World Travel Guide Online

“Cumbria – The Lake District is the most popular tourist destination in England outside London. A unique place blessed with the most dramatic and richly varied scenery which has inspired, and continues to inspire, poets, writers, painters and artists of every hue.

These lengthy literary and artistic associations have created a cultural heritage which holds an equally fascinating voyage of discovery for the visitor.”

I must admit to feeling the magic that emanates from this place. Whether that is through the sub-conscious knowledge of the past or some innate force that truly exists and upon which the generations of artists and writers fed upon, I am not sure.

The feeling is there though, and never more in evidence than when you get the ultimate in weather, a veritable treat for the Lakeland uninitiated, 4 seasons in one day. Yes this really does happen, at some point during the day you will get weather ranging from wind and rain to snow and warm sunshine. This can be achieved in many places throughout the world by simply gaining or loosing altitude on the scale of thousands of metres. However, here in God’s country, the tallest mountain is little more than 1000 metres, and the weather variance can be achieved at ground level.

I realise that it is a British trait to be overly concerned about the weather and it has become somewhat of a cliché and indeed the stereotype is true, the reason for this is the constantly changing face of it.

Many places throughout the world can be so assured of their seasons that there is no point discussing it but here it is a constant battle, a cosmic game of bluff that Ma Nature plays, guaranteed the weather we prepare for will be replaced by the surreal. Just after you have had a glorious day, you feel sure that you can go out on the fells or for a nice testing scramble, adorned in your summer best – what happens you get a hail storm that peels your skin off.

What to Do?
So now that you are in Borrowdale, what do you do? Much the same as elsewhere in the Lakes, all types of water sports (steady now), cycling, walking, scrambling and climbing or a combination of them all.

Many companies now run stag tours to the area where busloads of deer are transported all over the region – many stag groups now take advantage of a hotel and two days of fun activities and lots of beer to say goodbye to bachelorhood. As more and more city boys get in touch with their spiritual sides and feel the call of the wild – well, they have all spent a £1000 on ridiculously loud coloured Gortex attire and in their 4×4’s which are sick of being used to Sainsbury’s car parks only – they need to get wild.

A common misconception is that you have to be adventurous when going to the Lakes. There is as much fun to be had sat chillin’ round the tent or sat in pub all day laughing at the physical wrecks that come in throughout the day and their tales of fear & conquest, as there is by half killing yourself.

At the beginning of August, a fell race is ran. A group of undernourished mad men will proceed to run up and down three mountains in one day wearing training shoes and shorts. Us mortals are instructed to buy expensive footwear and 3 layer clothing systems, carry rations, first aid and survival bags, yet these freaks can run about the mountains in gear I would feel vulnerable in walking from my bedroom to the shower.

Rossthwaite is the base for these men (no doubting that they are men) and in the Riverside bar (see opposite) above the glorious open fire is the record of past winners. On this record you will notice that one family has dominated the race for several decades – the Bland Family, winning 75% of all races.

In terms of scenery, Borrowdale excels. The Lakes itself is an amazing place as its’ geography and geology are much too diverse for the area it covers. There are such contrasts with severe mountains and faces and yet it is all on a small scale; this again lends itself to the aura of the place.

Borrowdale is again a microcosm of the whole: Lake, valleys, and three of the top six mountains in the country (Scawfell, Scawfell Pike and Great Gable – the three peaks used by the fell runners) all lie at the head of the dale, and can be easily accessed via Seathwaite (England’s wettest village) and Styhead pass.

Seathwaite, which only really consists of farm buildings has a typically English tea shop slightly more in the café mould than the London tea and scone rooms. Here you can get a pot of Assam for two that you get at least 3 good mugs each from, and let me tell you, those mountains are cleared in a single bound after such a tea intake.

Sourmilk Gyll is about 800ft of waterfall which makes excellent scrambling if you don’t mind getting wet or are not too afraid of heights.

In the mini valley that runs off Borrowdale (Stonethwaite), two further valleys, Langstrath and Greenup are upstream of the hamlet of Stonethwaite, it has two campsites, one in the village and one by the rivers edge (further up the valley). The amenities are minimal and the track to get to it is sufficiently hazardous to prevent caravans getting up it. The result is a very cool and laid back site which at times during the summer can resemble a rock festival.

It was the only place I knew in the Lakes where you could have a fire. A drop of the main field down to the river’s edge formed an ideal fire spot and as long as the fires were kept off the field and you brought your own wood, folk were happy.

The campsite has now become far more popular and at peak times those who could not get camped down by the river were having fires on the grass. This, coupled with the National Trust getting all entomologically concerned that insects’ natural habitat was being eroded, clamped down on fires. I do not want to portray the wrong image, but if you still obey the rules of your own wood and a sensible location you will be okay to enjoy yourself. However, a lot of responsibility comes with this. If the place is packed, people may follow your example and light up but they may be stripping branches to achieve this. You then have a responsibility to inform them and face the consequences of your perceived hypocrisy.

Also there is a pub at the end of the village (The Langstrath). I do not really like this place, the landlord likes his hotel guests and not the smelly campers. He will not take kindly if your fire can be viewed from his evil abode.

The cost of the site has just been raised to £2.50 and is collected by Percy the farmer around 8.30-9am the following morning. Calls of “Anybody home – rent man” greet you into your hangover. It is easy to avoid payment by not being around, but you will be rumbled at some point if you try. A sure-fire hangover cure is a complete head immersion into the river. This works and is in fact compulsory all year round.

Overlooking the campsite is the menacing Eagle Crag (see opposite). Beyond that is High Raise and then Langdale and its’ impressive peaks, of Harrison Stickle and Pike O Breat (strangely enough, it is shaped like a breast).

From the campsite going upstream, two valleys branch off Langstrath to the South and Greenup going West. Here an interesting plaque adorns a large rock describing how many years ago, on a New Year’s eve, a local was caught in bad weather and sheltered here. Unfortunately, he died where he lay.

Langstrath is the more interesting variant (other than the afore mentioned plaque). Assaults on the Scawfell range and Langdale range can be mounted, but more local is Blackmoss Pot, a large pool which as a result of the geography is a couple of degrees warmer than the river itself. It also has a natural Jacuzzi, a climbing wall out, and a couple of good jumping/diving points. In the summer it is a favourite spot for people to sit and chill and for those coming down off the fells, if you can get there before midday you will be fairly alone.

Also in this area is a secret location I heard about several years ago but thought it was merely a folk tale. One summer morning (well about 11am), I was laying in my tent, head a bit fuzzy from the previous nights abuse and I heard some climbers talking of a cave with a door made of rock that opens via a spring handle. Now although I was not sure if this was a hazy dream or fact, I then heard it again at a different time but again thought it was a fable.

At the end of last year I was lucky enough to be taken to this place, and indeed it was a cave with a camouflaged door which swung open after pulling on a lever. Inside it is insulated, has a fire place, wooden beds for 4, gas cooking facilities and emergency provisions. It was built over a period of time by a climber. He had scoured the area looking for somewhere remote and hidden enough to construct his ‘hole’. Inside the cave is a box containing a guest book and a letter from the builder. Reading this letter, he makes clear that he is not happy with the fact that his hole has been discovered by so many people. There is virtually a path running to it these days, the covering of bracken no longer exists in the doorway and there are some tales of the door not being re-sealed and covered after people had left.

I will keep its place a secret as that is the builder’s wish, but if anyone does visit the area they will be able to find it if they ask in the right manner and ask the right people. If you do, then please treat it with the utmost respect and leave the place in a better state than you found it.

The Practicalities
The Lakes is one of those places that people moan on about people driving there in their cars and log jamming the roads and polluting the environment, but at the same time it is not served too well by public transport.

Situated in the North West of England, North of Lancashire (Manchester) and south of the Scottish borders and Carlisle. One of the countries main arterial routes, the M6, runs up the side of the Lakes slightly to the East, making hitch hiking a more than viable option.

Take care though if you are offered a lift by a family of cows in a Volvo estate, listening to Boyzone and seemingly laughing at the state of your attire. Do not accept this lift, they are probably MAD.

The Lake District has several towns in each of the areas that act as principal bases and can be reached by public transport. Penrith especially can be reached by train and then anywhere in northern Lakeland can be reached using a bus service.

Within the Lakes there is Kendal in the south-east, Keswick in the north-west Bowness / Windermere, Ambleside central and Conniston, in the west.

The entire national park is small so anywhere can be reached from the above places in under an hour.

Personally, my favourite is Keswick and the northern areas, in particular a valley known as Borrowdale. I had been visiting the Lakes for several years, before some friends of mine took me to Borrowdale and more specifically Stonethwaite.

It turns out that for some reason this village has been visited by people from Hartlepool in uncanny proportions and this has gone on for at least 15 years with more and more regulars being discovered, it has now spread to Middlesbrough and Sunderland as the main catchment area, although I have come across people from all parts of the British Isles, it is by no way a north eastern monopoly.

Places to Stay
Places to stay include several large hotels overlooking Derwent Water, on the Borrowdale road, a plethora of B&B’s, Youth Hostels, rented accommodation and campsites.

Pubs
Speaking of pubs, visit the Scawfell Hotel in Rosththwaite, the public bar (the Riverside Bar) is a pub of remarkable quality, excellent beer. Try the Theakstons Old Peculiar or XB.

Excellent food; get there before 8pm and hunt out a table, as you can only get a meal if you have a table. Alternatively, get there about 3pm and you are guaranteed a table.

The pub has its’ very own traditional cellar man, Frank, rosy cheeked and grey bearded, looks every inch the part and plays it to a tee. Try ordering coffee on an afternoon and watch him wince, observe the inexperienced visitor ask for a pint of “beer” to which Frank will look at you as if you are dog shit on his shoe and with remarkable patience list the 4 beers on offer.

This man is a class act and should be treated as any other Lakeland treasure. You hear people talking of the miserable barman; these people are fools and should not be trusted as they have never spent the time in the bar to get to know him. You need to see him after hours in full flow running wild in the bar free of tourists in order to see nature at its’ glorious best, or see him on a night off.

Eagle Crag, only sitting at around 1700ft but a mean lump of rock all the same. At first view an ascent up the front appears impossible. It was a site of eagles as was the whole of Borrowdale, but after local councils put ransoms of the limp lifeless form of the once majestic eagle and farmers by the score were killing and cashing, eagle numbers are now down in the region of two pair throughout the whole of Lakeland.