What do you do when 780,000 people (fact) descend on London to celebrate the Queen’s 60 year reign? Grab a union jack, throw up some bunting and join the crowds? Or chuck your running shoes in the car and get the hell out of the city in search of a picturesque more idyllic location? Either option would be a win, but we decided on the latter as the four day holiday was just too good to ignore, which is how we found ourselves cruising in the wagon north-bound to Cumbria, or the Lake District to be more precise.
The name Lake District is slightly misleading however, as we soon learned that the Lake District is home to just one lake, with the rest being referred to as meres – there’s a little fact for you to add to the ‘show off at dinner parties’ pool of knowledge that you all receive from our incredibly educational blog… We decided to stay in Windermere, which is a pretty hub in the middle of the district, right on one of the biggest meres and while accommodation in the area is notoriously expensive, our find wasn’t quite value for money, but certainly didn’t leave us bankrupt.
After arriving on Saturday afternoon, we hit the local village eager to explore, building up our hunger which was quickly satiated with an all you can eat type roast place that left us disgusted with ourselves. When in England I suppose… After a relatively early night we bounced out of bed on Sunday morning, eager to hit the road and explore what is considered England’s prettiest district, after our inclusive big breakfast.
Brad had done some great prior planning and we had a series of picturesque drives ready to go, as well as a set of great walking tracks, which we enjoyed so much we later purchased a pack focused on London. So we were off and found ourselves stopping every few minutes for glorious photos, before pulling ourselves back into the car, then stopping again two minutes up the road – at one point it felt like we’d never get any kilometers under our belt. We drove through glorious villages (one of which could only be accessed by a road referred to as ‘The Struggle’ thanks to its narrow and gravelly nature), across rolling countryside and past gloriously blue lakes and after four hours we finally reached the cute town of Keswick where the union jack waving was in full force. The town was positively bustling, although at the same time positively freezing. Everyone was in high spirits given the remarkable occasion, but given it was woolly hat and gloves weather (summer, but not as we know it) I was a little too cold to really join in with the whole picnic outside affair that everyone seemed to be reveling in. I found a cozy café and had a sandwich, built my strength, brought a woolly hat (matching ones ooooooerrrr) and followed Brad outside where he joined in the festivities by purchasing a Royal Lamb burger off one eager BBQer.
With full bellies we decided to put our sneakers where our mouths were and hit the tracks for some hardcore hiking. Slightly arrogantly and full of swagger, we marched our way to the start of one secret track thanks to our glorious set of maps , confident in our untested abilities due to our Kiwi heritage. A three hour hill hike? We’d have it done in two - we’re from a nation full of mountains and bush, this would be a casual stroll in the park for us. Five minutes into it we were near having asthma attacks, but determined not to let it beat us we hiked on. There were moments (a lot of them) where we didn’t say a single word to each other, instead struggling to find the energy to even breathe and concentrating on not having a heart attack then and there. BUT… we made it and look back through rose-tinted glasses fondly. We loved it in retrospect and decided to incorporate as many hikes as we could into our weekend.
The only fly in the ointment with our maps, was the fact they were made for the English. With all sorts of confusing language like crags, wallas and fells there were more than a few occasions where we headed in the wrong direction after misinterpreting what the hell a walla was!
After eventually stumbling our way back to the car with jelly legs, we ventured on to an ancient stone circle, a la Stonehenge, situated high on a hill top. Thanks to the dozens of infuriating tourists (which of course, we aren’t) breaking ancient stone etiquette by standing right in the middle of it, we couldn’t get that postcard pick we were desperate for – not to worry. Our beautiful drive continued to delight us at every turn and after a full 10 hours exploring and hiking we came home to watch highlights of the Queen’s Flotilla Pageant (smugly acknowledging the crowds of drenched tourists who were experiencing London’s glorious summer firsthand), over a meal of truly the worst and dirtiest burger and fries we have ever tasted, from the world’s most miserable Englishman. Seriously, he makes the cockroach cave a la Highway Takeaways on Avalon Drive look like The Dorchester.
Bright as buttons with aching thighs, we bounced out of bed on Monday with grand plans. The sun was shining and it was one of those days where it feels great to be alive. We drove through the prettiest countryside straight out of Peter Rabbit, because lo and behold it is! The Lake Districts was home to Beatrix Potter and all of her illustrations are straight out of this pretty place. A huge Beatrix fan, visiting her house was a must do and as we walked around her pretty home I was enthralled to see books scattered around, open on pages showing something pictured in her illustration that featured in her house. We even saw Mr. McGregor’s farm, not to mention more than a few rabbits hopping along. I was swept away in the gift shop and only just managed to stop myself from buying my unborn children all sorts of Peter, Mrs. Tiggy Winkle and Jemima Puddle-Duck memorabilia – bit creepy of me I reluctantly decided.
Our next stop was Hawkshead for a spot of lunch, where we grabbed a sandwich and climbed up to a church on the hillside that offered great views all around.
Desperate to get another walk under our belts (oh how quickly fools forget) we drove to our next start location and embarked on a walk that took us through amazing countryside and really private land that we would otherwise have never seen. The only down fall was having to walk through a paddock of cows, alongside a few raging bulls. I was terrified and it wasn’t until we got to the other side that we saw the big warning sign!
We navigated our way home eventually thanks to various streets being closed for local street parties, parked up and hit the streets. We wanted to get another walk in and given this one was relatively local we decided to walk to the walk – you can probably sense already how this turned out. Another glorious walk of course, again through paddocks of sheep and cows, but this time we also saw one of the houses built on Grand Designs – much to Brad’s joy!
With aching feet we finished as the sun was setting, with grand plans of getting some fish and chips and eating them by the lake. Disaster struck though when we couldn’t for the life of us find a place that sold this simple culinary delight – despite being surrounded by people happily munching away. Rather than simply ask someone where they got theirs, we trudged off with dying feet determined to solve this mystery. 30 minutes later our feet were on fire and as we couldn’t face walking back to the lake (10 minutes max), we limped home and forced with no other option, slunk back to the god awful Mr. Chippy (this should give you an idea of how exhausted we were). Of course Mr. Chippy was overjoyed to see us again and when I placed an order for two burgers and chips, he snapped ‘I don’t need to know you want chips, we’re a CHIPPY’, as if I was ridiculous to even suggest such an absurd thing. If I hadn’t been so tired I would literally have replied ‘shove your chips up your greasy arse you miserable F***!’, but as I felt the words forming on my tongue, scared I’d be kicked out and would have to walk slightly further in search of a new dinner option, I instead opted to walk out and leave Brad to deal with Ebeneezer Chips. It was Brad’s turn to get it in the ear next when the lady behind the counter called out ‘no 21?’ Having not been given a number poor Braddles didn’t reply, which irritated Old Man Chips to no end. You’d think we had pissed on his new born baby or something – he gave Brad such a vile, venomous look and snarled ‘That’s you!’ We scurried out with disgusting burger in hand (just bread and the meat – no sauce whatsoever, nor any lettuce ‘we don’t do any greens, we’re a CHIPPY!’). As we scuttled away I heard one poor man get it in the ear as he walked in and enquired about the waiting time – ‘well that all depends on what you want doesn’t it!?’
Amusing ourselves with Mr. Chippy references, we watched the Diamond Jubilee concert as we munched on our soggy chips, before falling asleep in our own pile of grease.
The next day we left relatively early in an attempt to see neighboring Keswick, home of an amazing chocolate shop apparently, and get some road behind us so we missed a bit of traffic. After driving through Keswick we decided to just hit the road. I’m sure the chocolate shop was lovely, but as it wasn’t open and we’ve once eaten from a chocolate fountain in Belgium, we decided it doesn’t get much better than that and would rather miss the traffic. Great decision in the end as it saw us arrive home at 2pm with an entire afternoon to enjoy at home.
All in all, the Lake District was a fabulous weekend away and gave us a glorious green injection, whilst saving us from the crazy crowds of London.
xx
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