15.5.11 Lake District

We left Yorkshire this morning, passing through Lancashire briefly before coming to rest in Cumbria (The Lake District to be precise).

Yesterday, it was still freezing cold and wet for our last view of Hebden Bridge and environs, I’m not sure we saw the sun other than fleetingly, and we certainly didn’t feel its warmth the whole time we were in the county.  We went back up past Haworth in the morning to East Riddlesden  Hall, a National Trust property,  built in the 1600s, part in ruins ( a later addition which wasn’t very well designed so it collapsed due to the weight of the roof and lack of strength in the walls because of too many windows) as well as interestingly decorated rooms.

 

Much of the furniture isn’t originally from the property but is historically correct/appropriate. 

Particularly stunning were the embroideries, minute stitches, fine work, imagine by candle-light, and probably failing eyesight. Some intricate samplers done by an eight year old and an even fancier one done when she was nine. Also is it Spanish black work? I can’t remember, but done with a single strand of black thread, the darker the more times the thread was worked.

 

There was a table set up with thread and fabric and instructions on how to do various stitches. Hilary and Diana spent ages here while I looked at the rest of the house, toured the garden, spent time watching birds feeding from the bird-hide, and picked fresh herbs from the vegetable garden for our supplies. (Only a small sprig here and there, parsley, marjoram, mint).

The herb garden

We had home compiled soup (sprinkled with fresh parsley), bread and cheese with various pickles, in the back of the campervan in the carpark, before heading off to Silsden, a milling town a few miles away where Diana’s relatives (or some of them) came from.

Silsden is at the bottom of this valley

                                         Just across the road from the Anglican Church

Cute primroses

The Anglican Church

 We went hunting gravestones in the local cemetery, finding many with the correct surnames. 

 

                            A relative

From here we headed back to Hebden Bridge where we got a few groceries before heading to Jude’s for dinner which Diana made. While Diana and Jude were chatting and starting dinner preparations and Hilary was wallowing in Jude’s bath-tub, I went for a walk I had been wanting to do all the time we had been in the area. It was cold and a little drizzley but I knew it was a case of  “now or never” as we were heading away this morning. I walked from Hebden Bridge up to the next village which is called Heptonstall. I think I wrote about the access to the latter earlier in my ramblings, about a really narrow street, really steep, and visitors had to park in a distant car-park not drive into the village? Well we passed the entrance road to the village (both top and bottom) each time we went to our campsite negotiating the hill climb or descent  depending on whether we were coming or going. The road sign said 20% gradient at one point, not sure how that relates to degrees but it wasn’t far off Breakneck in Napier and windy and narrow to boot. The drive was beautiful though, through almost lime-green forest with carpets of bluebells and yellow small wild poppies. The other interesting thing about the access road to these hill villages is that you can’t drive directly to Hebden Bridge because the corner at the bottom of the hill is too tight. Instead you have to use a “turning-circle” at first we thought it was one of those things they use for turning trains around, where you drive on, push various levers and then physically move the tracks around in a half-circle so the train is facing the other way. Thankfully we didn’t have to do that each time we wanted to go around the corner, we just had to drive down to a play where they had put a loop beside the road so you could go back and approach from the other direction.  Not very clear I’m sure, but basically you couldn’t go left at the bottom of the hill so you had to go right and then do in effect a U turn to go back in the correct direction, and if you wanted to go up the hill from the Hebden Bridge direction you had to drive past the corner, do a U turn at the turning area and  then go back the way you had come so you could veer left to go up the hill.

Anyhow, yesterday I walked down from Jude’s at Hebden Bridge to the valley floor, and then clambered up a public footpath through the beautiful woods to the village.

Very narrow and steep cobblestoned lanes in the village proper, so no wonder they don’t welcome lots of visitors in cars. There is a ruined church up there, and in the same grounds, only 50 or so metres away, its more modern, intact twin. Apparently quite rare to have two churches (one just walls really) on the same piece of land. I guess usually the earlier one would have been demolished entirely.  Apparently Sylvia Plath is buried in the cemetery up there, I would have looked for her grave had I remembered but it was only tonight that Di reminded me. I studied her and her poetry back in 1981 at Victoria University when I wasn’t being arrested or being drunk. She was a poor tortured soul, I guess that’s what inspired her writing though, without the pain and madness maybe she wouldn’t have had the words.

The views way down into the valley and Hebden Bridge were amazing. I took some video as well as stills, the cars and buses were microscopic, the only way to show the distance really. The houses from that distance were merely gorgeous patterns of stone against foliage unless I zoomed in. Awesome in its true form/meaning.

I walked back down the public footpath, well less of a walk, more of a lift legs, and occasionally apply brakes to slow the descent really. We had dinner, and back to the campsite for an early night.

It’s now the next day, as I kept falling asleep over the keyboard last night I stopped mid-sentence back a few paragraphs and have continued this morning.

So the 15^th (yesterday now) we left cold wet Yorkshire and headed north. I said to Di at the time, I’m not sure that north is going to be our answer for good weather……… we drove in intermittent rain up small country roads, definitely no need for sunnies yesterday at any point, through beautiful rural scenery. 

We stopped in a small village called Ingleton “famous for caves and waterfalls”, I think still in Yorkshire but possibly Lancashire. We were looking for a place where we could make a cup of tea, but there aren’t really picnic sites on the sides of the road here, just parking bays with whizzing traffic passing closely by. By the time we had heated our water and had a cup of tea it wasn’t far off lunchtime.
Our cup of tea spot.


I had seen a sign in the village for “Sunday roast- £5.95” so we went back to the “Craven Heifer” and had roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. Not gourmet food by any means, but OK on a cold and wet Sunday. Hilary’s “sticky toffee pudding with vanilla ice-cream” was delicious though, worth the stop by itself.

From Ingleton we drove on to “The Lake District” approaching from Kendal and ending up here at the Windermere Caravan Park (which isn’t in Windermere at all, closer to Staverly and about 12km or so from Windermere). A very pleasant complex with squirrels, rabbits and pheasants running around, a cool adventure play-ground for children, and a t.v. room much to you know whos delight.

I went for a short walk after a cup of tea, before beginning dinner preparation. I picked some gorgeous flowers from the roadside, blue bells (and one white hyacinth), yellow poppies, white hawthorn and white ? Queen Anne’s Lace ? not sure, as well as some ferns. They are now decorating an old milk bottle and “girlying” our campervan.

Di read her book, and Hilary did some painting with a wonderful new set that Jude had bought her.

In case you are wondering who Jude is, she is a friend (English) who lived , in Christchurch for many years, who Diana met through mutual friends “a long long time ago”.  Last year Jude decided to move back to the UK, and settled in Hebden Bridge (though she is originally from London, and her mum is in Devon). She was over visiting Christchurch in February so experienced our big shake, we caught up with her a few times while she was in town and arranged to meet her in Yorkshire.

It is cold here, raining on and off since we arrived 15 hours ago. Forecast is for 8 degrees (but says it will feel like 6) so we won’t be doing a lot of out-doorsy walking in the fells and dales stuff today!!! We are actually doing a day up and around Keswick of things Hilary chose from a selection of brochures. One is a puzzle-world, with mirrors and mazes and things (indoors) and the other is  Wordsworth’s House in Cockermouth, which is not only historic but also has interactive things and you can do food tastings etc. and dress up in Georgian clothes.  As we are passing through Grasmere I decided we could also stop at the gingerbread shop and see the little house on the bridge.  We will see how the rest of the day unfolds, all I’m really sure about is that we won’t be swimming in the lake or sunbathing in deck-chairs on the shore, and my sunglasses won’t be leaving their case.