I Wandered Lonely as a Mammoth … Lake District

Woolly says – After are hosts had supplied us with a humongous breakfast, we set off to the first destination of our days long itinerary. The views were incredible as we drove up and down the small roads getting glimpses of water far below us. Passing near to the Old Man of Coniston I pondered if I should have included that in the activities but neither Jo nor I are fell walkers and although the barking beast would probably love it, I’d stuck to things that my carers old legs could manage.

Coniston Water is the third-largest lake in the Lake District by volume (after Windermere and Ullswater), and the fifth-largest by area, five miles long by half a mile wide (8 km by 800 m), it has a maximum depth of 184 feet (56 m) and is probably most famous for its links to the author Arthur Ransome who is said to have based his novel Swallows and Amazons on it and the record attempts and sad death of Donald Campbell.

With the morning mists clearing it was stunning and as we wandered a mile or so along its shores taking pictures, I remembered the boat journey we had taken on its years ago when we had visited with Ian which had also been a bitterly cold day. Once Alfie the Dog had finished racing back and forth, we wandered into the town of Coniston on a mission to find three things.

Mission one was easy and as Jo took a picture of the memorial plague for Donald Campbell, I stood staring at the sign which should have led us to his grave but was pointed directly into a café, maybe his grave was in there I pondered.

As my small companion considered this, I took the sensible option of asking a local who pointed us to an area behind the café also taking the time to tell us where to find the grave.

Woolly says – Well of course I knew it wasn’t in the café, does she think I’m that stupid!! Entering the graveyard, we followed the gents’ clear directions and within a few minutes found ourselves stood in front of the legends final resting place, and a most fitting one it was to. With a picture taken we walked through the village toward the Ruskin Museum which would tell us more about the area, the writers and Mr Campbell. I tried to push the door open but it appeared to be stuck, sighing in frustration I realised that it wasn’t merely stuck but actually locked and bolted, Covid had struck again as according to a very small sign staff were off ill with it. There was only one thing for it and that was to proceed to our next port of call.

Ambleside sits on the northern shore of Windermere, England’s largest natural lake, yesterday we had seen the south which had little to offer, this small town however was busy and thriving with visitors. Having parked the car, we headed towards one of the curious things I had wanted to see,

Bridge House was built over Stock Ghyll more than 300 years ago, probably as a summer house and apple store for Ambleside Hall. It was purchased by local people in 1926 and given to the National Trust and is now a Grade I Listed building.

It was tiny and ideal as a summer home for me and the bestie, even the panting animal could have been accommodated. Perched on its original bridge with the river flowing beneath it, it was a treat to behold. I took up my pose as Jo attempted to take the money shot in between tourists trying to take their own, with the snap in the bag we carried on through the town and down to the shoreline.

I knew that the next place of interest was one that Woolly had been looking forward to most and watching his grubby little face light up as we entered the field and he saw stonework I smiled happily at his delight.

Woolly says – Ambleside Roman Fort was built in the 2nd century and was a must see, an earlier version of the fort was probably founded around the time of Agricola (AD 80–5), and it was occupied until at least AD 365. Early investigators suggested that it may have been abandoned after AD 85, and reoccupied in time of Hadrian my hero. However, more recent analysis of recovered ceramics from outside the fort showed no evidence of a break in occupation between 100 and 160 AD. Excavations of the towers indicate that it was destroyed once or twice in the 2nd or 3rd centuries, but the evidence is unclear. The fort appears to have had a large extramural settlement, and was apparently a significant centre for local storage and commerce.

Although not much to see except foundations for two of its entrances and the main area where the officers in charge would have lived the signage was brilliant in giving reconstructed pictures as to how it would have looked.

Extremely chuffed with this part of the day even barky boy had enjoyed the ruins although I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have been weeing up them if the Roman officers had still been in residence.

With one more place on my list still to see we took to the road one more driving alongside the high peaks all golden and brown in their autumn plumage.

William Wordsworth is one of Britain’s most famous poets, who lived from 1770 until 1850. His ‘Daffodils’ poem beginning “I wandered lonely as a cloud” is the probably his best-known work. Born in Cockermouth, just north of the National Park, he went to school in Hawkshead. After attending Cambridge University and then living in Dorset, Wordsworth and his sister moved back to the Lake District to Dove Cottage in Grasmere in 1799. Where he married his wife Mary in 1802, and she and her sister joined the Wordsworth’s at Dove Cottage. The family quickly expanded, with the arrival of three children in four years, the Wordsworth’s left Dove Cottage in 1808 to seek larger lodgings.

It is said that Wordsworth’s ‘Guide through the District of the Lakes’ published in 1820 sparked off the first beginnings of mass tourism to the area. We left Alfie the Dog with his chew in the car and headed into the museum to be told that we would have to wait forty minutes for the next tour of Dove Cottage to take place. I could almost hear Jo’s groans over mine as both of us dislike being herded like sheep round places.

As we waited for the dreaded tour to begin, we took our time looking through the museum which is currently focused on Dorothy Wordsworth who would have been 250 this Christmas if she had lived. It was interesting to realise how much she had written herself quite often only being referred to in her brothers’ books as ‘female contributor or member of family’ with no actual credit for her wonderful words. She was known for her fell walking guides and her poetry which was considered to be equal to that of William.

With the tour time upon us we stood waiting with two other couples as minute after minute ticked by, by the time the guide was ten minutes late I could see that Jo was getting antsy knowing that leaving the mutt in the car for much longer wasn’t an option. Finally, she arrived and spent several more minutes telling us about the museums time during Covid and its closure before leading us into a room for a twenty-minute video about the cottage.

Our time for leaving Alfie the Dog was up and having asked if we could miss the video and just look at the cottage the guide rolled her eyes and summoned one of her many colleagues to take us in.

Woolly says – The kitchen area was warm and toastie with a lovely open fire roaring happily away, it looked very much as though William and his family had just finished tea and headed out for a walk with plates on the table which even included crumbs. Next door was one of the bedrooms with lovely wooden detailing and a bed which at night would have been shrouded in covers to keep its occupants warm.

The scullery showed food being prepared whilst the washing hung from the ceiling, only lit by candles it must have been a very dark place to live in during the winter months. Upstairs took us into the former study where so many literary pieces had been written and conceived.

A twin bedroom with a deep window seat would have looked out over the fells although sadly newer buildings blocked the view. A child’s suit lay out on the bed ready to put on, it looked very smart and was a lovely blue.

Two further bedrooms one wallpapered with old newspapers of the time were dark but warm and cosy from the heat coming up for downstairs, a glimpse into the back garden showed how inspiring the place must have been to live in.

Thanking the guide for her watching of us we headed quickly to the car and realised a happy mutt before taking a look round the garden area, a lovely place which led into woods and would make a great place to sit in the sunshine writing memorial verse.