After a week in Seattle on our company’s annual sales kick-off, I really couldn’t wait to get to Vancouver again. My ski gear was packed and I was ready to hit the slopes. Unfortunately, by the time I got to Vancouver, I was knocked out by the worst case of flu I have had in years, so instead of skiing, I spent the bulk of my week in Vancouver sick in bed. And this is why, instead of writing about another Canadian adventure, my year of blogging is (finally!) kicking off with a brilliant UK weekender instead, which I did with my friend Amy a couple of years ago in March. That weekend, we went through nearly all the seasons of England’s beautiful Lake District in just a few days.
Sharp blows of icy winds are raging around us as we stand on the edge of the mountain. I am grateful for the thick woollen gloves that I have just purchased in the souvenir shop as the weather seemingly took a turn from spring back into winter. We are waiting in line to descend the iron steps ragged into the vertical rock wall. The line moves forward and I turn my back to the drop and clip the carabiners that are hanging off my harness to the safety wire running along the iron ladder. Taking one step at a time, both feet carefully joining together on each step, I climb down the ladder with shaky legs while I move one carabiner further down the safety wire, then unclip the other and do the same. This way, I’m always secured by at least one carabiner. Prior to starting the descent, the instructor has made us practice how to clip and unclip the carabiners with one hand while the other holds on to the ladder.
The initial drop isn’t very long and I soon find myself moving horizontally and slightly upwards along the cliff face on more iron steps hammered into the mountain. It’s not exactly easier because some of the steps are relatively far apart but the initial anxiety has passed. Now I feel safe on the sturdy iron steps with my carabiner technique seemingly working. Far below, I can see the little road – the Honister Pass – winding its way up the hill from Buttermere and Loweswater through the mix of rain and snow.
The next part of our tour of the Via Ferrata (translating from Latin into “Iron Way”) at the Honister Slate Mine, the last operating slate mine in Britain, leads us over a flimsy little bridge across a mountain ridge. Despite the thick safety wire running hip-height along the bridge, this obstacle literally freaks me out. The loose-looking wire is the only available handrail and the winds are unpredictable, easing off one moment only to come back with forceful blows another. I worry that one of these gusts will blow me off the bridge and leave me dangling over the daunting gorge. Thankfully, the wind gives us a break and I move across the bridge as fast as I can manage. As we have now put the scariest parts of the three-hour tour behind us, we merely walk and sometimes clamber the remainder of the way up through the mine. Strong winds and stunning views across Buttermere – one of the surrounding lakes – and the Honister Pass welcome us on the top of Fleethwith Pike, which at 648 metres is higher than the tallest building in Western Europe, The Shard in London. The rapidly shifting clouds only add to the already dramatic scenery that unfolds beneath us.
It seems very surreal that only the day before, we canoed peacefully and in pleasant temperatures on the calm Derwentwater. Surrounded by the hills of the Lake District, called fells, this is one of the biggest lakes in Cumbria, stretching from the town of Keswick to Lodore Falls. My friend Amy and I have rented one-person canoes from Platty Plus, which offer a variety of different boat types and paddleboards for rental. After a safety briefing during which we’re also equipped with a map of the lake and some dry bags for our valuables, we paddle up the scenic lake from Lodore Falls towards Keswick. It’s very quiet and relaxing to be out on the water with the sun shining brightly from the sky and the silence only interrupted by the sound of the paddles diving in and out of the water and the odd bird landing on the calm water surface. As we make our way further up the lake, we encounter a family having a picnic on one of the pebbled spaces along the lakefront that resemble small beaches.
All this paddling has made us hungry and we determine it’s time to move into our weekend accommodation, the basic but charming Swallow Barn in Loweswater to prepare dinner (a can of chicken curry and minute-rice will do the trick tonight). A traditional farm building consisting of four sleeping areas and totalling 18 bed spaces, we are staying in a small room within the main barn which can accommodate three people. Mattresses are provided in the unheated rooms and the barn has coin-operated showers as well as a communal area for cooking and socialising. We are joined by a large group of friends from Manchester who have brought along a host of board games. Whilst we are preparing our dinner, the group has made themselves comfortable in the adjoined common area, with the heater now on full blast, and we’re invited to join in for some fun and games while the wind is raging outside.
The next morning, it becomes clear that the unpredictable Lake District weather has dashed our hopes of scrambling up Scafell Pike, the tallest mountain in England, so we embark on a hike around Crummockwater instead. But the pin-sharp rain makes it impossible to keep your eyes open as we hike in the deserted, muffled scenery. After a couple of hours, the ceaseless rain has turned the lush grass plain around the lake with its little walking tracks into an impassable swampland, forcing us to cave in and head back to the car. Stripping off as much of the wet clothing as possible and turning the heating on full blast whilst warming our frozen fingers on a cup of hot coffee from Amy’s flask, we can’t stop laughing about our fight with the elements. Most of our rainwear is completely soaked through and with the lack of heating in our barn, we won’t be able to dry it there. So without further ado, we head to the best place one can be away from home in nasty weather: The Kirkstile Inn – the nearest pub, where we join other hikers drying their clothes around the fireplace.
