By the time that we had settled ourselves into our room, from which we had this view of Lake Winderere,
the sun was out and we decided to go and do some exploring. Part of the object of this exercise was to find somewhere to eat that evening, as husband does not like eating in hotels in the evening. He also thinks that we get more of a feel for the place if we eat out. That night we ate at an Italian restaurant! But before we did so we worked up an appetite walking around Bowness and along the Promenade by Lake Windermere.
The next day was dry but cool with sunny intervals. We set off for a tour of the lakes by car. First we went into Windermere before heading off round the southern end of Lake Windermere. Then it was on to Coniston Water. The scene of Donald Campbell's triumph and disaster on 4 January 1967. I remember watching it all live on black and white television. The terrible outcome took everybody by surprise. We stopped in Coniston to stretch our legs and take a few photographs mainly of Coniston Old Man, the peak, below, which overshadows Coniston.
Next we had a quick look at Hawkshead where there was nothing much to see. From there we headed towards Lake Thirlmere stopping at Thirlspot for lunch. After lunch we drove around Lake Thirlmere stopping on the way to take some photos.
From there we headed back towards Windermere, stopping in Grasmere, where the poet William Wordsworth is buried at St Oswald's church. Below is the bridge by the churchyard in Grasmere.
That evening we dined at a French restaurant in Windermere recommended by one of husband's squash playing friends. We had taken the precaution of checking out the menu and booking a table during our visit to Windermere earlier in the day, which was just as well by evening it was full and we saw several people turned away. The first couple that had been turned away returned a hour later and sat at the table next to us. They were Americans from Boston and had only flown into Heathrow that morning. They had travelled by rail to Windermere for a few days. Then they were going back south and over to Normandy, in France.
Sunday morning dawned cool and grey and the weather forecast was not very good. We decided to take a drive up the coast. After driving for miles along a deserted country lane we came to the Sellafield Nuclear Power Station. It is not a pretty sight. Its' situation is desolate and bleak. In fact it looks rather like a prison - box like buildings and a tower surrounded by a wire fence with topped with coils of barbed wire. We did not try to take any photographs. We did not want to spend a night in a prison cell. The only other building in the area is a railway station. So we continued up the coast driving through St Bees, Whitehaven and Maryport before turning inland to Cockermouth. Everywhere looked grey and miserable. By now we were looking for a pub for lunch. We did not find anywhere suitable until we had driven to the bottom of Lake Buttermere.
Lunch eaten, we had two options, to go back the way we had come or along the more direct route which took us along the Honister Pass - a slightly scary single track road to Seatoller, which had this view.
That afternoon the rain set in and we decided to call it a day. We went back to our hotel room and read the Sunday papers. Later we ventured out into the rain, driving into Bowness for our evening meal.This time we tried an Indian restaurant. So our feel for the area gave us the taste of Italian, French and Indian cuisine.
On Monday morning before setting off home we went into Bowness to buy ourselves some souvenirs and Kendall mint cake for husband's work colleagues. The previous evening I had spied a rather nice art shop on our walk from the car to the restaurant. So it was to there that we returned to purchase a wall hanging wine bottle and a small blackboard to hang in our kitchen. One small problem. Over a month later I am still waiting for the blackboard to be hung up.
This was not the Lake District at its' best. Here is what it can look like.