travels index | blog | about me | album index

lake district

May 7 - 10, 2002

After having worked like a maniac finishing up at my last job, and a week off before starting the next one, I desperately needed to get away for a break. I wanted to go somewhere quiet, scenic, relaxing, and most importantly, somewhere that I could go on holiday by myself without looking like a complete dork. The Lake District attracts several kinds of tourists: families, middle-aged couples in matching fleeces and walking shoes, younger couples from the North West, foreigners (mostly Japanese this time around), and solo travellers like me. This place was ideal for me because it's the sort of retreat that writers go to for inspiration and rejuvenation so surely there will be many people travelling alone - or at least that's what I told myself when I booked the holiday. I got the idea to do a solo holiday here while reading Ian McEwan's novel "Amsterdam"; Clive is a composer who takes a brief break in the Lake District to do some walking and find the inspiration to complete a piece he's working on.
"Soon human meaning would be bleached from the rocks, the landscape would assume its beauty and draw him in; the unimaginable age of the mountains and the fine mesh of living things that lay across them would remind him that he was part of this order and insignificant within it, and he would be set free." (Vintage Canada, pg. 78)

the low wood hotel, windermere

(May 7)

The journey from Cambridge to Windermere is relatively easy. It's a 45 minute trip to London King's Cross tube station, then one tube stop to Euston, a 2 1/2 hour journey up to Oxenholme Lake District, then another 20 minutes on a train bound for Windermere. Apart from the journey between Oxenholme and Windermere, it's a surprisingly dull train ride. Not a lot of scenery to speak of, and let's just say that Virgin trains are quite possibly the second worst in Britain in terms of cleanliness and comfort (Connex wins the "Worst Train in the Free World" award). I was entertained by text messages from Jim and Jack (it's really fun to gloat about being on holiday to people when they're stuck in the office), and in keeping with tradition, I always inform Jack whenever I'm somewhere of note or in transit. As we passed by Wigan, I noticed a huge sign painted on the side of a building stating, "Uncle Joe's mint balls keep you all aglow". Okaaaaay. The journey was a lot faster than I expected and I was in my hotel room well before dinner time, giving me a chance to explore the immediate area and walk to the waterfront.

The Low Wood is a four star hotel at the Northern end of Lake Windermere. I chose it because it has a leisure centre (in the building on the left), as I had the mad idea that I'd actually do some exercise while on holiday. Silly girl. I did manage a swim, but the gym was closed for renovations. I took that as a sign that working out during my holiday would simply be wrong. Everyone I dealt with here were polite, but not terribly friendly. It was staffed by fairly young people who obviously didn't think of this as a career path, and who didn't seem to care a whole lot about the happiness of their guests.
The view from my hotel room in the evening. Windermere is one of the worst areas for heavy tourism and tackiness, but this end of the lake was much quieter and scenic. I spent an evening sitting on that pier, taking in all the landscape around me. The romance wore off as soon as a group of Japanese tourists decided that they wanted to be on that pier at the same time, and unapologetically herded their way down the pier towards me, cameras poised.	My room, with a massive bed that I slept on diagonally every night. I had most of my evening meals at the table facing the window watching the lake ripple outside.
Oh but I was happy to discover that my bathroom contained a jacuzzi. Oh yes. After one of my 8 mile walks, I filled the tub, added some bubbles, and fired it up. Bliss. Pure bliss.	There are two information channels on the television. I pressed the "Info" button and a screen appeared with information about the hotel, phone numbers, etc. If you pressed the button again, you were supposed to see a screen listing special deals and offers. Instead, this is what I got - the blue screen of death. Aiiieee!

After looking around the area and getting settled into my room, I headed down to the restaurant for dinner. I decided to treat myself and enjoy a 3 course meal at an outrageous price just this once. I have never paid £3.75 for a glass of wine before, and don't plan on doing so again unless I win the lottery. The meal was gorgeous: tuna nicoise salad to start (a seared piece of tuna on top of warm green beans, olives, and potatoes), grilled monkfish with crunchy veggies and potatoes au gratin, and a chocolate tart that I could have eloped with. They brought chocolate covered Kendal mint cakes with my tea, which I very casually stuffed into my bag while no one was looking. The thing about eating dinner alone is trying not to look too pathetic; like you're eating alone for a specific purpose. I brought a book down with me to read between courses so I wasn't staring out into space when conversation with your dinner partner(s) would normally occur. I whipped out my pocket PC to take notes periodically. Would they think I was a food critic? Researching hotels for the Rough Guide or the AA? Writing a book a la Bill Bryson? Would I get better service or complimentary food? The answer to the latter is a resounding no. I envision people around me whispering to each other, "Awww look at that poor woman on her own. How sad. Oh, look - she's pretending to take notes so that she looks less pathetic. Awwww."

After dinner I rolled myself outside to take some pictures and walk along the pier, then rolled myself back upstairs to my room. I am sooo full and tired, but I've had way too much caffeine today so my sleep is restless. I keep waking up every time I hear a noise outside in the corridor, thinking someone's trying to get into my room. After all, I'm just a girl in the Lakes alone and surely someone spotted my pocket PC when I was jotting notes in it at dinner, so obviously someone's trying to break in, and ohmygawd could I hide in that wardrobe or under the bed? Really must stop eating chocolate mint cakes and drinking tea right before bed.

waterhead, ambleside, lake windermere, and bowness

(May 8)

Oh boy, oh boy it's massage day! I've booked myself in for a one hour massage because dammit, I want to pamper myself this holiday. I've got until 12.45, so I head downstairs for breakfast and to see how to get into Ambleside.

The hotel receptionist tells me that Ambleside is only a 10 minute walk up the road, which isn't entirely accurate. Waterhead is about a mile up the road, but Ambleside is another 1 1/2 miles away. It's not exactly far away, so the extra walk wasn't a big deal and I got to take a nice stroll into town. I was on a mission to collect information on local walks and search for some suitably naff souvenir to bring back for Jim (to "thank" him for the Truckfest cap). I ambled over to Ambleside where I discovered that people there are also polite but not terribly friendly, just like at my hotel. Can't really blame them - the tourists must drive them mad. I went to the information centre and bought some walking guides, grabbed a quick sandwich at one of the bakeries to take with me, and wandered back to the hotel to eat my lunch and look through the walks. Oh boy, oh boy it's massage time! A lovely swim in the leisure centre's pool, a lounge in the jacuzzi (by the pool, not the one in my loo), then off to take a boat on the lake later this afternoon.

Waterhead is actually considered part of Ambleside, although it lies at the tip of Lake Windermere about 1 1/2 miles south of Ambleside. It's got a youth hostel with an amazing view across the water, a pier to catch the Windermere steamers, and a Roman fort that I kept meaning to find.
I walked further along the main road heading out of Ambleside towards Grasmere. It's a lovely, sheepy, hilly, lush landscape, surrounded by massive fells for the die hard climbers.
Yes, I found the local fire station. A bit quiet, though. I don't think they were hiding from me...	This is a shop/information centre owned by the National Trust. Rumour has it that it was built by a Scotsman as a two storey, two roomed house to evade land taxes.

I am addicted to being on the water, near water, and in the water. I jumped at the chance to catch the next boat out on Lake Windermere down to Bowness, close to the town of Windermere. Me and a large group of Japanese tourists hopped on board (I fit right in with my looks and camera) and bundled up against the wind for a leisurely trip down the lake. Oooh, must text message Jack: "I'm on a boat!"

This is the pier at Bowness, a little town that's not quite as tacky as Windermere. It has a lot of shops, pubs, hotels, restaurants, and isn't a bad place to spend an afternoon. I had a bit of a wander, got some wine for myself (corkage!), and hopped on another boat back to Waterhead.	The boat back was this big posh thing, complete with a full snack bar. I was very happy to sit inside as it had got cold and windy during the course of the day. Text message to Jack: "I'm on another boat!"
Ah, yes - there's my house. I'm gonna live there when I win the lottery.

I've been on my feet all day (with the exception of the massage and swim, of course), so I'm knackered. It's early evening, and I head out to the pier in front of the hotel to take pictures and enjoy the silence. Even though the thick clouds, the sunset streams through.

As I've mentioned, Windermere gets a lot of Japanese tourists. This is evident by the fact that one of the hotel's TV channels is this Japanese station. This was hilarious - it was some game show based on food. Other than that, I can't tell you what it was supposed to be about. I just really loved the pictures of the wide-eyed vegetables in the background. I was so tired and didn't feel like keeping up the enigmatic restaurant reviewer/travel guide writer persona in the dining room this evening. Instead, I opted for room service which again, was ridiculously expensive (typical) but the food was superb. I've had some pretty bad room service fare in my time (why is it always so dire compared to the food you get if you eat in the dining room?), but this meal was delicious. I had a wonderful, warming asparagus soup, a simple ciabatta bread with grilled chicken smeared with pesto and covered in mozzarella cheese (ohhhhhhhh yeaaaaaaaaaaah) with a salad, and the poshest sticky toffee pudding I've ever had. It came with slices of exotic fruits and berries, for goodness sake. Gorgeous. Oh, I am far too full again tonight. Didn't appreciate the room service guy making the comment about how I was going to make it though "all that food". I walked for 5 hours today, thank you very much. Time to crack open the wine, turn on ER, and send text messages to Jim and Jack. Despite the reduction in caffeine today, I still find myself waking up at every noise with my heart pounding. Ah, it could have been that massive, sugary pudding.

ambleside, coniston, and a very nice walk

(May 9)

Good day, sunshine! The sun's finally come out and I can finally see the view from my room without a big blanket of mist covering it. Fabulous! Today's mission is to take the bus somewhere interesting - I'm thinking Grasmere, but then I remember that I haven't been to Coniston since we drove through it two years ago. There's a bus that goes from Ambleside, so I'll walk into town and catch the bus in to Coniston. Later in the day, I'll take a walk I saw in the guides I picked up at the information centre. It goes from Ambleside and loops through the car park of my hotel - how convenient!

The view from my room v.2 (the sunny edition).
Tony and I sat in this area eating pasties (or sausage rolls in Tony's case) two years ago, almost to the day. There's the bakery where we bought them, and where I picked up a few things for the day. I've discovered this very yummy lemon/kiwi flavoured mineral water that I've got to try to find when I get home.	A view down the main street running through Ambleside. I think I have a very similar picture from our time here two years ago.

The bus ride to Coniston is beautiful. The bus lumbers its way around tiny, twisty roads, with beautiful views of the fells. Text to Jack: "I'm on a bus to Coniston!" After about 15 minutes, we stop in Hawkshead, which is a pretty little village with shops and a church. Another 15 minutes or so and we're winding our way over to Coniston, and I'm so struck by the landscape as I step off the bus. Huge fells embrace this town, lined with little shops and pubs. Not nearly as touristy as Windermere or even Grasmere, Coniston is relatively unspoiled by tacky gift shops and the like.

The cafe on the right (with the Wall's sign) serves incredibly good ice cream. I got a scoop of chocolate mint before taking the bus back to Ambleside.	Text to Jack: "I'm on another boat!" The time, I'm heading across Coniston water where Donald Campbell tried (fatally) to break his own record for speed boating. They keep mentioning this on the boat ride. It's a bit creepy. Regardless, the water and surrounding scenery is beautifully calming.
The boat happens to stop at Brantwood - I didn't know this place existed until I took this boat trip. It was the home of John Ruskin who was an artist, poet, art critic, and all around good guy with interesting social and political views. He bought this house unseen after working himself into a breakdown, thinking that the shores of Coniston would bring him peace and tranquillity. When you see this house, you understand why he wanted to come here.	This is the garden path leading up to the house.
The view from the house - when I win the lottery, I'll get a view like this too. Stunning. The highest of these fells is 2,635 feet.	I asked the man at the house if I could take pictures. He said, "Wellll...you're not supposed to because of copyright issues or something like that. I don't care if you take pictures, though. Just don't let anyone catch you." Ah, this will have to be a surreptitious photo shoot, then. I only wanted to get a few pictures, and this set of windows was the reason I went back to the ticket counter to ask. Ruskin designed these lovely arched windows himself. They line one of the walls in the dining room and you can see the gorgeous view through the blinds.
Ruskin added these "turrets" to the house, approximately the width of a phone box overlooking the lake. I stood in here, feeling the intense heat of the sunshine and looking at the fells beyond. This little space is bathed in light, and with this view, I understood why Ruskin built it. It's one of the most calming spaces I've ever been in. Walking around this house, something "clicked" for me - I felt completely serene and I knew that this was a good place to be.	Ruskin had a space reserved for him at Westminster Abbey, but his family buried him here in Coniston, according to his wishes. Although ornate, the headstone is devoid of any words with the exception of "John Ruskin 1819-1900".

I had the entire boat to myself on the short journey from Brantwood to Coniston pier. One of the boat guys sat and talked with me about the weather (thrilled that the sun had come out today) and Scotland (Skye, Glencoe, and the Highlands). I headed back to Ambleside on the bus, enjoying the scenery again from the other side of the road this time. There's a Chinese couple who were on the bus on the way here and are on the bus with me now. The husband speaks no English and the wife, in her broken English, asks the bus driver if he goes to "town centre" (meaning Windermere, but this takes some explaining). I admire people from non-English speaking countries (particularly non-Western countries) who come over here to visit our mad English world with our mad English words. I can't imagine trying to make my way around China without knowing any Chinese languages, and yet here's a couple who manage to get by somehow. It's easy to find someone who speaks English in most parts of the world so it's not as hard for someone like me to travel, but who's going to speak Chinese in the Lake District for this couple?

	One of the walking guides I picked up from the tourist information centre in Ambleside just happened to contain a walk that loops through the car park of my hotel (see "hotel" near the big number 6 on the left in the map). This is perfect - I can start in Ambleside and climb up the fell and end up back at the hotel, plus I can take a stroll down the hill I've been gazing at during breakfasts. While chewing on my morning toast, I've been looking at the steep hill ascending from the hotel with the urge to climb out the window and head up towards the peak. I assumed it was private land as it's covered in sheep, but I've now discovered that a public footpath runs right by the sheepy hills I've been admiring. I am beyond pleased about this. I'll be starting my walk at the post office in Ambleside, after picking up some "essential" supplies: another bottle of that fabulous fizzy water and a cheese and onion pasty (okay, I had a craving). I'm off to find the Low Fold car park and start my ascent to Jenkin Crag.
This is the view as I was climbing the fell before the bridge. That's Waterhead where I caught the boat to Bowness.
Another view on the way up.
The directions are a bit misleading; getting to the bridge that overlooks this trickle of water (near the number 3 on the map) was difficult but I did eventually manage to find it.	Finally reaching Jenkins Crag, I snap this picture and my camera battery dies. Doh. This was a glorious view, providing a panorama of Lake Windermere and the fells across the water. It's absolutely silent up here, only interrupted by the occasional bird chirping. I stand and gaze at it all in awe, still panting from the long climb up. Beautiful; simply beautiful. I sit on a rock (text message to Jack: "I'm on a rock on a crag! I wish I was a guy so I could pee off it" - he later asked if I was drunk when I sent this) and munch on a pasty, sipping the fabulous fizzy water.

The final part of this walk takes me through fields and fields of sheep and cows. Military jet planes keep passing overhead every 1/2 hour or so and I'm so high up, they practically graze the top of my head. One whizzes past and I've got to cover my ears as the sound is deafening. Sheep scatter, cows look up and moo loudly in annoyance. I'm walking amongst all this livestock, which is odd for a couple of reasons: I'm not used to being this close to farm animals (I usually see them from a car or train) and there was such a noticeable absence of animals over the past year because of foot and mouth. Now I'm totally surrounded by mooing and baaing things and I've suddenly turned into Zsa Zsa Gabor in "Green Acres" - "Agh! Dahlink! That sheep vants to kill me! Get it away!". I'm not entirely sure what the sheep will do to me (will angry ewes come charging at me when I walk too close to their little lambs?) and I'm getting nervous. In actual fact, the sheep (both young and old) run away as I come within 10 feet of them. I wander through grassy fields outlined by stone walls, climbing over stiles into the next field, and coming to a rest on a ladder stile a few hundred yards above my hotel. I sit here for a good 1/2 hour, watching and listening. I am indescribably happy and incredibly sad at the same time; happy to be here at this moment but sad to be leaving the next day. I wish my camera worked right now.

I reluctantly climb down the ladder and continue my descent towards the hotel. It's pizza tonight from the café next to the hotel, and the rest of the wine from last night. While waiting for my pizza, I check my email from their Internet café (and as a bonus, it's free tonight because they were having problems with it during the day). The polite but not terribly friendly waiter brings me my pizza and I head back to my room. I simply must try the jacuzzi tonight, so I smear on a mud mask (essential before getting into a tub for a soak, you see), and lay down in the bubbles, sighing contentedly. I still wake up at every sound tonight. I was sound asleep when I heard a young female voice loudly state something about my room (all I could hear was "39 is mumble mumble mumble", which of course set my heart pounding once again). I think it was probably a chambermaid discussing the fact that I would be checking out tomorrow.

Last breakfast, then I ask the front desk to make up a pack lunch for me to take on the train later that morning. It's all gone by so quickly! The taxi arrives to take me to Windermere station, and I begin my journey back to London. The Chinese couple are on my trains, and the wife is very patiently and happily chatting with a loud Scottish woman with a small dog in her lap. Jim sends me a text message telling me that there's an accident affecting trains leaving from King's Cross and to take the Liverpool Street train home instead, and Tony has left me a voice message while I was in the loo checking to make sure that I'm okay as he's heard about an accident as well.

I walk into my house, relieved to see no one's ransacked the place while I've been gone (woohooo the scooter's still there, too!). Exhausted, aching legs, too tired to unpack, but very glad I took this holiday. Now on to the next adventure - the new job on Monday. Gah.

This page is dedicated to the people who lost their lives or were injured in the Potters Bar train accident on Friday, May 10, 2002.

travels index | blog | about me | album index