There's money in them there hills!!

If you take the walk from Grasmere village to Alcock Tarn, via Brackenfell Woods, you will notice old metal water pipes laid into the ground.  Likewise, the route from Bowness to Post Knott via Helm Road has seats built into the wall at intervals (see piccy below). And at the far end of the walk around Stock Ghyll Park in Ambleside, there is an old turnstile leading from the park, back on to the road.

Like the old milestones that can still be seen on country roads or the ornate water fountains that decorate the kerb sides of some of the region's older villages, these relics are symbols of a bygone age. Placed there for a long forgotten purpose, they lie unused. Put simply, once they had outgrown their purpose, no one bothered to take them away again.

In the case of milestones and water fountains their original use is obvious. But why water pipes in Brackenfell Woods? There are no houses up there, nothing needing to be plumbed in. And what of the turnstiles at Stock Ghyll Park? Or the seats on the path to Post Knott? And why is there an old abandoned station, in the woods close to Windermere ferry? The answer has much to do with the entrepreneurial spirit of the Victorians, and their ingenuity in stage managing nature in order to turn a profit.

In the mid 19th Century the railways came to the Lake District. The region already had a fledgling tourism industry, but with the new transport link came  mass tourism, and at first the sudden influx of  visitors took the locals by surprise. For the best part of fifty years the tourism industry had evolved slowly. Fishermen had become pleasure boat operators, albeit on a one to one basis. Before the arrival of the railway it was possible to hire a rowing boat and guide for the day. The guide was a local man, and he did all the rowing whilst imparting a certain amount of folk lore to his charges, who were no doubt as entertained by his stories as they were with the scenery. That was fine when the flow of tourists was but a trickle, but when the railway arrived and the region suddenly became flooded with day trippers the locals realised that to cash in they needed to think big.

The problem was that tourist attractions as we know them today simply didn't exist. Apart from the ale houses and coffee shops of the towns, the only real attraction for people to see was the scenery, and that was free. This situation did not last for long. The entrepreneurial spirit of the local population rose to the surface, and they began to think of new ways of showing visitors the scenery, and making a lot of money in the process.

In Windermere, or rather on Windermere, pleasure boats were built and launched, and there was plenty of skulduggery afoot as rival operators fought to entice visitors onto their new paddle steamers for the cruise down the lake. Consequently, it was not long before Bowness had a new, unplanned, attraction on it's shore line - the burned out hull of one of the boats.

Meanwhile, over at Grasmere, a different and considerably less cut-throat approach was being taken. Rather than finding a way of charging people to merely look at the scenery, the idea was to create a whole new scenic wonderland, complete with streams, waterfalls, and a small tarn. There was a pathway around the site, with viewpoints at intervals so that paying customers would feel that they were getting value for money by being able to see Grasmere neatly framed between the trees. That scenic wonderland was Brackenfell Woods, and if you walk up through the woods today you'll notice how nice and wide the path is. Wide enough for a horse and carriage, in fact.

The thing about the Victorians was that they were not content with just charging a flat entrance fee. As with other Victorian institutions, such as the railways and the theatre, you could pay the standard fare, or you could enjoy a bit of luxury by paying a premium. This was not simply a way for the attraction operator to make a bit of extra money. It reflected the class laden attitudes of Victorian society. Social status determined whether you travelled first class, in the warm and dry, or third class, outside in all weathers. So whilst the working classes paid sixpence to walk around the woods, the wealthy paid twice that and enjoyed a carriage ride up to the small, artificial tarn that not only provided a pleasing view of Loughrigg, all neatly framed between well positioned trees, but also doubled as a header tank for the system of artificial streams that ran through the woods.

The path up to Post Knott in Bowness was also built with the carriage rider in mind, as were the seats set into the walls. The modern visitor may be forgiven for thinking that these seats were provided for those walking up the slope to stop and rest before they got to the top, which just shows how wrong modern visitors can be. The seats were for those riding in the carriages. They were positioned at intervals and the carriage would stop on the ascent for the passengers to get out so that they could sit on the seats to enjoy the views. Clearly they were not expected to do anything so common as turn their heads to look out of the window!

Throughout the region there are relics of Victorian ingenuity. Claife Station, on the shores of Windermere, has never seen a train. It commanded fine views over Windermere, and still does, as the above  picture of the Windermere Lake Cruises "steamer" shows. That picture was taken from one of windows, not in Victorian times, but in 2005.  Claife Station was built by the owners of the Ferry Hotel as a luxury viewing station. It had coloured windows to reflect the seasons of the year, and even had a kitchen and dining room. It was possibly one of the region's first wedding venues, and certainly a profitable venture for it's owners.

Stock Ghyll Park in Ambleside had turnstiles for those entering the park to pay at, and also turnstiles at the exit. Since the exit was closer to the waterfalls, which was the park's star attraction, those turnstiles were designed to stop people entering. They only turned one way, in order to let people out. Once out they had to pay to get back in again.

These are just a few of the relics of the Victorian tourism industry that can be seen around the region. Each has a tale to tell of the inventiveness and ingenuity of the pioneers of the Lake District tourism industry.

What a load of nuts!!!!

Since the weather here has been considerably better than that in other parts of the country, I thought it would be a good idea last weekend to tidy my garden. Last Thursday we had quite a bit of wind and rain, and in the evening a thunderstorm, with hail thrown in for good measure. Consequently there were bits of tree lying on the lawn, the lid off the compost bin was stuck in the hedge after it blew off, and felt from the shed roof was flapping in the wind.

This latter problem was the first to be fixed, since there are few things worse than standing in the shed and feeling a drip. As I propped the ladder against the side of the shed ready to climb up to asses the damage, I noticed a walnut lying on the ground. Since we don't have a walnut tree, nor do any of our neighbours, I was a little puzzled by this.

An hour later, having reattached the felt to the shed roof and had a break for a cup of tea and to assess the damage to my thumb caused by one too many hammer blows missing the head of the nail, I ventured out to pick the debris off the lawn and came across another walnut. It wasn't just lying there, it was well and truly embedded. A third walnut was found in the bird bath. This whole situation was starting to cause me a certain amount of anguish. It was quite clear that someone has been throwing walnuts at my garden? But who? And why?

First on  the suspect list were the local youths (aren't they always?) My sometimes over active imagination developed the idea of a gang of young men prowling the district, their heads covered by the obligatory hoodies, throwing whole, unshelled walnuts into the gardens of unsuspecting residents.

It wasn't until I moved on to the front garden to clear some leaves that I noticed, nestling contentedly under the lilac, two more walnuts. And there was another one in a plant pot, firmly embedded between a rotting dahlia and the remains of a couple of trailing lobelias. (You will gather by now that gardening is not my strong point.)..

The biggest clue to where these walnuts had come from came when I was raking leaves off the lawn. I found yet another, and this one was well and truly embedded into the front lawn, just as the one in the back lawn had been. However, it got there, it was obvious that it had come down with considerable force.

Theory number one, the anti social local hoodies, was quickly dismissed. After all, throwing them is one thing, but would they really bother to come into the garden and tread them in?

No. Remembering my geography lessons at school, I quickly formulated the theory that the said walnuts had actually fallen from the sky, probably in the hail storm.

Anyway, I collected them up and took them into the house. Within minutes I had cracked one open and eaten it. And very nice it was too, so nice in fact that I had another, and another.

Now, I  don't know whether you are into science fiction films or not, but I do vaguely remember a film called "Invasion of the Body Snatchers". It is about an alien race whose own planet is dying, and they come to earth and take over human bodies in order to try to set up a new, tightly organised society where everyone conforms. They do this by the means of spreading seed pods which have pink flowers on them. People take them into their homes, and then the aliens take over.

I only say this because my walnuts, although very nice, did not really taste like walnuts, and now my wife says that I am behaving strangely. Evidently I'm being really really nice to her for a change, although I have to say that I haven't noticed any difference.

I've also got a rumbling in my stomach, as though there is something in there wanting to get out. A few nights ago I watched the film "Alien", and now I'm wondering whether or not I should really have eaten the walnuts at all. But they tasted so nice, so good, and there are still three left and I was going to leave then for Christmas, but I don't know whether or not I can resist them.

Of course, none of the above has got anything to do with the Lake District tourism industry. This post is well and truly off subject, but since it is my blog I don't really care. It's just that it seemed to be such a strange weekend that I thought I'd share it with you. And now I'm off for a walk, to get some fresh Lake District air, and see if I can find any more walnuts.

Things you can't do in the Lake District before Christmas

If you are wondering whether or not to succumb to the idea that you can save a pot load of money on hotel accommodation by taking a break in the Lake District between now and Christmas, allow me to sway your thinking. Basically, before you book that bargain basement priced hotel break, I think you ought to know about all the stuff that you can't do in the Lake District at this time of year.

First of all, you definitely won't be able to sit in a traffic jam, on the motorway, in the dark, tired after a hard days work, with some interminably cheery radio host playing songs that you don't want to hear, while the windscreen wipers make that incessant squeaking noise as they clear the screen so that you can get a clear view of the red lights on the car 3 feet in front of you. I don't care how much you like doing that, you can't do it here, because we don't have any motorways to get stuck in traffic on.

If you are one of those people who love waiting for the next commuter train, hoping that it is at least as full as the one before because you just love standing whilst you career through the suburbs at 20 mph, and getting up close and personal with people you don't even know, then under no circumstances should you come to the Lakes this winter. Although we do have some commuters, we only have one train for them to ride on, and there are not enough of them to fill it, despite it having a whole 3 carriages. Crowded escalators, queues at the barriers and automatic ticket machines that swallow your money and don't give you anything back are also in short supply as well. In fact, apart from the one at Windermere station for those leaving, there aren't any.

Maybe you are one of those people that loves battling the crowds to do your Christmas shopping. All that bumping and pushing and shoving fills you with glee, and you just cannot wait to get in the queue at the supermarket check out. Self service tills are not for you, not with this trolley load! Well it's like this. If you come to the Lakes you may well be lulled into a false sense of security. After all, we have a supermarket or two. And there is a massive Lakeland Limited superstore just waiting for you to turn up. But something will be sorely missing. There just won't be any heaving crowds of shoppers. We've tried, we really have, but somehow we just don't seem able to muster enough people to make even a small crowd worth the name.

OK, so our transport arrangements aren't too good. No traffic jams or crowded trains, and our shops are half empty, with lots of bargains to be had and no one to buy them, and things don't get any better if you like to indulge in one of the great pleasures of winter by missing all the daylight hours. After all, going out in the morning while it is still dark, spending all day indoors in an office or a shop or a factory or wherever you work, and not returning until well after the sun has gone down in the evening, is one of the highlights of the season. In reality, there is nothing to stop you doing that in the Lake District, but if you do you are likely to miss your breakfast, and we don't like the idea of people going off out at 7 am with an empty stomach. By the time you have had your first meal of the day the sun will be well and truly up, so I'm afraid that if you want to miss all the daylight hours then the Lake District is the last place you should venture into.

If all of the above has not already put you off, maybe you might like to consider the ramifications of the total lack of air, noise and light pollution that we have in the Lakes at this time of year. The air is fresh and clean and can actually make you feel incredibly good, so much so that you'll think you are on a high, which means that it must be bad for you.

Sometimes, when you go for a walk on the fells, or just around a lake, all you can actually hear is the wildlife, and there is only so much gentle lapping of the waves; coupled with the odd chirrup of birdsong mingling with the cry of a kestrel; that any person can take without it driving you into a state of total relaxation. Before you know it you'll be addicted. And there are no clinics that offer a cure! If you want proof, check out this video of a winter walk around Grasmere.

As if all that is not bad enough, if you look up into the sky on a clear night you can actually see the stars. Which is kind of spooky, since if we can see them, the chances are that they can see us. That's right. It could well be that little green men and women from outer space are watching the Lake District and trying to work out why so many people spend their evenings sitting beside roaring log fires. Have these people never heard of central heating?!

So, I hope you will take heed. Life in the Lake District is not like it is in the rest of the country. Our public transport systems are limited and our shops are half empty. People that do take the plunge and spend a few days here tend to get addicted to it. They go home in a relaxed state of mind, with an almost insatiable yearning to come back again. When here they spend their days browsing around as though time does not matter, going for gentle strolls, or searching the empty aisles of gift shops taking advantage of the winter sales to bag half price gifts that no one else would ever have thought of buying. And they do all this without so much as a care in the world to spoil their enjoyment.

It's not right. It shouldn't be allowed. People battle through each day with the worries of the world on their shoulders but when they come to the Lake District they leave them behind. How crazy is that?! Someone has to worry about things, but oh no, these winter tourists don't seem to care a jot. So reader, beware. Joining them will lead you down the rocky path of being stress free.

Of course, if you quite fancy the idea of being stress free for a few days, going for walks amid fine scenery, Christmas shopping without the crowds and generally leaving the hustle and bustle of everyday life far behind, then ignore everything I've said and go ahead and book your winter break. - But remember. You have been warned.

Wake up guys, it's nearly next year!!

OK. As I write this it is the middle of November and the year has but six more weeks to run. And then it is next year. We shall say goodbye to this year. It will be consigned to the history books. We will no longer be able to look forward to it, it is now in the past. Gone, but not necessarily forgotten. Next year, on the other hand, is just around the corner. It is, even as I write, getting closer by the minute.There is not long to wait, and I am looking forward to it. I want to plan ahead.

As I have pointed out before, the Lake District tourism industry is now a 12 month operation. Gone are the days when the cruise boats stopped running in October. Now they are on the go 12 months in the year. Once upon a time, the furniture in the region's Historic Houses disappeared under dust sheets at the start of November. Nowadays those same dust sheets remain folded in the linen cupboard, released only when the decorators call round every few years.

In the 21st century the Lake District has become an all year round tourism destination, and in recognition of this fact I decided that the Lake District Holiday Ideas blog should have an article devoted to highlighting those attractions that never close. Trouble is, that information changes each year. So instead of having one article, we'll be having one every year, or rather, we'll be updating the original one each November.

It's amazing what you find in the country

Those that read my last post will be pleased to know that I have already been putting my new found photographic skills to good use.

On Sunday I was enjoying an afternoon stroll, and walked past a field that has the Langdale Pikes as a backdrop. Last week I would have taken a photograph of the field with the pikes in the background, as in real life they look really good. But, as has been pointed out me, photographs are not real life, they are 2 dimensional images, and you have to look a bit closer at the view to get the best out of it.

So instead of taking a picture of the Langdale Pikes, I took a picture of this tree stump being attacked by a giant stick insect. The Langdale Pikes just happen to be in the background, but that is not really relevant.

The thing is that we used to keep Stick Insects. Someone gave us 2 of them, and assured us that there was no way on this earth that they would mate. About six weeks later I noticed that not only were there two very large stick insects in the tank, but several hundred very small ones. It seemed that the stick insects had already mated.

Of course, the golden rule here is never to take on a pet that you know nothing about. By the end of the week we had about a thousand stick insects, and it was not until a plumber called at our house the following week to service the boiler that I found out why.

The plumber was only a plumber during working hours. At other times he was a nailed on, grade A stick insect enthusiast. And he was more than happy to leave our house carrying not only his tools, but a box containing about 500 baby stick insects. But more importantly he spent about an hour with us telling us how to get the most out of our new charges, as well as pointing out the reason for our insect population explosion.

That was several years ago. We no longer have stick insects because we have given them all away, but one of them seems to have really thrived, as the picture below, taken in the aforementioned field, clearly shows.

How not to be an ace photographer!!

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Well as a writer who is, and always has been, totally useless with a camera, I have to disagree. But only because I am one of those people who, despite trying very hard, have never got the hang of photography. I've tried, I really have. I've read books and been on courses, but somehow I never seem to get it quite right.

So when my nephew, a photographer by profession, offered to give me some tips yesterday, I was happy to receive them. Before we started I did point out to him that turning me into an ace photographer would be something of a challenge, but he just shrugged his shoulders and told me that anyone can do it, you just have to follow a few basic rules.

He started by telling me that the number one golden rule is that photography is all about using the available light, and then manipulating it to best effect. For autumn landscape photography that means being up and about at the Golden Hour. Apparently, despite being in the singular, the golden hour is actually two hours. The one just after the sun has come up, and the one just before the sun goes down. Evidently, the light at this time of year takes on a golden hue at these times. 

This seemed quite logical to me. So far, so good.

Then he told me that I can add to this effect by changing the camera's white balance setting to give the pictures a warmer feel. And having confidently offered this nugget of information, he then asked if I knew how to change the white balance setting. And that was when my eyes glazed over. The thing is, I haven't got the foggiest idea of what a white balance setting is.

“Give me your camera,” he said, “and I'll show you.”

So I gave him my camera, and all he did was say “Ahh”. It was not so much what he said, as how he said it. His voice carried a tone of heavy disappointment. He kind of weighed my camera in his hand for a second or two, and then asked “Why didn't you say that you only had a compact?”

“It wasn't cheap,” I replied defensively, “it cost over fifty quid, and it fits really well into my bag.”

My defensive utterings fell on deaf ears. “You can't change the white balance on this” he told me.

“Right, so what you are telling me is that my camera is no good and I need a better one,” I replied.

“Not at all,” he said, “it's not worse, just different. You need a slightly different technique, that's all.”

Ah bless, he was trying not to upset me, but I could tell from the disappointment in his voice that he really was not too impressed with my choice of camera. He thought for a moment and then said, “Right, well, golden rule number one still applies, so don't rub that out.”

“OK”

“But forget what I said about white balance.” He looked at my camera again and asked “how old is this?”

“Not very old,” I replied, “I got it in 2001.”

There was a heavy sigh, followed by an embarrassed silence, before he started on the revised version of golden rule number 2.

“Right, well,” he started, “since there is not a lot you can do with the camera, it's really all about composition.”

I'll not re-tell the whole conversation here. It lasted about an hour. Suffice to say that he suggested a number of things that I could do to produce a half decent photo.

Like not trying to photograph wide landscapes or stuff that is a long way away. Instead I should concentrate on things which have light shining on them. And if I really must insist on trying to capture the landscape in all it's glory I needed to think about creating some kind of visual pathway within the picture to keep it interesting. Maybe following the line of a river or road as it winds it way down a valley. Or choose a subject in the landscape that has a contrasting colour, like a white house.

Also, when photographing an object like a boat or a steam train, try to get it when it is not moving. And get people in the photos if at all possible. Evidently, a picture of a steam train in a station with all the people getting out of the carriages is far more interesting than one of just the engine.

It was all good stuff and very interesting and informative, but by the end of the hour he could see my eyes glazing over again.

“Actually,” he said,” maybe you could try choosing subjects that are totally different, like an unusually shaped tree. Or perhaps something on the ground, like a flower, or snail or something like that.

“A snail?!!” I said.

He looked at me in desperation. “Anything low down,” he answered, “I don't know, what kinds of things do you find in the lake district in autumn?”

I was going to say 'sheep poo' but thought better of it. I didn't want him to think I was not taking him seriously.

“How about the moss in a wall,” he continued, “ or the bark on a tree, or maybe horse chestnuts, or berries, or holly. ANYTHING! As long as it is interesting.”

“What about a puddle?” I asked.

“So you think puddles are interesting?” he replied, a sarcastic tone entering his voice.

“ A puddle with a reflection of an unusual tree in it would be,” I suggested.

He thought for a moment. “Reflections on a still lake, now they are good, particularly if you have autumn colours mirrored on the surface.”

“We're back to landscapes then,” I said.

He sighed.

Despite his obvious exasperation, I felt we were getting somewhere. My creative juices were beginning to flow, so I got some pictures I had taken and asked him to review them and make a few suggestions as to how they could have been improved.

After looking through them, raising an occasional eyebrow as he did so, he put them down and said “Do you have a tripod?”

So that's the answer. After all these years it turns out that I am not useless at photography after all, I just can't hold the camera steady.

No such luck, it turns out that I have to do all the other stuff as well as keeping the camera steady. Curses, I thought I was on to something for a moment. Anyway, in for a penny, in for a pound, as they say. Next week I shall put my new found knowledge into action and try to take some half decent photos. So all I can say is watch this space!

How to keep your parents occupied on holiday when it rains

It's half term. And it's raining.

The thought of a day of rain is not exactly going to make most of the holiday makers in the Lake District dance for joy. The key question is, what to do about it?

With it being half term the chances are that a lot of this weeks visitors will be families, and the trouble with families is that one half of them needs to be entertained. It's a perennial problem that affects most children at some point in their young lives - How to keep your parents occupied on holiday when it rains.

You see, parents have the knack of getting depressed when the wet stuff starts to fall from the sky. The reason for this is simply that, because they are on holiday, parents have to "do something different". They are not content with the idea that you can simply fire up the Play Station, or go for a swim, or visit an attraction that has an interactive element to it, or maybe even a Ball Pool to play in. With parents the golden rule is simple; if you can do it at home, then you are not doing it on holiday. End of.

They are oblivious to the fact that most of the "stuff" that people do is done indoors anyway. And they constantly moan about the cost, and having to find somewhere good to eat. Very often there is the constant whingeing about "where to go next". When they are on holiday parents never seem to want to go back to somewhere they have been before. They always want to try to think of somewhere new. And then the bickering starts, as mum wants this and dad wants that, and if there are grandparents on site they take sides and all hell breaks loose.

This disharmony often leads to the very worst scenario of all. They decide, often without consulting the children at all, that they have spent enough money, and that there is nowhere new to go, and so the best thing to do is to go for a drive. And just to compound their children's plight, they decide to take sandwiches so they don't have to find somewhere for lunch.

A clear indication that children are being forcibly driven around in cars in the rain is the growth of traffic on the region's roads during wet weather. Generally speaking, the traffic in the Lake District is always at it's worst during the half term monsoon season. Consequently, even as I write this, there are a lot of bored families who are driving around the Lake District with nowhere to go, and all day to get there.

Of course, all children know that driving around the Lake District in the rain is probably, no definitely, the worst thing you can ever do when on holiday. It is boring, no one can see the scenery, the driver sees little more than the back end of the car in front, (and there will invariably always be a car in front, which will invariably contain more parents who refuse to take their children's advice to stay in the cottage and watch telly) and after a while the hypnotic swish of the windscreen wipers will render everyone into a state of stupour from which it will take at least a day to recover. But will they listen? Of course they won't. They are parents, and they know best.

So what is the answer? When the rain pours down and parents start muttering that "they knew they should have stayed at home" what can children do to rescue the situation? In short, how do they keep their parents entertained on wet days?

(By the way, this next bit is for children only, so if you are a parent stop reading and go do something else.

NOW)

You'll be pleased to know that there are a number of solutions. Such as having an attraction raffle. What you do is put the names of all the indoor attractions into a hat and then pick one out, and that is the one that you are going to visit and no arguments. Or you can play "pin the parent to the map." Basically, you spend about an hour making a cardboard cut out model of your parents, ( a cereal packet is good for this) and then take it in turns (parents can join in) to wear a blindfold and pin either mum, or dad, or both, to a map of the Lake District. Whoever puts a pin the nearest to an attraction gets a prize and also everyone has to visit that attraction, and no moaning, because that's the law.

By the way, devious children can fiddle this game in their favour by smearing strawberry jam on the part of the map that they want to visit, and then when it comes to their turn all they have to do is find the sticky bit of the map and pin their cardboard effigy of mum or dad to it.

If neither of the above work, then hiding the car keys can be a solution to the "driving around in the rain" issue. It beats telling everyone you feel sick as it avoids having to feign illness. But there is a down side, as you can get seriously told off, however, this may have an up side as some parents will temporarily forget that they are on holiday and decide to ground you, thereby grounding themselves at the same time.

If all else fails, and it might, then you can resort to the oldest trick in the book and get out the colouring books. Parents love their children getting really stuck into to a colouring book, and very often will be happy to join in. Before long you will have two very happy parents sitting at the kitchen table trying very hard to colour in "Winnie the Pooh" without going over the edges whilst you, dear child, can be left alone to get on with playing on whatever computer game you managed to smuggle into your bag.

Have a very happy half term.

How to confuse a tourist!

Whilst walking through Windermere on Saturday morning I was approached by a couple carrying a piece of paper. They looked to be in their early sixties. She had the look of Joyce Grenfell, and the manner of Margaret Thatcher in her heyday. He looked as though he had spent a life time following her lead.

"Excuse me," said the lady, "but do you live here?"
"I do" was my reply.
"At last!" she exclaimed, "we've asked quite a few people already, but they are all on holiday. We are a bit confused. This is Windermere, isn't it?"
"It is," I confirmed.
"But we can't find the lake" she continued. "Is there another Windermere, one with a lake?"
"No," I said, "this is the only one."
"Well that's silly," she replied, "why is this called Windermere when it is not near Lake Windermere?"

I could have just shrugged my shoulders and said I did not know and moved on. It would have been a whole lot easier, but then it is not the first time that this has happened to me. I once tried to explain to a Japanese girl on train that there was a big difference between Windermere and Lakeside Stations, and that when we got to Windermere she would not be able to simply hop off the train and onto a boat to get to Ambleside.It took the entire journey from Kendal to Windermere, and even then I don't think she believed me.

So I decided that if I was to answer this ladies question I should do so properly, which as it turned out was something of a mistake.
"Actually," I said, " the lake is not called Lake Windermere. It is just Windermere."
"But according to this map it is called Lake Windermere, and this is just Windermere" She waved her map at me as though to convince me that it was right and I was wrong.
"No," I replied, "they are both called Windermere. Calling it Lake Windermere would be a bit like calling London, "City London". "
"That is what it is called," interrupted her companion. "Or the City of London to be precise."
"Don't be silly Gerald, you can't call Lake Windermere "Lake of Windermere" " the lady replied sternly.

Clearly she and poor Gerald had already had words about the issue. And what I thought had started out as a polite enquiry was threatening to turn into a heated debate.

"It's all very simple, " I said, " The 'mere' part of the word Windermere means 'Lake', so it is just Windermere."
"But that's just a technicality" replied the lady, indignantly. " Anyway, what I want to know is why the town is not beside the lake. Surely if you name a town after a lake then it needs to be on the shores of that lake."
"But the town is not named after the lake," I replied. "It is named after the railway station."

This piece of information was clearly too much for her.
"Oh, this is stupid," she stated, "come on Gerald, we'll go and ask someone else."

Without so much as a thank you for my time, she marched off, Gerald in hot pursuit. I felt a little sorry for him.

Anyway, just in case she happens to chance upon this blog, or in the event of you, dear reader, also being confused, allow me to fully explain.

Windermere is a lake. That is it's name. It is not Lake Windermere, or even Windermere Lake, but just Windermere. At ten miles long and in some parts over a mile wide it is England's largest natural lake. 

But, Windermere is also a town, and it is not unreasonable to assume that Windermere the town stands beside Windermere the lake. After all, the town of Coniston stands close to Coniston Water, and Grasmere village is close to Grasmere. However, it does not. The name of the town beside Windermere (the lake) and joined to Windermere (the town) is actually Bowness on Windermere. Windermere (the town) stands on the hillside overlooking Windermere (the lake), and is at least a mile from the water's edge. 

All of which is very confusing for the first time visitor, who, having arrived in Windermere (the town), sets off  to the lake shore, little knowing that they face a trek of almost 2 miles to reach the piers at Bowness.

So how did this situation come about? Why is Bowness on Windermere not called, simply, Windermere, and why is Windermere (the town) so far from Windermere (the lake)? The answer lies in the history of the local railway network.

Bowness on Windermere has been in existence from at least the 11^th century, when St Martins church was first established close to the lake shore. The main industry in the village was fishing, and it was also the major crossing point. The narrowest part of the lake is just south of Bowness, at Ferry nab.

When the Kendal and Windermere railway was first proposed, the directors of the railway company wanted to build their line from Oxenholme, where the newly built West Coast mainline ran, to Low Wood, on the shores of Windermere. The intention was very simple. It was to allow the townsfolk of Kendal, and beyond, easy access to the lake and all it's pleasures.

The line was to be built in two sections. The first was to be constructed to the point where the road to Bowness branched off from the turnpike road which ran from Kendal to Ambleside, between the hamlets of Birthwaite and Elleray. Originally, the station was to be named Birthwaite, however, there was a change of plan when objections to the building of the second part of the line were received. The objectors were the wealthy landowners of the region, who feared the effect that the new railway would have on the financial value of their investments. They were supported by the poet William Wordsworth, who gained national coverage for the campaign against the railway.

Popular history records that the protest was a successful one, however, not for the first time popular history does not reflect the truth, which is that the railway company, having started work on the second section of the line, ran out of money. The plan for the railway had included a viaduct over the river at Troutbeck Bridge, and the directors of the line soon realised that the project was out of their reach. So the station at Birthwaite became the line's terminus, and was subsequently re named Windermere, denoting that this was the closest that rail travellers were going to get to the Lake.

Windermere (the town) grew up around the new railway station and extended along the road to Bowness on Windermere. Consequently it took it's name from the railway station, which is in turn named after Windermere ( the lake).

Simple really.

How times have changed

There was a time, in fact, not so very long ago, when the Lake District tourism industry all but closed down at the start of October. Back in 1973, when I was young, free and single, I remember catching a boat from Bowness to Lakeside. It was the 6th October, a very pleasant autumn day, and the boat (the "Swan", I seem to remember) was about half full. It was my last chance to make that journey that year, as a couple of days later the boats ceased operation for the winter. They were not the only tourist attraction to do so. By the end of that month, virtually all the region's tourism attractions were in hibernation mode.

That is just 40 years ago. Nowadays things are very different. The Lake District is open for business all year round, with quite a number of attractions even welcoming visitors in January, which retains it's position as the Lake District's quietest month.

There are a number of reasons why The Lake District has become an all year round destination. Back in the early seventies few people took more than a couple of breaks a year. Most people only had one, their main holiday, and when you'd worked your socks off to save up the money the last thing you wanted to do was waste it by going away in the depths of winter. Besides, there was Christmas and the New Year break to think of.

By the time we got to the eighties, more and more people started to take an extra short break, often leaving the kids with granny and grandad while they popped away for a few days to revitalise the romantic side of their lives. And what better place to go to than the Lake District, with it's unique charm, and no crowds. You really could get away from it all and enjoy some quality time together. And the good news is that you still can. The Lake District may be open for business 12 months of the year, but that does not mean that it is crowded. There is still plenty of space to relax and unwind.

Back in the eighties and early nineties the weather also played it's part. There was a succession of winters characterised by cold, clear days and frosty nights. Not that every day was like that, you understand. As with other parts of the country, the winter weather in the Lakes could be damp and drab, with heavy mist obscuring the views, and, occasionally, rain that came down sideways. But such days failed to dampen the spirits of most visitors, and some people positively revelled in them. Yes, that's right, there were people, in fact there still are, who were disappointed if the sun shone and the air was crisp and still. They wanted to experience extremes of weather. The wonder of the Lake District was that there was a good possibility of experiencing both kinds of weather on the average 5 day mid winter break.

Probably one of the most important factors driving the move towards a 12 month season was the price that it was possible to buy accommodation and meals at. Even as late as 1992, one good quality Lake District hotel was offering 5 nights Dinner Bed and Breakfast for just £99 per person. Little wonder that the hotel soon found itself almost as full as it had been in the summer. And the quality of the fare on offer did not disappoint, as many guests booked for the same time the following year, and the next, and the next, in fact, some of them are still doing so 20 years down the line. Nowadays the prices they pay are a little more realistic, but with a little shopping round it is still possible to get a really good deal for a winter break, and the really good news in Winter 2012/2013 there is more to do when they get here than ever before, including enjoying a little romance.

Drawing inspiration from the telly

There is no getting away from it. This year the  Lakeland fells have been quieter than normal. Only just last week, in the middle of the holiday season,  I set off down the Langdale Valley and actually managed to walk from Side House to Elterwater without meeting another person. True, it was raining, but this is the Cumbria Way, after all, and there is usually someone about, even if it is only a local walking their dog.

Lingmoor was also eerily quiet, although it is not unusual to have the fell all to oneself. But looking down the valley from Side Pike I was struck by just how quiet it was. Through the mist I could make out the outline of one solitary walker plodding up Mickleden, and wondered whether he or she was heading for Bowfell, or going over the the pass towards Borrowdale. The rain had stopped, the mist was clearing, and there were plenty of cars on the road, but walkers were in short supply.

Actually, as I tucked into my apricot jam and sausage sandwich (don't ask!) I started to imagine that the silence of the fells was a result of something I had missed. Everyone was, I decided, somewhere else. Somewhere that I should also have been, attending an event I had forgotten. Trouble was, I couldn't remember what it was. But I started to become convinced that over the fell in Borrowdale, hundreds of walkers were gathering to celebrate the majesty of the Lakeland Fells at a walkers convention that I knew nothing about.

It was a logical explanation, and as I plodded down towards the camp site I had almost convinced myself that I was right. Until, after 4 hours on the fell, I met a couple going the other way. They were not tourists out for a walk, but fellwalkers pursuing their love of walking. Both are commonplace, but you can tell the difference. Fellwalkers don't tend to be wearing new gear, and they carry maps and compasses. Actually, some  tourists don't wear any proper walking gear at all, as anyone associated with the Mountain Rescue service will tell you.  However, I digress.

I stopped to pass the time of day, as you do, and during the course of the conversation a theory as to why the fells were quieter than normal this year was put forward. Quite apart from the rain, the recession and a certain sporting event taking place elsewhere, the lack of people on the fells could also be put down to the Julia Factor, or rather the lack of it.

The Julia to which I am referring is, of course, Julia Bradbury. She still adorns our television screens on a regular basis, but not walking around the Lake District. And there is no doubt whatsoever that being featured on mainstream television does have an effect on the numbers of people taking to the fells. I well remember walking up Castle Crag the week after that fell had been featured on "Wainwright's Walks". OK, I will admit that it was a nice day, but even so I was surprised to find well over forty people on the summit enjoying the sunshine and views. Not only that but there was a steady stream of people heading up the fell as we were heading back down. By contrast, Catbells, which is normally very popular, but had not been featured on the telly the week before, was strangely deserted.

Coincidence? I don't think so. Just look at the effect that the Olympics has had. The Saturday after the games ended sports clubs up and down the country reported an  increase in the number of people wanting to join. They'd watched the games on the telly. Now they wanted to get involved. And whilst some will no doubt give up as soon as they get out of breath, others will go on to become future champions.

In the nineteen thirties Alfred Wainwright was inspired to walk the fells after climbing Orrest Head and seeing the whole of the Lake District laid out before him. In 1970 I was inspired to walk the fells after climbing Black Combe, the bulky hill that lies on the South West corner of the National Park, and discovering that "another world", lay on the other side of the mountain.

Nowadays, it seems, hundreds of people get their inspiration by tuning in to BBC4 of a Friday night.

Nuneaton here I come!!!!

The news last week that Nuneaton is now part of the Lake District gave me good cheer. I've got relatives who live in Nuneaton. I can visit them of a Sunday afternoon now that it is a stone's throw from Windermere.

For those slightly confused by the above, allow me to explain. Last week, that esteemed travel web site "Trip Advisor" made a bit of a mistake with one of it's maps and gave the impression that Nuneaton was in fact, the gateway to the Lakes. It's an easy mistake to make, after all, there are huge similarities between the two. Both are quite close to the M6 and both have hills, although it is a fact that the hills in Nuneaton are not very high, or topped by cairns, but who cares about a mere technicalty like that?

Nuneaton also has 18 lakes. That's 17 more than the Lake District. And they are surrounded by trees, contain fish, and you can hire a rowing boat. Unfortunately, they are a bit short of Meres, Tarns, and Waters, but you can't have everythng.

It has a rich literary history though. George Eliot was from Nuneaton. And he was a lady, just like our very own Beatrix Potter, who may have actually been to Nuneaton, but nobody really knows for sure.

The town has several other famous sons. Like Ken Loach, the film director and Larry Grayson, who never shut that door on the town.

Now, the Lake District Hospitality Association, another esteemed organisation, has joined in by granting Nuneaton honorary Lake District Town status, thereby making the repositioning of Nuneaton official. It is no longer an Internet gaffe. It is now part of the Lake District. Evidently, someone in Nuneaton held a party to celebrate.

It would seem that quite a few people who live in Nuneaton have actually been to the Lake District on holiday. Now they won't have to. They can stay at home, enjoy the wonderful scenery and then truthfully tell their friends that they holidayed in the Lakes. And those of us that live in the Lakes can pop over to Nuneaton to do a bit of shopping, so watch out Kendal and Penrith, there's a new kid on the block.

It is also good news for house owners in Nuneaton, as prices are set to soar with new buyers flooding into the town to buy up cottages as second homes. This will also have a positive effect on the town's traffic problems, reducing the number of cars on the road and thereby doing away with the need to upgrade the one way system. And Christmas shopping in Nuneaton will now be a doddle as all the tourists will have gone home.

Nuneaton's tourist attraction will also find itself extremely busy as bus loads of Japanese descend on the town to photograph it from every angle. The Nuneaton Post Card Emporium will be taking on extra staff shortly.

Yes, it is good news all round for Nuneaton, in all but one respect. The good people of that fine old Warwickshire town are going to have to get used to the rain. And if they think that this year has been wet, they are in for a surprise when they experience a really good Lake District Summer.

And now I need to buy a new map, and get to work planning next years edition of "Walks around Nuneaton"

Watch this space!!