Lake District August 2019 - day 2

A much cloudier day, was the Wednesday, and showers were forecast, but one cannot visit the Lake District and not go walking! I was booked onto an all-day minibus tour on the Thursday and would be leaving Friday afternoon, so my main walking day had to be Wednesday. My plan was to go walking in the morning, then rest in the afternoon by doing some sightseeing on the two-hour circular public bus route out west from town.

When planning the trip I'd found a walk to do, but after talking to B&B owner Graham the evening before I now couldn't decide if I wanted to still do that one, or go up Lattrigg, "Keswick's own fell", a small but steep one of 367m literally just behind the town. I looked through a little walking route booklet over my filling breakfast of cereal, porridge, yoghurt mixed with fruit and nuts, and buttered toast, and in the end decided to do the one which was very similar to that which I'd been planning on anyway. Instead of a circular route, it was a seven-mile, four-hour linear walk to the village of Rosthwaite, via Walla Crag, Ashness Bridge, and the hamlet of Watendlath, and I'd be able to return to town on the bus.

I left about 10am and took about an hour to get to Walla Crag. Early on I passed a seventy-something woman coming the other way, outfitted in proper walking gear; I'd like to be like her when I'm older, still going out hiking. Most of the way it was fairly easy, but the last stretch was a steep hill to get up to the crag's summit. A little herd of sheep were sheltering from the wind and incoming rain against a drystone wall. The view from the heather-strewn summit was amazing. It didn't cross my mind at the time but looking back at the photos I can see that the viewpoint I'd been to the evening before, Castlehead (162m), looked from Walla Crag (376m) like just another part of the fields below, it didn't stand out at all. Of course the rain really set in when I reached the top, and my onward route meant I was walking into it so had to keep my eyes half-closed in a squint. I was in a light mood, though, and was somewhat surprised to find that I didn't main getting pelted with rain too much. I was wearing full waterproofs so only my face was getting wet, as well as my hands when I took my phone out to have a look at the route instructions. I wonder if you can operate touchscreen phones through the plastic of waterproof pouches; if not, I may have to learn to read maps. Maybe that would be a good idea anyway if I want to get out walking more.

Panorama from Walla Crag

From Walla Crag, I walked along the ridge for another mile and a quarter, about an hour or so, parallel to the lake shore. I loved the view from above its narrowing southern end, of the jaws of glacier-carved Borrowdale and the imposing fells above it. Eventually heading downhill I was glad to find a finger-post that confirmed I was in the right place, and followed the short path it pointed out to Ashness Bridge.

Derwentwater and Borrowdale

Ashness Bridge, looking towards Skiddaw

The bridge is an old packhorse bridge on the single-track road to Watendlath, and is a popular photo spot because of its fine view looking down across the lake to Skiddaw in the distance. The rain had stopped, and I was ever so happy to catch the smell of woodsmoke - one of my favourite smells - coming from a little bothy just behind the bridge. A bothy is a basic mountain refuge used for shelter. They're free of charge to use, and more remote ones are kept unmanned and unlocked, but this one - the Bark House Mountain Base - is on a road going to a hamlet and isn't too far from other peopled places so National Trust volunteers just open it up during the day. The A-board outside said "Muddy boots welcome. Information point, open fire, and comfy chairs here." Yay!

The Bark House Mountain Base

Inside the bothy

The crackling fire was lovely. Tea and coffee were available for a small donation and you could refill your water bottle for free. The hut has no running water so volunteers bring it in portable containers. It was a National Trust information point as well as a shelter, so it wasn't as basic and empty as I expect some bothies are, it was cosy. There were a couple of volunteers there, at that point keeping an eye out for a Duke of Edinburgh group whose arrival was expected soon. Maps on the walls showed the paths and walking routes in the area, and one of the info boards explained that the name of the hut came from its original use as a storage place for tree bark that would be sent off to tanneries. After a sit-down, a snack, and a little bit of a warm-up, I started to head up the road to another viewpoint half a mile away, called Surprise View. Although I'd known that the whole walk should take about four hours, and was only about two hours in, I was a little dismayed when another finger-post informed me that Watendlath was another two and three-quarter miles, or approximately two hours and twenty minutes, away - and that wasn't even the finish line.

Surprise View

It only took me 15 minutes walking on the side of the road to reach Surprise View, instead of the 35 minutes the finger-post suggested. But it didn't really occur to me that it therefore might take me much less time than another two hours to get to Watendlath, and another finger-post pointed out a path to Lodore, so I decided to try and find the much closer Lodore Falls. But somehow that didn't go exactly to plan - I found a nice waterfall, but it wasn't Lodore Falls, and was bemused to arrive at the main road not by the Lodore Hotel but by the Borrowdale Hotel. I was only half a mile off, though, and knew where I was, the bus stop was directly opposite, and happily there was a little café in the big old farmhouse next door where I had some nice spiced carrot and lentil soup with a bread roll for lunch, perfect after a few hours outdoors in weather like that. They'd decorated a couple of the otherwise plain, whitewashed stone walls inside with a couple of murals, one being a simple map of Derwentwater and the land around it - so I learned that I'd crossed Shepherd's Crag and was in Shepherd's Café. I was the only customer at that point and sat there for about 45 minutes, sheltered from the elements at a table just inside the open doorway, looking out at Borrowdale and watching the heavy clouds and light rain sweeping across, until 3pm when I crossed the road to catch the #78 bus back to Keswick.

Notes taken on phone in stretch between Surprise View and reaching the end: Breathing in earthy smell of the damp mossy woods makes me grin. Listening to wind in trees, running becks, birds, otherwise wonderful quiet. -- Sound of soft raindrops standing under the trees in an oak woodland carpeted with heather and sphagnum moss. -- Smell of bracken. -- Hate the loud full clunky sound of my walking boots on the ground, especially rock. Walking is a light, natural way to travel but I don't feel like I'm treading lightly and respectfully. Barefoot has more grip, too. -- At the waterfall, noticed how the bark of the young oak trees on the cliff next to the falls blended in with the heather behind.

A pretty place

Waterfall selfie

At Shepherd's Café

At the bus station in town I switched to bus 77A, the public service going once every two hours clockwise around the circular route which takes in three lakes, a few mountain passes, a slate mine, and a forest. It first headed south along the slopes of Cat Bells on the western shore of Derwentwater... Notes taken during the journey:

Great views over lake, hotels on opposite shore dwarfed by hills. Winding lanes precarious, steep sides and few passing places. Hundreds of pheasants around on patches of land along the road; a little disappointed to realise they weren't free-range chickens. Grange Bridge looked lovely, a swimming spot on the river, cute pretty cottages, a café. Seatoller is a cute hamlet too. Into Honister Pass, so steep that bus slows almost to a crawl at points. A hostel next to the slate mine. At the mine, the hill drops steeply and the valley widens spectacularly. Pass ends at Buttermere lake, the fells on the opposite shore rising too steeply for a road there. Mid-point tiny Buttermere village. After Crummock Water fells become further away and less steep, the land around more rolling with more trees and farmland. Round to Low Lorton then to Whinlatter Pass. Whinlatter Forest has Go-Ape and adventure stuff and bike paths. Start going downhill and I see the valley open up wide below and see Bassenthwaite Lake to the north of Keswick and the town a few miles away. Pass through Braithwaite and back to main road. Back ten minutes later.

I didn't even try to take any photos through the half-steamed-up windows of the moving bus, but nor did I really want to. I managed a few poor ones at the impressive Honister Pass, but the rest of the time I was happy just gazing out and taking it in, being in the present. I'd like to go back to that pass one day, have a look properly and maybe go for a tour of the mine. There's an age-10+ Via Ferrata climbing route there, too, which a teeny tiny part of me likes the idea of, but I know my limbs would turn to jelly doing that.

Summit of the Honister Pass, and by the slate mine

Coming out of the bus station towards the high street, I noticed an independent bookshop called Bookends. Anyone looking at me would have seen my eyes go wide, my mouth go Oooh and break into a big smile, and me making a beeline for the shop like a child to a coveted toy. Haha. I spent about half an hour in there, and was unable to resist buying an absolute gem of a book called Jacob's Room is Full of Books: A Year of Reading, by Susan Hill - a sort of diary, with several entries for each of the twelve months, reflecting on what she has read, or done regarding books, what else that throws up in her thoughts, and other little unrelated observations of things in her daily life. I've read the first two months/chapters already, and love it, I can imagine myself writing something similar, and it conjures up a picture in my mind of being curled up in an armchair with a blanket and a book, in a cosy home full of books and lit warmly with lamps, like the house we stayed in last summer in Sydney. An absolute dream! After leaving the bookshop I spotted a café, closed by this time, called Laura In The Lakes! I can also so imagine myself running a little place like that.

"A town isn't a town without a bookstore" - completely agree!

I went back to the B&B and got changed, rested for an hour, then headed back out to have dinner at the Royal Oak pub, which I'd chosen to go to after looking online at the menus of a few different places. It was busy but they managed to find a table for me. While I'm happy in my own company, there's something comforting, after spending the day alone with few or no other people around, about just being in a busy place, and being surrounded by chatter and civilisation and people going about their lives. That applies to walking through town on the way home after a day by myself in the office as much as it does to having dinner in a pub after a day of solo hiking. Anyway, I ordered a glass of their homemade lemon, ginger, and elderflower cordial, and Cumberland sausage with champ, onion gravy, and cider and apple chutney. Both were yummy. The sausage came in the traditional coil shape so was longer than normal, but it was very good quality and somehow I managed to eat all of it and the substantial pile of mash. Some veg would have been welcome, but a side of wilted greens was an extra £3.50, more than my fishcake and chips the night before had cost. Did you know that sticky toffee pudding is from the Lake District? (A pair of chefs started serving it in their hotel the 1970s, from a recipe they'd got from a hotel owner in Lancashire, who'd got it from two Canadian air force officers who lodged at her hotel in WW2.) So of course, for dessert I had sticky toffee pudding with toffee sauce and custard =] After that I went back to the B&B and collapsed into bed, reading for a while. A very enjoyable day!

A Cumberland sausage coil with mash and onion gravy

Sticky toffee pudding and custard - yum

Summer 2018 big trip - days 22 and 23

Saturday 18th August

To say we had an early start would be a big understatement. In fact, it was so early it could still, sort of, be classed as 'late'. We got picked up from the hotel at 2am for a pre-dawn hike up Mount Batur, so we could watch the sunrise from the summit.

The volcano lies in the north-east of Bali, in the centre of two concentric calderas (basically enormous sinkholes formed after an eruption). After picking up two more people and driving for about 45 minutes, we stopped at a roadside coffee place for a small breakfast of banana pancakes and a hot drink. There were so many people there, dozens of groups brought in by different drivers. It's obviously a massive business. It was weird, actually; if you're up and out in the dark hours of the morning it's usually still and quiet and peaceful, so it was strange to be somewhere so busy and surrounded by the buzzing of lots of people talking.

After that breakfast stop it was another 45 minutes or so in the car. We arrived at a large car park and our driver introduced us to Jordan, the young man who would be our guide up the mountain. After taking the last opportunity for the next five hours to visit the lavatory (squat toilet! This morning was the first time I'd come across them, hadn't even known they existed, so it was quite amusing!), we, along with at least couple of thousand other people (I'm not exaggerating), started along the road towards the mountain. Jordan told us it would take a couple of hours to climb.

It was pitch black and freezing cold, and our way was lit only by torchlight. After a while the paved road ended and became a dirt track, leading into fields where we had to move into single file, and eventually started climbing upwards as a narrow rocky path which quickly became steep and strenuous. In such darkness, you have no idea what's either side of you, or what's ahead, or really what's behind, which in a way is a good thing, as you don't have a choice to do anything other than look at the ground in front of your feet, and focus on where you're putting them. You're also part of a very long queue of people, so you have to be aware of those in front of and behind you too, you can't really go at your own pace. The hike isn't tough, but it is a challenge and your leg muscles most certainly protest.

At various points along the route, locals had set up chairs or little stalls and were selling water and hot drinks and chocolate bars, having made the trek up here themselves, something they probably do everyday. It was still pitch black when we arrived at the top, and Jordan led us to one of a few little picnic tables where he said we'd get a great view. It wasn't quite the summit - that would take another half hour of clambering up a steep slope, and we could see an unbroken line of torchlights up there already - but none of us minded at all. It did mean sitting down in the freezing cold for 45 minutes though, which was not fun, although it finally gave me a chance to look up at the amazing stars for a few minutes. Jordan disappeared to the guide huts, and after a while he brought us out another small breakfast of a banana sandwich and a hard-boiled egg each. The latter were still in their shells and hot from the pan and we just held them in our hands for a while! The arrival of the food also meant the arrival of some very cute puppies!

In the pre-dawn grey light it was very foggy, and we were worried we wouldn't actually get to see anything. Thankfully it did start to break up and, as the sky changed from inky blue to pink and orange, we were able to see the view spread out below: an area of damaged landscape from an old eruption, the villages, the lake, and, on the opposite side of the water, Mount Agung - a sacred mountain, the highest point on the island, and another volcano which erupted at the end of last year.

Walking down was tough! Walking down a steep hill is always harder than going up, because you're bracing yourself and trying not to slip, and this took maybe an hour and a half. It was great to be able to see the wonderful views, though, if only through quick glances upwards, and the warm sunlight was very welcome! As we reached the flatter land and paved road again, we were surrounded by little farms, small fields of different types of crops. I was struck by just how basically the people here lived. That is, how poor it was. Their homes were just little huts, shacks made from combinations of breeze blocks, corrugated metal sheets, sheets of wood or plywood, tarpaulins, things like that; present-day versions of the 19th-century miner's hut at Herberton in Queensland. And there we were, thousands of tourists just walking past at our leisure, going back to hotels and forward travel to other holiday destinations or back to comfortable homes and fairly easy, well-paid jobs which give us money to spend on luxuries. It was a bit uncomfortable, which is a good thing. We're so cocooned and fortunate and take a lot for granted. I know there are places where poverty is much, much worse, but even here I can't imagine what life must be like, what an average day is like for the people who live and work in those fields, it's so different to my own. How many are content, accepting their way of life with grace and doing the best they can, and how many scream out for more?

It hasn't really struck me till now, even though I'm writing this over a month later: I climbed a mountain. A small one, yes, which may have only taken a couple of hours to hike, but it was a mountain, it was a bit of a challenge and something I haven't done before. I climbed a mountain. Cool! I didn't fully appreciate that fact when I was there doing it. I was focusing on where my feet were going and then was so cold sat at the top that I didn't actually try to stop my thoughts and just pause, observe what I had just done and where I was. Mindfulness is another skill, habit, I'd like to cultivate. Doing the hike reminded me that, for a few weeks several months ago, I wanted to climb Snowdon one day... then completely forgot about it! During this hike, I thought "Ah, this is tough enough, this'll do, this can count as a mountain climb instead of Snowdon!" But now, it being in the past and not something I'm physically struggling with at this moment, maybe I will make myself do Snowdon one day!

We got back into Ubud around 10, and my sister's friend promptly went to sleep for the rest of the day. After a few hours of doing nothing much, my sister and I went out for a late, light lunch to a place we had passed on Thursday, which had a pretty view of the rice paddy out back. Then at 5pm I went to the Yoga Barn for a salsa class, which was great fun! I put on the one nice dress I'd brought with me, a light blue, slightly floaty, knee-length pretty summer dress, thinking - it's a salsa class on a Saturday night, dress up a bit! Very quickly wished I hadn't, haha. That's not the kind of dress people wear around Ubud, and the others in the class were wearing ordinary clothes or yoga-wear. Oh well! The teacher was an exuberant, enthusiastic young Cuban with a colourful oversized shirt and a thick accent we struggled to understand. Somehow this somewhat effeminate young man was one of the most masculine men I have ever encountered, probably perhaps because it wasn't in a stereotypical way. He wasn't at all butch, but was strong and lean, and gave off a vibe of just knowing himself and being perfectly comfortable and confident in all aspects of himself. Plus he could dance, and dance well. This isn't to say I was attracted to him, it's just an objective, appreciative comment. Anyway, I had wanted to try salsa dancing for a long time, and it was good fun, I'm definitely going to look for some classes I can go to at home. 

My sister and her friend met me after the class and we went to the same hotel restaurant from Thursday. I had a beef curry this time, which was again very nice but I didn’t enjoy it as much as the yellow vegetable curry before. There was a performance of traditional Balinese dance. The costumes were brightly colourful and elaborate, with headdresses and a lot of make-up. There must be some meaning behind all the movements, but because I didn't know what they are, to be honest it was just a bit bizarre. I probably could have appreciated it a bit more if there wasn't head-jerking and weird creepy eye movements. But I'm glad I got to see some traditional Balinese dancing!

Oh, and although the curry wasn't as wonderful as the one I'd had before, the pudding I ordered was wonderful. Super simple - deep fried bananas - but gorgeous! The batter was sweetened with delicious palm sugar and was thin and light and crisp, and the fruit inside was warm and soft but still with some bite. Hmmm :)

Sunday 19th

Another early start, this time to go our separate ways. My sister and her friend were staying in Bali for another week and a half, and left early on the 8:30am shuttle bus for Seminyak. I spent a couple of hours writing some blog, pottered around, and went out to buy a nice dress I'd seen the day before. (Came out of the shop with two nice dresses. The owner was very happy that she'd sold two items to her first customer of the day, and went round the shop touching the money to everything else, as a blessing and good luck charm.) I got the 12:30 shuttle bus to the airport, then a taxi from the airport to my nearby hotel, as my flight to Singapore was at 7am the next morning.

The hotel was lovely, modern and purpose-built, and I just stayed inside very happily, listening to music, unpacking and repacking my suitcase, a bit of writing. Around six I went downstairs to the empty restaurant, where dinner was okay but nothing special. They had MTV playing on the TV screen, and I enjoyed listening to the songs, it was oddly comforting for some reason. Although I had brought my iPod on the trip, I hadn't listened to it at all. I often feel like that on trips, like not listening to music, partly because it acts as a reminder of normal daily life, where I'll sometimes listen to music during my commute. I don't want to bring that to mind when I'm on holiday. After dinner I washed my hair so I didn't need to in the morning, then got an early night. Shortly before 11pm I woke up to the bed wobbling a bit. I didn't know if it was my half-asleep brain still in dreamland, or if it was an earthquake. It stopped about ten seconds later, I couldn't hear or see people outside and nobody came to the door so I just stayed in my room and went back to bed. I thought it probably was an earthquake, due to the ones in nearby Lombok in previous months, so it was quite weird, ever so slightly disconcerting. But I was fine. Shortly afterwards a message from my sister confirmed my assumption. Her hotel had been evacuated and she was very shaken up, but otherwise okay. (If anyone's curious, as I was - magnitude 6.3, depth just 16 miles down, epicentre roughly 100 miles away.) I went back to sleep easily enough and woke up at 4am.