Miss Potter

Sunday, June 20

Louisa and I arrived in the famous Lake District of Cumbria about 1:00. We enjoyed tea and scones near Dove Cottage, former home of William Wordsworth. It’s no wonder that such romantic poetry was created here. The landscapes are so beautiful, the simplest of descriptions flows out of the mouth like Bottichelli flowers. We bought a walking guide and headed to Yew Tree Farm, our home during our stay here. It was one of Beatrix Potter’s farms, and is now a working farm specializing in the local Herdwick sheep.

Cats and an old sheep dog greeted us. Lovely front garden where a tiny baby lamb bleated at us. Up in our room, tea awaited!

After settling in, off we went to find supper. Into Coniston, just a few miles away, we found this charming pub . . .

Monday, June 21            A Day of Walking

Up early and off by 7am after a cup of tea and an apple. We tried following our walking map to trek a three-mile tour around five farms but ended up accidentally taking a short cut and seeing only one, Lowen Tree Farm. Then up a steep hill through a sheep pasture to Tarn Cottage, and back down the hill to our own farm by 8:30, just in time for a hearty Wanderer’s breakfast. I had poached duck eggs on a muffin with dry cured ham.  Lou had a full English breakfast: blood pudding, Cumbrian sausage, eggs, tomatoes, and mushrooms. I had a taste of blood pudding, pretty scary, but it was tasty. Topped off with wonderful toast and marmalade. Their coffee was very good, too.

Before starting our big hike, we went into Coniston to do a bit of shopping. Louisa bought a hat and I bought some hiking boots. We decided to park the car near Hill Top Farm, where Beatrix lived and the first farm she bought in the Lake District. We visited her museum on the way (located in her husband’s office) where we saw many of her original drawings and paintings. They were so colorful and fresh! The books don’t do them justice. We started our hike just outside of the farm. Up and up. Very sunny. We reached our first tarn, a mountain lake, where we had a rest.

Perfect temps, spotted clouds, an occasional fisherman, took my breath away!  Eventually entered the woods and near the top of our path we could see Lake Windermere off in the distance.

 The town of Windermere looked like the Rivera. Our path led to many beautiful overlooks, through lovely woods and high treks. We were exhaused by the time we got down to the car. We changed shoes and cleaned up a bit and hightailed it to the nearest pub. I tried a cider, and it became one of my favorite refreshments during my stay. We figured our milage, and although we had treked more than four hours, we had covered only six miles. Much of it was pretty steep, though. 

Hill Top Farm was lovely, though the little village was quite built up around it, so it didn’t really seem like a farm. Gardens all around, and roses climbing the walls. The home had the furniture and paintings that Beatrix had there originally, including her brother’s large landscapes. I liked the wallpaper on the ceilings. The doll house from her naughty mouse story was also there.

Tuesday, June 22

Woke up STARVING, and had to wait a whole hour until breakfast. Had tea and then coffee and wrote a bit, took a bath, and finally went down to breakfast at 8:30. Ate muesli and yogurt, scrambled eggs, sausage, tomatoes, and mushrooms, ending it all with toast with rhubarb marmelade.

Off to Troutbeck Farm for our walk today.

A lovely farm house along the way.

Our path into the wilds started at a beautiful, old churchyard. The church, though not large or famous, had a beautiful window created by one of the Pre-Raphelite artists.

Another of Beatrix Potter’s farms. This path was 5 1/2 miles, but was fairly level. We came across a few other wanderers that were up in age from whom we enjoyed getting news. We  took a swim in the very cold beck (brook) under a stone bridge. I was giddy with delight! I felt like a nymph out of a Maillol woodcut. Good to imagine and feel young again!

Lovely Troutbeck…

Herdwick sheep are born with black wool.  After a year, their wool turns brown and they are sheared for the first time. As an adult, their wool is grey. 

Lunch at the Mortal Man Inn, where I had the best beer I ever had: Sally Birket Bitter with a bit of lemon. Made there, on tap only. With a jacket (baked) potato, beans, mushrooms, and tomatoes. Stopped later in the afternoon at the little village of Ambleside, where we took a boat ride and saw the length of Lake Windermere.

On our boat ride we saw campers, a castle (fake, from Victorian times), mansions, beautiful woods, swans, and leaping fish. Relaxing after our long walk. Back to the farm for a nap and clean-before our next adventure . . .

We decided to go to a different part of the Lakes for our supper, so we drove to Eskdale.  This is near the highest peaks in England and the road was narrow, winding, steep, and thrilling. (I won’t say terrifying!)

Standing on top of a VERY HIGH HILL, which was on top of a VERY HIGH MOUNTAIN! It was very windy and breathtaking! Wonderful view, lots of sheep.

Supper at the Woolpack Inn. This is the point where the shepherds would bring the wool to be packed over the hills to be shipped off. Here we had Yorkshire Pudding and Pot au Feu. Louisa said it wasn’t a very good example of the traditional dish, but I liked it.  Brothy lamb stew over a puffy, eggy poofy thing. Somehow the drive back to the farm wasn’t so scary.  Stays light here until almost 11pm, so the light was lovely. Bless dear Louisa for doing all the driving on this whole trip.

Wednesday, June 23

A sad good-bye on our last morning, the last breakfast (I had the duck eggs again), the last drive through the woodlands along the lakes . . . a most beautiful place. I will never be the same. I don’t know when I have been so happy, my heart so full for a landscape.  Perhaps we got lost accidentally along our way just to spend a few more moments there, and were a bit late picking up Howie in Lancaster at the train station. Let it be said that it was not intentional, for I was also happy to see my errant husband and hear of his adventures in Scotland.