I went on my first long trip of the year, going with several others to hike in the Lake District and to see a couple of friends in England. I actually returned on the evening of the 2nd, but it always takes me a few days to get re-organized. And it takes a fair amount of time to write out an account of the events of a trip, even an abbreviated version.
April 20-21
A bitter journey! I left a day before the others in the group to meet with friends in England. But I booked my flight with British Airways, which manages airplane flights about as efficiently as the government of Queen Victoria handled food distribution in Ireland during the Great Famine. The flight to Heathrow was canceled, so they put me on a flight with United instead. But since I was continuing to Edinburgh, I needed to get my baggage checked there; and United would check my baggage only as far as Heathrow, since the connecting flight was still with British Airways. When I asked the people at the British Airways check-in desk at Dulles about this issue, they told me that I would have to claim my baggage at Heathrow and then check in again at the British Airways desk there. How they imagined that such a course was feasible is something to marvel at. It took about an hour-and-a-half to go to the baggage claim area, undergo passport verification, collect my luggage, and take the train from one terminal to another. Then it took another 40 minutes to go through the line at the British Airways check-in at Heathrow. By this time, of course, the flight to Edinburgh had long departed. They put me on another flight, which departed some four hours later from the London City airport. But I did not have to worry overmuch about how to pass the time during the interval, because the journey on the Metro from Heathrow to London City involved two transfers (one including a walk from one station to another, while it was raining) and consumed another 90 minutes. It must be added, in fairness, that the flight from London City to Edinburgh was quite efficient and fairly comfortable.
I was afterwards to learn that the remainder of the group, who flew to the U.K. on the following day, fared no better. The flight from Dulles to Heathrow landed too late for them to make the connection to Edinburgh, and they ended up taking a five-hour ride by Uber to the hotel in the Lake District. British Airways told their passengers that they were “sorry for the inconvenience” and that, in their eyes, seemed to be the end of the matter.
I was somewhat placated by seeing my first glimpse of Edinburgh, which is an architectural wonder: indeed, it is one of the finest cities in Europe in this respect. There was not time to do much, since I was meeting others there, but I did manage to go up to the top of Arthur’s Seat, a high hill on the outskirts of the city. The hike is about 2½ miles long and involves an ascent of about 800 feet. It is one of those rare sights that has received an abundance of praise and yet is not a letdown when one actually sees it: it deserves all of the encomiums that it has received. It provides a bird-s-eye of Edinburgh, with the castle standing prominently in the distance on a somewhat lower eminence, with all of the massive, imposing buildings clustered around each side of the long street stretching from the palace below all the way to the castle that constitute the Old Town.
The season was considerably less advanced in this area than it was back home, with many double-blossomed cherry trees in full bloom.
April 22: Penrith
Due to a rather complicated set of circumstances, I was obliged to stop in Penrith instead of making my way directly to the hotel in Rosthwaite to meet the others. But Penrith itself proved to be delightful in its way. It is a market town, with several ancient market sites strung together (one for meat, one for vegetables, one for grain, etc.) and the narrow alleys provided a place of safety during the internal skirmishes that periodically troubled the area during the Late Middle Ages, and during the War of the Roses in particular. Even today, one can use the alleys to avoid walking along the streets, some of which are heavily trafficked. The town contains the ruins of a castle that, among other things, served as a home for the Duke of Gloucester in his early years, before he became Rickard III. It is somewhat small, as castles go – his bachelor pad, as I called it. The town has literary associations as well. Mary Hutchinson, the wife of Wordsworth, came from the area; and Coleridge first published in this town, walking about 20 miles to carry his manuscripts to Penrith’s printing press.
April 23: Rosthwaite, Watendlath, and Dock Tarn
I made it to the hotel in Rosthwaite at last. I may say that at this point I became extremely lax about wearing facemasks, despite the numerous bus trips I was to take to various trailheads. No one else bothered about the matter and I was affected by the general carelessness in this respect. Nor were people wearing them in stores or other enclosed areas. Truly the pandemic may be said to have receded, at any rate in theory.
Since the remainder of the group had arrived the day before and were hiking in Keswick, I did a hike on my own after I checked in at the hotel in Rosthwaite. Ostensibly it was 5 miles long with 1200 feet of elevation gain, but owing to various wrong turns and detours I added at least 1½ miles and 300-400 of ascent. The first part, ascending over a ridge and then going down to the tarn at Watendlath, was quite straightforward. It was a somewhat cloudy day, and the reflection of the clouds on the surface of the water gave the lake an oddly pearl-like appearance. From there I went to Dock Tarn, which was much more difficult. The trail was extremely marshy in many places and, in addition to being unmarked itself, intersected many other unmarked trails, so that it was not easy to decide where to turn at trail junctions. At one point I headed to the top of the highest summit in the area, with the most appropriate name of Great Crag. But this was a profitable detour, for it not only gave me a view of Dock Tarn itself to enable me to head in its direction but in addition provided an overlook of the entire valley, a so-called hanging valley that was formed by glacial erosion. Great Crag is, as I afterwards learned, a “Wainwright,” one of the 214 Lake District fells described in Alfred Wainwright’s seven volume Pictorial Guide to the Lakeland Fells. (Wainwright is the man who originated the Coast-to-Coast hike route as well.) There were many people at Watendlath but I encountered no one at Dock Tarn, which to my mind is the more interesting of the two: nestled among little hills in the plateau, with numerous waterfowl resting on the water’s surface and along the shoreline. The final descent was very challenging: 700 feet down in about ½ mile, and extremely rocky as well. Despite the relatively short distance, the hike took me three hours to complete.
Rosthwaite itself is a small village in the Borrowdale valley, about six miles from the market town of Keswick, consisting mainly of a couple of farms and a few accommodations for visitors on account of its proximity to numerous trailheads. It is one of the stops on the Coast-to-Coast hike; and in fact the hotel at which we were lodged was the same one at which I stayed when I went on the Coast-to-Coast hike five years ago.
April 24: Rosthwaite to Keswick via High Spy and Catbells, 9 miles, 2400’
This hike was almost perfect and, rather surprisingly, less arduous than the hike of the day before, despite the greater mileage and elevation gain. There was a good deal less boggy ground to go over and the grades were somewhat less challenging. The first two miles were the steepest, leading past an abandoned stone quarry; after this first ascent the remaining uphill portions were relatively short and somewhat gentler in grade. We went along a wide moor to the summit of High Spy, and as we did so the beautiful Derwent Water emerged into view below, along with many other peaks and valleys, including Catbells. Much of the trail consisted of rock, some of it carved into steps. Early in the day the sky was somewhat overcast but it became sunnier as we ascended to High Spy and the temperature, though brisk, was not chilly. In general we were extraordinarily fortunate in our weather, with no rain for every single day that we hiked. From High Spy we went along a ridgeline, first descending and then undergoing mild ups and downs to Catbells. Although the summit of Catbells is lower than that of High Spy, its proximity to the lake provides closer and more detailed views of Derwent Water and of the buildings of Keswick stretching from the shoreline to the town center.
Keswick itself is a prepossessing place with several pubs, restaurants, and stores, including a central square limited to pedestrians that constitutes the main shopping area. It lacks, however, the charm of places such as Grasmere and Ambleside; it is simply a pleasant and well-built market town, without any special features to attract the casual visitor’s attention.
April 25: Scafell Pike, 14 miles, 4000’
The hike was a difficult one, but that is to be expected, for Scafell Pike is the highest peak in England: about 3200 feet above sea level (as compared to 3500 feet for Snowdon in Wales and 4400 feet for Ben Nevis in Scotland). We took a cab to get to Seathwaite, where the trail begins; but after the hike we had to walk along the road for about 2½ miles back to Rosthwaite – which actually was not a bad way to unwind after the rigors of the day. The hike goes mainly over rocks and boulders, and much of it is a continual uphill. At one point the path flattens out and one has the delusion that the most arduous part of the hike is complete; in fact, after going around a bend it continues over shattered rock debris, with steep grades ascending and descending along the boulder fields (it does both before approaching the summit). Numerous mountain tops are seen from the summit, interspersed with the valleys of Wasdale and Borrowdale. The weather was fairly sunny at the summit, although there was a sharp wind blowing, causing us to nestle among the rocks to obtain a measure of shelter while eating lunch. Nonetheless, when we told the man at the hotel desk afterwards about the favorable weather he could hardly believe it. He had hiked up to the peak on numerous occasions, and each time it was gray and overcast, and often wet as well.
I must here, incidentally, indulge in a diatribe against British dog-owners, who, as I have already observed, are even worse than American dog-owners, difficult though that may be to believe. Many hikers had brought their dogs with them to the summit and not a single one of them was on a leash, despite the regulations that require one. Most of the dogs were fairly well-behaved, but not of all of them were. When I sat down to lunch, one of these over-indulged mongrels came sniffing at the food I was conveying to my mouth, in expectation of some sort of handout. I told its owners – rather sharply, I will admit – to call it off, and they complied; but they seemed surprised, indeed shocked, that I was not flattered by their darling pet’s singling me out for its attentions. This propensity for disregarding the offensive effects of their dogs’ playful gambols was emphasized on the day of our departure, when one dog slipped away from its owners and bounded upon one member of our party just as we were loading up on the bus to return to Edinburgh, tumbling her onto the muddy ground.
April 26: Rosthwaite to Grasmere, 10½ miles, 2900’
Going from Rosthwaite to Grasmere is part of the Coast-to-Coast hike, but we took an alternate route. We first went up Eagle Crag, quite a difficult climb. When viewed from the valley, its walls appear vertical. This is in fact not quite the case, but the grade for the most part is at a very acute angle, and the portion approaching the summit requires the use of hands and arms, as well as a bit of ingenuity in devising toeholds. Unsurprisingly, the experts do not recommend this route for descending or for attempting it during increment weather. The views from its summit, however, were spectacular, chiefly of the Borrowdale fells connected by the beautiful valley.
After this climb we went over a couple of gentle ups and downs to a high meadow, and eventually we made our way to the standard Coast-to-Coast route as it began the descent towards Grasmere. But we veered from it again, by not taking the straightforward descent down to Grasmere and instead turning east to go along a ridgeline that included numerous peaks: Calf Crag, Gibson Knott, and Helm Crag. As always, we had imposing views from the various peaks, particularly as we came closer to Grasmere and could view the town from above. The weather, however, was becoming threatening, with black rain clouds in the distance heading in our direction. In response, I fairly hared up and down Helm Crag in my anxiety to get off of the rocks before the rain began. As it happened, we received no more than a light sprinkling. Once we regrouped from the descent from Helm Crag, we made our way to Grasmere, passing by the Glenthorne Guest House, where I had stayed for one night during the Coast-to-Coast hike. I have fond memories of the place: it is the Quaker Meeting House of the town as well as a B&B, and it thus was of historic interest, in addition to being extremely comfortable. We did not have the opportunity to stay in Grasmere very long, to my disappointment, since we had to ensure that we were in time to board the last bus of the day to Keswick, and thence to Rosthwaite. We came into town just as the second-to-last bus pulled in; it was full and could not take on any more passengers. So most of the group decided to take a taxi back to the hotel after we all had an early dinner. A few of us, however, took a chance and waited for the last bus of the day to arrive. It was only half-full and had no difficulty in accommodating all of the passengers who boarded, so we made our way back to Rosthwaite easily.
April 27: Rosthwaite to Buttermere, 7½ miles, 3150’
This hike repeated the initial climb towards High Spy, going as far as the quarry before turning away to ascend a second peak, which looked formidable from a distance but which was much less arduous than it appeared. Here again we experienced 360-degree views, including Keswick in the valley below. We proceeded along a ridgeline, taking a side trail to the summit of Honister that eventually circled back to the ridgeline. From Honister we saw the peaks we had roamed over three days earlier from above, including High Spy and Catbells. We then went up another ascent to the top of Robertson before beginning the final descent to Buttermere. This descent was steep and rocky in places, like so many of the descents in the Lake District. The weather was windy at the top of Robertson, and overcast as well, but there was no rain. The descent from Robertson provided the best views of all, focusing on the lakes of Buttermere and Crummock Water, both of them sapphirine-blue, with the little village of Buttermere nestled between them.
We did not linger long in Buttermere, which is said to be quaint and picturesque but which in fact is of little intrinsic interest, and instead took the bus that arrived just a few minutes after we came to the main village square. The ride back to Rosthwaite was quite interesting, going over a mountain road that barely contained enough room for the width of the bus. Once Buttermere was out of sight, the area appeared strangely wild and remote, even though we knew that there were several villages just a few miles away. As we went to Honister Pass we passed by the store at the Honister Slate Mine, which again brought back memories of the Coast-to-Coast hike; the segment from Ennerdale to Rosthwaite passes this landmark.
April 28: High Raise and Pike of Stickle, 13 miles, 3100’
Again we had a lovely hike, which was less strenuous than the earlier ones in spite of the extra mileage. We began by repeating the Coast-to-Coast route from Rosthwaite to Grasmere (bypassing Eagle Crag this time). We met a pair of Coast-to-Coast hikers from the U.S. on this portion and chatted with them. Most of the ascent was not steep, with the exception of about 1/10th mile close to the top of the ridge. This portion was quite steep and occasionally required the use of hands as well as feet, but it did not last long and we were rewarded with beautiful views of the various crags surrounding Borrowdale Valley. From there we ascended, much more gradually to High Raise. The views were obscured by clouds here but we had glimpses of the valley now and then. After lunch we proceeded to Pike of Stickle. A “stickle” is a hill with a steep and prominent rocky top and a “pike” is a hill with a peaked summit, so the name is somewhat repetitive. At any rate, it is certainly accurate as a description; it is a rock pile almost conical in shape, and the path that led up to its top was an enjoyable rock scramble. At the top we saw Langdale Valley about 2000 feet below us. After we left Pike of Stickle we went down a long descent, which must be unique in the Lake District: it was not especially steep and made use of numerous switchbacks. We skirted by Eagle Crag during the descent to a trail that goes from Langdale Valley to Borrowdale Valley, and as we did so the weather became increasingly sunny. After several miles we came to a path that led to Stonethwaite, a pretty little village nearly adjacent to Rosthwaite, which we stopped at a pub to relax, leisurely drinking in the garden and savoring the sunlight pouring down from an unclouded sky, quite a rare occurrence in the Lake District. From there it was a road walk back to Rosthwaite, but this portion of the walk was only a mile long and the roads were almost devoid of cars. A wonderful day!
April 29: Rydal Water and Ambleside, 7 miles, 700’
I was in the mood for something less taxing than the hikes we had completed on previous days, and this one fitted in with my expectations. It was not spectacular, but it was extremely satisfying: a pleasant ramble around a long lake that was surrounded by fells. Waterfowl disported on the water’s surface and many people in boats were sculling. A short spur trail led to a series of caves, with rock walls carved and curiously patterned by the eons of weathering. A good way to unwind after a strenuous, albeit enjoyable, week.
After the hike we lunched in Ambleside, which is a very attractive town, with numerous houses presenting slate-stone exteriors. It has literary associations as well: it was the home of Harriet Martineau, that remarkable abolitionist who wrote extensively on numerous other sociological topics as well (she is indeed sometimes seen as the first female sociologist) and who, quite unusually for a woman of the early Victorian era, was able to support herself by her writings.
April 30 – May 1: Edinburgh
We left Rosthwaite in a bus hired for the group and arrived at Edinburgh during the early afternoon. Most of us explored the Old Town, although we were somewhat hindered by various rain showers. It is impossible to describe the architecture of Old Town in a manner that can explain how impressive it is. The streets are narrow and cobblestoned, and the buildings are great piles of cut stones fitted together, dating back to medieval times, with massive walls to withstand the severe Northern climate. The Old Town is not large, consisting mainly of the Royal Mile, a street stretching from the castle at the top of the main hill down to Holyrood Palace, with a couple of streets on either side of it and various alleys (which are called “closes” in this city) connecting them. Since Edinburgh became crowded at an early point in its history, many of the buildings were constructed to make optimum use of the available square footage, rising to ten stories and more. But the buildings are not simply big; they are graceful as well, with tall paneled windows placed at regular intervals along the exteriors and with triangular pediments on top of the porticos leading to the house entrances. A long series of gardens separates the Old Town from the New Town, whose architecture is Georgian – although Princes Street, the main street of this area, contains more modern buildings as well. Princes Street also contains the strange Gothic monument to Walter Scott, rearing 200 feet high: a “spire without a cathedral,” as it is sometimes called.
The following day we toured the castle, which was not quite what I expected. Its status as a royal residence declined in the 17th century and it was used primarily for military purposes since that time, particularly during the Victorian period. Many portions of the original castle were destroyed by artillery bombardment and replaced by more modern edifices. Some older parts survive, such as St. Margeret’s Chapel from the early 12 century, the Great Hall (although even that was altered during the mid-Victorian period), and the Royal Palace, which includes the chamber where Mary Queen of Scots gave birth to the boy who eventually became James I of England. I had purchased the audio tour, which turned out to be more of a distraction than an aid. Castle Rock, the hill on which the castle is built, is about 430 feet above sea level, and thus provides sweeping views of all areas of the city in every direction, down all the way to the shoreline of Leith (about 2½ miles from the city itself),
The weather was sunny in the morning, but during our tour of the castle it became increasingly chilly and cloudy. By the time we left the castle rain was threatening, and we experienced brief showers from time to time. A visit to the National Museum of Scotland thus was indicated for the afternoon, and there we according went for a couple of hours. The museum itself, although containing many interesting artifacts, is rather a jumble, and its lighting leaves something to be desired; in several cases the inscriptions are so dimly lit that it is difficult to read them. The best part of the exhibits is the section that deals with ancient Egypt, in which the objects are arranged in chronological order and provide a coherent overview of the history of its culture. I also visited, on my own, the National Gallery, which is small but which contains many superb paintings, including, not surprisingly, several Raeburns.
I would have stayed longer in the city after the visit to the museum, but the weather was steadily worsening. In the end I returned to the hotel, where I met with a few other to dine together and then to turn in early.
Edinburgh is a delightful experience in every respect except one: the swarms of people who habitually sprawl over the entire width of the sidewalks, which sometimes makes progress difficult. Perhaps this is true of any city that sees hundreds of tourists visiting it on a daily basis, but in Edinburgh this type of behavior is especially noticeable because the walkways can become quite narrow at times. I believe, however, that I am correct in observing that Europeans in general are more reluctant than Americans to walk in single file in public areas. On several occasions I would walk along High Street (the main street of Old Town) while people coming in the opposite direction would be walking two, three, or even four abreast, never dreaming of falling back to allow foot traffic to go in the other direction, and causing me to speculate whether or not I had donned Harry Potter’s Invisibility Cloak without being aware of it.
May 2
There is little to record about this day, except that since the flight departure time was 2:00, there was time in the morning for a pleasant ramble through Gyle Park in the Corstorphine area.
Going through Customs after we landed was astonishingly easy; I cannot recall a swifter processing among all of the international trips I have taken. The Customs officer asked only a single question – whether or not I was carrying any food with me – and when I replied that I was not, he waved me through. No questions at all about whether I had anything to declare, which puzzles me.
On the following day I could not help noticing how much larger various objects appear after spending nearly two weeks in the U.K.: streets, trees, sidewalks, houses, lawns, people. With respect to this last category I am not being entirely complimentary: I could wish that the morbidly obese were less well represented in our population.