, arriving nice and early so she could be fit for work on Monday morning. Problems up the line made the train 35 mins late at Oxenholme and even later in London, but the 50% refund on the fare offered by Virgin covered the taxi from Euston to Notting Hill, and Liz was happy to be home by 10.40

Monday
Lonely Planet Lake District quite denigrated the Armitt Museum in Ambleside, so we didn't visit while Liz was here; what a mistake!

Spent several hours there this morning, seeing lots of original Potter fungi paintings, lots of personal family and scientific background details, and her personal collection of the bunny tales.

Lunch at the Giggling Goose, with its fake waterwheel

Then we tied on our snowshoes and headed for the 3-hour walk up Loughrigg Fell, overlooking Grasmere to the north. Wainwright spends 16 pages of his Central Fells Walks book on Loughrigg, nominating about 6 different ways to ascend. We came up by walking past Rydal Water and the end of Grasmere, shown below, with Grasmere village at the end of the lake and Dove Cottage hidden by the hotel at centre right.

 And a larger view of the same region.

We were guided by our hotel's leaflet and with a 1-16000 map in case of error.

Hard work, rewarded by amenable weather, sore muscles and great views.

On the way down we got close enough to chat to some locals

and pass by some more idyllic scenes.

Then a suitable end to a wonderful day


Tuesday
We  gobbled our last breakfast feast and cleared the room

Off to Keswick, to the Pencil Museum, via more fine scenery. At the PM we indulged in some artistic materials collection, and gained some appreciation of the economic and cultural role of said materials.

Then we sped down the M6 towards a reunion with Elaine and Martin Jenkins, who we last saw in Christchurch NZ. The Fiat had other ideas, gobbling a rear tyre at 70 mph while we were surrounded by semi-trailers. Scary!

We had all the bits to change the wheel, but found that the replacement was a "space-saver", half as wide and rated only for 50 mph. So our journey slowed and we spent three hours being harassed by semis who wanted to go much faster in the slow lane than we we going.

Eventually our trusty GPS led us to Clifton-Upon-Dunsmore, near Rugby, and we were welcomed into the bosom of friendship again. And very relieved to be there.