Why do I love the English Lake District ?
Why do you love the Lake District ? It's a question that many of you will never have pondered. Why would you. You just do.
Why do you enjoy beer or wine ? You just do.
Many of us have hectic, stressful jobs with little respite in the way of relaxation and time out to just be ourselves. Work, sleep, work, sleep. A monotonous ticking of life. I for one claim that particular card. I live in a small market town in Lancashire with my wife and son. I'm lucky enough to be 'rural' (ish) so to speak, but always crave a break in the real 'outdoors'.
Many of us have hectic, stressful jobs with little respite in the way of relaxation and time out to just be ourselves. Work, sleep, work, sleep. A monotonous ticking of life. I for one claim that particular card. I live in a small market town in Lancashire with my wife and son. I'm lucky enough to be 'rural' (ish) so to speak, but always crave a break in the real 'outdoors'.
I started 'climbing' from a young age. I was introduced to it by a family friend. Snowdonia was our destination during the early days, with climbs in Cwm Idwal and Chasm Face engraved in my memory. Chasm Face in particular - the Cat Walk, serving as a blunt reminder that one slip means it's all over.
I was a spritely young sixth former during the early days. Lots of spare time and with part time jobs, no rent and no mortgage meant lots of spare cash to spend on walking equipment and tents.
A trip to Betws-Y-Coed really set in motion what was to become (I hope) a lifelong love of the outdoors. Half term, a cheap train ticket and backpacks full, we arrived in North Wales with no idea where we were going to stay. Michael (best friend), Martin and I eventually stumbled across Hendre Farm. It was a small, low key field with a dated but clean toilet and shower block. Disposable barbecues along with underage purchased vodka and lilt; we had a great time the night before 'the climb'.
The next day, we boarded the Snowdon Ranger bus and headed to Pen-Y-Pass. I'd climbed Snowdon via the Miners Track on a few occasions. Once at the summit, we asked fellow climbers to suggest a route down that was slightly more interesting. Young, naive and unaware as to the direction we had been pointed, we edged ever closer towards Crib Goch. I can remember the whole traverse vividly. A kind walker who was crossing in the opposite direction even took our photograph on the 'Pinnacles' and kept his promise to send it on. Adrenaline pumping, massive drops either side, it was a truly terrifying and unexpected experience. We all made it down unscathed and headed back to our basecamp. This experience will never be forgotten. The story (and our survival) was discussed and exaggerated over beer and wine in the village that night and a collective love of the outdoors began.
I spent many years after that climbing and scrambling in Snowdonia. My parents owned a chalet in Conwy just within the National Park which proved to be a useful base indeed.
Following the passing of 'test' climbs up and into Chasm Face (I'm not a fan of bridging anymore), we climbed the Five Sisters of Kintail and were lucky enough to climb in the Knoydart, arriving by boat across a calm and tranquil Winter Loch. I've walked and climbed and mapped the Cantabrian Mountains of Spain and explored and mapped the mountains of Northern Cyprus.
I can't even remember the first time I climbed or even visited the English Lake District. I remember vaguely happening upon the Kirkstone Pass Inn during a winter drive from Penrith. The snow was nearly at blizzard conditions, with the dim, orange lights of the Inn becoming more and more visible as I neared the summit of the pass. I never expected anything to be open at this time of the year let alone at the top of a mountain pass. Once inside, the smell of the coal fire, small windows and oak beams with blizzard raging outside and host of real ales on tap made me feel like I was 'somewhere else'. I felt like I had been transported to the 'Misty Mountains' of Tolkien, never mind being just two miles from Ambleside.
The Kirkstone Pass Inn served as a catalyst toward my enjoyment of the Lake District. As time passed I could afford to spend more money on equipment and clothing. This meant that I could camp during increasingly worse weather. Wasdale in January is a truly harsh environment. Yet add a decent tent, awe inspiring snow covered mountains on all sides, and a trip to the atmospheric Wasdale Head Inn and it becomes and adventure to which we can all relate to from the books of our youth.
The Lakes has something to offer everyone. Scorching summer days spent on terraces in the sun, paddling in crystal clear waters surrounded by whispering oaks & firs, crisp autumn walks or full on, ice filled expeditions into cold mountain valleys with a warming fire and ales to look forward to. Wandering woodland mountain bike trails, winding shopping streets and secret corners. Raging waterfalls and lonely, silent wind swept summit plateaus, there is simply so much to see and do. I know that when I see the familiar turn off on the M6, a weight is lifted and I feel 'at home'. My wedding day was during December in the Lakes.
I have no idea why I have written this. I was simply looking at pictures of walks on days gone by and thought I'd at least try and put into words what I love about the English Lake District. The fact is, I can't. All I know is that in the short time I am graced with being able to enjoy life on this planet, I will.
