I arrived in the Lake District in June, the best month to explore the British countryside, when the colours of late spring promise a long, warm summer. When the days are stretched out, and the nights are balmy and mild. When the woods twitter with birdsong, butterflies saunter across the meadows and the hills and dales are lined with beds of wildflowers.
Tucked up in Cumbria, in the furthest north-western corner of England, this extensive national park (the largest in the country) covers over 900 square miles (2362 square km) of traditional villages, soaring fells (the local term for mountains) and beautiful, glacier-cut lakes. The park is a hotspot of UK tourism and was recognised by UNESCO as a World Heritage Cultural Landscape in 2017.
I stepped out of my pretty little ivy-covered bed and breakfast and began my journey. My first stop was the beautiful placid Loweswater. I walked through the wooded valley that lined the lake until I arrived at a small clearing next to the waters. I listened to the lapping of the lake’s ripples and began to think about the history of this unique region.
The geological story of Lake Land (a local name for the park) is a trilogy. The first chapter happened 500 million years ago when the continents of Laurentia and Gondwana crashed into each other and the Earth crumpled like a car bonnet, forming the mountains.
Then, 50 million years later, intense volcanic activity formed the landscape’s distinctive shape. Rock erupting out of the volcanoes made the bases of mountains, lava flowing down the slopes created the area’s distinct layered topography, and collapsing volcanic cones left the calderas, which can be found at the top of fells such as Borrowdale.
Finally, there was glaciation. As the Ice Age began and the cold weather travelled south from the Arctic, glaciers filled the fissures between mountains. Then, when the climate changed and the British Isles became familiarly mild and wet, the glaciers retreated, leaving valleys whose bottoms were varnished with hard volcanic rock, preventing rainwater from easily draining and creating the beautiful lakes that reflect the mountains today.
Humans first settled here near the end of this last Ice Age, around 10,000 years ago. Later, the Celts arrived, and then the Roman Empire, who came, saw and conquered around 74 AD. After the Romans left, the area was settled by Vikings. Their language survives in slithers in the local Cumbrian dialect with words such as beck for ‘stream’, laik for ‘play’ and glisky for ‘shimmering’ possessing a Norse origin. We’ll also notice Viking footprints in many local placenames, especially those ending in the suffixes -by and -thwaite - meaning ‘village’ and ‘clearing’ in Old Norse.
For most of its history, the Lake District was a wild, remote place populated by shepherds but avoided by most people. However, in the late 19th Century, Romantic poets began to flock here to experience the natural beauty and solitude of the region. Their work inspired people to visit, and Lake Land tourism was born.
I looked forward to continuing this tradition as I got up and headed to the village of Buttermere, where I would rest for the night before continuing to Bassenthwaite Lake.
km od začátku : 0029
Bassenthwaite Lake
My first stop today was the Moss Force waterfall, which cascades dramatically down the rocky slope of Newland Pass. The incredible view of the valley unfolds as your eyes follow the stream's flow. Though it's hard to picture on this glorious spring day, when the harsh winter comes, and the waterfall freezes over, climbers flock here to ascend the frozen falls using ice picks.
Next, I passed through Dodd Wood, a densely planted woodland of mostly pines, especially in the upper reaches of the slope. Lower down were big, majestic Douglas firs, and in upper altitudes, there were plantations of Sitka spruce. This non-native tree species was introduced in 1831 to help fight deforestation. Unfortunately, the spruce can crowd out native species as it grows in partial shade and spreads its seedlings much further.
To combat this, Dodd Wood has been planted with native species such as English oak and sycamore, and many of the upper slopes have been cleared to encourage the regrowth of native heather. I enjoyed this part of the woods the most; with its resemblance to the indigenous temperate rainforests of the British Isles, it teemed with a great variety of life. I noticed the luridly purple thickets of foxgloves, so-called because of a folk belief that foxes wear their bell-shaped flowers on their paws, softening their sound when hunting, and admired the play of sunlight in the canopy, shining through the soft leaves of the sycamores.
Coming out of the cover of Dodd Wood, I set off up the nearby hill. After a short hike, I arrived at a viewpoint that was thought to be the best place to see ospreys in the Lake District.
I love ospreys; a mix between an eagle and a seagull, they hunt fish by performing dramatic, talon-first dives into the lakes, descending at astonishing speeds, sometimes up to 78 mph (125kmph), their wings held behind them like dorsal fins. At the viewpoint, I had the great fortune of seeing them hunt, cheering as one soared upwards, clutching a fish in its talons.
It's a privilege to enjoy this scene; in the UK, ospreys only survive in a few isolated pockets. These are the descendants of a breeding pair who colonised Bassenthwaite in 2001, the first in 150 years. They've chosen this spot as it's a fishing lake and always well stocked with dinner.
I couldn't imagine a better way to end the day than with something sweet. I headed to the nearby Old Sawmill Tearooms and sat outside with a scone topped with clotted cream and luxurious ruby-coloured raspberry jam. Dusk began to descend, and as little bats flittered around the garden, I stretched out my legs, looking forward to the next day's hike.
km od začátku : 0045
Skiddaw
Early in the morning, I headed to Derwent Pencil Museum in Keswick and learned the fascinating history of the Lake District’s role in the invention of the pencil.
The story began in 1565, when a storm wreaked havoc on the fells. Local shepherds came out of their homes the next day to assess the damage and found lumps of a strange black substance. One among them rubbed it on his hands and saw it made a mark. He called it ‘wad’ and used it to mark his sheep.
In the 1800s, a race was underway to find a material to replace the expensive silver nib of the silverpoint, a sort of early pencil. Pencil manufacturers wanted a black substance, soft and erasable, that could be easily cut into rods. Word arrived of the shepherd’s markers in the Lake District, and surveyors were sent out. Graphite mines were then struck in Borrowdale, and local factories began to make the world’s first pencils.
Pencil-worthy graphite could only be found in the Lake District. Almost overnight, it became one of the most highly sought-after commodities in the world, surpassing even gold in value. Highwaymen no longer targeted the jewels of aristocratic travellers, but instead, looked for graphite shipments winding their way through the lonely roads of the Lake District.
The Crown wanted its share and began to heavily tax graphite. Predictably, a smuggling network developed, centred around a local pub in Keswick. This was referred to as a ‘black market’, referencing the colour of the graphite, giving rise (so the legend goes) to the term we use today for any illegal market.
The graphite bonanza died down after competitors overseas found other deposits. However, Borrowdale still produces graphite today, and the museum is attached to a pencil factory that has been functioning since 1832.
I left the museum and began the walk across the grassy moorlands of Skiddaw. This route was lined with dry stone walls fitted together without mortar. These structures have a long history in the British Isles; a 6,000-year-old example was discovered on the Orkney Islands in Scotland. In fact, Brits have been building these walls since before the pyramids were constructed.
Dry stone walls have the advantage of being durable, made out of readily available materials and easy to repair. Making them is a complicated procedure that takes years to learn, and a dry-stone wall builder remains a highly respected profession. The walls are usually 35in (90cm) wide at the base and 16in (40cm) at the top, with each course of stones slightly narrower than the course below, producing a triangular cross-section, giving the wall a stable base. The walls are essential for marking farmers' land and also provide ecological benefits, such as stabilising soil on slopes and slowing erosion.
I admired their criss-crossing lines as I finished my walk. After reaching the summit and enjoying a view that stretched to Scotland, I made my way down to the lowlands, ending the day’s journey in the village of Troutbeck.
km od začátku : 0071
Aira Force Waterfall
Aira Force is gorgeous and popular, attracting over 350,00 visitors per year. Surrounding the waterfall is Gowbarrow Park. This Victorian-era garden was created in the English style of landscaping, which aims to create an idealised version of the wilderness, and features an arboretum of over half a million trees, moss-cloaked stone footbridges leading over the streams and, at the top of the waterfall, a panoramic vista of Ullswater.
Sitting under the falls, with families picnicking, children playing, and tour groups from China or the USA filing through, I begin thinking about William Wordsworth, England’s national poet. Near here, Wordsworth was inspired to write his most famous poem, ‘The Daffodils’, after being transfixed by a moment of pure beauty whilst staring at the pretty yellow petals of a bank of daffodils swaying in the breeze, as if dancing to the rhythm of nature’s breath.
Wordsworth was a member of the Romantics, a 19th-century artistic movement that sought to experience ‘the sublime’ - a state where one’s rationality is overwhelmed by emotion whilst experiencing the beauty of the natural world. To the Romantics, this was an experience only ever felt alone. They came up to the Lake District, attracted by its wild, rugged beauty, its isolation and its solitude.
Their work struck a special chord with a population experiencing rapid urbanisation, inspiring in many people a need for a deeper emotional connection to the natural world. With this came both a desire to explore England’s wilderness and to protect and preserve it for all, leading to the birth of the National Trust movement, which now owns much of Lake Land.
As I passed into Ullswater, high-minded ideas gave way to more earthly concerns - namely, sticky toffee pudding. This is a beloved dessert in British cuisine and is a cultural symbol of the Lake District. It is best served homemade in your grandmother's house on a wintry Sunday afternoon. My grandmother wasn't with me; instead, I headed to Sharrow Bay Country House Hotel, which claims to have invented the pudding based on a recipe from a Canadian soldier stationed nearby during the Second World War.
The Sticky Toffee pudding was perfect. The soft, sweet sponge, studded with chopped dates, was smothered in a buttery caramel sauce cut with black treacle. This night-black concoction, made from cane molasses, gives the sauce an alluring bitterness, which contrasts beautifully with the tooth-aching sweetness of the sponge.
Leaving the hotel, I climbed the nearby viewpoint and overlooked the Z-shape of Ullswater. I sat and watched one of its steamers, a painted wooden steam-powered pleasure boat, slowly cross the waters below and admired the rolling hills and towering peaks surrounding the scene.
km od začátku : 0082
Helvellyn
I began the day in the sweet little village of Glenridding. I passed a little fleet of happy sailboats beached on the pebbly shore of the lake and then walked up the oak-lined country paths until I reached Thirlmere Reservoir, a gorgeous hotspot of biodiversity. Along the reservoir was a coniferous forest with large mounds of pine needles and twigs spread across the floor. These were built by wood ants, each mound home to a colony of over half a million of the insects. I caught my breath for a second, thinking how I was standing over a vast patchwork of ant city-states and their pastoral hinterlands, where the ants farm aphids for their sticky, sugary excretions.
Exiting the pine forests, I stood at the foot of Helvellyn. I ascended the steep slopes until I arrived at the thrilling challenge of Stirling Edge. Then there was a scramble along a knife-edge pathway, a bit of fear as I swayed in the mountain wind, and then elation as I gazed across the incredible view of the U-shaped valleys set with shining lakes. I continued across Stirling Edge until I reached the summit of Helvellyn.
Coming down from the mountain, I passed Dove Cottage, the former home of William Wordsworth. My thoughts came back to the national poet once again. He bought this simple, slate-roofed stone house in 1890 after passing it on a walk with fellow Romantic Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Wordsworth saw in the house the perfect place to practice his philosophy of ‘plain living but high thinking’, calling the house and the area around it “the loveliest spot that man hath ever found”. As I hopped from rock to rock across one of the sparkling mountain streams that ran through the area, I couldn’t help but agree.
I ended this section of my hike by descending into the pretty little village of Wythburn. On the way, I passed the charming little Wythburn Church, a ‘modest house of prayer’ according to Wordsworth, which has stood on the spot since the 18th century. I had a quick look inside, lit a candle for the poet and continued down to the village, excited to sit in a pub armchair, read a book and eat something good after such a long hike.
km od začátku : 0105
Lake Windermere
I arrived at the quaint village of Bowness-on-Windermere in the early evening and decided to head to the local pub. Standing at the bar, I fell into conversation with a local, who invited me to join his friends. From them, I heard an interesting story about a creature named Bownessie. I was told that deep in the lake lived a huge, humped serpent. It had lain there, unseen, until around 2006, when it was spotted just near Wray Castle, rising out of the water, the length of three cars and casting 20ft (6m) ripples all around it before diving back into the depths of Lake Windermere never to be seen again.
I didn’t set much hope on catching a glimpse of the fabled Bownessie. Instead, I decided to keep my eye out for the great variety of wildlife that Lake Windermere is famous for as I set off to explore the largest lake in England.
I strolled through the coniferous forest, and, hearing a rustling above me, looked up and saw a red squirrel chasing his friend across the treetops. It’s always exciting to spot the native squirrel of these islands because almost everywhere, it has been replaced by its burlier American cousin, the grey squirrel. Here in the forests lining Lake Windermere, it persists, happily living its squirrelly life. The squirrel is a reminder of the ancient and untouched character of the Lake District and the valiant conservation efforts that preserve it.
As the forest gave way to pasture land, I reached a traditional white-washed farmhouse. Near my feet were four rabbits, three munching happily on the fruit of a nearby blackberry bush, but one dashing into the nearby hedge, heading for the farmer’s vegetable patch.
The sight of these adorable creatures reminded me of Beatrix Potter, who lived near Lake Windermere during the early 20th century. Beatrix was born in London but grew to know the Lake District intimately during her childhood. The landscapes, animals and local culture inspired Potter’s charming stories about the adventures of mischievous animals.
Beatrix became deeply dedicated to the landscape of the Lake District. During her time, tourism was beginning to put pressure on the local environment, which led her to dedicate herself to the Preservationist movement. She began buying large tracts of land, keeping it from developers and later gifting it to the National Trust, ensuring it could always be enjoyed by all. She also became a famous shepherdess and was so successful at keeping the local Herdwick sheep that she was named president of their breeding association.
As the day was nearing its end, I stopped for a quick dip in the cooling waters of Lake Windermere. I came to shore refreshed and relaxed and dried off in the evening warmth before picking up my backpack and heading to the village of Hawkshead.
I arrived at the quaint village of Bowness-on-Windermere in the early evening and decided to head to the local pub. Standing at the bar, I fell into conversation with a local, who invited me to join his friends. From them, I heard an interesting story about a creature named Bownessie. I was told that deep in the lake lived a huge, humped serpent. It had lain there, unseen, until around 2006, when it was spotted just near Wray Castle, rising out of the water, the length of three cars and casting 20ft (6m) ripples all around it before diving back into the depths of Lake Windermere never to be seen again.
I didn’t set much hope on catching a glimpse of the fabled Bownessie. Instead, I decided to keep my eye out for the great variety of wildlife that Lake Windermere is famous for as I set off to explore the largest lake in England.
I strolled through the coniferous forest, and, hearing a rustling above me, looked up and saw a red squirrel chasing his friend across the treetops. It’s always exciting to spot the native squirrel of these islands because almost everywhere, it has been replaced by its burlier American cousin, the grey squirrel. Here in the forests lining Lake Windermere, it persists, happily living its squirrelly life. The squirrel is a reminder of the ancient and untouched character of the Lake District and the valiant conservation efforts that preserve it.
As the forest gave way to pasture land, I reached a traditional white-washed farmhouse. Near my feet were four rabbits, three munching happily on the fruit of a nearby blackberry bush, but one dashing into the nearby hedge, heading for the farmer’s vegetable patch.
The sight of these adorable creatures reminded me of Beatrix Potter, who lived near Lake Windermere during the early 20th century. Beatrix was born in London but grew to know the Lake District intimately during her childhood. The landscapes, animals and local culture inspired Potter’s charming stories about the adventures of mischievous animals.
Beatrix became deeply dedicated to the landscape of the Lake District. During her time, tourism was beginning to put pressure on the local environment, which led her to dedicate herself to the Preservationist movement. She began buying large tracts of land, keeping it from developers and later gifting it to the National Trust, ensuring it could always be enjoyed by all. She also became a famous shepherdess and was so successful at keeping the local Herdwick sheep that she was named president of their breeding association.
As the day was nearing its end, I stopped for a quick dip in the cooling waters of Lake Windermere. I came to shore refreshed and relaxed and dried off in the evening warmth before picking up my backpack and heading to the village of Hawkshead.
km od začátku : 0138
Hardknott Pass
I began today by following the old Roman road leading up to Hardknott Pass. I climbed the steep route, going up and up, until I finally reached the old Roman fort, built during the time of Emperor Hadrian in the 2nd century AD. Dalmatians manned the fort (that is, people from the modern-day region in Croatia, not spotted dogs), brought all the way up to Cumbria with orders to control the local Brigantes tribe. These angry locals were so much trouble that their name has survived in the modern English word ‘brigand’ - denoting a bandit or violent criminal.
The fort was well-equipped, with a parade ground, barracks and a bathhouse. The baths are a unique find, as they contained a sudatorium, a sort of Roman dry heat sauna, an unusual feature for a Roman bathhouse, but one for which we can be sure our Dalmatians would have been grateful.
Looking up, I noticed the unmistakable shape of a red kite riding the thermals high above the pass. Soon, another joined, and they performed their twirling, diving dance. The red kite always cuts a brilliant figure in the sky, with its fan-shaped tail feathers and wide wingspan. It loves flamboyance and display; dipping, looping and barrel rolling, demonstrating the masterful aerial control it uses to snatch its prey straight out of the air.
Red kites were common urban pests during the Middle Ages, descending on market towns and cities to feed on food waste. The kite began to develop a bad reputation - especially for stealing clothes left out to dry. This old problem has resurfaced in the modern Welsh county of Powys, where there is now a huge kite population, and people have found out they need to protect their laundry from opportunistic kites during nesting season.
By the 16th century, their population skyrocketed, becoming such a nuisance that royal decrees went out for their cull. Their numbers rapidly declined, and by the 1890s, the kite was virtually extinct in the UK.
In 1903, The Kite Commission was set up. Over the next century, this intrepid band of scientists and conservationists battled suspicious farmers, egg collectors, and the bird’s reluctance to breed in an attempt to reintroduce it. There were ups and downs, but as of 2024, Wales alone has about 2,500 breeding pairs. Red kites were reintroduced to Cumbria in 2010, the first in the county for 160 years, and it may be one of those pioneers I am watching now.
Heartened by the experience of watching the kites, I descended Hardknott Pass towards the village of Boot. As my aching legs carried me downhill, the landscape changed from the misty, rocky wildlands of the fells to the soft, bucolic meadows and pasture of the valleys. I arrived in Boot tired but invigorated, ready to enjoy a hard-earned rest.
km od začátku : 0151
Wast Water
I left early today, waking up with the dawn chorus. Lacing up my boots, I took a minute to breathe in the cool morning air and enjoy the quiet atmosphere before leaving the village of Boot en route to Wast Water, the deepest lake in all of Lake Land. After walking a while, I passed Three Shires Stone, which marks the spot where the historic counties of Cumberland, Lancashire and Westmoreland meet. I channelled my inner Homer Simpson, jumping from one county to another, in Cumberland one second, Lancashire the next. Seeing some fellow hikers coming up the hill, I quickly stopped, straightened myself up and continued to Wast Water.
As the hopeful glow of early morning began to intensify into the brilliance of midday, I stopped for lunch in a meadow next to Wast Water’s waters. Resting in the soft grass, I noticed the blankets of wildflowers around me. The area is known for its great diversity of flora. Near the bottom of the fells, wildflowers abound: primroses, bluebells, dog roses and various species of orchids. At higher altitudes, hardier plants persist, including the ubiquitous heather and the bilberry bush, whose berries are often gathered and turned into bilberry jam, a traditional treat with a sweet, tart flavour and a seductive wine-dark colour.
Arriving at the shores of the lake, I sat for a moment and admired a view straight out of the Romantic imagination. The glassy blue of the unfathomably deep lake was framed by the wild Wasdale Valley, wreathed in purple heather, topped by the peaks of Scafell Pike, its slopes dotted with the odd isolated farmhouse.
As I continued my walk, I pondered the creatures that live in the deep waters, especially the Arctic char, one of the rarest fish in the UK. This living fossil has made its home here since the last Ice Age. Most of its cousins now live in the frigid Arctic Ocean, but the ones swimming near me were trapped in the lakes when the Earth warmed and the glaciers receded. The fish is aesthetically magnificent, large and powerful, often sporting lurid orange and red scales, but I can’t help feeling a little sorry for them, stuck in the lake whilst all the other chars have the run of the entire Arctic Ocean.
Luckily, I’m not an Arctic char, and I can go where I please, even the Arctic Ocean. But that sounds too cold. Instead, I finished this leg of the journey at the National Trust-run Wasdale campsite. I sat on my deckchair and spent the evening by the fire chatting to fellow Lake Land explorers and preparing for tomorrow’s attempt at the summit of Scafell Pike.
km od začátku : 0161
Scafell Pike
Trudging up the steep path to Scafell Pike, I quickly realised that this hike was hard! Luckily, in my pocket, I had a magical substance known to power many intrepid explorers to greatness - Kendall Mint Cake! This cloudy confection of sugar and peppermint has been made in the area since the 19th century. It provides a quick hit of energy and was used in many famous expeditions, including Sir Edmund Hillary’s ascent of Mount Everest in 1953.
The sugar powered me on, and as I passed the treeline, I noticed the wonderful shaggy Herdwick sheep. This local breed is tough and hardy, meant to withstand the region’s harsh climate and powerful rains. Their name is another reminder of the local Viking heritage, coming from the Norse word herdvyk, meaning ‘sheep pasture’ - leading many to believe the sheep were introduced by Norse settlers.
As centuries wore on, a system of common land use developed, where all local people had the right to graze their sheep in certain areas. This medieval practice, abolished in most of the country by the Enclosure Acts, persists in the Lake District today, and many Herdwick sheep graze on land that has been shared for centuries.
Keeping land in common whilst maintaining private herds of sheep necessitates counting - after all, your herd wanders over huge distances, you might not have trustworthy neighbours, and the sheep get up to all sorts up on the fells. Counting needs to be efficient, and the system needs to help the numbers stick in your head. To achieve this, shepherds use the ancient Yan Tan Tethera system. The count is achieved by counting in 20s, then dropping a stone after each set. The numbers used for the counting are some of the last surviving vestiges of the Cumbric language, a Celtic tongue spoken in Lake Land until the early Medieval period. The base 20 system used is a cultural practice that stems back to these old Celtic-speaking people. Numbers such as ‘Yen’ for one and ‘pimp’ for five closely resemble the numbers found in surviving Brythonic Celtic languages, such as Welsh. There must be few professions in the world today older than that of being a Lake Land shepherd.
I reached the top of Scafell Pike, and with it, the top of the Lake District. Finding a large, smooth boulder, I sat down near a bank of heather. I looked up and saw the unmistakable shape of a red kite circling, and noticed the sky as the day moved from the golden hour into sunset. I looked at the bands of colour - dark blue and star-speckled at the top, blending into soft yellows, then a shepherd’s-delight pink where the sun met the horizon. My gaze followed the colours until it reached Wast Water below, stained with all the hues of the sky, colours changing with the ripples. I turned my gaze north and south and saw the British Isles laid out below me, the fells and lakes stretching out to Scotland, to Wales, to the sea.
As I savoured the last few hours of my Lake Land excursion, I looked at Wast Water one last time and thought of some lines from Wordsworth, describing an evening by the lakes just like mine:
There doth the twinkling aspen's foliage sleep,
And insects clothe, like dust, the glassy deep:
And now, on every side, the surface breaks
Into blue spots, and slowly lengthening streaks;
Here, plots of sparkling water tremble bright
With thousand thousand twinkling points of light
William Wordsworth, An Evening Walk - A Romantic Poem for Nature Lovers (1793).
