The International Writers Magazine: Cumbria

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Cumbrian December • Colin Todhunter The imposing bulk of Skiddaw mountain looms over the Cumbrian market town of Keswick in the northern part of the English Lake District. Skiddaw always looks like an angry mountain, blackened by cloud, but blanketed in white it looks a much happier proposition. After scaling its snowy peak I began to make my way down. The blisters on my feet felt like they had blisters and were about to burst and fill the valley below.

I was tired, worn out and cold. Climbing an English peak in early December is not the ideal thing to do. The biting wind cut into my face and I turned back to see a black snow sky hanging over the peak.  The views below would have been brilliant, if there had been any. Unfortunately, at this time of the year, swirling mist obscures just about anything beyond twenty metres. Eventually I lost sight of the peak and continued my descent accompanied by howling gales. You don’t have to be insane to climb Cumbrian mountains in late autumn – but it helps.
 
I have climbed Skiddaw before, but in summer, and knew that Keswick nestled somewhere below, surrounded by fields dotted with sheep and neatly edged by hedgerows. On this occasion I took comfort from knowing that beyond the fog, the early evening lights of the town would be glistening warmly on narrow streets and in the cozy living rooms or lounges of tiny houses, guesthouses and traditional wood beamed pubs with their rustic charm, hinting at what rural England must have been like in what now is a long lost age. The local pubs and restaurants however offer reminders by serving traditional delicacies such as Cumberland Sausage, Tatie Pot, and Rum Butter.

Keswick has managed to escape the ugliness and intrusions of the modern age. The friendly attention in the many closely packed shops and the weekly market around the Moot Hall is a welcome change from Britain's towns and cities with their standardised retail parks, burger bars and endless car parks. You have to travel a long way from the Cumbrian lakes before encountering such “development” (fortunately). The English Lake District is a National Park and new building is strictly controlled.

As I continued forever downward my thoughts drifted to the nearby 4000-year-old Stone Circle on the airy hilltop of Castlerigg, which also overlooks Keswick, and St.Kentigern's Church (AD533). The Market Charter (13th Century), early lead mining, quarrying and the growth of pencil manufacture have all played their part in the long and often dramatic history of Keswick, and famous literary names, including  Southey, Coleridge, Wordsworth and Ruskin, were influential in attracting the early tourists to Keswick to experience the spectacula r scenery all around. When in this part of the world it’s easy to see why so many writers were (and still are) inspired by the English Lake District, with its manicured villages, mournful mountains and hanging mists.

Keswick lies on the northern edge of the tranquil Derwentwater. Beyond the lake and to the south lies Borrowdale Valley, in my mind the most beautiful part of the L ake District. A scattering of villages with their pretty flower beds, tea shops, whitewashed pubs and charming guesthouses line the valley, which is hemmed in by peaks on both sides and eventually gives way to England’s highest mountains. As mountains go, they are small, but contrary to popular perception, size really doesn’t matter: place their ruggedness next to tranquil lakes, picture postcard villages and isolated farms and they become part of the most spectacular landscape that England has to offer. The local tourist board notes that “the steep sided valley of Borrowdale running some ten miles from is sources high in the Scafell mountains (977m) down to the shores of Derwentwater at Keswick must be one of the most beautiful and exciting landscapes in the British Isles”. As a regular visitor to the area, I can personally vouch for what they say, and on this small, crowded island of 60 million people, I am constantly amazed that such areas of outstanding natural beauty carpet vast tracts of land.

Rosthwaite, Stonethwaite, Seathwaite (thwaite = clearing) and the hamlet of Seatoller are the head of the valley settlements, busy with climbers, walkers and visitors for much of the year as they venture into the high mountains that encircle this dramatic scene. You could spend weeks exploring Borrowdale in all its corners, moods and seasons and I have.

But on this mad December weekend as I tramped down the mountainside, I yearned for the comfort of a glowing fireside in a Keswick pub, with its homely atmosphere and locally brewed ale. And I knew someone would be waiting for me to soothe my chilled bones and aching limbs. I called her name... "Jessica", hoping it would whisper on the wind across what seemed like a thousand miles and somehow she would hear. And I imagined she called mine. For a split second, I thought she did. But there was nothingness, bleakness and only the howl of the gale as it rebounded back, reminding me of my splendid solitude – and, of course, the sound of my bursting blisters emptying onto the mountain.

Lake Blister - somehow it doesn’t have the same ring as Lake Windermere, Buttermere or any of the other quaintly named waterways of Cumbria. But, thankfully, it’s only the product of a tired Englishman’s imagination gone wild.
© Colin Todhunter September 2004
colin_todhunter@yahoo.co.uk

See also Walking The Lake District by Eric D Lehman

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