Lake District

The Lake District in the northwest corner of England is an oasis of nature that the locals rave about - so off we go to experience it.

Please be patient while photos load.

They will open in a new browser window.

20230611 - Travel day to Worle then Bristol en route to the Lake District, UK.

The spitting rain tapped danced on the tent. That Lands End deserves to deliver wind and rain still complicates packing the tent or the upcoming travel day. The rain comes in waves with periods of heavy mist which afforded the gaps to roll up a drenched rainfly. The little laundry done yesterday held its rung out moisture. The tent rainfly and laundry now snuggle together in a dry bag dryer on the outside than inside!

The rain relented for the walk to Lands End to catch the bus. The thick fog would disappoint those coming for the day to enjoy the views. Though as I stood waiting, the light brightened and perhaps later in the day the fog will lift. The Coaster bus to Penzance took an hour. It backed up a long way once at a narrow stretch of road when it met another bus traveling in the opposite direction; bus drivers here earn their pay.

Gray skies blanketing green pastures glide past the single train ride from Penzance to the Worle train station. The campground that I'd planned to stay at in Worle turned into a bust. Instead a bus delivered me from Worle to Bristol city centre. A booked room in Bristol near the train station would have to suffice in lieu of camping.

Bristol, a city of nearly 0.5 million people, lies in England directly west of London, southeast of Wales, and east of Bath. The river Avon flows through it and there are several locks for large vessels. We had explored a canal boat trip using the long boats east of here. The Clifton Suspension Bridge over the Avon River placed into service in 1864 remains a toll bridge. Its stone supports for the cables and the Avon gorge it crosses make for an impressive view. The buildings in the city centre are a combination of old and new. It looks like it could be an active place, but when I arrived at tea time on a Sunday things were quiet or closed.

20230612

Avocado Toast, cardamon pastry roll, and a coffee at the Small Good store across the street from the hotel and on the canal started the day. A short walk brought me to the Bristol Mead train station through a side entrance. Stepping out through the front entrance one can see the semi-arc station with painted iron wrought work. Evidently built some time ago, it presents one of the more beautiful stations. The nearly three hour train ride through very slightly rolling countryside and small towns landed me in Oxenholme (sp). Unfortunately the 15 minute late arrival and the size of the station meant missing the connecting train. The good news being that the next train to Windermere was direct. The bad news being it was standing room only. It was also odd in that the train went one station, stopped and everyone had to exit, walk 20 feet, and stand staring at a train at the platform in the heat of the late afternoon, but unable to board. After about 10-15 minutes the doors opened and we clamored on board packing in. Two hours of standing later the train pulled into its terminal destination of Windermere.

i caught the next bus to Ampleside after myself and a bunch of other people pestered two drivers about which direction their buses were headed. The bus from Ampleside to the Grand Langdale Campsite leaves in two hour intervals so there was over an hour to wait. Great! A Tesco grocery about three blocks away gave the opportunity to buy food for the next couple of days. I kept crossing paths with a young British woman with a backpack. First on the bus, then at the grocery, and lastly on the bus to Langdale Campsite. Our paths diverged before then as she exited for at a campsite closer to Ampleside. Another young British woman sitting next to me turned out to be from London starting to work at the New Dungeon Ghyll Inn; her youthful excitement shone brightly as she commented that she was enjoying learning her way about and thinking of moving to the area - quite a change from London!

I turned out to be the last passenger on the bus and delightful my stop was directly at the short road to the campsite. It was almost 7PM and the reception had been closed for nearly an hour. I'd tried unsuccessfully to book a reservation online encourage by the false start in Worle. I finally emailed someone at the National Trust and they did it for me. That worked out because there was an envelope with my name taped to the reception door. Even better, an employee working late pointed in a couple of places to pitch the tent.

Every campsite I've visited has its unique services. They provide a place to pitch a tent, bathroom, sinks, and showers. These other services vary: toilet paper (bring your own 'cause you never know!), power to charge small devices, hot water, picnic tables, washer and dryer, drying rooms for clothing, refrigerator, freezer (some people use ice - I guess for drinks; you have to bring the ice), and kettle for boiling water. Most are not happy if you arrive late without a reservation and pitch a tent or park - basically don't do it. The price for a tent and no car ranges from $12-22 per night.

I'm almost indifferent with camping or getting a hotel room in terms of comfort. I like a kettle for boiling water - if I had fuel for the stove I wouldn't care about the kettle. I also enjoy hot water for a shower. After the wilderness river trip, I sleep about the same in a hotel bed or the tent. One can camp for at least five nights for the cost of one night at a low cost hotel room. However, one needs a car (or bike) to access most campsites. This latter consumes planning effort to find campsites near public transportation.

20230613

I can't explain it, but I slept straight through the night and didn't awake until almost 8AM. That must have been my best night's rest since starting the trip a couple of months ago.

I paid up at reception. Due to using public transport the attendant gave me steep discounts that I couldn't have obtained had I been able to book online - great news! The Great Langdale Campsite is operated by the National Trust UK which owns historical and special lands around England (not Scotland or Ireland it seems). I would enjoy staying at another of their facilities.

The 7+ mile 2400ft elevation gain loop hike today went past the New Dungeon Ghyll Inn, Stickle Tarn (tarn=lake), north and then west up a small valley to a broad ridge line, summiting Harrison Stickle, then Pike Stickle, then traversing back to the Inn. I quenched my thirst with a £6 pint of lager (most expensive pint yet) at the Walker's Pub at the Inn. I chatted with a guy, about my age, hiking the Cumbria Way - 72 miles for him. I met Michael King, another British guy about my age, on the top of Pike of Stickle training for the 100 mile circumnavigation of Mount Blanc event that starts 1 September. Both men were very chatty with only a few questions to pop the cork on their verbosity. i suppose we're all eager for someone to listen to the story of our lives and dreams.

I learned that one can 'wild' camp above the highest stone wall. Finding suitable water might be a challenge with the current drought conditions.

20230614

Cell service at the Great Langdale Campsite lies about 100ft up the hillside. It's another blue sky day in the Lake District. The British air force shatters the quiet tranquility each day with low level flying exercises; the jet exhaust roar rumbles about the valley walls.

Blea Tarn south of the campsite about 1.5 miles consumed the better part of the day. Many people were swimming, but the cows grazing around the lake, their deep hoof imprints and cow pies at the water's edge put me off. The exit stream from the lake contained no water. An old growth stand of trees nearby romantically felt like what this country might have looked like 3000 years ago.

The return route took me uphill - My feet seem to just want to climb! Picking a spot on the grassy ridge line with some boulder outcrops to sit and take in the view, I had to adjust where I sat. It seems the sheep like to look over the valley as well and left a good pile of sheep poo at the perfect spot to relax.

20230615

I went to reception for a hot cup of coffee and a pastry as I've done the last couple of days - £3.95 - a good deal. The Scottish manager chatted liberally with me covering subjects including about people in southwestern U.S..

I wasn't going to, but then did take a longish walk up the Langdale valley to near where the footpath climbs steeply to go over a pass. The creek at my turn-around point had a gentle flow over some rocks and into a very inviting pool of crystal clear water. In the Rockies, I'd jump in. Here with sheep wandering by every 10 minutes, I'm not so inclined. I nestled into some rocks creekside, pondering, and taking in the sunny beauty of the valley.

The yews can be extremely cute as they nurse. Especially when there are two of them at the same time. They stand on opposites sides of the mother facing toward the back so their hind ends are next to the mother's head. And here's the cute part...the yews tails wag violently back and forth in glee.

A raptor of some kind hunted high overhead soaring in the blue sky and steady breeze. Then at times it would adjust it's flying to stop remaining dead still in the sky looking downward. Its wings did not flap. Its tail feathers twitching this way and that to keep it stabilized. I found the flying skill extraordinary.

Almost back at the campsite, I passed near the Old Dungeon Ghyll hotel and Climbers Bar. I wasn't inclined for a pint, but a couple days prior had been told this place had the best ale and after taking a picture of the place felt a pint on the deck couldn't be missed. After all, likely I will never be back this way. The bar tender was either gruff or friendly I couldn't quite tell. The Langdale Ale was the best pint of beer I've enjoyed since arriving into the UK - the guy that told me this was the best ale around was right.

I chatted with some locals at the deck pub and learned about a tick twist. A plastic device for twisting out the ticks in these parts. The ticks are about the size of a pin head - much smaller than those of the Rockies.