Something I wrote about our Summer trip to the Lakes District...

For an Eye to Perceive and a Heart to Enjoy: The Lakes District
Alexandra Baker

“Let then the beauty be undisfigured and the retirement unviolated”. William Wordsworth, on conserving the Lakes District.

‘It’s known as the Lakes District, but there is only one lake. The rest are creeks or estuaries.’ I read this handwritten anecdote under the carefully drawn map hanging in the hallway of the pub, deep in the rolling hills and ‘middle of nowhere’ of Ulway, Cumbria, and muse quietly to myself. Cumbria has again enlightened me.

It is a birthday and a chance to celebrate away from busy London, that has brought me halfway to Scotland for the weekend. The Lakes District is approximately 5½ hours drive from London, 6½ if you (foolishly) choose not to take the M6 tollway and 7 if you head as far into the unknown as we have; to Ireby, a town with one pub, one store, and incidentally, no public toilets! There is, however, a stunning Victorian home set back from the road with a gentle landlady, a delicious home cooked breakfast and comfy old world furnishings, set against the backdrop of silence and grazing sheep. Despite the famous Summer busy season of ‘the Lakes’, Ireby is still undiscovered; offering the ultimate secluded, peaceful getaway.

The Lakes has been fodder for poets and novelists, a backdrop for films and mini series and this weekend, is a source of relaxation for me. Driving the backroads, stopping to allow sheep to nudge their families across the road, slowing for cattle and the occasional pony, rolling the window down to just breathe it all in, is like driving through my own personal English novel. The weather is unpredictable this weekend, clouds and rain interspersed with bouts of incredible sunshine. But all of it seems fitting. I am getting a taste of this place in all seasons. Roads that seem to lead to nowhere, sloping green hills, dramatic grey green mountains, and always, always the silence, broken only by the soft sound of sheep, conversing.

Our B&B host is a homely housekeeper who, despite our protests, heaves our heavy bags up the stairs with a Northern cry of ‘I’m made ‘a strong stuff’, then invites us into the lounge for afternoon tea. We settle in and coffee and homemade cake is all that it takes. I am relaxed and breathing the country air; my busy week in London forgotten. Later, we head 2½ miles down the road (“Close enough to drive or take a torch’ prompts our host) to Ulway and the ‘Snooty Fox’ Pub and Restaurant. It is here that we are treated to country hospitality and an excellent menu. Ours is the shared starter of homemade bread, chicken liver pate and apple chutney – delicious- followed by mains infused with local character and ingredients; Lamb in Sherry and Pork with Hearty Mash. Our meals are delicious and the company is lovely; locals keen for a chat, always beginning with a gentle ribbing: ‘You’re not from ‘round here, are yer?’

The following morning begins with a delicious ‘Full English’ including the sausages this area is renowned for. Though it is now known as ‘Cumbria’, this area was once ‘Cumberland’, a locality that woke up one morning in 1974 (laughingly, it was April 1st…) to find their area rezoned and renamed. The sausages, it seems, have never changed... After breakfast we head out to Orton, a tiny village that has made its way on to our itinerary because of its famed ‘foodies market’. We sample local hospitality, marvel at the gorgeous hunks of cheese, rich pates, and generous servings of cakes; the sweetest of which are baked by local women and labelled with cutesy lines such as ‘Glazed by Gloria’, ‘Whipped by Wendy’ and ‘Baked by Bernice’. We are struck by the prices; these are true farm door servings and prices, generous to a fault.

In the afternoon, grey overhanging clouds give way to glorious sunshine and, if possible, the view across the hills as we drive down secluded country backroads is even more beautiful. We head first to Cockermouth, a quaint village with a sad recent history, known predominantly as the home of English poet William Wordsworth. Wordsworth has always been a drawcard for this village, and for all of ‘the Lakes’, which he described as: ‘"A sort of national property in which every man has a right and interest who has an eye to perceive and a heart to enjoy". In November 2009, this town that sits at the mouth of both the River Cocker and the Derwent River was flooded, destroying town Christmas decorations, stores and stock and, as is evident even now, the livelihoods of many townspeople. It is uplifting to see childrens’ clumsy drawings in store windows with catchphrases such as ‘Cockermouth is back on its feet’, but the feeling of sadness is still apparent in this town as it rebuilds itself. We explore a little before the road leads us away from Cockermouth to the bustling village of Keswick.

Keswick is famous for its access to the Lakes via the launch that leaves from its shore. A ride includes unlimited on and off stops at all moorings; like a sightseeing bus on water! The town welcomes us with noise and vigour, a market in the town square, and most importantly, a pub serving lunch all day. We choose local ales and the Ploughman’s Platter, seemingly a bargain at 5.95, a generous serving of bread, local ham, four different cheese, salads, relish and sliced apple…but the locals inform me that this is for the tourists. In Winter, the same dish will cost me just 3.95! I tell them what I’ve told the other friendly locals I’ve met so far, ‘I guess I’ll have to be back in Winter!’

…And I mean it. The Lakes offer exploration for all seasons. The grey clouds and rain paint a broody, Yorkshire moors image, while the sun offers up ‘BBC mini series beauty’ in the little villages we pass through. This is a glorious place, whatever the weather, and I’m keen to return once more.

We head home the following day armed with an alternative sightseeing route to explore as we head back to London, hand drawn by our host, and a vague plan to explore Stratford Upon Avon or Warwick Castle or even Oxford on the way home…but that, is another English story.