Day 21: Squirrel Nutkin and Jemima Puddleduck mess about on Boats...

Another cold and miserable start to the day and not just because of the bomby bathroom shower. Drizzling rain and heavy winds greeted us as we stepped out for the day's excursions, firstly to Lakeland, at the southern point of Lake Windemere.

This is the Tern, built in the 1890s and which ferries sight-seers from one end of Lake Windemere to the other, with an intermission at Bowness, around half-way up the lake.  We braced ourselves and stayed on deck for the trip to Bowness, which took about an hour.

Whenever we go to Sydney (where our preferred mode of transport is ferries) I always say my dream job would be 'deckhand on a Sydney ferry'.  To this I would now add 'deckhand on a Lake Windemere ferry'. 

The scenery is staggeringly beautiful.  Although this building is a blot on the landscape - built in 1790 and called Storrs Hall, its owner between 1806 and 1837 was described 'as a leading figure in local affairs'. His name was John Bolton and he was a slave trader who became obscenely wealthy dealing in greed and human misery. 

The building is now a hotel and apparently its basement still contains the heavy metal chains that were used to harness enslaved Africans.                               




                           

 
Half-time at Bowness, where we had an hour and a half to kill before returning to Lakeland. These swans were enchanting, but when we got around the corner we saw another 150 of them, all seeking handouts from day-trippers, along with rooks, seagulls and some sort of marine geese.

So many dogs too, including on our boat, where a sign said "We welcome well-behaved dogs."   They are so much more civilised about such things here than in Aust.     




The ticketty, docking thingy at Bowness on Lake Windemere.  Bowness is very touristy, as it has been for over a hundred years, and is no less charming for that. 

It was cold and horrible on our return leg, so we went below deck for a cup of Bovril and a jellied eel. All in all a most pleasant way to spend a blustery cold morning. (Apart from the Bovril. And the eel.)

When we got back to Lakeland, I found a woman's wallet in the carpark next to our car, containing credit cards, cash etc.  I handed it in at the ferry ticket office and just hope that Sarah Butterworth and her belongings have now been reunited.  I did feel for her.

Next, we were off to Beatrix Potter's summer retreat at Near Sawrey!  (There is also a Far Sawrey down the lane a few kilometres.)  It was damned hard to find and involved more knuckle-whitening traversing of very narrow country lanes with hairpin bends and the odd large truck forcing hedgerow foliage up my nostrils, but Geoff's driving skills, I now think, are on par with any English person's. Quite an achievement, given the poms (with their piddly, medieval streets and two-way-traffic that should be one-way) have been driving a camel through the eye of a needle all their lives. So well done Geoff!  xxx


Near Sawrey was well worth the challenge of getting there.  This is Beatrix Potter's house, bought with the profits of her first five books. She was actually a London gel, from a well-heeled family. When she was a teenager, the family started holidaying in The Lakes district, so it provided her inspiration - the countryside is just so green and beautiful that even I am lost for words.    

The house was mostly built in the 1650s but the bit on the left (with the awning) was built after Beatrix bought it, to house her farm manager's family. 

Even though it was largely used as a sort of retreat/holiday house by Beatrix, she did write a number of her books here - and each room of the house (which is so much more comfy than William Wordsworth's place down the road!) has one of her books open at a certain page, so you can see how the illustrations match that room's actual furnishings, even if that part of the story takes place down a burrow or other animal habitat. 

It was just so enchanting.  A challenge to get there but so worth the effort!  This pic on the right is the view up the hill from Beatrix's little neck of the woods and those sheep, which we see everywhere, are Herdwicks - indigenous to Cumbria and almost lost forever until Beatrix renewed public interest in them. The adult sheep are greyish but the lambs are born black. Beatrix bought a number of farm properties and bequeathed them all to the National Trust.  She was very keen to ensure the preservation of the breed.  God I love this woman!!  She also had a couple of little Pekinese dogs, so bonus points for that.

Geoff was keen to dress up as Squirrel Nutkin and have his picture taken, but they don't do that kiddie stuff at Near Sawrey.  Of course, this meant a huge tantrum, a smack on the leg, and finally an ice cream. Peace restored.  

And now over to Mr Nutkin himself:

I didn't actually get an ice cream, but did get a reward,  more of which later.  My best description of the weather in the north would be unpredictable.  Or maybe changeable.  This morning was bloody awful, but started to turn for the better at about 10.  But by midday things were looking crook in Tallarook again.  And by late arvo it wasn't too bad.  Go figure.  I think the only answer for tourists is:  head on out and hope for the best.  No point in hanging around waiting for things to improve.  They probably won't.  Yet more priceless information for future would-be north of England visitors.  No; no need for accolades -  your undying gratitude is enough.

The lake cruise was indeed a joy.  Here's Hortense on the promenade deck of the MV Tern coyly but unsuccessfully avoiding the camera.

Bowness-on-Windermere is of course a tourist mecca, but I guess it's just what you'd expect of a lake cruise centre on the shore of England's largest lake, which Lake Windermere is.  Still, a pleasant enough couple of hours can easily be put in here.

Anne's excessively kind assessment of my driving skills is appreciated.  I think I've worked out that you just follow everyone else and try your best not to have a panic attack when confronted with a B-double heading straight for you on a road intended for one and a half Morris Minors with a rock wall on one side and a ten foot high hedge row on the other.

This was the state of the road to and from the Beatrix Potter attraction.  As a special reward, I was allowed a modest refreshment at the Tower Bank Arms, the premier hostelry in Near Sawrey, and in the top half dozen even if you take into account Far Sawrey.                     
  

 

The front of the 17th century pub (formerly the Blue Pig) was featured in Beatrix's The Tale of Jemima Puddleduck.  I'm not making any of this up.  If you don't believe me, go there and check it for yourself.  A crackling open fire added to the ambience.  And 'well behaved dogs' are always welcome.  The beverage is a Hawkshead Bitter (Hawkshead being the major nearby town, slightly larger than both Near and Far Sawrey).  Hortense had a Thatcher's cider, which was pronounced eminently drinkable.  She could have had the local Rosie's Pig, which comes in at a modest 7.3%, but decided discretion was the better part of valour.  I would have been very happy with a couple more Hawksheads, but couldn't help thinking about the prospect of the B-doubles on the way home.

 

And that wraps us up for another day, Pick-a-Boxers! Love, Bob and Dolly xxxx