Lakes Are The Winderme'th My Wings

Lovely people! We're leaving the Scottish Isles to go back down south into Motherland England towards our cottage in the Lake District which we were to call home for the next two nights. We were again in the trusty hands of Gale and the fine roads and drivers of that fine country hahahahaha jk it was miserable and kind of terrifying. 



It was horrific weather. Mother England gave us her worst. It really was only just rain, but after hours upon hours of it ploughing down, it kinda gets to you. Add to that the crazy Brit drivers who are still whizzing past at what must be at least 30 miles over the limit and we had an interesting day. 


And on top of that, by the evening we could also add pitch black windy road of death navigation to that list. The A-something turned into the M-something, which in turn turned into a lesser road and before we knew it we were spending the next 30 kilometres going about 30 kilometres an hour around a never-ending narrow track complete with ancient rock walls, sheep, torrential rain, foot-deep puddles, white-knuckled, strained silence and a section of the bloody road with a giant imposing sign labelling it, "The Struggle".

But we got there.

Kudos to Gale, who did not (quite) freak the total frak out, drove rather excellently and got us eventually safe and sound to our little lakeside town of Windermere (spoiler: the lake it sits on is also called Windermere). 

After such a tense ride, as we turned the corner and came across the tiny fairytale township, we all kind of let out this strangled "awwww!" as it was just so darned pretty and a sight for sore, terrified eyes. 

1, 2, 3...aww!
One really good thing about this trip is that we've come at the time where all the Christmas lights are still up, so we can see all the pretty but without the chaos that usually goes with the season. 

Once we were acquainted with our lovely cottage and host (who informed us that we took the ridiculously long and out-of-the-way route in and the freeway is just there didn't you know?) all we needed was a hearty pub meal.

Insert giant Yorkshire pudding with potato, topside and gravy.
Vegetables? Who needs vegetables? 

Mulled wine and a bar filled with interesting chatting northern folk also helped. 

And then zzz...

The next day, we again over-feasted on another full English breakfast and went down to discover why everyone goes on about the darned Lake District. Though it's more a summer getaway for England (literally every building is a B&B, most of which had no vacancies, I can't imagine what summer is actually like), even in winter it's very picturesque. We understand. 

Room with a view: 

Daylight! We can see! Hurrah! 

There's not really much else to say, really. We went for a really long walk, it was beautiful, and these are the photos. The best kind of blogging, amirite. 

Down through the town (there seems to kind of be upper and lower Windermere, though it isn't called as such): 

Our cottage street.

Spied: a local!

England gave us a spot of sun too, which was a lovely, rare surprise. 

Can't remember why I took this....oh yes. "Constabulary" hahahaha.

I am an adult. 

Sah cute.

Not sure if I got any photos, but one of the best things about here is that there were a shit ton of dogs. Because it's a holiday destination, all these wealthy people were wandering around with their pooches in tow and it was bloody excellent. 



Fancy lakeside hotel.

Windermere is the biggest lake in the District, and I assume also England. Probably the UK. Maybe even Europe. It's not really that big though, so maybe let's not go that far.

Point being, there's definitely something in the water (hurr) because the swans a freaking huge. I recommend the wealthy holiday-goers keep their little dogs away from them. 

Our cottage host told us a popular thing to do was to take a boat to the town at the top of the lake, then walk around it part of the way and take another boat back across. But when we went to the boat booth for tickets, he was like lol no that's not possible and pointed us in the direction of a ferry that goes across the lake's narrowest point, where we could just walk on from there. 

So to get to the ferry - more walking. 

Over a rise, around a bend and more lake. 

The ferry was a solid little thing that could hold about 20 people and 6 or so cars that went on its 10 minute journey across every half an hour or so. And only 50p each way, compared to the 10 or so pound we would have paid to get on the first boat. 

On the Other Side, we followed signs to a look out, which led us to a funny old ruin and a great view. 

Up here there was an interesting sign that told us a bit about the history of the area - this one definitely taught me something new - the fact that people originally hated this place. Tourists back in the 1600s thought it was an ugly landscape, towered in by suffocating rocks and hills. 

What changed? Turns out people started to look at the world around them differently when landscape art became big; they recognised the beauty in their surroundings when they approached what they were seeing with the knowledge of how a painting is constructed or like today how you'd compose a photograph. Foreground, middle ground, background, the juxtaposition of textures, how light plays of things, and the little details and objects that give the scene scope and context, like a couple walking in the foreground or a boat bobbing out in the water. 

While I doubt that humanity thought the world terrible and ugly until people started painting pictures, it's an extremely interesting concept, that people had to actually learn to see the world like that. 

Anyway, back down. 


This is also the land of Peter Rabbit; Beatrix Potter lived around here and was inspired by the landscape to create the characters I grew up with. Her house is up on the hill but we didn't make the climb. 

Fun fact: when parents brought me here when I was very little, they took me to the Beatrix Potter museum and I threw a massive tantrum (source: unknown) and we had to leave. 

Gale went to find very complicated ways around muddy bits. 


Later on in the evening, armed with another recommendation from our host and the feeling that we should see more than one lake, we set off for a short drive to Lake Grasmere, to the north west of Windermere. We passed through the townships along the lakeshore (and their traffic) and arrived at the edges of the rather small Grasmere around sunset. 

Can we talk about these walls though - they're just ancient borders made of stones and shale piled together with no mortar whatsoever what even, how. 

Farmers spray painted their livestock to note whether they'd been vaccinated or not - I just wish it wasn't red...

I don't know why we bother with these we can never get the actual landscape/monument in the back.

Lakes, you are relaxing, ancient and lovely. It was nice to meet you.

Until next time...

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