A Spot of Time with Bill and Dottie in Grasmere

We awoke October 2 at the Airy Force car park, cleared out again little noticed, and drove on past Ullswater, over the huge 1,500 foot Kirkstone Pass, and then into Windermere, where we nosed around briefly, and then on to Grasmere and Wordworth's Dove Cottage. We visited the museum and did the fine cottage tour. It is Holy Ground, indeed, and a really fine literary center—not just Wordswoth, but also his pals, Coleridge and DeQuincy and others, and successors too. The Wordsworth Trust keeps a small bouquet of dried poppies on the mantel beneath DeQuincey's portrait, a nice touch, I think. (DeQuincey wrote Confessions of an English Opium-Eater, among other things).

Bill and Dottie were an interesting pair. Something really special, filially. Bill and Mary had been married 10 years before Bill wrote her a letter that was not also addressed to his sister. Maybe the postal rates were really, really high. His infatuation with social justice, the Revolution, and then his inward turn, are of interest. As well his fathering a French child in 1792-93, but never quite getting around to marrying the French mother of his child, whom he professed to love, etc. Too busy with his poetry, I guess. And with Dottie. I assume 10,000 or more doctoral dissertations have already looked into this.

We walked about Grasmere in the rain for a bit, visiting the church and Bill's grave, and Dottie's, more mountain gear and souvenir shops, did some grocery shopping at the Coop, and then moved on to Ambleside and the Skelwith Fold Caravan Park. Skelwith Fold is apparently another noble's deer park turned into a holiday park for the commoners—well, the more affluent commoners. We stay in such places about once a week now...fresh water, the wash, the trading library, the sewage, maybe some internet, etc., then back to rough but scenic and free camping the rest of the week. But the former deer parks are nice—old, seral forests, often with old, exotic trees. Someone had to do it.

Dove Cottage, where William and Dorothy Wordsworth, and

others, lived in the early 1800s, before he became really

famous

This is the proclamation from Victoria

Regina (well, her Lord Chamberlain)

appointing Wordsworth Poet Laureate;

he had twice before refused, feeling

uncomfortable with the requirement

of writing state poems on demand;

even for money; poets are like that

A stone bench found by Coleridge while puttering around

in the garden, ever since known as the Coleridge Bench;

he was a frequent visitor

The Wordsworth Steps, which he put in himself, they said

Gravesite

Worsdworth's actual grave, Dottie on his right,

Mary on his left

"Not raised in nice proportion was the pile.

But large and massy; for duration built.

With pillars crowded, and the roof upheld,

By naked rafters intricately crossed."

Gentle Landscape

It's a beautiful landscape, the Lake District,

as beautiful as any I have seen, the play of

colors and shapes, light and cloud, lakes,

streams, waterfalls, mountains, cliffs

(whatever they call them)

But, at least to someone from the American West, it seems

like everything is on a miniature scale

There is a major campaign on to save the red squirrel, the

largest remaining predator :-) 

"None shall pass!"

The Lake District is only 30 miles in radius, yet it receives some 18 million visitors annually. That's six times what Yellowstone gets.

Ascent of Gowbarrow Fell; or, A Fulfilling and Fun-Filled Fall Fell-Walk

After a couple days off, doing internet and then installing insulation all over the exterior of the Grey Wanderer, we found ourselves back on the Ullswater, at Airy Force (where we spent three nights ultimately), and in the land of waters, becks, forces and fells, glades and glens, and also meres. Why can't these people speak plain decent English? It was Thursday, the promised day of fine weather, and we decided to do the walk up Airy Beck to Airy Force, then High Force, and then the village of Dockray, a round-trip of five miles, without a map or glossary or even our GPS (which they call a SatNav). Just before getting to Dockray, we decided instead to ascend nearby Gowbarrow Fell (about 1,500 feet, maybe) for the views of Ullswater and environs. The trail grew more challenging, but we made it in time for a breezy but scenic lunch at the summit. Trailing a nice Northumberland couple we befriended along the way, we walked back down the lake-side of the fell, with incredible views. All in all it was about 7 miles, but one of the two or three best day-trips we've ever done, including the Rob Roy Glacier in NZ. Plus, no one fell.

Airy Force (waterfall) along Airy Beck (creek)

The village of Dockray, from Gowbarrow Fell

Gowbarrow Fell summit

Another fixer-upper; to-die-for view

Ullswater from above

Someone's vanity castle?

Sitka Spruces and a Monkey Puzzle tree in

the canyon; formerly, some lord's deer park...

Hadrian's Wall Out-takes

Your empire needs you...

Wall-walkers can avail themselves of the free bus and not

have to endure return-walks; sort of like the water taxis at Abel

Tasman

Chain mail curtains at the visitor center

Once Brewed...when you have been naming towns for a

1,000 years or so, you start getting really inventive

Next down the road was Twice Brewed; we never saw

Thrice Brewed, but in Devonshire we will be looking for

Baked, Half Baked, and Twice Baked; forgot to post

these a few days ago.

Sorting It Out

The British are renowned for "sorting it out." Everything gets "sorted out." At Wickes Trade and DIY Superstore in Penrith, they have even sorted out which kind of trolley (shopping cart) to choose. If only Home Depot were so well sorted out.... I remember, with regret, so many occasions on which, uninformed, and certainly unsorted, I chose the wrong trolley.

Please choose, carefully, among: the flat bed trolley, the 

basket trolley, the board trolley, or the insulation trolley

Some of the bewildering variety of trolleys

Long Meg

Long Meg and Her Daughters is the sixth-largest stone circle

in Britain, out in the boonies in Cumbria, near Penrith. The

place is sufficiently remote that even the signage refers to

a "Druid Circle." (But the area, Eden Valley, is surpassingly

beautiful; Edenic). There are 69 stones (the daughters; or

lovers, some say); I'd guess the circle is 200 feet in diameter,

large enough for a country lane to pass right through. Long

Meg herself is a sandstone out-lyer, carved with cups/rings,

perhaps not part of the circle originally.

Long Meg and a few of her daughters at sunset

Vicki and Long Meg

Carvings on Long Meg (but none of the others)

View of circle, Long Meg on right

East side of circle

Beautiful old tree in midst of circle

Present use of stones

Wordsworth's poem on Long Meg, posted on a nearby tree 
by some caring, intelligent soul...

Into the Lake District

From our campsite, a lay-by at Deep Water, Ullswater (it

wouldn't do to call them "lakes"), at the beginning of the

Lake District, Sunday evening

A lake steamer chugs by near sunset

More of Ullswater

Castlerigg stone circle, near Keswick

Me, by the remains of one of the cairns within the circle 

September 28. We spent the morning picking blackberries along the lake and pondering future travels, complications engendered by the Schengen Agreement, distances, holidays, seasons, and so forth. A year or even a year-and-a-half is not nearly enough time to do everything we want to do here, and there is much of Europe in which we have little or no interest. And then there are questions of cost.

Rain is forecast for three days now, not the best time to see the Lake District, so we have decided to slow down, loaf, and do some of the peripherals. The latter include the Castlerigg stone circle, near Keswick, where Coleridge lived, and which we visited at lunch time. The weather is dismal grey, cool, raining, a ceiling so low you can't see the nearby mountains, yet there were a dozen cars here, people out in the middle of a valley of sheep pastures, looking at the 4,500 year old stones. The circle is fairly well intact, 20-some stones, none terribly large, but a beautiful site. Often, megalithic sites seem calculated to be the only thing of visual interest around. This one is different, set in a valley of surpassing Lake District beauty, even on an ugly (but probably normal) day.

After seeing Castlerigg, we drove into Keswick and shopped. It is a gateway to the Lake District, a recreational center for hill-walking, fell-walking, climbing, etc. (What is fell-walking?) At an L-shaped central intersection, I counted thirteen different mountain gear shops in view. This rivals Kathmandu, at least for those two streets. Although we need little gear-wise, we did manage to pick up a few items of interest. It was a rainy day, and the place was crowded consequently with people dressed for walking or climbing, but shopping instead. Later, we drove to Penlith to check email and do some blog, and then back out into the countryside to near Langwathby, and the Long Meg stone circle, where we parked. Our good luck in finding excellent rough-camping/parking sites at the carparks of megalithic monuments continues. And we are not even the only ones here tonight.

Hadrian's Wall: Housesteads

The next day we drove further east along the Wall to the Housesteads Camp, near Milecastle 37. (They built towers every mile, and a garrison fort, about 160 men, every five miles). We'd always thought about walking the Wall--one of Britland's great walks is the Wall, coast-to-coast. On this latest cool, rainy, and windy day, we settled for a few miles west and back.

That the Wall remains at all is nothing short of a marvel. (The same is true in China). Six or more centuries passed between the time the Romans departed and Norman rule (that is, centralized, powerful government). The Wall is indeed reduced and in some places incomplete. It is safe to assume that any pasture fence, barn, house, great house, abbey, cathedral, or castle within a hundred miles each way has got some of Hadrian's Wall built-in!

The Caulfield Quarry and Crags

Granary at Housesteads Camp--note raised flooring

Vicki on the Wall--a graveled part passing through some 
woods

The Wall, looking back toward the woods, all over-grown, but still mostly there 
and standing

Remains of Milecastle 37

Somehow this view reminded me of the Great Wall of China--although 
Hadrian's is but the faintest shadow...

Hadrian's Wall: Birdoswald

After camping at the holiday park at Strathclyde, we finally left Scotland the next day, humming "Scotland the Brave" triumphantly as we entered Cumbria. We loved Scotland, and it is certainly one of the places to which we shall return. Especially when they get the weather fixed.

Once in Cumbria, we turned east into Northumberland and another one of those sites one always hopes to see one day, Hadrian's Wall. We toured the remains of the fort at Birdoswald, then camped there for the evening.

“All quiet on the northern front,” observes Centurion Marcus, “no barbarian Scots 
nor Picts in sight. They must all be up in the Highlands, flinging or tossing their 
cabers or hunting haggis. Damn them. Perhaps I should transfer back to the eastern 
front. Dacean weather is sunny and warm, the Danube girls are fair, the Bulgar 
food is great. And Alaric the Goth's emissaries have made peaceful overtures to 
the Emperor, I hear.”

Model of the fort as it would have appeared in 3rd century AD

The granary

South entrance

The Wall, looking east toward the Caulfield Crags