Monday 5 January 2015

New Year's 2015: Cumbria (of pencils, walls, mandolins, and amazing countryside)

We stayed in the village of Applethwaite, just outside Keswick
Several of the trips we've made since coming to the UK were on our radar before we came.  A few have popped up unexpectedly.  Cumbria was the latter, based on a ripple effect that included going to Turkey in October instead of December (because there's no tourist season in Turkey in December), having time to spend after my parents returned to the US, and some friends from Bath mentioning how much fun they've had vacationing in the Lake District.  Enter a website for cottage rentals which, unlike cottages4you, doesn't restrict your stay to beginning on a Friday or Monday, photos of a cottage for 5 showcasing a lovely view of the Cumbrian mountains (fells, to use the local term), and we were all set.

Here's the trek north.  We had a brief detour into Manchester to drop my parents at their hotel for the flight back to the US.  From there it was an uneventful 2 hour drive to the village of Applethwaite, just outside the city of Keswick.  For the record, this was an uneventful drive on the M6.  No, that's not a joke.  We were fortunate to be driving north.  We saw miles of stopped traffic on the M6 going south.

Our first excursion was to the Ullswater Steamer.  My lofty goal was to hop off the steamer, take a hike for a bit, then hop back on and finish the route.  That was all well and good until we stepped out of the car at the pier in Glenridding.  Strong winds + low temperatures = Shawn and Kristine deciding we're not taking our girls on a 2 hr hike that has no access to warmth or shelter.  In fact, like most of the ferry passengers, we didn't really want to ride the outer deck for the trek across the lake.  We contented ourselves with enjoying the view of the surrounding mountains from the mainly inside cabin.


Although we did make a few (usually brief) excursions above deck.


Or, in Clare's case, took advantage of everyone else being above deck to stretch out on the bench.

We stopped for lunch at the Granny Dowbekins Tea Room in Pooley Bridge.  I'm going on record as saying that Clare's looking up at me adoringly.  The husband of the woman who took the photo for us had a t-shirt from climbing Kilimanjaro.  We compared notes briefly.  Kristine has pointed out several times that she remembers our engagement discussion including a promised hike up Kili together.  Maybe someday.

We did a little wandering in Pooley Bridge while deciding where to eat lunch.
Here's the bridge that takes you from the side of the lake with the pier to the side of the lake with the town of Pooley Bridge.  It's wide enough for 1.5 cars.  There are no pedestrian lanes.  There are a couple spots where pedestrians can hide from cars on the bridge.  At this point we had only just left the tea room, so the cold and wind hadn't yet robbed certain members of our family of the will to live (or at least the will to walk peacefully).

In defense of a certain cantankerous 3 yr old, the weather had turned less pleasant over the course of the day.  The five of us made it a few hundred metres around the edge of the lake.



Kristine "graciously" offered to walk ahead with Elise while I took Charis and Clare back into town to try and find a shop where we could stay inside and get warm without making it blatantly obvious that we had no plans to buy anything.

We met up back at the pier and boarded the steamer.  Our steamer today, the Western Belle, was originally commissioned in 1935.  It's had a couple upgrades of its diesel engines, and became part of the Ullswater fleet in 2011.


The ride back to Glenridding added rain to the wind and cold from the morning.  This meant pretty much all the passengers crowded into the inside cabin.  Clare entertained Kristine and I by singing a mournful rendition of "Do you want to build a snowman" to Elise on the other side of this door.

We were in Cumbria at the end of December and beginning of January.  Not surprisingly, we did not escape northern England's wintry weather.  This meant that we spent New Year's Day pretty much inside our cottage.  Which is not a bad thing, and is one of the reasons we've preferentially stayed at cottages instead of B&Bs or hotels.  We've found that the control over our diet makes meals considerably more pleasant, and having a couple extra rooms to use makes creative energy of the girls much easier to channel.  We did some reading

or, in some cases, hiding from father with a camera trying to photograph said reading,

some puzzles on the iPad (strange coincidence that the use of the puzzle app has skyrocketed since my mother came to visit)

and some coloring, fortified by hot drinks.  Our host came by on New Year's Day with three pencil cases from Derwent Pencil Company (formerly in Keswick, now a short distance away in Penrith) for the girls.  He said we absolutely had to visit the pencil museum in Keswick.  He also said we'd easily spend three hours there.  The girls enjoyed the pencils greatly.  I was skeptical about spending three hours in a pencil museum (more on that later).

We also got several visits in the back garden from this male pheasant.

We did venture out to one of the larger outdoor equipment stores in Keswick.  I was hoping to reproduce a tradition Kristine and I had from our summer vacations in Maine that included finding good deals at the LL Bean warehouses in Freeport.  It didn't work.  We did see a very clever conversion of space underneath a large staircase into a children's play area.  I don't think there was enough in the play area to convince the girls they should forgive me for pulling them out of the house on a wet afternoon.  

The weather cleared up enough on the next day that we decided to make the hour-long drive north to Carlisle and visit Hadrian's Wall.  The theory was that we could do some exploring along the wall, then maybe visit another site in Carlisle before driving home.  Good theory, but not for a blustery day in winter.  Just getting from the car to the information center in Lanercost invoked several protests of cold and agony.  Fortunately, there were a couple of period costume pieces inside to offer a distraction.  Here are the girls doing their best to look mean, frightening, and intimidating.  You decide how successful they were.

I donned one of the larger helmets from the time of Edward I.  My assistant got distracted by something in the background.  You can also decide if Charis and Clare did a better job looking scared of us here than they did of looking intimidating earlier.

We took a detour from the information center to the Lanercost Priory, which is at the same site.  I thought the cold would mean no running daughters.  I was wrong.

Because of its location on the border between England and Scotland, the priory has been plundered, damaged, and rebuilt many times in its history.  Henry VIII confiscated the land from the church, it had ups and downs as private property, and eventually got restored as an operational parish church.  We didn't get to explore the ruins that are visible through the main front window.  I thought (not for the first time) as I looked at the vast ceilings, that I'm glad we don't attend a church in an old building like this.  Kristine and the girls would turn into popsicles during the winter.

The cold (but brief - ~200m) walk to the Priory took a lot out of Clare.  She perked up a little when she was able to join her sisters in admiring the nativity display still available at the front of the sanctuary.

It was mid-day by now, and the skies were starting to clear up.  The wind and cold were no kinder though.  Clare and I stayed in the car while Kristine took the older girls out to explore our first encounter with Hadrian's Wall at Bank's Turret.  The skies were clear enough at this stop that we could enjoy views of the surrounding countryside.




Elise lasted longer outdoors at this stop than Charis, who was back in the car with Clare and I after a few minutes.

We drove a couple miles further up the road to Birdoswald Fort (which was closed because it's only open on Saturday and Sunday).  I was still hoping we could all get out for a walk along the wall.  It didn't happen.  The rain had picked up again, so we managed to all get about 100 m from the car park to get this classic "insert disgruntled opinion of parents for making me be in this" photo. 


Kristine took Charis and Clare back to the car while Elise and I did some brief exploring.  After a short (and ultimately rather muddy) battle with the slippery grass, we climbed back up on the wall and walked back to the car.

Appetites for exploring Hadrian's Wall sufficiently wetted, we returned to the Lanercost visitor center to reward ourselves with hot drinks and treats in the tea room before driving back to the cottage.

This lovely sunset when we got back to the cottage was a wonderful change of pace after such a cold and dreary day.

Kristine kept Elise and Clare at the cottage while Charis and I made one more outing.  The Fylde Guitar and mandolin workshop is in Penrith, only 30 min from where we were staying.  I found out about Fylde instruments several years ago when my mandolin instructor in Indianapolis loaned me his Fylde cittern.  I've since heard many good things about Fylde instruments in general, and about Roger Bucknall, who runs the company.  I figured since we would be in the area I'd ask about getting a tour of the workshop.  To my great delight, Roger agreed to let us come in even though he was supposed to be on holiday.  It was a fascinating tour.  I figure about 80% of the time was spent learning about the different woods he has in stock from all around the world.  Another 10% was a tour of the workshop - largely of machines that Roger has built to make life easier for himself and improve repeatability of his designs over his 40 years of making instruments.  The last 10% was sitting in his office playing a couple instruments he had in stock - a cittern, octave mandolin, and a couple of mandolins.  Roger and his wife were incredibly gracious hosts.  They gave us tea, let Charis play one of the mandolins, and offered suggestions about places to visit in the area.  I left without buying an instrument, but not without a serious amount of longing for the Single Malt mandolin that Roger let me play.  After all, beyond being a lovely instrument with beautiful tone and clean action - things that even an amateur like me can pick up on - how many people can say their mandolin has been built out of wood recycled from the whisky trade?  As it was, self-control (and the knowledge that our trusty Golf was already stuffed to overflowing) prevailed.  For the time being, anyway.  At the time of this blog post, Kristine has given me permission to get a Single Malt mandolin if I promise to take her to Alaska to get lots of Qiviut yarn.

Our last full day in Keswick was supposed to include a trip to the pencil museum.  However, we encountered a slight delay.  I'm learning (not quickly enough, Kristine would probably say), that there are times one does not just stop knitting and move on with life.  Knitting in a group, especially with your children, is one of those times.  What's a fellow to do when the response to his statement about preparing to leave is a question from his daughter "How do you stop in the middle of a row?"


We did make it out of the cottage and to the pencil museum.  Our host was right.  It was very well set up, and we all enjoyed it.  Well, maybe not everyone enjoyed being greeted by this graphite miner when we entered.

Pencils are pretty boring, mundane, utilitarian tools, right?  Nope, Shawn.  Wrong.  They're the source of popular phrases in modern discourse.

They're in the Guinness World Records.

And, most interestingly for me, they were valuable tools of espionage during WWII.  In fact, there was an entire wall dedicated to one particular effort during WWII by the fellow who was the inspiration for the character of Q in the James Bond films.

Charles Fraser Smith asked the folks at the Derwent Pencil Company to design a pencil that could hide a map and compass inside it.  These pencils were given to flight crews when they made their bombing runs over Europe.  The idea was that if you were shot down, the compass plus map of Europe and escape routes would help you get out.  Plus, nobody would think to confiscate a pencil off you since it was a standard navigator's tool.  So if you got shot down and sent to a prison camp, then you could also give the maps inside the pencils to other POWs who were planning to escape.  The other interesting bit of information from this exhibit is that Derwent tried to reproduce this pencil in the late 90's as a commemorative item.  They almost couldn't do it.  With the help of memories from one of the few chaps still alive who had worked on the project (which was done in secret and after hours), they were able to come up with something close enough.  But the manager of the project was pretty candid in his respect for the skill of the folks working on this project without the so-called benefits of modern technology.  My dormant anthropologist brain cells want a project ...

I was interested in the espionage side of the WWII pencil exhibit.  The girls were interested in the pilot's clothing.  Clare so she could smile,

and Elise so she could pretend to fly.

I mentioned earlier that I was skeptical we'd need three hours for this museum?  After two hours, the girls were going strong.  They enjoyed the exhibits, and they especially enjoyed the rooms that were set up with a range of Derwent pencil products (paper, pencils, water brushes, and sharpeners) for visitors to create their own art.  Evidently the museum offers free lessons to visitors from local artists who will teach them some basic principles of drawing and coloring.  My Oaks Academy counterparts in Indianapolis would be proud.

Charis reluctantly agreed to leave, but only after she finished her two pieces of art.

While I respect the museum's creative ability to encourage visitors to put pencil to paper, I also thought this vintage vehicle was one of their more interesting artifacts.

We split up for the afternoon.  Elise and I went back near Ullswater to do a hike at the Aira Force Falls.  Here's the route - about 1.3 miles total.

We found these little falls shortly after beginning the hike.  Elise tried to convince me they were the ones we were looking for (our driver in Turkey did something similar, which is where she got the idea).  I was not amused.  I told her we had to keep hiking.

The real falls are spanned by two different bridges.  Here's the first bridge.

And the view of the real falls with the second bridge from our vantage point on the first one.  Much more impressive than the little ones Elise tried to swindle me into.

We kept going upstream from the bridge, which took us off the map at the beginning of our hike.  This gave us the freedom to joke with each other about getting lost, or (even worse) having to backtrack.  Fortunately we found another bridge to cross, which was considerably less impressive.  Hence the lack of photo.  However, we were not out of joking worries, because the path coming downstream wasn't next to the river.  We were thus much gratified to find that after walking long enough, there was indeed a fork in the path that we followed downhill and found got us back to the stream.  Elise raised her arms in celebration.

Here's the lower bridge from the other side of the stream.  The publicity photos about this site from the National Trust really highlight the variation in colors from the terrain.  This photo sort of captures that, but doesn't do justice to the beauty of the landscape.

Part way downstream from the bridge, we encountered a slippery-looking route up the side of the hill that re-entered the main path after a few metres.  I made a silent mental note about how doing this walk with a group of squirly boys would involve all of them going up the detour, and how glad I was that Elise commented but kept walking.  We came around the corner and Elise piped up with "Daddy, may I please climb up that path?"  Naturally, to serve me right for my silent thoughts, she's actually picked the tricker route up the hill.

Justified hero shot after completing her ascent.

Hike at Aira Force complete, we took a quick trip in the car back to Pooley Bridge so Elise could show me the walk next the lake that she did with Kristine.  Note the hoods from both sweater and coat pulled up.  I think that's the first time this winter that the cold finally got the better of her warm-blooded nature.

It was well after 4:30 by the time we turned around to head back to the car.  Meaning we finished our hike in the dark.  The proper dark.

In the meantime, Kristine had a lovely walk around the village of Applethwaite with Charis and Clare.  Here are some of her photos so you can vicariously admire the beauty of the Cumbrian landscape that we got to enjoy.









Our final stop on the drive home the next day was at the Beatrix Potter museum in Windermere.  To be honest, it was less than impressive, especially after how well set up the pencil museum was.  Elise captured it best.  "Daddy, Beatrix Potter was a children's author, but it seemed like half of the museum was for grownups.  And they expected you to have read all the books before you came."  The displays, like this one of Jemima Puddleduck, were obviously put together with considerable time and effort.  But giving guests a small touch screen with 5-6 bits of information, and then asking them not to touch any of the exhibits?  Really?

Elise and Charis braved the outdoors to explore this garden while trying to answer questions in the 8 page pamphlet they got.  Elise handled the complexity of the 8 pages reasonably well, even though she wasn't able to find several of the answers.  Charis was understandably frustrated.  See Elise's previous comment about the museum being tailored for adults.

The picture next to Peter Rabbit didn't turn out (insert brother Daniel's reminder that he's happy to tutor me if I get him a ticket over here).  We did get this one of Clare with Mr. McGregor.

From the museum, it was another largely uneventful drive south on the M6.  We didn't have the clear roads that we had when driving north five days earlier, but we only lost about a half hour.  Considering this was the M6, and especially considering it was the M6 on a weekend, I'll call that a success.