Lake District- Part I

One of my friends from UCI is at Cambridge for a semester and we decided to go hiking in the Lake District over the weekend. It is a bit like a national park except the land is privately owned by people who have made agreements with the government to let the public follow certain footpaths across their property. It is popular for hiking or "walking," as the English would say, which is fitting since there aren't any actual mountains, just rather large hills. We took the train north on Friday and it was a beautiful sunny day when we arrived in Keswick so we used the last couple of hours of daylight to wander around a nearby lake.

The YHA hostel where we stayed was beautiful and right on a large stream so I could hear the water gurgling over the stones as I lay in bed that night. The next morning we were on the road by 8AM. The plan was to walk over several of the major peaks in the region and make our way over to Buttermere. The day started out well enough and as we made out way across fields and through cattle gates, we stopped every 10 minutes or so to pour over the land ordinance map. These land ordinance maps are detailed surveyor’s maps that exist for practically every square inch of the UK and are an indispensable tool as you make your way over a checkerboard of fields criss-crossed by winding country roads and old sheep trails. But just as we emerged from the forested part of our journey a nasty drizzle set in and kept up for the rest of the day. By this time we were beginning the first major climb to the top of Cat Bells peak. The soggy ground kept slipping out from under out feet and we  had to use our hands to scramble over the wet rock. At this point it was clear to me that my lingering cold had taken much more of a physical toll then I had anticipated- my lungs were full of gunk and I alternated between wheezing and coughing and my arms barely had the strength to pull me up the rock face. When we finally reached the top the wind was blowing so ferociously that it was all we could do to keep from being whisked off the edge. I realized that I would not be able to survive six-mile hilly route to Buttermere so we found an alternate path that would allow us to circumvent the row of peaks ahead of us.

In the midst of the rain, what had been a shale path through a ravine was now a waterway and of course my running shoes were soon filled with water. And even when we made our way to lower ground the wind continued to plague us. I began to understand why the English people had the fortitude to build a global empire and the stoicism embodied in the newly popularized WWII propaganda piece “Keep Calm and Carry On.” After all, they go to the Lake District for recreation all year round and by their standards this weather was positively balmy.  Jeff, who is an unabashed anglophile, kept insisting that on a scale of 1-10, 1 being the worst, this weather was a 6. Whereas, I adamantly insisted that the best it could do was a 4 and that was being charitable. Another 30 minutes bowed over in the face of a headwind and he decided to agree with me.

After five hours of walking we finally happened upon the little town of Buttermere. So far as we could tell it consists of two taverns, one teahouse and a YHA hostel. We made a bee-line for the tea house and ham sandwiches and peppermint tea never tasted to good. The cozy atmosphere and delicate cups were a stark juxtaposition with the previous fiver hours so we wiled away much of the afternoon there before summoning the energy to trek over to the hostel. The day ended with dinner in one of the taverns and prayers for drier weather.