The Lake District

I’m recently back from a week in the Lake District. We took the grandsons, and number two son also came because he had spare holiday and wanted to swim in Ullswater. He was a massive help with the boys. It is easier in some ways to take them away, because everything is new. There’s no problem of saying where we are going for an outing and being answered with a wail of “We’ve been there!” But there’s no use pretending, we don’t have the stamina we used to have when ours were young. It does really make me wonder about the wisdom of women leaving it so very late to have children. I suppose they just have to manage. But the idea of dealing with teenagers in your sixties makes my blood run cold.

Our son swam every day, right across the lake and back, every morning. I swam three mornings, when there was sun; the water wasn’t as cold as I expected, but a bit of sun, even early in the morning, made a great difference. I haven’t got a wet suit and don’t want one. My ideal would be swimming nude – it’s the freedom I like.

The swimming spot.

Actually getting in to the lake was a bit of an issue – it’s a stony bottom, quite painful, and then after a yard or two, large and extremely slippy large stones. We were reduced to lying in the water and hauling ourselves over the stones by hand. It was quite undignified, and made us feel like seals – all slick and graceful in the water and them lolloping about in a clumsy way on land. Water shoes would have helped of course, but I don’t like swimming in them, either.

The actual swimming was simply gorgeous. The water is lovely, brown and murky and very soft, and the views from water level down the lake as the sun lit the mountains was very beautiful and peaceful. One morning there was even a rainbow. I felt uplifted for the rest of the day. I wish I could start every day like that.

The weather was very decent for the Lake District, and so we suggested that older grandson might like to climb a mountain. He liked the idea, and so we took him up Helvellyn along Striding Edge, which was pretty ambitious for an eight and a half year old. He was fantastic – brave and determined, much better at going uphill than his granny. At the top he was definitely the youngest, and I was definitely the oldest. This was the first time either I or middle son had seen the view from the top; it’s always been too misty before. But this time it was wonderfully clear, and we could see Morecambe Bay.

The view from the top.

 I was really pleased, because it was a reward for our grandson, since it was his first mountain.  On the way down he did complain a bit about tired legs, but as he could still break into a skip and a run we didn’t feel too worried about him.  

Then we met my husband who had taken the younger grandson to the lake to paddle, and then to see alpacas, and then up Aira Force. So a pretty full day even if not a mountain.  We all went up Aira Force another day, right to the top – the boys are turning into excellent walkers.

Middle son also climbed Blencathra, but on his own, as we felt two mountains might be pushing it. He made it up and down much quicker without mother and nephew in tow!

Blencathra, from the mining museum - steam engine ride and dead diggers and cranes, plus fluorescent crystals - lots of boy and grandad appeal.

The boys are just about the right age for Beatrix Potter’s house, and I must say really enjoyed spotting the places in the books. Recently the younger boy has been enjoying repetitive readings of Samuel Whiskers, and loved the landing. We seem to have lost the copy of Pigling Bland, and there were a lot of pictures and even some genuine pig papers.  It’s Pigling Bland’s centenary. So we bought a new copy. 

It made us quite nostalgic - we remembered our son's favourite phrase, when he was about three or four, being from Pigling Bland – “ I wish to preserve them in case of emergency.”  I adopted Aunt Pettitoes comment about her family -  “They do eat – and indeed they do eat”!

Another highlight was Castleriggs stone circle. It's in the most beautiful setting, in a bowl of the hills, and the stones seemed to reflect the shapes of the mountains. Whether that was intentional on the part of the builders, or whether I'm imposing a pattern that doesn't really exist, I'm not sure. But I wasn't the only one who thought there was a pattern. The boys found it satisfactorily creepy. 

I've only a couple of photos, but hope to add a Striding Edge one when I get one from Will. 

The setting of Castleriggs stone circle.