Wray Castle - is it just a folly, or the most important building in the Lake District?

At first sight, Wray Castle appears to be an impressive defensive structure, complete with battlements, turrets, and even balistraria (slits from which archers could fire arrows). It stands in a prominent position on Watbarrow Point, on the western shore of Windermere, guarding the northern reaches of the lake, and the town of Ambleside. Inside the building, solid oak panels adorn the thick, seemingly impenetrable stone walls. A substantial solid oak staircase leads to the upper floors, whilst a maze of narrow corridors on the lower floors is clearly intended to give those not familiar with the layout enormous difficulty in navigating the castle's interior. In short, every aspect of the building's construction is clearly designed to offer the inhabitants a feeling of safety in a hostile environment. Or is it?

All is not as it seems. Despite the castle's rock solid appearance, in the event of a battle it would be about as much use as a chocolate teapot! It is sited in the wrong place to defend Ambleside, has never had any armaments, nor soldiers to fire them, and it's position on a headland would make it vulnerable to attacks from all sides. Luckily, no attack has ever taken place, due to the fact that Wray Castle is not actually a castle. Nor is it particularly old, certainly not old enough to have existed when battles were fought in England. It is a Victorian mock castle. The battlements are merely for show. The oak panels and staircase are not actually made of oak, but stained pine. The interior stone walls are made of plaster, with grooves cut to make it look like heavy duty stonework.

When it was built it was described by many locals as a folly of huge proportions, and was reputedly hated by one of it's owners. Which begs one simple question. How did a mock Castle go from being likened to a folly, to becoming one of the most important Victorian buildings, not only in the Lake District, but in the whole of England? And how did it achieve that position without even it's owners realising the true significance of the building in both the culture, and the history of England. To find the answer, you have to dig deep into the history of the castle and the people that have made it not only their home, but also their workplace.

The building owes its existence to the Dawson family; James, a wealthy Liverpool surgeon, and his wife Margaret, whose family were in the gin distilling business. They had originally wanted to buy a castle beside a Scottish loch, however, the cost of doing so proved prohibitive, so they came up with the idea of creating their own castle beside England's largest lake. They are reputed to have used Margaret's inheritance to buy Watbarrow Point, and build their dream retirement home.

The truth behind the funding and design of the building has been the subject of much conjecture in recent years, particularly regarding the role of James Dawson's wife, Margaret. It was thought that she had not been part of the design team, which originally consisted not of an architect, but an accountant. Margaret is reputed to have not seen the building before it was finished, and when she did finally lay eyes on it, hated it so much that she vowed never to spend a night in the place, although she later relented.

However, Margaret probably had a much greater role in the building's development than previously thought. She was, after all, providing the money, and seems to have been intent on spending as little as possible. She feared that it was such a grand plan that an architect would create a design that was unaffordable. An accountant would be more likely to keep an eye on the costs, and seek ways to reduce them, substituting cheap materials like stained pine for oak panelling in order to drastically reduce the cost.

The plan to utilise the skills of an accountant instead of an architect backfired. The accountant was simply not up to the job, due in part to his vocational training, but also his alleged alcoholism. The renowned Victorian church architect HP Horner, who had offices in Liverpool and knew the Dawsons, was brought in to complete the job. Consequently, the £60,000 they ended up paying was far more than they had originally anticipated, and well in excess of what the finished building was worth.

What is known for certain is that many locals saw through the subterfuge, with some eminent members of society calling it a folly of huge proportions. William Wordsworth, however, gave it his blessing. At that time Wordsworth was employed as “Collector of the Royal Stamp”, the tax that we know today as stamp duty. He had an office in Ambleside, and would either have visited the Dawsons to assess their land and building transactions for tax, or arranged to meet them at his office. Regardless of where they first met, Wordsworth certainly paid subsequent visits to Wray, advising James Dawson about growing a range of plants and flowers, and even helping to design the gardens. A commemorative Mulberry Tree was planted by Dawson after the death of Wordsworth in 1850.

After James Dawson’s death in 1875, the estate was inherited by his fifteen year old nephew, Edward Preston Rawnsley. In 1877 Edward's cousin, Hardwicke Rawnsley, took up the position of vicar of Wray Church, which had been built on the Wray Castle estate. It was an appointment that was to have an impact not only on those living in the area at the time, but the cultural life of the entire nation. (When Hardwicke Rawnsley died in 1920, the Times obituary notice wrote that "It is no exaggeration to say – and it is much to say of anyone – that England would be a much duller and less healthy and happy country if Rawnsley had not lived and worked.”).

In 1882, Wray Castle was let out as a summer residence to the Potter family, Rupert and Helen, and their children Helen and Walter. They attended church, and met Hardwicke Rawnsley. In keeping with societal protocols, Rawnsley and his new wife Edith were then invited to dine with the Potters, and consequently got to know the children. One curious aspect of their personalities that amused Rawnsley was the way in which the children insisted upon using their second names. Walter preferred to be called Bertram, and his sister liked to be called Beatrix. Rawnsley encouraged the young Beatrix to develop her artistic talents, and she spent the summer producing a series of very fine botanical drawings, some of which are on display at the Armitt Museum, Ambleside.

Rawnsley was an influential figure in the Lake District during the late Victorian period. Just one year after he first met Beatrix Potter he moved to St Kentigern's church at Crosthwaite, Keswick. Once there he threw himself into conservation work, and in 1895 co-founded the National Trust. Meanwhile, Beatrix Potter was forging ahead with her fledgling career, at first producing a set of watercolours for Christmas cards, then publishing her first children's book, 'The Tale of Peter Rabbit'. She and Rawnsley remained in contact with each other, and when she attempted to sell her manuscript to London publishing houses, without success, he lent assistance, persuading Frederick Warne and Sons to accept the book for publication. It was an instant success, and was followed the year after by two more. As sales of her books grew, Beatrix found a variety of uses for her increasing wealth, one of which was to donate a considerable sum of money to the fledgeling National Trust. When she married in 1913, her surname changed to Heelis, and such was her importance in the early days of the Trust that the organisation's head office in Swindon, Wiltshire is named 'Heelis' in her honour.

If you read any history of Wray Castle, and quite a few exist online, you will notice that there is very little information about the castle's ownership from the 1880's through to 1929. The building certainly seems to have reduced in both status and value during that period of time. When Sir Robert and Lady Barclay bought the property in 1929 they paid less than £5,000. They purchased it with the express intention of presenting it to the National Trust, which they did, having first spent a small sum of money on necessary repairs.

Despite the lack of documentation, it seems likely that Wray Castle was hired as summer holiday accommodation to a variety of groups and organisations, who utilised not only the building, but also the extensive grounds and lake frontage. When the National Trust took over the building in 1929 it was being used as a youth hostel. The scenic setting, well away from the hustle and bustle of every day life, was ideal for religious groups, who were seeking to provide the youth of the day with a healthy, outdoor adventure type experience, combined with the discipline of group living, and laced with a healthy dose of worship. There seem to have been no staff to help cater for the groups, instead they would be required to do their own housekeeping and catering. Such use clearly took its toll on the fabric of the building, and the revenue from summer only use would have been limited. The National Trust needed to find a solution, and in 1931 rented the building to the newly formed Freshwater Biological Association, for use as a research station.

The Freshwater Biological Association is a little known, but extremely valuable organisation. The population of the entire world needs a good, clean, water supply, and so understanding the freshwater environment is of vital importance. However, before 1929 no organisation to carry out the important research work required to truly understand the freshwater environment existed in the United Kingdom. This was a glaring omission for a country whose history was steeped in scientific advancement, and whose empire had once extended to rule almost a third of the world, including many nations where good sources of clean running water simply did not exist. A small group of scientists had been carrying out research work on the lakes and streams of Cumbria, but they had no base. When they learned of the opportunity to lease Wray Castle, on the shores of Windermere, less than a mile from Blelham Tarn and within 4 miles of Esthwaite Water, they embraced the opportunity with open arms, and The Freshwater Biological Association of the British Empire was born.

Wray Castle in 1931 was not in a good state of repair, however, this did not deter the scientists. Their own operation was not exactly high tech. They set up a makeshift laboratory using home made equipment, and, nicely hidden away from the hustle and bustle of the 1930's tourism industry, they set to work. By 1950 their research had attracted world wide attention. The number of staff employed continued to grow, and, having outgrown the limited space available at the castle they managed to acquire a new home at Ferry House, 3 miles away. Having lost it's permanent tenant, the Castle reverted to being a youth hostel for groups of summer campers again.

The Freshwater Biological Association had managed to maintain its operations during the war years, in fact some locals humorously suggested that it was partly responsible for the allied victory in North Africa. In the early forties the association carried out a study on the prevalence and health of the lake's perch population. They reported that it was both plentiful, and in fine fettle, so the government asked them to arrange for about 50% of the perch to be netted and sent away to be canned. Someone in high office concluded that tinned perch would be an excellent form of rations for the troops. The troops, having tasted them, did not agree!

The canned perch were sent to the 8^th Army in Tripoli, but when German and Italian forces under Rommel took Tripoli, the British retreated, leaving the cans of perch behind. After the first battle of El Alamein, Rommel's Troops were in good condition, and the 8^th Army was on the back foot. However, the German and Italian forces had one problem. They were running short of food supplies. They resorted to the tinned perch for sustenance, which turned out to be a bad move. The second battle of Al Alamein was a decisive victory for the 8^th Army. Whilst no one could deny the courage and determination of the allied forces, those Lake District residents in the know with regards to the edible qualities of the fish, had no doubt that the tinned perch had seriously affected both the fighting strength, and morale, of the enemy force, and had therefore proven to be the ultimate secret weapon.

Wray Castle was also involved in a top secret wartime operation, in fact, one that was so secret that, even today, no official records of it exist. In May 1941, the former deputy Fuhrer of the Nazi regime, Rudolph Hess, flew secretly to Scotland. His mission was to persuade the British to negotiate peace with Germany in return for retaining its empire. Hess feared that fighting on 2 fronts would overwhelm the German military, and since Hitler was intent on invading Russia, Hess believed that the only chance of success for Germany was to keep Britain out of the war. However, things did not go according to plan. Instead of meeting with Churchill and negotiating a peace deal, Hess found himself being detained and debriefed, before spending the remainder of the war in isolation in Wales.

In the early days of his detention he was held at Buchanan Castle, Stirlingshire, which was being used as a hospital, however, it was decided to move him further south, first to the Tower of London, and then on to the wonderfully titled 'Camp Z', at Mytchett Place, on the Surrey/Hampshire border. Transferring an important prisoner such as Hess during wartime was not easy. The journey had to be as secret as possible, and due to wartime restrictions and the danger of air raids, it was decided that it would be conducted in stages.

For reasons best known to himself, Churchill chose Wray Castle as one of the staging points. It is not known whether he was aware that it was not actually a castle, and was being used by the Freshwater Biological Association as a research facility, but if he did it certainly didn't deter him. In fact, he may have seen it as an advantage, after all, who would consider that a freshwater research laboratory would ever be used as a makeshift prisoner of war camp? Consequently, at some time at the end of May 1941, a special train containing the prisoner and a contingent of over 100 guards, pulled into Windermere station. The carriage that Hess had been riding in had no windows, and he was quickly blindfolded and transferred to a car in the middle of an armed convoy for the journey to Wray. Once there, he was placed in a room on the first floor, with a view over the garden as opposed to the lake.

During his all too brief stay he complained about a number of issues. The feeling that the castle was cold, damp, and had no proper ventilation seemed to be his main gripes. In addition, he was not particularly enamoured with the food that had been provided. He actually spoke quite good English, having learned it at school, and told one of the guards that his room had the 'stench of death' about it. The guard, a hard headed Yorkshireman with little time for any nonsense, replied that his comment was a bit rich, considering that the Nazis had spread the stench of death throughout the whole of Europe.

After 3 days Hess was moved on to the next stage of his journey. He was taken back to Windermere station, put onto a special train, and headed out of the Lake District for good. His stay was never made public, nor is there any mention of it in the histories of the time. All of which might beg you to ask how I found out about it. The answer is simple. One of the guards on this secret mission was my future father in law, another hard headed Yorkshireman with little time for any nonsense. Having said that, he did agree with Hess on one subject; the smell inside the castle. Although he didn't describe it as being like the 'stench of death', he did say that it was quite unpleasant. His feeling was that it was caused by the fact that parts of the castle were used for experiments, so the smell of preservative chemicals pervaded the air. In addition, the castle was being used as a storage area for a large amount of freshwater exhibits (and their associated odour), from the Natural History Museum in London.

In the early 1950's, the castle was leased by the telecommunications department of the GPO, for use as a training base. Just after the second world war very few homes had a telephone, however, the GPO correctly anticipated a surge in the number of ordinary households that would become connected, and needed a base to train their technicians. Again, I have a family connection to the castle at this point, as one of my uncles trained as a telephone engineer after the war. He used to tell of a six month stint he undertook in what he called 'the Castle of doom beside the shores of Windermere'. His less than complimentary description was as a result of staying in the building during a cold, interminably wet and windy winter, carrying out long, boring sessions of telecommunications training. He suggested that the GPO had probably found the coldest building in the whole of England, and was eternally grateful when that part of his training period was over. It wasn't long after he left that the GPO decided that they needed larger, and better equipped premises, and by the mid fifties the castle found itself empty again.

The National Trust successfully sought another new tenant, again one in the telecommunications field, and the building became a training college for merchant navy radio operators, with the official title of 'RMS Wray Castle'. 150 cadets lived at the castle and in the local area, while studying every aspect of the use of radio at sea. I could, of course, explain the intricacies of maritime radiography, and it's importance in the modern world, but I'd probably get the technicalities of the subject wrong, so instead I've included a promotional video for the training college, made in the 1980's.

Wray Castle Ltd, the company operating the training college, relocated away from the castle in 2004, ending a 46 year stay. The company still exists and thrives today, and is still based locally, at Bridge Mills, in Kendal, from where it offers a range of services in the telecommunications field.

For the next 7 years the castle was empty in every sense of the word. Due to the wide variety of uses over its 144 year history, none of the original furniture survived, and with Wray Castle Ltd removing all of their technical and training equipment, just the shell of the building remained. The National Trust was undecided over the building's future. It did not have the same status as a stately home, and it's links with the cultural icons of the Lake District, although unique, were not really considered strong enough to warrant turning the business into a tourist attraction. After all, Wordsworth may have designed the garden, but with the exception of the mulberry tree planted after his death, little evidence of his involvement remained. As for Beatrix Potter, well, she holidayed at the castle when she was 16, before she became famous for writing her books, but as with Wordsworth there were other, more notable buildings owned by the Trust that showcased her life and work, such as Hill Top and the Beatrix Potter Gallery in Hawkshead.

Consequently the Trust decided that the most likely solution to their problem was a lease to a hotel company, after all, the building is in a fine setting, and is large enough to accommodate a reasonable number of guests without having to make an excessive amount of alterations. However, by 2011 no progress had been made in securing a lease, and the Trust decided to open Wray Castle to the public during the summer season that year. It seems that it was only then that the Trust realised the potential of the building as a visitor attraction.

At the time of writing the grounds are open free of charge to those who wish to browse the gardens and also gain access to the water’s edge, whilst the building itself is open to the public for a fee during the summer months. Daily guided tours are run, and although the house is not fully furnished there is much of interest to see, after all, Wray Castle does have a wonderfully unique history. It has cultural associations with three of the most important icons of the Lake District:-William Wordsworth, Beatrix Potter and Canon Rawnsley, (one of the co-founders of the Castle's owners, The National Trust). It was where Beatrix Potter and Canon Rawnsley first met, an event that arguably changed British cultural history. Without that meeting, Beatrix Potter may never have successfully published her books, and whilst Rawnsley would no doubt have co-founded the National Trust, it may not have been able to make some of it's earliest purchases but for the generosity of Beatrix Potter.

But even it's cultural impact is dwarfed by the building's unique position in scientific research and ocean safety. It is fair to say that, due to the work carried out in this building, millions of people were able to enjoy, for the very first time, clean drinking water. Consequently, many thousands of lives have been saved around the world, a process which is ongoing to this day.  In addition, during the latter part of the 20th century, safety at sea was enhanced, and doubtless lives saved, due to the training work carried out in the four walls of Wray Castle. 

Which is really not bad for mock Castle that was originally condemned as a folly of huge proportions.

The story of the happy 'slave'.

In the small church yard of St Martins Church, Bowness, is the grave of Rasselas Belfield, an Abyssinian slave who was bought by a Major Taylor, and who lived at a house called Belfield. (Not the Belsfield Hotel). Rasselas cost Major Taylor £5, a considerable sum of money in the 18^th century, and was given the surname Belfield to denote where he lived. The tomb stands near the edge of the churchyard, roughly five metres from the east end of the church. Despite it's age, the inscription is quite clear, revealing that Rasselas passed away on the 16th January 1822, aged just 32 Years. 

Although deemed a slave, his true position is unclear. Certainly he was 'bought' by Captain Taylor, however, his arrival in 1803, at the age of 13, was just 4 years before slavery was abolished. One theory is that he was paid for by Captain Taylor to prevent him being sold as a true slave, and that his position within the household was the same as the other servants.The 'Abolition of the Slave Trade Act' came into force in 1807. It had been promoted by William Wilberforce, a personal friend of the Taylor family. Wilberforce had rented Rayrigg Hall, the Taylor's previous family home, from them in the 1780's.

It seems that Rasselas was a much loved member of the Taylor family, as indicated by the quality of the  inscription upon his headstone. He was also well regarded in the local community, where his polite manners and generally happy and helpful disposition won him many friends. The church was, evidently, full to overflowing for his funeral.

Ironically, at the opposite end of the churchyard stands the stone which formerly marked the vault of John Bolton, who was born in Ulverston and had made his fortune as a Liverpool slave trader. He lived at nearby Storrs Hall, and was a key figure in the social life of the area, entertaining the wealthy and famous in style. He held lavish dinner parties, organised regattas on the lake, and ingratiated himself with the celebrities of the day, including William Wordsworth and Sir Walter Scott. However, when he died 15 years after Rasselas, his funeral was in direct contrast to that of the 'slave'. It was attended by a few family members, and a small number of close friends and business associates. Over half the pews remained empty.

Lakeland Motor Museum

It is a Tuesday, but it could be any day of the week. It is September, but it could be any month of the year. It is raining. My walk is cancelled. Despite being told that walking in the rain is good for me, I've decided to give it up. I'm getting too old for weary, arthritic joints. I shall replace it with the 'attraction lottery'. Out comes my old shoebox in which are lots of small pieces of paper, each with the name of an attraction on them. All I have to do is close my eyes, dip my hand in the box, and draw one out. The prize for the winning attraction is a visit from me. Lucky attraction!!

And the winner is..........The Lakeland Motor Museum. For those that have never heard of the Lakeland Motor Museum, it is situated in what was the packaging department of the old "Dolly Blue" works, a converted mill beside the River Leven at Backbarrow, close to the main A590 M6 to Barrow road. However, it was originally situated at Holker Hall, a few miles away on the Cartmel peninsular. It moved to Backbarrow in 2010, presumably because of lack of space at the old site.

Now, I have to confess that I wasn't exactly overjoyed at the result of my 'attraction lottery' selection. I am not a big fan of motor museums. Rather like a supermarket car park on a Friday afternoon, they tend to be full of cars! That might sound a tad obvious, so allow me to explain. I once went to a moderately large motor museum in the south of the country. It had very few vintage cars, most on display were from the fifties onwards. They were lined up very nicely, lovingly polished with well written labels telling their story, but they were all locked, and the whole place reminded me of nothing more than a rather posh retro car park. My interest in cars is purely practical, and well set out as it was, the seemingly never ending lines of shiny cars was never going to light my fires of excitement. That having been said, I do remember that some of those visiting (mainly the men!) were getting very excited about each one, and stood around in small groups discussing how they'd love to strip them down and service all moving parts. I overheard one very bored looking lady telling her equally weary female companion that, given the choice of sleeping with her, or a 1930's Buick with double over head camshaft, her husband would probably choose the car.

With this memory etched in my mind, I approached the entrance to the museum with a certain degree of trepidation. The lady behind the counter in the foyer, which doubles as a gift shop, tried to put me at ease, explaining that the exhibitions were smaller but much more diverse than some of the better known motor museums. In particular, she pointed out that there was a section devoted to the history of the building in which the museum is housed. Even so, as I stepped into the main display hall, I was not convinced.

The museum is not large, although this is only a small part of it.

She was not wrong about it being smaller. I didn't count the number of vehicles in the collection, but I wouldn't have thought it to be more than 150. So, what else could I expect to see for my entrance fee? There must be something else, as according to the advertising blurb the museum has over 30,000 exhibits. The answer surprised me somewhat. 

There are several displays of toy cars

I had fully expected to see a display of toy cars, and the small mock up of a garage with a mechanic fiddling about with something he'd disconnected from an engine certainly did not come as a surprise. But a 1960's ladies fashion display? That was unexpected. I discovered it when I spotted a group of four women looking into what appeared to be a mock up of a shop window. Whilst their menfolk were drooling lovingly over a Jaguar XK140 Fixed Head Coupe, the rare one with bespoked wheels, and, very possibly (according to one of the men) a left handed sprockle holder, their ladies were getting equally excited by the flowing lines of a fashionable 1960's ladies dress with full matching accessories. It seemed to me that here was the major difference between men and women. One forever dreaming of some highly desirable object that would forever be out of their reach, whilst the other was full of admiration for something that was not only undeniably beautiful, but also eminently practical. I'll leave you to decide which was which.

1956 BSA Motorbike and Sidecar

In addition to the four wheeled road vehicles, there is also a display of cycles, both pedal and motor, including a motorbike and sidecar not dissimilar to the one my father bought in the early sixties in the days before our family could afford a car.

I want one of those!

One of the most charming collections features children's pedal cars. I always wanted one as a child, but my parents decided that, as we lived on a hill (well, more of a slope really) I might lose control of it and crash into our next door neighbour's new and very shiny Ford Consul.

1950's motor mechanic, surrounded by 'memorabilia'.

The museum also has a large collection of what the blurb calls 'memorabilia', although I have to confess that I have never truly understood the true meaning of the word. I mean, an object that is part of a collection because it is connected with something that is thought to be very interesting, could either qualify or not, depending upon your level of interest. Is a petrol pump interesting? Or an old oil can? What about a trolley jack?

Local history - one of the many display boards for the 'Dolly Blue' works.

Forgive me, I'm being unnecessarily picky. The point is that the Lakeland Motor Museum actually demonstrates the advantage of my 'Attraction Lottery'. Left to my own devices I would not have visited this place in a million years. As I said before, I don't really like Motor Museums. Or rather, I didn't. It has won me over. It is not just cars. The displays cover almost every aspect of private transport, and more besides. In addition, the local history collections are really well presented, and the period shopping displays are wonderful to browse around. 

Off on holiday circa 1962. In the background, ladies fashionware shop fronts.

I even had some fun playing on the 1950's slot machines on the small upper floor. There are only four, but they took me back to happy childhood seaside holidays, as did the Austin A35 parked in a corner with a load of 1960's style luggage on the top. I can remember my father hiring one just like it, loading all our luggage onto the roof rack, squeezing the family inside, and driving us down to Devon for a family caravan holiday. When we got there, the people in the next caravan had exactly the same model, except theirs was blue. Ahhh the memories came flooding back.

 

Replica of Donald Campbell's1967 jet hydroplane Bluebird K7

In a separate building was another display that brought back childhood memories, although not as happy. The Campbell Bluebird Exhibition celebrates the achievements of Sir Malcolm and Donald Campbell. It contains full sized replicas of Malcolm Campbell's 1935 Blue Bird car, a 1939 Blue Bird Boat K4 and the 1967 jet hydroplane Bluebird K7. At the tender age of 12, I well remember watching the harrowing news footage of Donald Campbell's boat overturning on Coniston Water in January 1967. I also remember how shocked and saddened the whole nation was at this tragic accident. Times change. National heroes like Donald Campbell no longer exist. They've been replaced by reality TV stars.

Part of the Isle of Man TT races display

The only part of the museum that did not really float my boat was the section dealing with the history of the Isle of Man TT races. However, plenty of people seemed to be watching the various video displays and reading the timeline tracing the evolution of the races and the machines that took part in them. I suppose that sums up the key to museums. You are interested because you either like and relate to what is on display, or not. And I've never been a biker.

Looking across the main display space.

Generally, I enjoyed the Lakeland Motor Museum because of the variety of the exhibits on offer. The local history section was fascinating, especially as, on my walk from the railway station earlier in the day, I had passed the remains of the sites that were featured in the exhibition. Doing so helped to bring the history alive. The shop front displays were interesting not only for their content, but also because I remember shop fronts actually looking like that in the days before out of town shopping centres relegated our high streets to parades of empty shop units with boarded up windows.

1962 Austin A40 - standing in front of a small display of 'Bubble Cars'.

As for the motors on display, well nice as the rarer exhibits were (and there are plenty of them) it was a couple of the more ordinary exhibits that appealed the most. The basic cars that for many families would have been their first experience of actually owning a vehicle of their own, brought back fond memories of an age that has been lost forever. 

Wonderful item of Automata, just put 50p in the slot and watch the Amazing Flying Car work.

 

Early motoring in style

Next door to the museum is Cafe Ambio, which rather conveniently has both indoor and outdoor seating. As luck would have it, by the time I had wandered around the museum, played on the arcade machines, fed the Automata (see pic above) with several 50p's and watched the video presentation regarding Donald Campbell, it had stopped raining. The dark clouds were scuttling away into the distance, revealing a clear blue sky. Enjoying a simple, if rather late lunch of some yummy sandwiches followed by equally gorgeous no calorie cake (who am I kidding!) whilst seated outdoors on a balcony overlooking the River Leven was utter bliss.

A distant train whistle, followed a minute later by the tell tale trail of steam behind the houses on the far side of the river completed the scene. It was also a reminder that this idyllic spot was once a heavily industrialised area. Not only was there the old 'Dolly Blue' works, but a quarter of a mile down the river stood Backbarrow Ironworks, and, a little further still, the Low Wood gunpowder works. All used the river to power their factories, and the railway as a means by which the products they made were exported to the rest of the country, and beyond. An hour before I had my lunch, I had studied the museum displays about the local history, and sitting there beside the river looking out across the valley I imagined what it must have been like on the day I was born, back in the 1950's. A hive of activity, with the good folk of Backbarrow earning their livings creating products that existed in my home, 250 miles away, when I was a child. 

Nowadays, the A590 road allows us to speed past the village without giving it a second thought. Because it is screened by trees, the section of the village beside the river is barely visible from the main road. It could have been swept away by modern developers, the past erased permanently from the landscape. But it hasn't been. The remains of the ironworks are currently being restored. The old Ultramarine works is now the Whitewater Hotel, and has displays about the building's previous use on the lower floor. And the Lakeland Motor Museum not only preserves the history of motoring, but also educates the modern generation about the heritage of the Leven Valley. That is what sets it apart from other motor museums. It is quite unique and very, very special.

My day had begun with a feeling of trepidation. It ended with a sense that I had learned a great deal about an area I mistakenly thought I already had a good knowledge of. The Lakeland Motor Museum was certainly much much more than simply a glorified indoor car park. It turned out to be a treasure trove of surprises. 

And now the technical stuff

According to their website (www.lakelandmotormuseum.co.uk) a visit usually takes about 90 minutes, although of course this varies upon your level of interest. My visit took well over 2 hours, and that was not counting my time in the cafe.  It cost me £12, but if you are a local resident you can get a discount, (see their website for details). 

All the staff were really helpful, which is not always the case everywhere I go. 

How I got there

My journey was a circular one. Starting from Ambleside I took a 599 bus to Bowness Pier, then a cruise down the lake (The Yellow Cruise) to Lakeside. After a steam train ride to Haverthwaite I unfurled my umbrella to walk the final mile from Haverthwaite Station. The advantage with this route is that some of the places you pass on the walk are featured in the museum. After my visit I walked the short distance to the A590, to get the bus (Stagecoach no.6) back to Windermere, and then the 599 or 555 to Ambleside. Being of a certain age (70) the buses are free, and I have a yearly pass for the boat (A Christmas pressie, so that was free!). Consequently, I got there for the cost of the train ride. 

How you should (probably) get there

Sensible people will simply go by car. The museum is well signposted on the A590, about 2 miles west of Newby Bridge, and has a large, free, car park. Post code for museum and car park is LA12 8T. The museum is open everyday except Christmas Day. 9:30am – 5:30pm April to 1st November, 9:30am – 4:30pm at all other times.

The Keswick to Threlkeld Railway Trail

This is a delightful walk that is off road, has no hills, no boggy bits, is suitable for all ages, is ideal for families with a buggy, or wheelchairs, and makes a lovely morning or afternoon excursion. But it also tells a story, that of the Greta Gorge and it's relationship with the railway that ran through these hills. 

For those that do not know the area well, Keswick is in the northern Lake District, and Threlkeld is a village about 4 miles to the east of Keswick, close to the main A66 road that connects Keswick with Penrith and the M6 motorway. For a little over 100 years a railway ran through the Greta Gorge, part of the 31 mile route between Penrith and the West Cumbrian town of Cockermouth. It opened officially in 1865, but mineral and coal trains, plus a special train for the Keswick agricultural show, ran before the the official opening, in 1864. The line carried mainly goods traffic at first, but the Penrith to Keswick section soon became popular with tourists, and until the second world war the railway thrived.

The Keswick to Cockermouth section closed in the mid sixties, mainly due to a man named Beeching and a lack of passengers. But the Keswick to Penrith section remained open until March 1972, which demonstrated British Railways attitude to railways frequented by tourists. It was kept open in the winter, when there were few tourists, and then closed a month before Easter! The track was lifted, and before long the longest tunnel on the line was filled in, of which more later.

The best way to walk the line is from Threlkeld to Keswick. This is because, although the route is gernerally level, Threlkeld is at a higher elevation than Keswick, so for most of the route you will be going gently downhill. Getting to Threlkeld is easy enough, the X4 or X5 bus from Keswick to Penrith stops in Threlkeld. All you need do is walk through the village to the junction with the A66 and continue along the sidewalk until you reach the start of the walk. (see map picture below).

 

Alternatively, you could do a circular walking route from Keswick, either via Castlerigg Stone Circle, or Brundholme Road. You could even link the walk in with a visit to the summit of Latrigg to make a complete day out. 

You could also cycle. The trail is part of the C2C route linking the West Cumbrian Coast with the North East Coast. Cycle hire is available in Keswick, and those of a certain age may be pleased to hear that electric cycle hire is also available, from a store close to Booths supermarket and Keswick bus station.

 

I'm starting from Threlkeld, which I reached via an X4 bus from Keswick. The bus stop is about a quarter of a mile from the start of the path. The path begins by crossing the River Greta for the first time. The railway ran in the Greta Gorge, and crosses the river no fewer than 8 times. The bridges were 'Bowspring Girder Bridges', standing on abutments each side of the river. Whilst the railway was operating, this was a satisfactory arrangement, but, as we shall see later, after closure the bridges suffered damage from the river.

 

The route then passes through a pleasant woodland environment. Traffic noise from the A66 is replaced by birdsong and the sound of the river, which runs to the right. After the line closed, much of the old trackbed was used as a footpath, with the ballast forming the path's surface. However, when the current path opened at the end of 2020 the route had been re-surfaced throughout using tarmac. Some people complained about this, as they said it should have been left as it was, however, the tarmac surface is easier to maintain, more resistant to flooding, and opened the path up to wheelchair users and leisure cyclists. Walking it is not unpleasant.

Track-side furniture remains along the route, although not being a total railway nut I am never quite sure what it is I am looking at. I would suggest this is a device to hold signal wires, or maybe a tensioner for a telegraph pole. Actually, I have no idea. I'm sure that someone out there in internet land can lend a hand with the identification.

 

After half a mile or so, the path enters a short cutting. The steep banking on the left is supported by stonework. On the right, there is no need for such support.

 

A platelayers hut, converted to a shelter. This is actually on the right hand side of the path, but I walked past it to take the shot as a group of young ladies had stopped for a spot of lunch and a gossip, and I didn't think that they would be terribly happy for me to take a picture of them. Generally, the path was quite busy, but I have walked it when it has been deserted. Much depends on the time of year and the weather. There were a lot of children, local I presume, enjoying the last day of the summer holidays.

 

More track-side furniture, this time a sign saying ½. But half what? Well, actually, I do know this one. About a quarter of a mile further on is another, saying ¼, a quarter of a mile from that one is an old crossing, probably once a road leading to a farm. 

 

The second crossing of the River Greta, followed immediately by a small tunnel. The rock in these parts is fairly hard, and the railway engineers found it easier to tunnel through it than create a cutting. 

 

The aforementioned tunnel, possibly one of the shortest rail tunnels ever built. I wonder if anyone actually knows where the shortest tunnel ever built is. (I don't, by the way!).

 

Rawsome's Bridge, which at first sight appears to be a different design from the others, however, it is still a Bowstring Bridge, it is just that it is inverted, so the curved 'bow' structure is beneath the trackbed. Why it was made like this is not clear, but it would certainly have improved the views of the river from the train.

View of the river from the bridge. It looks peaceful enough, however, as we'll see, it can be very destructive.

The flanks of Blencathra to the right of the path. Most of the water that falls on that mountain ends up in the river. About a quarter of all the rain that falls on the Helvellyn Range, plus half the rain that falls on the mountains of the central Lake District also ends up in the river, as the catchment includes Thirlmere reservoir. That's a lot of water for one river. 

The river has a plentiful supply of brown trout, and this heron knows exactly how to catch them! He was too quick for one unfortunate fish, and also too fast for my camera. Shortly after this shot was taken he'd snatched his prey and was off.

This is Brundholme Bridge, and you'll notice it is not the same design as the others. This is because the original was unseated from it's stone abutments by Storm Desmond. The river was also widened by the storm, so although the bridge was salvaged, it could not be used. A new replacement was made.

 

Is that an ice cream van on an adjacent road? Should I? After all, it's a warm day. And I read somewhere that ice creams on walking routes have no calories!

A second platelayers hut, again converted to a shelter where weary walkers can polish off their ice creams without being attacked by seagulls!

 

A dead tree stands defiantly on the river bank. 

 

A little further on from the tree, erosion on the far bank of the river. This was caused by the flooding in 2015, when Storm Desmond wreaked havoc throughout the Lake District. Over 350mm of rain fell in 24 hours on the 5^th and 6^th December 2015. Now, the yearly average for London is about 560 mm a year, so to get 350 mm in a day is, well, pretty wet! That water had to go somewhere, and a lot of it ended up in the River Greta. 

 

At this point the path runs away from the track bed, which is clearly visible on the right hand side of the river. The track ran on an low embankment, which has been retained in order to prevent the river from washing away the footpath should more flooding occur. ( I say 'should', it undoubtedly will).

 

After just under a quarter of a mile, the path rejoins the track bed.

 

White Moss Bridge; again, a new structure since the old bridge was washed away by Storm Desmond.

 

An information post near to the bridge, showing the damage caused by the storm.

 

Yet more track-side furniture. But what is it? I suspect it was used to store ballast or something similar, or maybe sand that could be sprinkled on the track during wet periods. I'm sure someone knows the answer, but unfortunately I don't.

Brundholme Road bridge, an inverted Bowstring bridge that survived all storms as the railway is considerably higher than the river at this point.

 

Yet more erosion caused by the storm, however, nature has a way of bouncing back, and the vegetation is slowly crawling down the slope. I have a photo, taken at this point in 2020, which shows how bad the erosion was. 

 

The previous picture was taken on the left side of the path. This is the scene looking the other way. The river is flowing away from the camera. The holiday park is 'Low Briery' holiday park. 

 

OK track-side furniture experts. What on earth is this? It is made of wood. There are no paths close by, so it is not a footpath sign. It stands on the left hand side of the path.

There are eight river bridges, but road bridges such as this one are a rarity on this line. This is the first one, and heralds the approach to Keswick.

 

There are some lovely views of the river on this stretch of the walk. This is my favourite, the river to the right of the path, with Latrigg the fell in the background.

 

We've reached another tunnel, and although the portal is new, the actual tunnel is as old as the railway. It is called Bobbin Mill tunnel, although in the true Cumbrian tradition of understatement, most locals called it the Big Tunnel. Just before the tunnel used to be an old bobbin mill, presumably not called the Big Bobbin Mill! Above the portal is a fence protecting the main A66 road, although what it is protecting it from I have no idea.

 

Looking back at the tunnel, with the modern road, complete with the Lake District's only flyover. The A66 is dual carriageway at this point. When the railway closed, the tunnel was in-filled and sealed to prevent it from collapse, and also to protect the flyover from damage should a collapse occur. Re-opening it required strengthening work on the embankment, and the removal of 4,000 tonnes of material. The tunnel was also lengthened. Despite it being very rainy in Keswick, no naughty railway engines called Henry were bricked up in the tunnel.

Not only is the trail a footpath, but it is also part of the C2C cycleway, so if you don't want to walk, you can ride it.

 

The last overbridge. This one carries the main road east out of Keswick.

More track furniture. But again, what is it? Answers on a post card please.

 

The path runs on an embankment as it enters Keswick. The substantial fence on the right, which has a hedge on the other side, provides privacy for the residents of the nearby houses.

You get two bridges for the price of one here. The main road out of town runs beside the river. The railway crosses both. Back in 1970 I was lucky enough to see a train cross this bridge as we travelled along the road, heading for Grasmere. 21 months later, the railway closed.

The view of the river from the bridge, looking towards Fitz Park and the town centre.

 

Journey's end, with just one more bridge to cross - a minor road.

The end of the path. The ramp on the left runs up on to the old station platform, while the main path stays on the track bed.

 

 

 

What remains of Keswick Station, now partly preserved and part of the Keswick Hotel, where I worked for a week in 1973 (don't ask!).

 

The most boring picture of the walk, in fact, possibly on the whole of the internet. Keswick station had two platforms, but this is all that remains of one of them. It is now an overflow car park for the leisure centre.

The station sign, something many a tourist would have been really happy to see over the years. For the last quarter of a century there has been a campaign to bring the railway back. It has the backing of a number of organisations, including the National Park Authority and local councils. However, any reinstatement is likely to be many years into the future. The National Park Authority have put forward a plan to extend the railway footpath to the old station at Thelkeld, which is a good mile from the village. If approved, the extension could be open within the next couple of years. 

 

And finally.... not actually on the walk, but certainly of interest to any railway enthusiasts. About half a mile away, in the graveyard of Crosthwaite Parish church, is a surprising grave. To reach this part of the cemetery, you actually cross the remains of the old trackbed. Rail enthusiasts of a certain age will surely remember Bishop Eric Treacy. He was an avid railway photographer who published a number of books of photographs showing the railways in the north of England from the 1930's through to the end of steam. He died in 1978 on Appleby Station whilst waiting for a rail tour hauled by 'Evening Star', which some said was a fitting tribute to his life. He left a collection of over 12,000 railway images, which are held at the National Railway Museum, in York.