We walked from the Lancaster Townhouse B&B, back to the Lancaster Railway Station one more time, once again to catch a bus for the next leg of our journey, this time to Oxenholme Station in Kendall for our connection to Windermere and the Lake District.
Our trip took us among many green pastures and yellow fields of mustard, lined with rock walls or hedgerows. The hedgerows vary in condition, some vibrant, full of life, with healthy trees growing periodically along their length. Some hedgerows are largely abandoned, gradually replaced by fencing that requires less maintenance and care.
Our trip took us among many green pastures and yellow fields of mustard, lined with rock walls or hedgerows. The hedgerows vary in condition, some vibrant, full of life, with healthy trees growing periodically along their length. Some hedgerows are largely abandoned, gradually replaced by fencing that requires less maintenance and care.
The sheep didn't seem to mind one way or another. Pastures everywhere were dotted with contented Ovid inhabitants, with their new lily-white lambs busy practicing their gamboling (skipping or leaping about in play). It was surprising to see how well-kept the sheep pastures were, especially compared to the few cow pastures that were generally muddy and down-trodden.
|
Despite it being a Sunday, the railway workers organizing our coach travel were all in good spirits. It was awkward moving the large buses in and out of small villages and train stations, yet all were laughing and joking, seemingly having a good time of it on this cloudy day, threatening rain.
Windermere is a long town on a hill above Windermere Lake, or Water, as they say here. It's a gateway to the Lake District, so tourist establishments abound. We walked from the railway station through the main street, downhill to Bowness-on-Windermere, much more oriented to the lake and water activities. As we rode across the Water on the car ferry (40p each) toward the western shore, the rain settled in to a steady drizzle. |
The walk from the ferry dock to Near Sawrey wound along a narrow road through oak forests, up and up hill, leaving Windermere Water behind. There were few houses along the road and little traffic; a good thing since we walked with our "brollies" along the right side of the road facing on-coming traffic and walked single file when the cars appeared. It was a magical day in an enchanted forest! Soon we glimpsed Esthwaite water appearing through the trees to our left, with a few boats and fishermen out on this drizzly day.
|
Just when we thought we may have missed a turning, we came over the hill into Near Sawrey and found the Buckle Yeat Guest House, our B&B for the night. We gratefully accepted the invitation from our hosts, Robert and Helen Kirby, to enter the thick stone walls of this 17th Century cottage, suddenly realizing that we had seen them walking along the footpath before us as we made our way from the ferry dock! We settled into our room for a relaxing cup of tea and an equally relaxing view of sheep fields across the quiet road outside. Later that evening we walked out into the drizzle to the Tower Bank Arms, the local pub and Inn, where we settled at the bar for drinks (see Beer Diary) and a delicious carrot and coriander soup, next to the cast iron fireplace. In addition to this being a drawing point for Beatrix Potter fans (featured in one or more of her books), the Tower Bank Arms is a real local pub, demonstrated by real locals who arrived soon after us, for a pint or two, maybe three, and round of discussions about local conditions.
On to Hawkshead
The next morning we had breakfast (eggs, tomato, porridge and toast, tea with milk, of course) under the hand-hewn wooden beams of the dining room, said our goodbyes to our hosts and shouldered our packs for the 3 kilometer walk around Esthwaite water to Hawkshead.