Postcard from Cumbria – First Day – Ferry then Howtown to Patterdale

We gather in the garden and find ourselves instinctively drifting about, looking for a patch of sunshine randomly distributed in the shade. At this time in the morning, the surrounding mountains and local trees are colluding to create darkened areas where witches and goblins can hide. Archie Fisher wrote a wonderful song about this area about a wounded knight who had to find The Witch of the Westmorland to staunch the blood and mend his wounds by virtue of three kisses. Barbara Dickson recorded what I consider to be a perfect version of it way back in the 1970s, and I would urge you to seek it out if you have streaming facilities.

The plan is to catch the 0945 ferry from Glenridding to Howtown. The pier is about a mile and a half from our lodgings, and the walk is quite flat with the odd bit of meandering through the tree-lined edge of the lake. Yeah, right!
.
We arrive in good time to purchase tickets for the one-way trip, at £11 per person, they’re not cheap, but we are contributing to the life of these little communities, and there are no complaints. There’s a lot of lighthearted banter with fellow travellers in the queue waiting for the signal from the captain to embark, and the number on this sailing is such that everyone will get a seat with great views of the surrounding mountains.
.
The journey is a delight, but if you use this ferry early in the morning, do wrap up, even in the sun, it’s chilly. There are tiny islands that drift past us on both sides, and they remind me of reading Swallows and Amazons years ago at school. We had childhoods like this, but our lake was more of a large pond, and we made our boats using five-gallon drums fastened across a long tin bath. They acted as stabilisers and were usually good for a couple of sailings, then they came loose and the tin bath would capsize, dropping us gently in the pond. We called the area Hidden Valley. It looked like it had been created by a bomb, as one end was very shallow and the other quite deep with ridges up the sides. The reason for it becoming a mini-lake turned out to be a broken water pipe, but it took the authorities a couple of years to identify it, which meant we had all of that time to use it as a watery playground. There was just enough area at one end of the little valley to enable us to light a campfire to get dried, although we never quite got away with it because we stank of smoke when we went home. Our mams would intorogate us for details of what we had been doing – there was no room for lies as they would then cross reference our stories with the other mams later in the week and we’d end up in more trouble so we jsut told the truth and took the bollocking. Magic!

.
At Howtown, we’re decanted onto the little pier and we make our way onto the banks and begin the walk back along a well-marked path. Initially, it’s fairly smooth and easy to negotiate, but not for long…
.
Within a half mile, it becomes a track and for the next four miles, it’s roots, rocks, shale and an occasional smooth bit. We meet numerous other walkers, some doing the Coast to Coast and others, like us, here for the week and walking one of the many tracks and trails that litter the area. One lovely man called David, who walks with us for a while. He’s a master mariner from Australia, so the conversation is fascinating. You meet all manner of people on a walk, and the beauty is, you have time to talk.

.
After four miles, it becomes a little easier, but care is still required as the stones are loose and the shale can render us horizontal in a heartbeat and at our age, we don’t bounce like we used to. To illustrate the point, we have had a couple of falls. The incidents do focus our minds, and vigilance is sharpened.
.
This is a great walk, but it’s not an easy one.
.
Wonderful first day full of fun and ribaldry.
.
Enjoy the snaps. G x

---

---