Winter in the Lakes

Grasmere from Loughrigg Fell

Herdwick foraging

High Close Youth Hostel

Langdale from Loughrigg Fell

Helm Crag and Grasmere

St Oswald's, Grasmere

Grasmere village and Seat Sandle

Grasmere lake

Moss upholstered walls

We spent three days in the Lake District, the first winter visit in 40 years. The hills were mainly in cloud and it was grey, wet and lashed by storms. Many of the smaller shops, cafes and facilities were closed but there were still dozens of baby boomers rattling around the car parks clad in goretex whilst juggling their walking poles and umbrellas.

The hotel in Langdale provided a level of comfort that was in stark contrast to my previous visits at this time of the year in a basic hut near the Bowder Stone with no heating or facilities. We had shivered through the freezing nights in flimsy sleeping bags and climbed, walked and skied in Borrowdale during the day. We had the consolation of meeting Beryl Burton, who was staying with her family at the nearby Longthwaite Youth Hostel on Hogmanay. A more down-to-earth legend would be hard to find.

The weather on this visit was similar to the occasion when we scattered my close friend's ashes on Scafell Pike in December 1973 and then got banned from the Youth Hostel at Elterwater for arriving back late and the worse for drink, having got caught up in a darts competition in Ambleside. Other than these two occasions, I had often driven through the Lakes during the 1980s and 1990s en route to visit my family before Christmas and usually managed to climb some of the smaller hills near Ullswater before stopping to buy some presents in Ambleside.

This time we were confined to walking round the shops on a day of torrential rain and became so thoroughly soaked that we eventually retired to the cinema to watch the film, Paddington. We took advantage of the next day, which was just showery, by walking from Langdale to Rydal Water and Grasmere during which I managed a quick diversion up Loughrigg Fell. The views were etched in the grey and brown of winter landscapes but we were treated to a brief passage of brightness as we ambled around Grasmere village.

We visited St Oswald's church in Grasmere after listening to the midday peel of bells, bought some gingerbread and had a coffee in Miller Howe cafe. We walked back over Red Bank and traipsed around the gardens at High Close Youth Hostel, where I had spent a perfect summer's evening falling for a girl from Leeds whilst we listened to Bach on the record player. It was my first holiday with teenage friends and we spent 10 days climbing all the highest hills whilst I juggled our itinerary to reconnect with the girls from Leeds as often as possible.

We returned via Skelwith Bridge for tea and a cake. In the queue, I met the treasurer of Kendal Town Council. It was the first day of his retirement and his sense of humour had been honed in Leyland. He said there was little to do other than pay for the Christmas lights, collect rents for allotments, disburse grants and answer questions on whether Wainwright had really been a miserable buggar.  He explained that there had been little to do as town clerk to distract Wainwright from his misery other than to sketch and write books and, yes, it seemed to be unanimous by those who had worked with him that he was a miserable buggar; his humour was confined to the footnotes of his sketches.

The highlight of the visit was the food in the quite outstanding vegetarian restaurant, Fellinis, in Ambleside. It is part of the cinema/restaurant group that includes Zeffirelli's cinema and restaurant. These two facilities provide amazing quality food and events and are an example of how a business with passionate attention to quality and detail can uplift a community. What a contrast to the franchised mediocrity that is the staple provision of food and entertainment in the majority of our languishing small towns.